Part 22

Thereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and dragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And she was taken into a tavern near by, and placed in front of a bright fire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning to put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and cried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: "Hans! Give me a cloak of wool!"

But Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And she was buried in the garden of the church.

And Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house of Rosa van Auweghem.

XXXII

In those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and Ulenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led in this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a workman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness and effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the defender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should capitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks, citizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be allowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with anything that they could carry with them--save only what belonged to the churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in spite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from Messire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while the rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.

And Ulenspiegel said:

"Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to his promise?"

An old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:

"The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame of our country. Dogs are chained up--let the monks be also chained, for they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!"

"But," answered Ulenspiegel, "we must remember that my Lord of Orange, the Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and the free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power."

Some of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so in the case of the monks. "And he is master here," they added. "It was he that took La Brièle. To prison with the monks!"

"A soldier's word is a word of gold," said Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat, parole d'or. Why should we ever break our word?"

"No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart," they told him. "Hear you not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?"

"The ashes beat upon my heart," said Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat, c'est parole d'or."

The next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect that the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum to La Brièle where the admiral was then stationed.

"They will be hanged," said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.

"Not as long as I am alive," said Ulenspiegel.

"My son," said Lamme, "you must not speak in this way to Messire de Lumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the monks if you are not careful."

"I shall tell him the truth," answered Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat, c'est parole d'or."

"If you think that you can save them," said Marin, "I will give you permission to go with them by ship to La Brièle. Take Rochus with you as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well."

"I will," said Ulenspiegel.

The ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken aboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme placed themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined the Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who now began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then the sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: "This man is a traitor." Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in the midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the sun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails of the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.

Father Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:

"O Rochus," he said, "are they taking us to the gallows-field?" Then, turning his face towards Gorcum: "O city of Gorcum," he cried, stretching out his hands, "O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou still to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities of the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of heresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the Lord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care for the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for the fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art and doomed to misfortune!"

"Cursed and accursed indeed!" answered Ulenspiegel. "As accursed as is the comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the dog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud charger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed yourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to break the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!"

The monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a dream of hate and bigotry.

The next morning they arrived at La Brièle, and a messenger was sent to advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.

As soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on horseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of armed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was it given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he was like some noble, proud and opulent.

"Welcome," said he, "Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show me there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!"

One of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:

"Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any objection."

"He has well spoken," said Ulenspiegel. "For having broken with the world--that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and sweetheart--a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on his behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain Marin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum, stipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that were taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But in spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept prisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord, I address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know that the word of a soldier is a word of gold--parole de soldat, c'est parole d'or."

"And who are you?" asked Messire de Lumey.

"My Lord," replied Ulenspiegel, "a Fleming I am from the lovely land of Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one--and I go wandering through the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly making fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if you will keep the promise which was made to these men by the captain: parole de soldat, c'est parole d'or."

But the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out at this.

"My Lord," said they, "this man is a traitor. He has promised them that he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and ham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all."

Then Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:

"Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you I will have you hanged with them."

"I am not afraid," replied Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat, c'est parole d'or."

The monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There they tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these soon sent him to sleep.

In the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered with meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from Captain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered "all governors of cities and other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety on ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people."

The messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so that he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.

"Where are the originals?" inquired de Lumey.

"My master has them," said the messenger.

"And the churl sends me the copy!" said de Lumey. "Where is your passport?"

"Here, my Lord," said the messenger.

Then Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:

"My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors, and officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass...." etc.

De Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.

"Sang de Dieu!" he cried. "What is he doing meddling here, this Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Brièle had not so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He calls himself 'My Lord' forsooth, and 'Master,' and sends to me his 'orders'! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith, and you with them if you don't get out at once."

And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.

"Bring me to drink," he cried. "Have you ever seen anything to compare with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?"

And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more; and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room, treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.

Ulenspiegel was brought before him.

"Well?" he said. "What news of your friends the monks?"

"They have been hanged," said Ulenspiegel. "And those cowards of executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a soldier is gold no more. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."

Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.

"So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street, most ignominiously, where all can see you!"

"Shame on you," cried Ulenspiegel. "Shame on us all! Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."

"Silence, Iron-pate!" said Messire de Lumey.

"Shame on you again!" cried Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or. You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are merchants in human fat!"

At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand to strike at him.

"Strike," said Ulenspiegel. "I am in your hands. But I have no fear at all of you. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."

Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed Ulenspiegel had not Messire Très-Long taken him by the arm, saying:

"Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime."

Then de Lumey thought better of the matter.

"Let him ask my pardon then," he said.

But Ulenspiegel stood his ground.

"Never," he said.

"At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong," cried de Lumey, growing angry again.

Ulenspiegel answered:

"I will lick no man's boots. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."

"Tell them to put up the gallows," said de Lumey, "and let this man be taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks."

"Yes," said Ulenspiegel, "and I will cry out there in front of all the people, Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."

The gallows was set up in the market square, and the news spread swiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman, was going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and compassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And Messire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the signal for the execution.

He regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold, dressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound to his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck, and the executioner ready to do the deed.

Très-Long said:

"My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard of a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful."

And the men and women in the crowd, hearing Très-Long speak in this wise, cried out also: "Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon for Ulenspiegel!"

"The Iron-pate has defied me," said de Lumey. "Let him admit he was wrong and that I was in the right."

"Will you?" said Très-Long to Ulenspiegel.

"Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or," Ulenspiegel answered.

"Draw the cord," said de Lumey.

The executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all in white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the steps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck of Ulenspiegel.

"This man is mine," she said. "I take him for my husband."

And the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:

"Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life of Ulenspiegel!"

"What does this mean?" demanded Messire de Lumey.

Très-Long answered:

"You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any young maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging, provided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot of the gallows."

"God is on his side," said de Lumey. "Unloose his fetters."

Then riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner was endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which bound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn't know who would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel did not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and so cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him, and he asked the maid who she might be.

"I am Nele," she answered him, "the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I am come from Flanders to seek him."

"You have done well," said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he went away.

Then Très-Long approached the scaffold.

"Young Fleming," he said, "when once you are married, will you still serve as a soldier in our ships?"

"Yes, sir," answered Ulenspiegel.

"But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?"

Nele answered:

"If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship."

"Very well," said Très-Long.

And he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for joy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins, saying: "We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!"

And the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of the Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered, and from an upper window Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.

And Ulenspiegel said to Nele:

"Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For she is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft eyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of kindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it's you and only you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do you remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me is now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why, tell me.... You are crying!"

"They have killed her," she said. And then Nele told him all the sad story of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they wept for love and for sorrow.

But at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them grieved within himself, saying:

"Alas! my wife, where are you?"

And the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.

And the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.

And Nele's head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when the sun had awakened her he said:

"Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land of Flanders!"

She kissed him on the mouth, saying:

"Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword."

"I will make for you a soldier's habit," said Ulenspiegel.

"Now? At once?"

"At once," he told her. "But who was that man who said that strawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far, far sweeter."

XXXIII

By sea, by river, in fair weather and foul, through snows of winter and summer's heat, the ships of the Beggarmen sailed before the breeze. Full-bellied was their canvas and white as the down of swans--white swans of Liberty.

But to the King of Blood came the news of their conquests, and death was already at work upon his vitals, and his body was full of worms. And he dragged himself along the corridors of his palace at Valladolid, and he never laughed--not even at daybreak, what time the Sun rose to irradiate all the lands of his empire as with the very smile of God.

But Ulenspiegel, Lamme, and Nele sang out like birds, living from day to day, having joy to hear of many a funeral pyre put out by the brave Beggarmen. And Tyl sang five songs, all to the glory of the land of Flanders and to the despite of her enemies.

And it came to pass that on a day, having taken the towns of Rammeken, Gertruydenberg, and Alckmaer, the Beggarmen returned to Flushing. And there in the harbour they beheld a little boat moored. And in the boat was a pretty-looking woman with golden-brown hair, brown eyes, fresh cheeks, rounded arms, and white hands. And all at once the woman cried out:

"Lamme! Lamme!" And then again: "Ah, but you must not approach me! I have taken a vow before God.... Yet I love you. Ah, my dear husband!"

Nele said: "It is Calleken Huysbrechts--the fair Calleken!"

"Even so," answered the woman. "But, alas! the hour of noon has already struck for my beauty." And she looked very sorrowful.

But now Lamme jumped down from the ship into a little skiff, which was straightway brought alongside of the boat wherein was his wife.

"What have you been doing?" he asked her. "What has been happening to you? Why did you leave me? And why now do you make as though you would have none of me?"

Then Calleken told him, in a voice that oftentimes trembled with tears, how that she had entrusted the care of her soul to a monk, one Brother Cornelis Adriaensen, and how he had warned her against her husband for that he was a heretic and a consorter with heretics. How also by his eloquence he had persuaded her that a life of celibacy was most pleasing unto God and his saints, albeit he oftentimes profaned the holy confessional with many a penance that was most distressful to her modesty. "Nevertheless," she ended, "I swear before God that I remained ever faithful to you, my husband, for I loved you."

But Lamme gazed upon her sadly and reproachfully, so that Nele said to him:

"If Calleken has been faithful as she says, it behoves her now to leave you in very deed, as a punishment for your unkindness."

"He knows not how I love him," said Calleken.

"Is this the truth?" cried Lamme. And then seeing that it was so: "Then come, wife," he cried, "the winter is over!"

Thereafter, having given and received from all the kiss of peace: "Come now," cried Lamme, "come, wife, with me. For now is the hour of lawful loves!"

And together they sailed away in their little boat.

Meanwhile the soldiers, the sailors, and the ship's boys that stood around, all waved their caps in the air and shouted: "Adieu, brother! Adieu, Lamme! Adieu, brother--brother and friend!"

And Nele removed with the tip of her sweet finger a tear that had settled in the corner of the eye of Ulenspiegel.

"You are sad, my love?" she asked him.

"He was good," Tyl said.

Nele sighed.

"Ah! This war--will it never end? Must we live for ever thus, in the midst of blood and tears?"

"Let us seek the Seven," said Ulenspiegel. "The hour of deliverance is at hand."

XXXIV

It was the season of harvest. The air was heavy, the wind warm. They that gathered the harvest were able now to reap at their ease, under a free sky and from a free soil, the corn they had sown.

Frise, Drenthe, Overyssel, Gueldre, Utrecht, Noord Brabant, Noord and Zuid Holland; Walcheren, Noord and Zuid Beveland; Duiveland and Schouwen which together make up Zeeland; the sea-bordering lands to the north from Knokke to Helder; the isles of Texel, Vlieland, Ameland, and Schiermonik Oog--all were being delivered from the Spanish yoke, from the Eastern Scheldt to the Oost Ems. And Maurice, the son of William the Silent, was continuing the war.

Ulenspiegel and Nele kept still their youthfulness, their strength and their beauty, for the Love and the Spirit of Flanders never grow old. And they lived happily at the Tower of Neere, waiting for that day when, after so many cruel trials, they would be able to breathe the breath of liberty upon their native land of Belgium.

Ulenspiegel had asked to be made governor and guardian of the Tower. For he had, so he said, the eyes of an eagle and the ears of a hare, and so he would be able to see at once if the Spaniard ever dared to show himself again in the lands that had been delivered from his yoke. Then quickly would he sound the wacharm, the alarm-bell as we call it in our tongue.

To this request the magistrate consented, and in virtue of the good service he had rendered, Ulenspiegel was allowed a florin every day, two pints of beer, a ration of beans, cheese, biscuits, and three pounds of beef weekly.

And so did Ulenspiegel and Nele live on the Tower together very happily, having joy to see in the distance the free isles of Zeeland, and near at hand the woods and castles and fortresses, and the armed ships of the Beggarmen that guarded the coast.

At night they would often mount to the top of the Tower, and there they would sit together on the flat roof, talking of many a stern battle and telling many a tale of love, past and to come. And from their Tower they could see the ocean, which, when the weather was hot, furled and unfurled along the shore its shining waves, and threw them upon the island-coasts like wraiths of fire. And among the polders the will-o'-the-wisps would come a-dancing. And Nele was afraid of them, for she said they were the souls of the poor dead. And true it was that all those places where they danced had once been fields of battle. And the will-o'-the-wisps would oftentimes spring forth from the polders, and run along the dikes, and then return again to the polders, as though unwilling to leave the bodies whence they had come.

One night Nele said to Ulenspiegel:

"Behold how many spirits there are in Dreiveland, and how high they fly! Over there by the Isle of Birds they seem to crowd the thickest. Will you come with me there one night, Tyl? We would take with us the balm that can show us things invisible to mortal eyes."

But Ulenspiegel answered:

"If you mean the balm we took when we went to the great Sabbath of Spring, I have no more faith or confidence in what we saw there than in any idle dream."

"It is wrong to deny the power of charms," said Nele. "Come, Ulenspiegel!"

"Very well," he said.

The next day Ulenspiegel arranged with the magistrate that one of the soldiers who had clear sight and a faithful heart should take his place at the Tower for that one evening. And away he went with Nele towards the Isle of Birds.