Part 3

He became especially accomplished in the art of playing the rommelpot, an instrument which is constructed out of a round pot, a bladder, and a straight piece of straw. And this is the way he played it. First of all he moistened the bladder and held it over the pot. Then he drew the centre of the bladder round the joint of a straw which itself was attached to the bottom of the pot. Finally he stretched the bladder as tightly as he dared over the sides of the pot. In the morning, when the bladder was dry, it sounded like a tambourine when struck, and if one rubbed the straw it gave forth a humming sound as fine in tone as that of any violin. And Ulenspiegel, with his musical pot that played music like the baying of a mastiff, went out with the other children on the day of Epiphany carrying a star made of luminous paper, and singing carols.

Sometimes an artist would come to Damme to paint the members of one of the Guilds, upon their knees. Ulenspiegel was always anxious to see how the artist worked, and he would beg to be allowed to grind the colours in return for nothing but a slice of bread, three liards, and a pint of ale. But while he worked away at the grinding he would carefully study the method of his master. When the artist went away Ulenspiegel would endeavour to paint pictures like him; and his favourite colour was scarlet. In this way he tried to paint the portraits of Claes, of Soetkin, and of Katheline and Nele, as well as those of the pots and pans in the kitchen. When Claes beheld these works of art he predicted that if only he worked hard enough Ulenspiegel would one day be able to earn florins by the dozen for painting the inscriptions on the festal cars, or speel-wagen as they are called in Zeeland and the land of Flanders.

Ulenspiegel also learnt to carve in wood and in stone, for once a master-mason came to Damme to carve a stall in the choir of Notre Dame. And this stall was made in such a way that the Dean--who was an old man--could sit down when he so desired, yet seem to all appearance as if he were still standing upright.

It was Ulenspiegel too who made the first carved knife-handle ever used by the people of Zeeland. He fashioned this handle in the form of a cage. Inside was a death's head that moved; and above it a hound couchant. And this was the signification: "Soul true till death."

Thus it was that Ulenspiegel began to fulfil the prophecy that Katheline had made when she said that he would be painter, sculptor, workman, nobleman, all in one. For you must know that from father to son the family of Claes bore arms three pint pots argent au naturel on a ground bruinbier.

But Ulenspiegel would stick to no one profession, and Claes told him that if he went on in this good-for-nothing way he would chase him out of the house.

XIV

On his return from the wars, the Emperor wanted to know why his son Philip was not there to welcome him.

The Archbishop--the royal Governor--said that the child had refused to leave his solitude and the books which were the only things he loved.

The Emperor asked where he was to be found at the moment. The Governor did not know exactly, but said they had better go and look for him somewhere where it was dark. This they did.

When they had looked through a good number of rooms they came at last to a kind of closet, unpaved and lit only by a skylight. There they found a stake stuck into the ground, and a dear little monkey bound to the stake by a cord round the waist. (Now this monkey had been sent from the Indies as a present to His Highness to amuse him with its youthful gambols).... Round the bottom of the stake were some smoking sticks still glowing, and the closet was filled with a foul smell as of burning hair.

The poor animal had suffered so much pain while being burnt to death that its little body no longer looked the body of a living animal, but seemed rather like the fragment of some root, all wrinkled and distorted. And its mouth, still open with the death-cry, was filled with froth mixed with blood; and the face was wet with tears.

"Who has done this?" said the Emperor.

The Governor did not dare to answer, and the two men stood there silent, sad, and angry.

All at once, in the silence, there was heard a sound of feeble coughing that came from a corner in the shadow behind them. His Majesty turned and beheld Philip, his son, dressed all in black, sucking an orange.

"Don Philip," he said, "come and greet your father."

The child did not move, but gazed at his father with timid eyes that showed no spark of love.

"Is it you," asked the Emperor, "who have burnt alive in the fire this little animal?"

The child bowed his head.

But the Emperor: "If you have been cruel enough to do such a deed, at least be brave enough to own up to it."

The child made no answer.

His Majesty seized the orange from the child's hands, threw it to the ground, and was about to beat his son, who was shaking with terror, when the Archbishop restrained him, whispering in his ear:

"The day will surely come when His Highness shall prove a mighty burner of heretics." The Emperor smiled, and the two of them went away, leaving Philip alone with the monkey.

But others there were, not monkeys, that were destined to meet their death in the flames....

XV

November was come, the month of hail-storms, when sufferers from cold in the head abandon themselves freely to their concerts of coughing and spitting. This also is the month when the turnip-fields are filled with gangs of youths that there disport themselves and steal whatever they can, to the mighty wrath of the peasants, who try in vain to catch them, chasing after them with sticks and pitchforks.

Well, on an evening when Ulenspiegel was returning home from one of these raids, he heard close by, in a corner of the hedgerow, a sound as of groaning. He leant down, and beheld a dog lying stretched out on the stones.

"Hallo!" he cried. "Poor little beast! What are you doing out here so late at night?"

He patted the dog, and found that its back was all wet, as though some one had been trying to drown it. He took it in his arms to warm it, and when he had reached home he said:

"I have brought back a wounded animal. What shall we do with it?"

"Dress its wounds," said Claes.

Ulenspiegel laid the dog on the table; whereupon he and Claes and Soetkin saw that it was a little red-haired Luxemburg terrier, and that it was wounded in the back. Soetkin sponged the wounds, and anointed them with ointment, and bound them up with linen bandages. Then Ulenspiegel took the dog and put it in his bed; but Soetkin desired to have it in her own, saying she was afraid that Ulenspiegel would hurt the little red-haired thing. For in those days Ulenspiegel was wont to toss about in his sleep all night like a young devil in a stoup of holy water. Ulenspiegel, however, had his way, and he took such care of the dog that in the space of six days it was walking about like any other dog, and giving itself great airs.

And the village schoolmaster christened him Titus Bibulus Schnouffius: Titus after a certain good Emperor of the Romans who was fond of befriending lost dogs; Bibulus because the dog loved beer with all the passion of a confirmed drunkard; and Schnouffius because he would always run about sniffing and putting his nose into every rat-hole and mole-hole he could find.

XVI

The young prince of Spain was now fifteen years old, and his custom was to wander about the rooms and passages and stairways of the castle. But chiefly was he to be found prowling around the women's quarters, trying to pick a quarrel with one of the pages, who themselves were wont to lurk on the look out, like cats, in the corridors; while others, again, out in the courtyard, would stand singing some tender ballad, nose in air. When the young prince heard one singing thus, he would show himself at one of the windows, and the heart of that poor page would be stricken with fear as he saw that white face there, instead of the gentle eyes of his beloved.

Now among the Ladies of the Court there was a gentle dame from Dudzeel near by Damme in Flanders. Fair-fleshed she was, like fine ripe fruit, and marvellously beautiful, for she had green eyes and reddish hair all wavy and gleaming gold. And of a gay humour was she, and of an ardent complexion, nor did she make any effort to conceal her taste for that fortunate lord to whom for the time being she was pleased to grant the freedom of the fair estate of her love. Such a one there was even now, handsome and proud, and she loved him well. Every day, at a certain hour, she went to find him--a thing which Philip was not long in finding out.

So, one day, sitting himself down on a bench that stood against a window, he lay in wait for her, and there she saw him as she passed by, with her bright eyes and her mouth half open, all meet for love and fresh from her bath, with the gear of her dress of yellow brocade swinging about her as she stepped along. Without rising from his seat, Philip accosted her.

"Madame," says he, "could you not spare a moment?"

Restive as some eager mare, stayed in her course towards the gallant stallion that is neighing for her in the field, the lady made answer:

"All here must needs obey the royal will of your Highness."

"Then sit you down by my side," said the Prince. And gazing at her lewdly, harshly, cunningly, he spake again:

"I would have you recite to me the Pater Noster in Flemish. They taught it me once, but I no longer remember it."

The poor lady did as she was bid; and then the Prince commanded her to say it all over again, but more slowly. And so on, and so on, until she had recited it ten times over. After that he began to speak flatteringly to her, praising her beautiful hair, her fresh complexion, and her bright eyes. But he dared not to say a word concerning her lovely shoulders or her rounded throat, or of aught else beside.

When at last she was beginning to hope that she might be able to get away, and was already scanning anxiously the courtyard where her lord was awaiting her, the Prince demanded of her if she could rightly tell him what were the several virtues of woman? She answered nothing, fearing that she might say something to displease him. He then answered for her, setting the matter forth in this wise:

"The virtues of woman are these: chastity, regard for her own honour, and a modest manner of life." And he counselled her, therefore, that she should dress decently and should always be careful to hide those things which were meet to be hidden. The lady nodded assent, saying that for His Hyperborean Highness she would certainly take care to cover herself with ten bear-skins rather than with a single length of muslin.

Having put him to shame by this answer, she made off gladly.

But in Philip's heart the fire of youth was alight--not the fiery glow that dares the souls of the brave to lofty deeds, but a dark fire from hell itself, the fire of Satan. And it flamed in his grey eyes like the beam of a winter's moon shining down upon a charnel-house. And it burned within him cruelly....

XVII

Now this beautiful, gay-hearted lady left Valladolid one day for her Château of Dudzeel in Flanders.

Passing through Damme, with her fat attendant behind her, she noticed a lad of about fifteen years of age sitting against the wall of a cottage blowing a pair of bagpipes. In front of him was a dog with red hair howling dismally, because, as it seemed, he did not at all appreciate the music which his master was making. The sun shone brightly, and at the lad's side there stood a pretty young girl in fits of laughter at the pitiful howling of the dog.

This then was the sight that met the eye of the beautiful lady and her fat attendant as they passed in front of the cottage: none else but Ulenspiegel blowing his pipes, and Nele in fits of laughter, and Titus Bibulus Schnouffius howling with all his might.

"You naughty boy," said the dame to Ulenspiegel, "will you never stop making this poor red-hair howl like this?"

But Ulenspiegel, staring back at her, blew his pipes more valiantly than ever, and Bibulus Schnouffius howled the more dismally, and Nele laughed all the louder.

The lady's attendant grew angry, and pointed at Ulenspiegel, saying:

"If I beat this wretched little imp of a man with the scabbard of my sword he would give over his insolent row."

Ulenspiegel looked the attendant in the face and called him "Jan Papzak" because of his fat belly, and went on blowing his bagpipes. The attendant came up to him, and threatened him with his fist. But Bibulus Schnouffius went for him straightway and bit him in the leg, and the man fell down, crying for mercy:

"Help, help!"

The dame only smiled, and said to Ulenspiegel:

"Tell me, my player of bagpipes, is the road still the same that leads from Damme to Dudzeel?"

But Ulenspiegel went on playing, and only nodded his head and stared.

"Why do you look at me so fixedly?" she asked him.

But he, still continuing to play, opened his eyes all the wider as though transported by an ecstasy of admiration.

"Are you not ashamed," she said, "young as you are, to stare at ladies so?"

Ulenspiegel blushed faintly, but went on blowing his pipes, and staring more than ever.

"I have already asked you once," the lady insisted, "whether the road is still the same that leads from Damme to Dudzeel."

"It is green no longer since you deprived it of the honour of carrying you," Ulenspiegel answered.

"Will you show me the way?" said the lady.

But Ulenspiegel still remained sitting where he was, and still went on staring at her. And she, seeing him so roguish, and knowing it all for the gamesomeness of youth, forgave him willingly.

He got up at last, and began to walk back into the cottage.

"Whither are you going?" she asked him.

"To put on my best clothes," he replied.

"Very well," she said.

Then the lady sat herself down on the bench, close to the doorstep, and tried to talk to Nele. But Nele would not answer her, for she was jealous.

It was not long before Ulenspiegel returned, well washed and clothed in fustian. He looked fine in his Sunday clothes, the little man.

"Are you really going off with this fine lady?" Nele asked him.

"I shall soon be back," he told her.

"Let me go instead of you," said Nele.

"No," he said, "the roads are muddy."

"Why, little girl," said the lady, who was annoyed and jealous now in her turn, "why do you try to hinder him from coming with me?"

Nele did not answer, but great tears gushed from her eyes, and she gazed at the fine lady in sadness and in anger.

Then the four of them started off, the dame seated like a queen upon her ambling palfrey, the attendant with his belly that shook with every step, Ulenspiegel holding the lady's horse by the bridle, and Bibulus Schnouffius walking at his side, tail proudly in air.

Thus went they on horseback and on foot for some long while. But Ulenspiegel was not at his ease; dumb as a fish he sniffed the fine scent of benjamin that floated from the lady, and saw out of the corner of his eye all her beautiful gear, rare jewels and trinkets, and the sweet expression of her face, her bright eyes, and bare neck, and her hair that shone in the sunlight like a hood of gold.

"Why are you so quiet, my little man?" she asked him.

He answered nothing.

"Do you keep your tongue so deep in your boots that you could not take a message for me?"

"What is it?" said Ulenspiegel.

"I would have you leave me here," said the dame, "and go to Koolkercke, from whence this wind is blowing. There you will find a gentleman dressed in black and red motley. Tell him that he must not expect me to-day, but let him come to-morrow evening to my château, by the postern gate, at ten o' the clock."

"I will not go," said Ulenspiegel.

"Why not?" asked the lady.

"I will not go, not I," Ulenspiegel said again.

"What can it be," the lady asked him, "what can it be that inspires you with this unyielding will, you angry little cock?"

"I will not go," Ulenspiegel persisted.

"But if I gave you a florin?"

"No," said he.

"A ducat?"

"No."

"A carolus!"

"No," Ulenspiegel repeated, "although"--and this was added with a sigh--"I should rather see it in my mother's purse than a mussel-shell!"

The dame laughed, then suddenly cried out in a loud voice:

"My bag! I have lost my little bag! Beautiful it was and rare, made of silk, and sown with fine pearls! It was hanging from my belt when we were at Damme!"

Ulenspiegel did not budge, but her attendant came up to his lady.

"Madame," said he, "whatever else you do, be careful not to send this young robber to look for it, for so you will certainly never see it again."

"Who will go then?" asked the lady.

"I will," he answered, "old as I am."

And away he went.

Midday had struck. It was very hot. The silence was profound. Ulenspiegel said not a word, but taking off his new doublet he laid it on the grass in the shade of a lime-tree, so that the dame might sit down thereon without fear of the damp. He stood close by, heaving a sigh.

She looked up at him, and felt compassion on that shy little figure, and she inquired of him if he was not tired standing there upright on his young legs. He did not answer, but slid gently down at her side. She was desirous of resting him, and she drew his head on to her bare neck, and there it lay so willingly that she would have thought it the sin of cruelty itself had she bade him find some other pillow.

After a while the attendant came back, saying that he had not been able to find the bag.

"I have found it myself," replied the lady, "for when I dismounted from my horse, there it was hanging half open on the stirrup. And now"--this to Ulenspiegel--"show us the way to Dudzeel, please, and tell me your name."

"My patron saint," he replied, "is Monsieur Saint Thylbert, a name which means fleet of foot towards that which is good; my second name is Claes, and my surname Ulenspiegel. But now, if you would deign to look at yourself in my mirror, you would see that in all the land of Flanders there is not one flower so dazzling in its beauty as is the scented grace of you."

The lady blushed with pleasure, and was not angry with Ulenspiegel.

But Soetkin and Nele sat at home, weeping together, through all this long absence.

XVIII

When Ulenspiegel returned from Dudzeel and came to the entrance of the town, he saw Nele standing there leaning with her back against the toll-gate. She was picking the stones out of a bunch of black grapes, which she munched one by one, and found therefrom, doubtless, much delight and refreshment; nevertheless, she did not allow anything of her enjoyment to appear on her countenance. On the contrary, she seemed annoyed at something, tearing at the grapes angrily. She looked, indeed, so sad and sorrowful, so sweetly unhappy, that Ulenspiegel felt overcome with that pity which is almost love, and coming up to her from behind, he printed a kiss on the nape of the girl's neck. But all the return she gave him was a great box on the ear.

"Now I shall not be able to see properly any more," he said.

She burst into tears.

"O Nele," says he, "are you going to set up fountains at the entrance of all the villages?"

"Be off with you," says she.

"But I can't go away and leave you crying like this, my little pet."

"I am not your little pet," says Nele; "neither am I crying."

"No, you are not crying, but there is certainly some water coming out of your eyes."

"Will you go away?" She turned on him.

"No," he answered.

All the time she was holding her pinafore in her small trembling hand, tearing at the stuff in little spasms of rage, and wetting it with her tears.

"Nele," said Ulenspiegel, "when is it going to be fine again?"

And he smiled at her very lovingly.

"Why do you ask me that?" she said.

"Because when it is fine there is an end of weeping," answered Ulenspiegel.

"Go back to your beautiful lady of the brocaded gown," she said. "Your jokes are good enough for her...."

Then Ulenspiegel sang:

When I see my love crying My heart is torn. When she smiles 'tis honey, Pearls when she weeps. Either way I love her. And I'll draw a draught of wine, Good wine from Louvain, And I'll draw a draught of wine, When Nele smiles again.

"You villainous man!" she cried, "making fun of me again!"

"Nele," said Ulenspiegel, "it is true that I am a man. But I am not a villain. For our family is of noble origin, a family of aldermen, and it carries on its shield three pint pots argent on a ground bruinbier. But, Nele, tell me now, is it a fact that in Flanders when a man sows a kiss he always reaps a box on the ear?"

"I refuse to speak to you," said Nele.

"Then why open your mouth to tell me so?"

"I am angry," she said.

Ulenspiegel slapped her on the back very lightly with his hand, saying:

"Kiss a naughty girl and she will cuff you; cuff her, she will cry. Come then, sweet, cry upon my shoulder since I have cuffed you!"

Nele turned round. He opened his arms, and she threw herself into them.

"You won't go away any more down there, will you Tyl?" she asked him.

But he did not answer, busy as he was in pressing with his the hand that trembled so pitifully, and in drying with his lips the hot tears that fell from the eyes of Nele, like heavy drops of rain in a storm.

XIX

These were the days when the noble city of Ghent refused to pay the tax which her son, the Emperor Charles, was demanding of her. The fact was it was impossible to pay, for already the city was drained of money by the act of Charles himself. But it seemed that the city was guilty of a great crime, and Charles resolved to go himself and exact punishment. For to be whipped by her own son is above all things painful to a mother.

Now, although he was his enemy, Francis Long-Nose was pleased to offer the Emperor a free passage through the land of France. Charles accepted the offer, and instead of being held as a prisoner, he was fêted and feasted in right royal fashion. For this is ever a sovereign bond of union between kings: each to aid the other against their own peoples.

Charles stayed a long time at Valenciennes, and still gave no sign of his wrath, so that Mother Ghent began to lay aside her fears, believing that the Emperor her son was going to forgive her, seeing that she had acted within her rights.

But at length Charles arrived under the walls of the city with 4000 horse, together with the Duke of Alba and the Prince of Orange. The poorer townsfolk and the small business men wished to prevent this filial entry into their city, and would have called to arms 80,000 men of the city and of the country round. But the merchants, the hoogh-poorters, opposed this suggestion, being afraid of the predominance of the people. Thus Ghent could easily have cut her son to pieces, him and his 4000 horse. But it seemed she loved him too dearly, and even the small tradesmen themselves were fast regaining their trust in him.

Charles also loved the city, but only for the sake of his coffers that were stored with her money, and which he hoped to store up fuller yet.

Having made himself master of the place, he established military posts everywhere, and ordered that they should patrol the city night and day. Then, in great state, he pronounced his sentence.