Part 8

"Make your way into the little house which is called the Park House, and is the favourite residence of the Emperor Charles the Fifth."

Whereupon Nele began to speak, in a low voice, as though she were half suffocated.

"I am standing in a small room painted green. There is a man in the room. He is about fifty-four years of age, and he has a bald head and a protruding chin with a white beard growing upon it. His grey eyes have a wicked, crafty look, filled with cruelty and false kindness. And this is the man they call 'His Most Sacred Majesty.' He suffers from a catarrh and always keeps coughing. Beside him is another, a young man with an ugly face like that of a hydrocephalous monkey. I saw him once at Antwerp. He is King Philip. At the present moment he is being rebuked by His Sacred Majesty for having slept out last night away from home. Doubtless, says His Majesty, he was at some brothel in company of a trollop of the town. His hair, it seems, smells of the tavern, no place, that, for a King to seek his pleasures in, he who may have his choice of all the sweetest bodies in the world, of skin like satin fresh from perfumed baths, and of hands of high-born ladies, very amorous. Such as these, says His Majesty, are more fit for him, surely, than some half-mad wench that is come, scarcely washed, from the arms of a drunken soldier. For there is not one among all the ladies, the most noble, the most beautiful, whether virgin, wife, or widow, that would resist King Philip! And they would be proud to give him of their love--not by a greasy glimmer of stinking tallow, but by the light of scented tapers made of finest wax.

"The King replies that he will obey His Sacred Majesty in all things. Whereupon His Sacred Majesty has a fit of coughing and drinks some draughts of hippocras. After which he addresses his son, sorrowfully, in these words:

"'You must know, my son, that very soon I am to give to the world the mighty spectacle of the abdication of my throne in the favour of you, my son. And I shall speak before a great crowd of people, coughing and hiccuping as I am--for all my life I have eaten too heartily. And very hard-hearted must you be if you shed no tears when you hear what I shall have to say.

"'I shall shed many tears,' answers King Philip.

"And now His Sacred Majesty is speaking to his valet, a man named Dubois.

"'Bring me some sugar dipped in Madeira,' he cries. 'I have the hiccups. Pray heaven they do not attack me when I am making my speech before all those people. Oh, that goose I had last night for dinner! Will it never pass? I think I had better take a glass of Orleans wine? No, it is too harsh. Or perhaps if I ate some anchovies? No, they are oily. Dubois, there, give me some Roman wine!'

"Dubois does as he is told, then dresses his master in a robe of crimson velvet, wraps a golden cloak about him, girds on his sword, places the globe and sceptre in his hands, and on his head the crown. Thus arrayed, His Sacred Majesty goes forth from the Park House, riding on a little mule and followed by King Philip and many notables. Presently they arrive at a large building called the Palace, and they come to a room wherein is a tall thin man, most richly dressed. He is the Prince of Orange, William, surnamed the Silent.

"'Do I look well, Cousin William?' His Sacred Majesty inquires.

"But the man makes no answer, till at length His Sacred Majesty speaks again, half mused, half angry.

"'Still silent, cousin? Still without a word?--even when you have the chance of telling the truth to a grey-beard! Come now, shall I abdicate or stay upon my throne, O silent one?'

"'Most Sacred Majesty,' replies the thin man, 'at the approach of winter even the strongest oaks let fall their leaves.'

"Three o'clock strikes.

"'Lend me your shoulder, silent one, that I may lean upon it.'

"And, so saying, His Most Sacred Majesty leads the way into a great room wherein is a canopy, and under the canopy a dais covered with a carpet of crimson silk. On the dais are three chairs. His Sacred Majesty seats himself on the mid-most one, which is more ornamented than the others and surmounted by the imperial crown. King Philip takes the second chair, and the third is occupied by a woman, who is no doubt the Queen. On either side are long benches covered with tapestry, and sitting upon them are men dressed in red robes and wearing round their necks the image of a golden sheep. Behind stand various personages who would seem to be princes and lords. Opposite these, and at the bottom of the dais, there is a row of bare benches which are occupied by men dressed in plain cloth. I hear it said that these men are clothed and seated so modestly because it is themselves that have to pay all the costs. At the entrance of His Sacred Majesty these people all stand up, but when he has sat down he makes a sign and they sit also.

"Now a very aged man is talking of his gout interminably. After which the woman, who seems to be a Queen, presents a roll of parchment to His Majesty. His Sacred Majesty reads what is written thereon in a low voice, coughing all the time, and then he begins to speak for himself.

"'Many and long are the journeys that I have made through Spain and Italy and the Netherlands, through England and through Africa, all for God's glory, for the renown of my arms, and the good of my peoples.'

"And so on, and so on, till at last he comes to tell of his growing weakness and fatigue, and of his determination to relinquish the crown of Spain, together with the counties, duchies, and marquisates of all those countries, and of his desire to hand them over to his son. Thereafter he begins to weep, and every one weeps with him, and King Philip gets up from his chair and falls upon his knees before his father.

"'Most Sacred Majesty,' he cries, 'am I indeed to receive this crown from your hands while yet you are so strong to wear it?'

"Then His Majesty whispers into his son's ear that he should speak some kindly words to those men who are seated upon the tapestried chairs. Whereupon King Philip turns towards them, and without rising addresses them in a sharp tone of voice.

"'I understand French fairly well,' he says, 'but not well enough to be able to talk to any one in that language. But the Bishop of Arras, Monsieur Grandvelle, he will say something to you on my behalf.'

"'That is not the way to speak to them, my son,' says His Sacred Majesty.

"And in truth the whole assembly begins to murmur, seeing the young King so proud and unbending. The woman, she who is the Queen, then makes an oration, and is followed by an aged professor, who, on sitting down, receives a wave of the hand from His Sacred Majesty by way of thanks. These ceremonies and harangues being finished, His Sacred Majesty makes a declaration to the effect that his subjects are released from their oath of fidelity, signs the deeds drawn up to ratify his abdication, and then, rising from his throne, places his son upon it in his stead. Every one in the hall weeps. Then they return again to the Park House.

"Once more His Sacred Majesty and his son Philip are alone together in the green chamber. As soon as the doors are shut His Sacred Majesty goes off into a peal of laughter, and begins talking to King Philip, who keeps quite solemn all the time.

"'Did you notice,' says the Emperor, laughing and hiccuping at the same time, 'how little was needed to move these good people to tears? Heavens, how they wept! You would have thought it was the deluge! That fat Maes who made the long speech, why, he cried like a calf! Even you appeared to be affected--but not quite sufficiently, perhaps. Really there is no doubt that these are the best of all the entertainments which one can provide for the populace. For just as we nobles are wont to cherish most those mistresses who cost us most, so also it is with the people. The more we make them pay the more they love us. That is why I have tolerated the reformed religion in Germany while punishing it severely in the Low Countries. If, however, the German princes had been Catholics I would have made myself a Lutheran so that I might confiscate their property. Verily they all believe in the integrity of my zeal for the Roman faith, and when I leave them they are full of regrets. Yet for heresy there have perished at my hands fifty thousand of their bravest men and of their tenderest maidens, in the Netherlands alone. But still they grieve at my departure. And without making any count of what has been got from confiscations, I have raised in taxes more than the wealth of all the Indies or Peru; yet they are sorry to lose me. And I have torn up the Peace of Cadzant, brought the city of Ghent under subjection, suppressed every one who might be dangerous to me, put down all liberties, freedoms, and privileges, and placed them under the authority of the royal officers; but yet do these good people think they are still free inasmuch as I allow them to shoot with the crossbow, and to carry in procession the banners of their guilds. Willingly do they submit themselves to the hand of their master, finding happiness in a cage, and singing his praises while he is with them, and weeping when he departs. My son, be you to them even as I have been, kindly in words but harsh in deed. Lick that which you have no need to bite, and never leave off swearing to maintain liberties, freedoms, and privileges, however little you may scruple to destroy those liberties if they show signs of becoming dangerous. For such things as these are like iron if handled timidly, but brittle as glass if grappled with a strong hand. Therefore you should root out all heresy, not because it differs from the Roman religion, but because, if allowed to flourish, it would mean the end of our rule in all the Netherlands. For they that attack the Pope with his three crowns would finish by denying the authority of the temporal princes who wear but one. So, then, you should follow my example, and regard all claims to freedom of conscience as crimes of high treason to be punished by immediate confiscation. Hereby you will inherit great riches, as I also have done all my life long; and when you come to die or to abdicate, everybody will say, 'Ah me, the good and noble prince!' and many are the tears that will be shed!'

"And now I hear no more," said Nele, "for His Sacred Majesty has laid him down to sleep. And King Philip, that proud and haughty prince, stands gazing at him with loveless eyes."

And when she had thus spoken, Nele was awakened from her trance by Katheline. And Claes gazed thoughtfully into the fire as it flamed and lit up all the chimney.

XXXV

It was the month of April. The weather had been mild, but now there was come a sharp frost and a sky grey and overcast as it were the sky of All Souls' Day. The third year of Ulenspiegel's banishment had long since passed, and Nele was waiting day after day for the return of her lover.

"Alas!" she cried, "there will be snow on the pear-trees, and snow upon the flowering jasmines, and on all the poor plants that have bloomed in confidence of the mildness and the warmth of an early spring. Already from the sky little snowflakes are falling on the roads. And on my poor heart as well the snow is falling.

"Where, oh where are the bright rays of sunshine that should be playing now on our happy spring-time faces--and upon red roofs that were used to grow the redder for that warmth, and on window-panes that flashed as they caught that sunny brightness? Where indeed are those flaming beams that kindled earth to life again, and the sky, and the birds, and the insects? Alas! For day and night am I chilled by sorrow and long waiting. Oh where, where are you, my lover Ulenspiegel?"

XXXVI

That Sunday there was held at Bruges the Procession of the Holy Blood. Claes told his wife that she and Nele ought to go and see the procession, and that if they did so, it was not impossible they might find Ulenspiegel in the city. As for himself, he would stay behind and look after the cottage and be ready to welcome their pilgrim if he should return.

So the two women went off together. Claes remained at home and sat himself down on the doorstep and gazed into the deserted village street. All was quiet as the grave, except now and again for the crystal sound of the bell of some village church, or, rising and falling with every little gust of wind from Bruges, the far-off music of the carillon and the sound of the guns and fireworks that were being let off in honour of the Holy Blood. But in spite of all these sounds of joy, Claes was filled with sadness, scanning the grey mist that hung over the fields for a sight of his son, and trying to hear his footfall in the jolly rustling of leaves and gay concert of birds as they sang among the trees. Suddenly he noticed a man coming down towards him on the road from Maldeghem. It was a man tall of stature, but it was not Ulenspiegel. And presently Claes saw him come to a stand beside a field of carrots, and bend down to eat of the vegetables as if he were starving for food.

"There's a hungry man sure," said Claes to himself.

But after a while the man continued his walk, and passed out of view; to reappear a little later at the corner of the rue Héron. Claes recognized him at once as the messenger who had brought the seven hundred ducats from his brother Josse. He went to meet him, and asked him in.

"Blessed are they that are kind to the wandering traveller," said the man, and readily accepted the proffered invitation.

Now on the window-ledge of the cottage window lay some bread-crumbs which Soetkin kept ready for the birds of the neighbourhood, who had learnt to come there during the winter for their food. The man took these crumbs and ate them.

"You must be hungry and thirsty," said Claes.

"Eight days ago was I robbed by thieves," the man replied, "and since then I have had nothing to eat but the carrots I have found in the fields and roots in the forest."

"Well then," said Claes, "I am thinking it is time you had a good round meal." And so saying he opened the bread-pan. "Look," he continued, "here is a dishful of peas, and here are eggs, puddings, hams, sausages from Ghent, waterzoey, a hotchpotch of fish. And down below in the cellar there slumbers our good wine from Louvain, made after the manner of Burgundy wine, all clear and red as rubies. Only the glasses are wanting now to rouse it from its sleep. And to crown all, let us put a faggot to the fire. Already I can hear the pudding singing in the grill! And that's a song of right good cheer, my friend!"

Claes kept turning the puddings, and as he did so he inquired of the stranger whether he had seen his son, Ulenspiegel.

"No," was the answer.

"Then perhaps you bring me news of my brother?" Claes said, as he placed the puddings, now well grilled, upon the table, together with a ham omelette, some cheese, and two big tankards of gleaming Louvain wine, both red and white.

The man said:

"Your brother Josse has been done to death upon the rack at Sippenaken near to Aix. And all because he was a heretic, and bore arms against the Emperor."

Claes was like one mad, and he shook all over, for his wrath was great.

"Wicked brutes!" he cried. "O Josse! My poor Josse!"

Then the stranger spoke again, but in a voice that held no sweetness.

"Not in this world, my friend, is to be found just cause either for joy or for sorrow." And he fell to his food. But after a while he spoke again.

"You must know that I was able to be of some assistance to your brother while he was in prison, by pretending that I was one of his relatives, a peasant from Nieswieler. I am now come hither in obedience to his command that if I was not killed for the Faith like him, I should go to you, and charge you in his name to live in the faith and peace of our Saviour, practising all works of mercy, and educating your son in secret in the law of Christ. 'That money,' he said, 'which I gave to my brother was money taken from the poor and ignorant. Let Claes make use of it in rearing Tyl in the knowledge of God and of His word.'"

And when he had thus spoken, the messenger gave Claes the kiss of peace. And Claes made moan and lamentation, saying:

"Dead upon the rack! Alas! My poor Josse!" And his grief was so great that he could not put it from him. Nevertheless, when he saw that the messenger was consumed with thirst and held out his glass for more wine, Claes poured out again. But he himself ate and drank without pleasure.

Now Soetkin and Nele remained away for seven days; and all this time the messenger stayed beneath the roof of Claes, and every night they heard Katheline howling in her cottage over the way:

"Fire! Fire! Make a hole! My soul wants to get out!"

And Claes went to her, comforting her with gentle words, and afterwards returned to his own house.

At the end of the seven days the messenger departed. Claes offered him money, but he would only accept two caroluses with which to feed himself and find lodging on his way back home.

XXXVII

When Nele and Soetkin returned from Bruges, they found Claes in the kitchen, sitting on the floor like a tailor, sewing buttons on an old pair of breeches. Titus Bibulus Schnouffius barked his welcome; Claes smiled, and Nele smiled in answer. But Soetkin did not take her eyes from the road, gazing continually in hopes to see her beloved Ulenspiegel.

All of a sudden she broke silence. "Look," she cried, "here is the Provost-Marshal. He is coming along the road with four sergeants of the peace. They cannot be wanting any one from here, surely! And yet there are two of them turning off by the cottage!"

Claes looked up from his work.

"And the other two have stopped at the front," Soetkin said.

Then Claes got up.

"Who can they want to arrest in this road?" his wife continued, and then: "O Christ! They are coming in here."

"Look to the money!" cried Claes. "The caroluses are hidden away behind the fireplace." And with these words he ran out of the kitchen into the garden. Nele understood what he meant, and saw that he was going to try and make his escape over the hedge. But the sergeants seized him by the collar, and now he was hitting out at them in a hopeless endeavour to break free.

"He is innocent!" Nele cried aloud amid her tears. "He is innocent! Do not hurt him. It is Claes, my father! O Ulenspiegel, where are you? Where are you? If you were only here you would kill them both!"

And she threw herself on one of the sergeants and tore at his face with her nails. Then she cried out again: "They will kill him!" and fell down upon the grass in the garden, and rolled there in her despair.

Katheline, hearing the noise, had come out from her cottage, and stood up straight and immovable, gazing at the piteous scene. Then she spoke, wagging her head:

"Fire! Fire! Make a hole! My soul wants to get out!"

Soetkin meanwhile, who had seen nothing of all this, was talking to the sergeants who had entered the cottage.

"Kind sirs," she began, "what is it that you are looking for in our poor dwelling? If it is my son you want, he is far away. Do you feel equal to a long journey?"

And she felt quite pleased at the way she was handling the matter. But it was at this very moment that Nele began to cry aloud for help, and when Soetkin had made her way into the garden, it was to see her husband seized by the collar and fighting on the pathway near the hedge.

"Hit hard and kill them!" she cried, and then: "O Ulenspiegel, where are you?"

And she was about to go to the assistance of her man when one of the sergeants caught hold of her, not indeed without some danger to himself. And Claes was fighting and hitting out so forcibly that he would certainly have escaped had not the two sergeants with whom Soetkin had been talking come out to aid their fellows in the nick of time. So at last they were able to tie the hands of Claes together, and to carry him back to the kitchen, whither Nele and Soetkin had already come, crying and sobbing.

"Sir Provost," Soetkin said, "what crime has he committed that you are binding my poor husband thus with cords?"

"He is a heretic," said one of the sergeants.

"Heretic!" cried Soetkin, looking towards her husband. "You a heretic! These devils are lying!"

Claes answered:

"I resign myself into God's keeping."

And they took him away. Nele and Soetkin followed behind, in tears, believing that they also would be summoned before the judge. They were joined by many of their friends and neighbours, but when these heard that it was on a charge of heresy that Claes was walking thus in chains, fear came upon them and they returned incontinently to their houses, closing their doors behind them. Only a few young girls had the courage to approach Claes and say to him:

"Whither are you going to, Charcoal-burner, in these bonds!"

"I go unto the grace of God, my girls," he answered them.

So they took him away to the town gaol, and Nele and Soetkin sat themselves down upon the threshold. And towards evening Soetkin besought Nele to leave her and to go and see if Ulenspiegel had perchance returned.

XXXVIII

The news spread quickly through the neighbourhood that a man had been taken prisoner on a charge of heresy, and that the inquisitor Titelman, Dean of Renaix, surnamed the Inquisitor without Pity, had been appointed judge. Now at this time Ulenspiegel was living at Koolkerke, in the intimate favour of a farmer's widow, a sweet and gentle person who refused him nothing of what was hers to give. He was very happy there, petted and made much of, until one day a treacherous rival, an alderman of the village, lay in wait for him early in the morning when he was coming out of the tavern, and would have beaten him with a wooden club. But Ulenspiegel, thinking to cool his rival's anger, threw him into a duck-pond that was full of water, and the alderman scrambled out as best he could, green as a toad and dripping like a sponge.

As a result of this mighty deed Ulenspiegel found it convenient to depart from Koolkerke, and off he went to Damme as fast as his legs would carry him, fearing the vengeance of the alderman.

The night fell cold, and Ulenspiegel ran quickly. For he was longing to be home again, and already he saw in imagination Nele sewing by the fire, Soetkin getting ready the supper, Claes binding up his sticks, and Schnouffius gnawing at a bone.

A tramping pedlar met him on the road and asked him whither he was off to so fast and at that time of night.

"To my home in Damme," Ulenspiegel told him.

The tramp said:

"That town is no longer safe. They are arresting the Reformers there." And he passed on.

Presently Ulenspiegel arrived at the inn of the Roode Schildt and went in for a glass of dobbel kuyt. The innkeeper said to him:

"Are you not the son of Claes?"

"I am," said Ulenspiegel.

"Make haste then," said the innkeeper, "for the hour of evil fortune has sounded for your father."

Ulenspiegel asked him what he meant by these words, and the innkeeper told him that he would know soon enough. So Ulenspiegel left the inn and continued on his way, running apace.

When he arrived at the outskirts of Damme, the dogs that stood by the doorways came running round his legs, jumping up at him, yelping and barking. Hearing this noise, the women also came out of their houses, and when they saw who it was they all began talking at once.

"Whence come you?" they cried. "And have you any news of your father? And do you know where your mother is? Is she in prison too? Alas! Heaven send they do not bring him to the stake!"

Ulenspiegel ran on faster than ever. He met Nele.

"Tyl," she said, "you must not go home. They have set guards in our house in the name of His Majesty."

Ulenspiegel stopped running.

"Nele," he said, "is it true that Claes, my father, is in prison?"

"It is true," Nele said, "and Soetkin sits weeping at the gaol door."