The Legend of Ulenspiegel Volume Ii Part 38

"See him on the roadway," replied Ulenspiegel.

"Praise be to G.o.d!" said they.

And they made the sign of the cross.

"Who is that ringing?" asked Ulenspiegel.

Lansaem replied:

"My eldest boy; the youngest is running through the village knocking at the doors and crying that the wolf is taken. Praise be to thee!"

"The ashes beat upon my heart," replied Ulenspiegel.

Suddenly the weer-wolf spake and said:

"Have pity upon me, pity, Ulenspiegel."

"The wolf talks," said they, crossing themselves. "He is a devil and he knows Ulenspiegel's name already."

"Have pity, pity," said the voice, "bid the bell be quiet; it is ringing for the dead; pity, I am no wolf. My wrists are pierced by the engine; I am old and I bleed; pity! What is this shrill boy's voice awaking the village? Pity!"

"I heard thy voice of old," said Ulenspiegel, vehemently. "Thou art the fishmonger, the murderer of Claes, the vampire of the poor little young girls. Men and women, have no fear. 'Tis the demon, he through whom Soetkin died for grief and pain."

And holding him by the neck beneath the chin with one hand, with the other he drew his cutla.s.s.

But Toria, Betkin's mother, stayed him in this movement.

"Take him alive," she cried.

And she plucked out his white hairs by handfuls, and tore his face with her nails.

And she howled with grief and fury.

The weer-wolf, his hands fast in the engine and stumbling about the roadway, through his keen sufferings:

"Pity," said he, "pity! take this woman away. I will give two carolus. Break those bells! Where are those children that are calling?"

"Keep him alive!" cried Toria, "keep him alive, let him pay! The bells for the dead, the death bells for thee, murderer. By slow fire, by red-hot pincers. Keep him alive! let him pay!"

Meanwhile, Toria had picked up on the road a waffle iron with long arms. Looking closely at it in the light of the torches, she saw it deeply engraved between the two iron plates with lozenges in the Brabant fas.h.i.+on, but armed besides, like an iron mouth, with long sharp teeth. And when she opened it, it was like the mouth of a greyhound.

Then Toria, holding the waffle iron, opening it and shutting it and making the iron ring, seemed as though she had lost her wits for male fury, and gnas.h.i.+ng her teeth and with hoa.r.s.e rattle breath like a woman dying, bit the prisoner with this engine in the arms, the legs, everywhere, seeking most of all his neck, and with every bite saying:

"Thus he did to Betkin with the iron teeth. He pays. Dost thou bleed, murderer? G.o.d is just. The bells for the dead! Betkin is calling me to revenge. Dost thou feel the teeth? 'Tis the mouth of G.o.d."

And she bit him without ceasing and without pity, striking him with the waffle iron when she could not bite him with it. And because of her great thirst for revenge she did not kill him.

"Show compa.s.sion," cried the prisoner. "Ulenspiegel, strike me with thy knife, I shall die quicker. Take this woman away. Break the bells for the dead; kill those calling children."

And Toria still kept biting him, until an old man, in pity, took the waffle iron out of her hands.

But Toria then spat on the weer-wolf's face and tore out his hairs, crying:

"Thou shalt pay, by slow fire, by burning pincers, thy eyes to my nails!"

In the meantime were come all the fishermen, rustics, and women of Heyst, at the report that the weer-wolf was a man and not a devil. Some carried lanterns and flaming torches. And all were crying out:

"Robber and murderer, where dost thou hide the gold stolen from the poor victims? Let him give all back."

"I have none: have pity," said the fishmonger.

And the women threw stones and sand upon him.

"He pays, he pays!" cried Toria.

"Pity," he groaned, "I am all wet with my own blood running. Pity!"

"Thy blood?" said Toria. "There will be enough left for thee to pay with. Cover his wounds with ointment. He will pay by the slow fire, his hand cut off, with red-hot pincers. He shall pay, he shall pay!"

And she would have struck him; then out of her senses she fell upon the sand as though dead, and she was left there till she came back to herself.

Meanwhile, Ulenspiegel, taking the prisoner's hands out of the engine, saw that there were three fingers lacking on the right hand.

And he gave orders to bind him straitly and to put him in a fisherman's hamper. Men, women, and children then departed, taking turns to carry the hamper, wending their way towards Damme to seek justice there. And they carried torches and lanterns.

And the fishmonger kept repeating without ceasing:

"Break the bells; kill the children that are calling."

And Toria said:

"Let him pay, by slow fire, by red-hot pincers, let him pay!"

Then both held their peace. And Ulenspiegel heard no more, save the laboured breathing of Toria, the heavy steps of the men on the sand, and the sea roaring like thunder.

And sad in his heart, he looked at the clouds running like mad things in the sky, the sea where the sheep of fire were to be seen, and in the light of the torches and the lanterns the livid face of the fishmonger staring on him with cruel eyes.

And the ashes beat upon his heart.

And they marched for four hours till they came to where was the populace a.s.sembled in one ma.s.s, knowing the news already. All wis.h.i.+ng to see the fishmonger, they followed the band of fishermen shouting, singing, dancing, and saying:

"The weer-wolf is taken! he is taken, the murderer! Blessed be Ulenspiegel! Long life to our brother Ulenspiegel! Lange leven onsen broeder Ulenspiegel."

And it was like a revolt of the people.

When they pa.s.sed before the bailiff's house, he came out at the noise and said to Ulenspiegel:

"Thou art the victor; praise be to thee!"