The Legend of Ulenspiegel Volume Ii Part 49

One of the gentlemen, who was called Van der Zickelen, spoke and said:

"I am from Ghent; my house is in St. Michael's Place; I know Willem Ryvish, Esquire, sheriff of La Keure of Ghent. He lost, fifteen years past, a son of twenty-three years of age, debauched, a gamester, an idler; but everyone forgave it him because of his youth. Since that time no man has had news of him. I ask to see the sword, the poignard, and the satchel of the dead man."

Having them before him, he said:

"The sword and the poignard carry on the pommel of the hilt the arms of the Ryvishes, which are three silver fish on an azure field. I see the same arms reproduced on a gold s.h.i.+eld between the meshes of his pouch. What is that other poignard?"

The bailiff speaking:

"It is that poignard," said he, "which was found planted in the body of Hilbert Ryvish, the son of Willem."

"I recognize on it," said the lord, "the arms of the Dammans; the tower gules on a silver field. So keep me G.o.d and all his saints."

The other gentlemen also said:

"We recognize the aforesaid arms for those of Ryvish and of Damman. So keep us G.o.d and all his saints."

Then the bailiff said:

"From the evidence heard and read by the tribunal of aldermen, Messire Joos Damman is the sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the king's goods, and as such guilty of the crime of treason human and divine."

"You say so, Messire Bailiff," rejoined Joos, "but you will not condemn me, lacking sufficient proofs: I am not nor ever was a sorcerer; I did but play at the game of being a devil. As for my s.h.i.+ning face, you have the recipe for it and that for the unguent, the which, while containing henbane, is merely soporific. When this woman, a real witch, used it, she fell in a trance, and thought she went to the sabbath and there danced in the ring with her face to the outside of the circle, and adored a devil with the shape of a goat, set upon an altar.

"The dance being over, she thought she went and kissed him under the tail, as sorcerers do, to give herself up thereafter with me, her friend, to strange copulations pleasing to her perverted mind. If I had, as she says, cold arms and cool body, it was a mark of youth, not of sorcery. In the works of love coolness doth not endure. But Katheline would fain believe what she desired, and take me for a devil notwithstanding that I am a man of flesh and bone, in everything as yourselves that look at me. She alone is guilty: taking me for a demon and receiving me in her bed, she sinned both in intention and deed against G.o.d and the Holy Spirit. It is therefore she, and not I, that committed the crime of sorcery; it is she that is to be made to pa.s.s through the fire, as a furious and malignant witch that seeks to make herself pa.s.s for a madwoman, in order to hide her cunning."

But Nele:

"Do ye hear him," said she, "the murderer? He hath, like a girl for sale, with the armlet on her arm, made a trade and merchandise of love. Do ye hear him? He means, to save himself, to have her burned that gave him all."

"Nele is bad," said Katheline, "do not listen to her, Hans, my beloved."

"Nay," said Nele, "nay, thou art no man: thou art a cowardly cruel devil." And taking Katheline in her arms: "Messieurs Judges," exclaimed she, "listen not to this pale evil one: he hath but one wish, to see my mother burn, she that did no other crime but to be smitten by G.o.d with madness, and to believe the phantoms of her dreams real. She hath already suffered much in her body and in her mind. Do not put her to death, Messieurs the Judges. Leave the innocent to live out her sad life in peace."

And Katheline said: "Nele is bad; thou must not believe her, Hans my lord."

And among the common folk the women were weeping and the men said: "Pardon for Katheline."

The bailiff and the aldermen gave their sentence on Joos Damman, upon a confession which he made after being tortured afresh: he was condemned to be degraded from his n.o.ble estate and burned alive in a slow fire until death ensued, and suffered the penalty the next day before the doors of the Townhall, still saying: "Put the witch to death; she alone is guilty! Cursed be G.o.d! my father will slay the judges."

And he rendered up the ghost.

And the people said: "See him cursing and a blasphemer: he dies like a dog."

Next day the bailiff and the aldermen gave their sentence upon Katheline, who was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the Bruges Ca.n.a.l. Floating, she should be burned as a witch; going to the bottom and dying, she should be regarded as dying like a Christian, and as such should be interred in the garden of the church, which is the graveyard.

The day after, Katheline, holding a wax taper in her hand, barefooted and clad in a chemise of black linen, was brought to the bank of the ca.n.a.l, all along by the trees, in grand procession. Before her marched, singing the prayers for the dead, the dean of Notre Dame, his vicars, the beadle carrying the cross; and behind, the bailiffs of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks and recorders, the constables of the commune, the provost, the executioner and his two a.s.sistants. Upon the banks there was a great crowd of women weeping and men growling, in pity for Katheline, who walked as a lamb suffering herself to be led she knew not whither, and always saying: "Take away the fire, my head burns! Hans, where art thou?"

In the midst of the women Nele cried: "I want to be thrown in with her." But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.

A sharp wind blew from the sea; from the gray sky a fine hail was falling into the water of the ca.n.a.l; a bark was there, which the executioner and his men seized in the name of His Majesty the king. At their command, Katheline went into it; the executioner was seen, standing in it, and at the signal of the provost lifting his wand of justice, he cast Katheline into the ca.n.a.l: she struggled, but not for long, and went to the bottom, having cried out: "Hans! Hans! help!"

And the people said: "This woman is no witch."

Men plunged into the ca.n.a.l and pulled Katheline out from it, unconscious and rigid as a corpse. Then she was brought into a tavern and placed before a great fire; Nele took off her clothes and her wet linen, to give her others; when she came back to herself, she said, trembling and chattering her teeth:

"Hans, give me a woollen cloak."

And Katheline could not get back her warmth. And she died on the third day. And she was interred in the garden of the church.

And Nele, orphaned, departed to the land of Holland, to Rosa van Auweghen.

VII

Upon the hulls of Zealand, on boyers, on crousteves, away goes Thyl Claes Ulenspiegel.

The free sea wafts the valiant flyboats on which are eight, ten or twenty guns all of iron: they belch forth death and ma.s.sacre on the traitor Spaniards.

He is an expert gunner, Thyl Ulenspiegel, son of Claes, lo how he aims straight and true, and pierces like a wall of b.u.t.ter the carcases of the butchers.

In his hat he wears the silver crescent, with this legend: "Liever den Turc als den Paus": "Rather to serve the Turk than the Pope."

The sailors that see him climb up upon their s.h.i.+ps, agile as a cat, supple as a squirrel, singing some song or other, with some gay jest in his mouth, would ask him curiously:

"Whence is it, little man, that thou hast so young a mien, for they say thou wert born long ago at Damme?"

"I am no body, but a spirit," said he, "and Nele, my sweetheart, is like me. Spirit of Flanders, love of Flanders, we shall never die."

"And yet," said they, "when thou art cut, thou dost bleed."

"Ye see but the appearance of it," answered Ulenspiegel, "it is wine and not blood."

"We will broach thy belly, then!"

"I would be the only one to drain it," replied Ulenspiegel.

"Thou art mocking us."

"He that beats the case will hear the drum," answered Ulenspiegel.

And the embroidered banners of the Roman Catholic processions floated from the masts of the s.h.i.+ps. And clad in velvet, in brocade, in silk, in cloth of gold and of silver, such as abbots wear at solemn ma.s.ses, bearing mitre and crozier, drinking the monks' wine, the Beggars kept guard on their s.h.i.+ps.

And it was a strange sight to behold appearing from out of these rich vestments those coa.r.s.e hands that held arquebus or arbalest, halberd or pike, and all men of hard physiognomy, girt about with pistols and cutla.s.ses gleaming in the sun, and drinking from golden chalices the abbots' wine that had become the wine of liberty.

And they sang and they shouted: "Long live the Beggar!" and thus they scoured the ocean and the Scheldt.