The Legend of Ulenspiegel Volume I Part 56

"Aye," asked Lamme, "why, Monseigneur?"

But Brederode made no reply whatever and looked hard at Ulenspiegel. The latter continued:

"Why are you, you n.o.ble lords, fain to be faithful to the king even to the wallet? Is it for the great good he wills you, for the goodly amity he bears you? Why, instead of being faithful to him unto the wallet, why do ye not make it so that the despoiled tormentor of his countries should be ever faithful to the beggar's wallet?"

And Lamme nodded his head in sign of a.s.sent.

Brederode looked at Ulenspiegel with his keen glance and smiled, seeing his friendly open mien.

"If thou art not," said he, "a spy of King Philip's, thou art a good Fleming, and I shall reward thee for either case."

He brought him along, Lamme following, into his office. There, pulling his ear till the blood came:

"That," he said, "is for the spy."

Ulenspiegel uttered no cry.

"Bring," he said to his cellarer, "bring that kettle of wine with cinnamon."

The cellarer brought the kettle and a great tankard of mulled wine perfuming the air.

"Drink," said Brederode to Ulenspiegel; "this is for the good Fleming."

"Ah!" said Ulenspiegel, "good Flemish, lovely cinnamon speech, the saints speak not its like."

Then having drunk the half of the wine, he pa.s.sed the other half to Lamme.

"Who is he?" said Brederode, "this big-bellied papzak who is rewarded without having done anything?"

"This," answered Ulenspiegel, "is my friend Lamme, who every time he drinks wine mulled imagines he is going to find his wife again."

"Aye," said Lamme, draining the wine from the tankard with devout zeal.

"Whither go ye as now?" asked Brederode.

"We are going," answered Ulenspiegel, "in search of the Seven that shall save the land of Flanders."

"What Seven?" asked Brederode.

"When I have found them, I shall tell you what they are," answered Ulenspiegel.

But Lamme, all merry disposed from having drunk:

"Thyl," said he, "if we were to go to the moon to look for my wife?"

"Order the ladder," answered Ulenspiegel.

In May, the month of greenery, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:

"Lo the lovely month of May! Ah! the clear sky of blue, the happy swallows; see the branches on the trees ruddy with sap, the earth is in love. 'Tis the moment to hang and burn for religion. They are there, the dear little inquisitors. What n.o.ble countenances! They have all power to correct, to punish, to degrade, to hand over to the secular judges, to have their prisons. Ah, the lovely month of May!--to arrest the person, to conduct law suits without adhering to the customary forms of justice, to burn, hang, behead, and dig for poor women and girls the grave of premature death. The finches sing in the trees. The good inquisitors have their eye on the rich. And the king shall be heir. Go, damsels, dance in the meadows to the sound of pipes and shawms. Oh! the lovely month of May!"

The ashes of Claes beat upon the breast of Ulenspiegel.

"Let us on," he said to Lamme. "Happy they that will keep an upright heart, and the sword aloft in the black days that are to come!"

VIII

Ulenspiegel pa.s.sed, one day in the month of August, in the rue de Flandre at Brussels, before the house of Jean Sapermillemente, so called because his paternal grandsire when angry used to swear in this fas.h.i.+on as so to avoid blaspheming the most holy name of G.o.d. The said Sapermillemente was a master broiderer by trade; but having grown deaf and blind by dint of drinking, his wife, an old gossip with a sour face, broidered in his stead the coats, doublets, cloaks, and shoes of the lords. Her pretty young daughter helped her in this well-paid work.

Pa.s.sing before the aforesaid house in the last hours of daylight, Ulenspiegel saw the girl at the window and heard her crying aloud:

"August, August Tell me, sweet month, ho will take me to wife, Tell me, sweet month?"

"I will," said Ulenspiegel, "if you like."

"Thou?" said she. "Come nearer that I may see thee." But he:

"Whence comes it that you are calling in August what the Brabant girls call on the Eve of March?"

"Those girls," she said, "have only one month to give them a husband; I have twelve, and on the eve of each, not at midnight but for six hours up to midnight, I jump out of my bed, I take three steps backwards towards the window, I cry what you have heard; then returning, I take three steps backwards towards the bed, and at midnight, going to bed, I fall asleep, dreaming of the husband I shall have. But the months, the sweet months, being mockers by nature, 'tis not of one husband I dream now, but of twelve together; you shall be the thirteenth if you will."

"The others would be jealous," answered Ulenspiegel. "You cry also 'Deliverance'."

The girl answered, blus.h.i.+ng:

"I cry 'Deliverance' and know what I ask for."

"I know, too, and I am bringing it to you," answered Ulenspiegel.

"You must wait," said she, smiling and showing her white teeth.

"Wait," said Ulenspiegel, "nay. A house may fall on my head, a gust of wind might blow me into a ditch, a mad pug might bite me in the leg; nay, I shall not wait."

"I am too young," said she, "and only cry this for custom's sake."

Ulenspiegel became suspicious, thinking that it is on the Eve of March and not of the corn month that the Brabant girls cry to have a husband.

She said, smiling:

"I am too young and only cry this for the sake of the old custom."

"Will you wait till you are too old?" answered Ulenspiegel. "That is bad arithmetic. Never have I seen a neck so round, or whiter b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Flemish b.r.e.a.s.t.s full of that good milk that makes men."