May and June that year were in very truth the months of flowers. Never
had Flanders known the hawthorn so fragrant, never the gardens so gay
with roses, jasmine, and honeysuckle. And when the wind blew eastwards
from England it carried with it the breath of all this flowery land,
and the people, at Antwerp and elsewhere, sniffed the air joyfully
and cried aloud:
"How good the scent of the wind that blows from Flanders!"
Then it was that the bees were busy sucking honey from the flowers,
making wax, and laying their eggs within the hives that were all too
small to house the swarms. What workman's music they made, under that
canopy of azure sky that was spread so dazzlingly over the rich earth!
The hives were made of rushes, straw, osiers or of wattled hay. And
there the bees, like clever basket-makers, lined and tunnelled
the hives with their beautifully fitting tools. And as for the
bread-makers, this long time past their numbers were scarce sufficient
for the work they had to do. In a single swarm there would be as many
as three thousand bees and two thousand seven hundred drones! The
quality of the comb was so exquisite that the Dean of Damme dispatched
eleven combs to the Emperor Charles out of gratitude for the new
edicts that had revived in Flanders the earlier vigour of the Holy
Inquisition. It was Philip, forsooth, that ate them all; but little
good did they do him!
But in Flanders, the rascals of the roads, the beggars and vagabonds
and all that lazy good-for-nothing crowd who would risk hanging rather
than do a day's work, were soon enticed by the taste of the honey to
come along and steal their share. And by night they prowled around
the hives in gangs. Now Claes had made some hives for the purpose
of attracting the wandering swarms of bees, and some of these hives
were full already, but there were others that stood empty waiting for
the bees. Claes kept watch all night to guard this sugary wealth of
his; and when he was tired he asked Ulenspiegel to take his place,
the which Ulenspiegel did right willingly.
It was a cold night, and Ulenspiegel to avoid the chill took refuge
in one of the hives, curling himself up inside, and looking out from
two openings that had been made in the roof of the hive.
Just as he was going off to sleep, he heard a rustle in the bushy
hedge near by, and then the voices of two men. They were thieves,
no doubt, and peering forth from the openings aforesaid, Ulenspiegel
saw that they both had long hair and long beards, which was strange,
for a long beard is usually the sign of a nobleman. However, the two
men went peering from hive to hive, and coming at last to the one in
which Ulenspiegel was hiding, they tried its weight, and then----
"Let us take this one," they said. "It is the heaviest."
Whereupon they slung it up between them, on a couple of poles, and
carried it off. Ulenspiegel did not at all fancy being thus carted
away in a hive. But the night was clear, and the two thieves marched
along with never a word. When they had gone about fifty paces they
would stop to take breath, and then set off again. The man in front
grumbled angrily all the time at the weight of his burden. And the
man behind whined in a querulous fashion. Even so are there always
to be found two sorts of idle fellows in this world, those who are
angry at having to work, and those who merely whine at having to.
Ulenspiegel, since there seemed nothing else to do, took hold of the
hair of the man in front and gave it a pull. And he did the same to the
beard of the man at the rear; and to such purpose that the two men soon
grew annoyed at what was happening, and Mr. Angry said to Mr. Whining:
"Hi there, stop pulling my hair, you, or else I'll give you such a
whack on the head that it'll squash down into your chest, and then
you'll be looking out of your two sides like a thief through the
prison grille!"
"I should never think of doing such a thing as to pull your hair,"
said the whiner. "But what are you doing there, pulling at my beard?"
To which Mr. Angry made answer:
"It isn't I that would go hunting for fleas in the wool of a leper!"
"O sir," said the whiner, "for goodness' sake don't go shaking the
hive about like this. My poor arms cannot support it any longer."
"I shall shake it out of your arms altogether," said the other. Then
unloading himself, he placed the hive upon the ground and fell upon
his companion. And so they fought together, the one cursing, and the
other crying out for mercy.
Ulenspiegel, hearing the sound of blows, came out from the hive,
dragged it behind him into the wood close by, and having placed it
where he could find it again, returned to Claes.
And thus you may see what sort of a profit it is that thieves derive
from their quarrels.