In Katheline's cottage Soetkin stood leaning against the wall,
with her head hanging down and her hands clasped together. She held
Ulenspiegel in her arms, speechless and without a tear. Neither did
Ulenspiegel say anything. It made him afraid to feel the burning
fever that raged in the body of his mother.
The neighbours, returning from the place of execution, came to the
cottage and told how Claes had made an end of his sufferings.
"He is in glory," said the widow.
"Pray for him," said Nele, putting her rosary into the hands of
Ulenspiegel. But he would make no use of it, giving as his reason
that the beads had been blessed by the Pope.
At last night came, and Ulenspiegel urged his mother to go to bed,
telling her that he himself would sit up and keep watch in the
room. But Soetkin said that there was no need for him to do that. Let
him sleep also, for the young have need of a good night's rest. So
Nele prepared two beds for them in the kitchen, and after that she
left them.
Mother and son stayed up together while what remained of the wood
fire burned itself out in the grate. Then Soetkin retired to her bed,
and Ulenspiegel did likewise, listening to his mother sobbing to
herself under the bedclothes.
Outside in the silence of the night the wind made a murmuring sound
in the trees by the canal. It was like the far-off sound of waves,
and it meant that autumn was coming soon. Also, there were great
eddies of dust that beat against the cottage windows.
Now it seemed to Ulenspiegel that he saw the figure of a man going to
and fro in the room, and he thought he heard the sound of footsteps
coming and going in the kitchen. But when he looked he no longer
saw the man, and listening he no longer heard those footsteps, but
only the sound of the wind as it whistled in the chimney and Soetkin
crying under the bedclothes.
Then once again he heard those footsteps, and just behind him, near
his head, a soft sigh.
"Who is it?" he said.
No one answered, but quite distinctly came the sound of three taps
on the table. Ulenspiegel was afraid, and began to tremble. "Who is
it?" he said again. No one answered, but once more there came the
three taps upon the table, and after that he felt two arms hugging him
round, and over him there leant a man's body with skin all wrinkled
and a great hole in its breast that gave forth a smell of burning.
"Father," said Ulenspiegel, "is it you, and is this your poor body
that weighs thus upon me?"
He received no answer to his question, and although the shadow seemed
still quite close, it was from outside the cottage that he heard a
voice crying out to him by name, "Tyl! Tyl!"
Suddenly Soetkin got out of bed and came over to where Ulenspiegel
was lying.
"Do you hear something?" she said.
"Yes," he answered, "it is father calling to me."
"I too," said Soetkin, "I have felt a cold body beside me in my bed,
and the mattress has moved, and the curtains. And I heard a voice that
spoke my name: 'Soetkin!' it said, a voice soft as a whisper. And I
heard a step near by, light as the sound of a gnat's wings." Then
she addressed herself to the spirit of Claes: "If there is aught
that you desire in that heaven where God guards you in his glory,
you must tell me, my man, that we may know what you would have us do."
All of a sudden a mighty gust of wind came blowing upon the door,
and it burst wide open and straightway the room was filled with dust;
and from afar, Soetkin and Ulenspiegel could hear the sound of the
cawing of many ravens.
They went out of the cottage, and came together to the place of
torture....
It was a black night, save where the clouds--coursing in the sky like
stags before the keen north wind--were parted here and there so as
to disclose the glittering face of some star.
By the remnants of the pile strode a sergeant of the commune, up and
down, keeping guard. Soetkin and Ulenspiegel heard his steps as they
resounded on the hardened ground, and together with that sound there
came the cry of a raven, calling his fellows, doubtless; for from
far away there came the sound of other caws in answer.
As Soetkin and Ulenspiegel approached the pile the raven swooped down
upon the shoulder of Claes, and they could hear its beak pecking upon
the body. And soon the other ravens followed. Ulenspiegel would have
thrown himself upon the pile and beaten them off had not the sergeant
come up and prevented him.
"Are you a sorcerer," cried the man, "that comes hither for the hands
of the dead as a talisman, and yet do you not know that the hands of
a man that has been burnt to death possess no power of invisibility,
but only hands of one who has been hanged--such as you yourself will
be one of these days?"
"Sir," Ulenspiegel replied, "I am no sorcerer, but the orphaned son
of the man tied to this stake here. And this woman is the dead man's
widow. We only wish to kiss him once again, and to take away a few
of his ashes in his memory. Give us leave, sir, pray, for you are
certainly no foreign soldier, but a son of this land."
"Very well," said the sergeant.
So the orphan and the widow made their way over the charred wood and
approached the body. Weeping, they both kissed the face of Claes.
Then Ulenspiegel found the place where the heart had been, a great hole
hollowed out by the flames, and therefrom he took a few ashes. Then
Soetkin and he knelt down and said a prayer, and when the sky began to
turn pale in the dawn they were still kneeling there together. But the
sergeant drove them off, for he was afraid that he would be punished
for his kindness.
When they were home again Soetkin took a piece of red silk, and a piece
of black silk, and she made a little bag to contain the ashes. And
on the little bag she sewed two ribbons so that Ulenspiegel could
always carry it suspended round his neck. And she gave it to him with
these words:
"These ashes are the heart of my husband. This red ribbon is his
blood. This black one is our sorrow. Always upon your breast let them
lie, and call down thereby the fire of vengeance upon his torturers."
"Amen," said Ulenspiegel.
And the widow embraced her orphan, and the sun rose.