IX

Lamme and Ulenspiegel, each mounted upon a donkey given him by

Simon Simonsen, one of the followers of the Prince of Orange, went

riding far and wide, warning the people concerning the bloodthirsty

designs of King Philip, and always on the look-out for any news from

Spain. They frequented all the markets and fairs of the countryside,

selling vegetables and habited like peasants.

One day as they were returning from the market at Brussels, they passed

a stone house on the Quai aux Briques, and there, in a room on the

ground floor, they beheld a beautiful dame dressed all in satin. She

had a high complexion, a lively look in her eyes, and her neck was

most fair to behold. By her side was a young, fresh-looking cook,

to whom she was addressing words like these:

"Clean me this saucepan, will you! No rusty sauce for me!"

"As for me," cried Ulenspiegel, poking in his nose at the window,

"any kind of soup is good enough! For a hungry man cannot afford to

be particular."

The lady turned towards him:

"And who," she said, "who is this little man, I wonder, that must

needs concern himself with my soup?"

"Alas, my lovely lady," said Ulenspiegel, "if only you will consent to

make soup in my company, I will teach you how to prepare a traveller's

relish of a sort that is quite unknown to lovely ladies who stay

at home."

And then, smacking his lips:

"I am hungry," he said.

"Hungry for what?" she asked him.

"For you."

"Sure, he's a nice enough looking fellow," said the cook to her

mistress. "Let him come in a while and tell us his adventures."

"But there are two of them!" said the lady.

"I'll look after the other," said the cook.

"Madame," said Ulenspiegel, "it is true that there are two of us, I

and my poor friend Lamme here, whose back cannot support so much as the

weight of a hundred pounds, yet who carries in his stomach five hundred

pounds at the least of food and drink, and that right willingly!"

"My son," Lamme said, "do not make mock of me, unfortunate that I am,

for my belly costs a deal to fill."

"To-day, at any rate, it shall not cost you so much as a liard,"

said the lady. "Come in, both of you."

"But what about these donkeys of ours?" said Lamme.

"There is no lack of fodder," answered the lady, "in the stable of

Monsieur le Comte de Meghen!"

Thereupon the cook left her saucepan, and led Lamme and Ulenspiegel

into the stable yard, they still riding on their donkeys, who now

began to bray inordinately.

"Hark," cried Ulenspiegel, "hearken to the fanfare with which they

greet their coming nourishment. They are blowing their trumpets for

joy, the poor beasts!"

But when they were dismounted, Ulenspiegel said to the cook:

"Come now, my dear, tell me, if you were a she-ass would you choose

for your mate a donkey like me?"

"If I were a woman," the cook replied, "I would desire a fellow that

had a merry countenance."

"What are you then," asked Lamme, "being neither woman nor she-ass?"

"I am a maid," quoth she, "and that is neither woman nor she-ass into

the bargain. Now do you understand, fat-belly?"

Meantime the lady was inviting Ulenspiegel to drink a pint of

bruinbier and to partake of some ham, a gigot, a pate, and some

salad. Ulenspiegel clapped his hands.

"Ham!" he cried, "that's good to eat; and bruinbier is a drink

divine. Gigot is food fit for the Gods! And the thought of a pate is

enough to send one's tongue a-tremble in one's mouth for joy! A rich

salad is worthy victual for a king, forsooth. But blessed above all

men shall that man be to whom it is given to dine off thy loveliness,

O lady mine!"

"How the fellow does run on!" she exclaimed. And then: "Eat first,

you rogue."

"Shall we not say grace ere we consume all these dainties?" said

Ulenspiegel.

"Nay," answered the lady.

But Lamme began to make moan, complaining that he was hungry.

"Eat, then, your fill," said the beautiful dame, "for well I see that

you have no other thoughts but of meats well cooked."

"And fresh withal," Lamme added, "even as was my wife."

At this the cook grew moody; nevertheless they ate and drank their

fill, and that night also did the beautiful dame give his supper to

Ulenspiegel, and so the next day, and the days that followed.

As for the donkeys, they were given double feeds, and for Lamme there

was always a double ration. And throughout a whole week he never once

went outside the kitchen, playing the wanton with many a dish of food,

but never with the cook, for he was thinking of his wife all the time.

This annoyed the girl, and she went so far as to say that it was

not worth while to cumber the earth if one thought of nothing but

one's belly.

But all this time Ulenspiegel and the beautiful dame were passing

the time together in right friendly wise, till one day she said to him:

"Tyl, I think you have no principles at all. Who are you?"

"I am," said he, "a son that Chance begat one day on High Adventure."

"You are not afraid to speak well of yourself," she told him.

"That's for fear that others will praise me."

"Would you go so far as to help such of your brethren who have suffered

for the Faith?"

"The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast."

"There is something splendid about you, Tyl, when you say that,"

she told him, "but who is this Claes?"

"He was my father," answered Ulenspiegel, "that was burnt alive for

the Faith."

"Verily you are not at all like my husband, the Count de Meghen,"

she said, "for he, if he could, would bleed to death the country that

I love. For you must know that I was born in the glorious city of

Antwerp. And now I will make known to you that the Count has entered

into an agreement with the Councillor of Brabant to bring into that

very city of Antwerp a regiment of infantry."

"I must inform the citizens of this," said Ulenspiegel. "Behold,

I will go there immediately, swift as a ghost."

He departed there and then; and by the following morning the citizens

of Antwerp were in arms. But Ulenspiegel and Lamme, having sent

their donkeys to a farmer that was a friend of Simon Simonsen, were

themselves obliged to go into hiding for fear of the Count de Meghen,

who was seeking for them everywhere to have them hanged; for it had

been reported to him that there were two heretics that had drunk of

his wine and eaten of his meat. And he was jealous and spoke concerning

this matter to his lovely dame, who ground her teeth in anger, and wept

and swooned seventeen times. The cook behaved in a similar fashion,

but swooned not so often, and swore by her hope of Paradise and by

the eternal salvation of her soul, that neither she nor her mistress

had done anything wrong unless it had been to give what was left of

their dinner to a couple of poor pilgrims who, mounted on two wretched

donkeys, had stopped for a moment at the kitchen window.

All that day there was a great shedding of tears, so that the floors

of the house became quite damp with them. And when he saw this,

Monsieur de Meghen felt reassured that he was being told the truth

and nothing but the truth.

Lamme did not dare to show himself again there, for the cook always

jeered at him, calling after him, "My wife!" And for this cause he

was very sorry for himself, thinking of all the good food that he was

missing. But Ulenspiegel continued his visits to the beautiful dame,

entering the house by the rue Sainte-Catherine, and hiding himself

in the storeroom. And he always took care to bring back to Lamme some

dainty morsel.

Now one evening the Count de Meghen informed his lady that before

morning dawned he was resolved to lead his men-at-arms into the

city of Bois-le-Duc. When he had told her this he went to sleep. But

the beautiful dame went straightway to the storeroom, and apprised

Ulenspiegel of what had happened.

X

Ulenspiegel, in the garb of a pilgrim, and with no provision of food

or money, departed incontinently for Bois-le-Duc, with the intention

of warning the citizens. He reckoned to find a horse at the house

of Jeroen Praet, the brother of Simon Simonsen, for whom he carried

letters from the Prince. From thence he would go by side roads to

Bois-le-Duc as fast as his horse would carry him.

As he was crossing the road he spied a company of soldiers coming

towards him. This gave him a great fright because of the letters

which he carried; but being resolved to put the best face on the

misadventure, he awaited the arrival of the soldiers with all the

courage at his command, standing still by the roadside telling his

beads. When the soldiers came up with him he joined them, and soon

discovered that they also were going to Bois-le-Duc.

At the head of the troop marched a company of Walloons led by a

captain, Lamotte by name, with his bodyguard of six halberdiers. Then

followed the other officers each according to rank, and with a

smaller bodyguard: the provost with his halberdiers and two bailiffs,

the chief watchman with the baggage-carriers, the executioner

with his assistants, and a band of drums and fifes making a great

row. Thereafter came a company of Flemish soldiers, two hundred strong,

with their captain and his ensign-bearers. They were divided into two

divisions, each of one hundred men, under the command of two sergeants,

and in squads of ten under the command of corporals. The provost and

his lieutenants were likewise preceded by a band of drums and fifes,

beating and screaming.

Behind these, again, came two open wagons wherein rode the loving

companions of the soldiers, pealing with laughter, twittering like

birds, singing like nightingales, eating, drinking, dancing, standing,

lying down, or sitting astride--all gay and pretty girls.

Many of them were dressed like foot-soldiers, but in fine white cloth

which was cut away at the arms and legs and at the neck so as to

show their sweet white flesh. And on their heads they wore bonnets of

fine linen trimmed with gold and surmounted with magnificent ostrich

plumes that fluttered in the wind. Their belts were of cloth of gold

crimped with red satin, from which hung the scabbards of their daggers,

made of cloth of gold. And their shoes, their stockings, their hose,

their doublets, shoulder-knots and fitments were all of gold and white

silk. Others there were, dressed also in the uniform of infantrymen

but with uniforms of divers colours, blue, green, scarlet, sky-blue,

and crimson, cut away and embroidered or emblazoned according to their

fancy. But on the arm of each and all was to be seen the coloured

band that indicated her calling.

The girls were in charge of a sergeant who did his best to keep them

in order, but they made no pretence of obeying him, but bombarded

him with japes and sweet grimaces so that he found it hard to keep

his countenance.

Ulenspiegel meanwhile, in his dress of a pilgrim and telling his

beads, went marching along by the side of the two ensign-bearers and

their guard, for all the world like a little boat by the side of a

big ship. Suddenly Lamotte inquired of him whither he was going.

"Sir Captain," answered Ulenspiegel, who was growing hungry, "you must

know that I am one that has committed a grievous sin, for which I have

been condemned by the Chapter of Notre Dame to journey to Rome on foot

and to ask pardon there from the Holy Father. This he has granted,

and now I am shriven and suffered to return to my own country on the

one condition that I am to preach the Holy Mysteries to whatsoever

soldiers I may encounter on the way; and they for their part are

enjoined to give me bread and wine in return for my preaching. And

thus by my sermons do I sustain my wretched life. Would you now give

me permission to fulfil my vow at the next halt?"

"I will," said Monsieur de Lamotte.

After this, Ulenspiegel began to mingle with the Walloons and Flemings

in right brotherly fashion, but all the time he kept fingering those

letters which he kept concealed under his doublet. And the girls

began to cry out to him:

"Come hither, handsome pilgrim, come hither and show us the strength

of your pilgrim's oyster-shells!"

And Ulenspiegel drew nigh to them with modest mien, and said:

"O my sisters in God, pray you do not make mock of the poor pilgrim

that wendeth up hill and down dale preaching ever the Holy Faith to

the soldiers."

But with his eyes he feasted himself upon the sight of their sweet

charms. And the wanton girls, thrusting their lively faces betwixt

the canvas curtains of the wagons, cried out to him yet the more:

"Surely you are too young a man to go preaching to soldiers? Climb

up into our wagon and we will teach thee more gentle subjects of

conversation!"

And right willingly would Ulenspiegel have done as they bade him, but

he dared not, by reason of the letters which he carried. And already

two of the girls were leaning out of the wagon trying to hoist him

up with their white, round arms. But the sergeant was jealous.

"Be off with you, or else I'll off with your head!" he threatened.

So Ulenspiegel removed himself away, but not without a sly look behind

him at the fresh young beauty of those joysome girls, all golden in

the sun which now shone brightly.

They came at last to Berchem, where Philip de Lannoy, Lord of Beauvoir,

ordered a halt. For he it was that was in command of the Flemings.

Now in that place was an oak-tree, of medium height, but despoiled

of all its branches save one only, a big branch that was broken off

short in the middle; for only a month before an Anabaptist had been

hanged there by the neck.

Here then the soldiers came to a halt, and the keepers of the canteen

came up and began to sell to them bread, wine, beer, with meats of

every kind. And to the gay girls they sold all manner of sugared

sweets, and castrelins, and almonds, and tartlets, the which when

Ulenspiegel saw, he felt hungrier than ever.

All at once Ulenspiegel climbed up like a monkey into the tree, and

seated himself astride on the big branch, seven feet above the ground

at the least. And then, when he had given himself a few strokes from

his pilgrim's scourge, he began his sermon, while the soldiers and

their gay girls sat round him in a circle.

"It is written," he began, "that whosoever giveth to the poor, the

same lendeth to God. Very well then, O soldiers present here to-day,

and you, fair ladies, sweet comrades in love of all these valiant

warriors, do you lend now to God. That is to say, give me, I beg you,

some of your bread, meat, wine, beer, if you please, and eke your

tartlets, and I promise you that God, who is very rich, shall give

you back in exchange many pieces of ortolan, rivers of malmsey wine,

mountains of sugar-candy, and great pieces of that lovely rystpap

which they eat in Paradise from silver spoons."

Then, changing to a more sorrowful tone, he continued:

"Behold now, with what cruel tortures do I strive to merit pardon

for my sins! Will you do nothing to assuage the smarting pain of this

scourge by which my back is lacerated till the blood flows?"

"Who is this madman?" cried the soldiers.

"My friends," answered Ulenspiegel, "I am no madman but one that is

repentant even to the point of starvation. For while my soul weeps for

its sins, my stomach weeps for want of food. Good soldiers, and you,

fair damosels, I see you well provided with ham and goose, with fat

sausages and wine and beer and all manner of tartlets. Will you not

give so much as a morsel to the wandering pilgrim?"

"Yes, yes, we will," cried the Flemish soldiers, "for the preacher

hath a merry countenance."

And now they all began to throw him chunks of bread as though they

had been balls, and Ulenspiegel did not cease from talking and from

eating, astride as he was on the branch.

"Hunger," he said, "makes a man hard of heart and little apt for

prayer, yet a piece of ham removes that evil disposition in no time."

"Look out for your head," shouted a sergeant as he threw him a

bottle half full of wine. Ulenspiegel caught the bottle in mid-air,

and began to drink in little gulps, talking all the while.

"If hunger, sharp and raging, is bane to the poor body of a pilgrim,

there is something else that is equally harmful to his soul; nothing

less than his fear that the generosity of his soldier friends may lead

him on to drunkenness. For as a general rule the pilgrim is a right

sober fellow, but when, as now, one soldier gives him a slice of ham,

and another a bottle of beer, he is mightily afraid lest by drinking

thus upon an empty, or nearly empty, stomach he may lose his head."

And even as he spoke, he caught hold of the leg of a goose that came

whizzing to him through the air.

"This truly is a miracle," he cried, "that one should go fishing in the

air for a bird of the field! And see! Hey, presto! it has disappeared,

bone and all! Verily, what is it that is greedier than dry sand? I

will tell you. A barren woman and a hungry man."

Scarcely had he spoken than he clapped his hand to his face, for

two tartlets had flattened themselves, one on his eye, the other

on his cheek. The gay girls who had thrown them laughed aloud, but

Ulenspiegel made answer:

"Many thanks, my pretties, many thanks for thus embracing me with

this jammy accolade."

Nevertheless the tartlets had fallen to the ground.

And then suddenly the drums began to beat, the fifes screamed, and

the soldiers fell in again.

Monsieur de Beauvoir ordered Ulenspiegel to come down from his tree and

to march by the side of the soldiers. Ulenspiegel would willingly have

been parted from them by a hundred leagues, for he had gathered from

the remarks let fall by certain thin-faced foot-soldiers that he was

already under suspicion, and that he ran danger of being arrested for a

spy; and if this was so, he knew that they would most certainly search

his pockets, and have him hanged when they found the letters which he

carried. So in a little while he purposely let himself stumble into

the ditch which ran by the wayside, and as he fell he cried out loudly:

"Mercy, soldiers, mercy! My leg is broken, and now I cannot walk any

more. You must let me get up into the cart with the girls!"

But to this he knew that the jealous sergeant would never consent.

The girls, meanwhile, cried out from the carts:

"Come, come, jolly pilgrim, and we will succour you, and caress and

make much of you, and cure you all in a day."

"I know it," said Ulenspiegel, "for a woman's hand is balm celestial

for all and every wound."

But the jealous sergeant consulted with Monsieur de Lamotte, saying:

"Sir, I suspect that this pilgrim is playing some trick upon us with

his tale of a broken leg. All he wants is to have the chance of getting

up into the cart with the girls. Order him rather to be left behind

on the road."

"Very well," answered Monsieur de Lamotte.

So Ulenspiegel was left where he was in the ditch.

Some soldiers, who really believed that his leg was broken, were sorry

for him because of his gaiety, and they left with him a two days'

ration of food and wine. And the girls would have got down and run

to his assistance, but as this was forbidden they threw him all that

was left of their castrelins.

As soon as the soldiers had disappeared in the distance Ulenspiegel,

still in his pilgrim's dress, recovered his liberty, purchased a horse,

and rode like the wind by roads and by-paths to Bois-le-Duc.

When he told them the news of the approach of Monsieur de Lamotte,

the townspeople flew to arms to the number of eight hundred men, and

they chose out their leaders, and sent off Ulenspiegel, disguised as

a charcoal-burner, to Antwerp to summon help from Hercule Brederode,

surnamed the Toper.

And the soldiers of de Lamotte and de Beauvoir were able to gain

no entry into Bois-le-Duc, most vigilant of cities, most valiant

in defence.