It was now at the end of October. The Prince was in want of money,
and his army of food. The soldiers too began to murmur, and he marched
them towards the French frontier to offer battle to the Duke. But
the Duke would not fight.
Leaving Quesnoy-le-Comte to go to Cambresis, the Prince's army fell
in with ten companies of Germans and eight Spanish ensigns and three
cohorts of cavalry. They at once joined battle, and in the midst of
the melee was Ruffele Henricis, the Duke's son, crying out at the
top of his voice:
"No quarter! No quarter! Long live the Pope!"
Now Don Henricis found himself opposite to a company of arquebusiers
which was led by Ulenspiegel, and he threw himself upon them with
all his men. Ulenspiegel said to his sergeant:
"I will cut out this murderer's tongue for him!"
"Very good," said the sergeant.
And Ulenspiegel took careful aim, and his bullet shattered the
tongue and the entire jaw-bone of Don Ruffele Henricis, son of
the Duke. At the same time Ulenspiegel brought down the son of the
Marquess Delmares, and in a little while more the eight ensigns and
the three cohorts of cavalry were thoroughly worsted.
After this victory Ulenspiegel went seeking for Lamme everywhere
through the camp, but he could not find him.
"Alas," he said, "he is gone! Lamme is gone; my friend, my great fat
friend! In his warlike ardour he must have forgotten how heavy his
belly was, and tried to follow the Spaniards in their flight. Out of
breath he must have fallen like a sack on the wayside. And then the
enemy will have picked him up for ransom--a ransom of good Christian
fat! O Lamme, my friend, where are you? Where are you, my great
fat friend?"
Ulenspiegel sought him everywhere but found him not and had to nurse
his grief in silence.
And now November was come, the month of snow-storms, and Ulenspiegel,
having been ordered to report himself before William, found the Prince
brooding in silence, and biting the lacings of his coat of mail.
"Listen to me," the Prince said presently, "and give me your whole
attention."
Ulenspiegel answered: "My ears are like the gates of a prison. One
enters easily but to get out again is a different matter."
"Very good," said William, "but now I would have you go for me to
Namur, and to Flanders, Hainaut, Sud-Brabant, Antwerp, Nord-Brabant,
and to Gueldre, Overyssel, and the North of Holland, telling the
people everywhere that, although it seems that the fates on land are
hostile to our most Holy and Christian Cause, we will yet continue
the struggle by sea, no matter what the evil powers that are arrayed
against us. For God holds the issue in His own good providence,
whether in success or failure. And when you are come to Amsterdam you
will render an account of all that you have done to Paul Bruys who
is my trusty vassal. Here are three passports, signed by the Duke
of Alba himself, which were found on certain bodies of the dead at
Quesnoy-le-Comte. My secretary has filled them in afresh. And it may
be that on your journey you will meet some good companion in whom
you can trust. Let him go with you. And those are to be accounted
trustworthy who know how to answer the song of the lark with a warlike
cockcrow. Here are fifty florins. Be valiant and faithful."
"The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart," answered Ulenspiegel.
And he went his way.