In those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and
Ulenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led
in this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a
workman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness
and effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the
defender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should
capitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks,
citizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be
allowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with
anything that they could carry with them--save only what belonged to
the churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in
spite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from
Messire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while
the rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.
And Ulenspiegel said:
"Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to
his promise?"
An old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:
"The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame
of our country. Dogs are chained up--let the monks be also chained,
for they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!"
"But," answered Ulenspiegel, "we must remember that my Lord of Orange,
the Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and
the free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power."
Some of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so
in the case of the monks. "And he is master here," they added. "It
was he that took La Briele. To prison with the monks!"
"A soldier's word is a word of gold," said Ulenspiegel. "Parole de
soldat, parole d'or. Why should we ever break our word?"
"No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart," they told him. "Hear
you not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?"
"The ashes beat upon my heart," said Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat,
c'est parole d'or."
The next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect
that the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum
to La Briele where the admiral was then stationed.
"They will be hanged," said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.
"Not as long as I am alive," said Ulenspiegel.
"My son," said Lamme, "you must not speak in this way to Messire de
Lumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the
monks if you are not careful."
"I shall tell him the truth," answered Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat,
c'est parole d'or."
"If you think that you can save them," said Marin, "I will give you
permission to go with them by ship to La Briele. Take Rochus with
you as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well."
"I will," said Ulenspiegel.
The ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken
aboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme
placed themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined
the Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who
now began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then
the sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: "This man is a
traitor." Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in
the midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the
sun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails
of the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.
Father Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:
"O Rochus," he said, "are they taking us to the gallows-field?" Then,
turning his face towards Gorcum: "O city of Gorcum," he cried,
stretching out his hands, "O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou
still to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities
of the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of
heresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the
Lord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care
for the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for
the fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art
and doomed to misfortune!"
"Cursed and accursed indeed!" answered Ulenspiegel. "As accursed as is
the comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the
dog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud
charger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed
yourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to
break the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!"
The monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a
dream of hate and bigotry.
The next morning they arrived at La Briele, and a messenger was sent
to advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.
As soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on
horseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of
armed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was
it given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he
was like some noble, proud and opulent.
"Welcome," said he, "Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show
me there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!"
One of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:
"Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any
objection."
"He has well spoken," said Ulenspiegel. "For having broken with
the world--that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and
sweetheart--a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on
his behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain
Marin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum,
stipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that
were taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But
in spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept
prisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord,
I address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know
that the word of a soldier is a word of gold--parole de soldat,
c'est parole d'or."
"And who are you?" asked Messire de Lumey.
"My Lord," replied Ulenspiegel, "a Fleming I am from the lovely land
of Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one--and I go wandering
through the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly
making fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if
you will keep the promise which was made to these men by the captain:
parole de soldat, c'est parole d'or."
But the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out
at this.
"My Lord," said they, "this man is a traitor. He has promised them
that he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and
ham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all."
Then Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:
"Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you
I will have you hanged with them."
"I am not afraid," replied Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat, c'est
parole d'or."
The monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There
they tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these
soon sent him to sleep.
In the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered
with meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from
Captain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William
the Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered "all governors of cities
and other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety
on ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people."
The messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so
that he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.
"Where are the originals?" inquired de Lumey.
"My master has them," said the messenger.
"And the churl sends me the copy!" said de Lumey. "Where is your
passport?"
"Here, my Lord," said the messenger.
Then Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:
"My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors,
and officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass...." etc.
De Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.
"Sang de Dieu!" he cried. "What is he doing meddling here, this
Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Briele had not
so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He
calls himself 'My Lord' forsooth, and 'Master,' and sends to me his
'orders'! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since
he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and
commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith,
and you with them if you don't get out at once."
And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.
"Bring me to drink," he cried. "Have you ever seen anything to compare
with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I
am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming
be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We
will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood
of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?"
And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one
durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the
debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more;
and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room,
treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.
Ulenspiegel was brought before him.
"Well?" he said. "What news of your friends the monks?"
"They have been hanged," said Ulenspiegel. "And those cowards of
executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of
them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a
soldier is gold no more. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."
Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.
"So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also
shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street,
most ignominiously, where all can see you!"
"Shame on you," cried Ulenspiegel. "Shame on us all! Parole de soldat
n'est plus parole d'or."
"Silence, Iron-pate!" said Messire de Lumey.
"Shame on you again!" cried Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat n'est plus
parole d'or. You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are
merchants in human fat!"
At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand
to strike at him.
"Strike," said Ulenspiegel. "I am in your hands. But I have no fear
at all of you. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."
Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed
Ulenspiegel had not Messire Tres-Long taken him by the arm, saying:
"Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime."
Then de Lumey thought better of the matter.
"Let him ask my pardon then," he said.
But Ulenspiegel stood his ground.
"Never," he said.
"At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong," cried de Lumey,
growing angry again.
Ulenspiegel answered:
"I will lick no man's boots. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."
"Tell them to put up the gallows," said de Lumey, "and let this man
be taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks."
"Yes," said Ulenspiegel, "and I will cry out there in front of all
the people, Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."
The gallows was set up in the market square, and the news spread
swiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman,
was going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and
compassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And
Messire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the
signal for the execution.
He regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold,
dressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound
to his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck,
and the executioner ready to do the deed.
Tres-Long said:
"My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard
of a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful."
And the men and women in the crowd, hearing Tres-Long speak in
this wise, cried out also: "Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon
for Ulenspiegel!"
"The Iron-pate has defied me," said de Lumey. "Let him admit he was
wrong and that I was in the right."
"Will you?" said Tres-Long to Ulenspiegel.
"Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or," Ulenspiegel answered.
"Draw the cord," said de Lumey.
The executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all
in white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the
steps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck
of Ulenspiegel.
"This man is mine," she said. "I take him for my husband."
And the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:
"Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life
of Ulenspiegel!"
"What does this mean?" demanded Messire de Lumey.
Tres-Long answered:
"You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any
young maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging,
provided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot
of the gallows."
"God is on his side," said de Lumey. "Unloose his fetters."
Then riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner
was endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which
bound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn't know
who would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel
did not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and
so cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him,
and he asked the maid who she might be.
"I am Nele," she answered him, "the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I
am come from Flanders to seek him."
"You have done well," said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he
went away.
Then Tres-Long approached the scaffold.
"Young Fleming," he said, "when once you are married, will you still
serve as a soldier in our ships?"
"Yes, sir," answered Ulenspiegel.
"But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?"
Nele answered:
"If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship."
"Very well," said Tres-Long.
And he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for
joy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins,
saying: "We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of
the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!"
And the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of
the Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered, and from an upper
window Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.
And Ulenspiegel said to Nele:
"Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For
she is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft
eyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of
kindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it's you and
only you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do
you remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me
is now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why,
tell me.... You are crying!"
"They have killed her," she said. And then Nele told him all the sad
story of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they
wept for love and for sorrow.
But at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them
grieved within himself, saying:
"Alas! my wife, where are you?"
And the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.
And the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.
And Nele's head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when
the sun had awakened her he said:
"Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land
of Flanders!"
She kissed him on the mouth, saying:
"Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword."
"I will make for you a soldier's habit," said Ulenspiegel.
"Now? At once?"
"At once," he told her. "But who was that man who said that
strawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far,
far sweeter."