The Legend of Ulenspiegel, Volume 2 (of 2)

by Charles de Coster

  And he saw nothing, nothing but the black clouds running like madthings over the sky and a large thick and short shape coming towardshim; and he heard nothing but the wind wailing plaintively, the searoaring like thunder, and the shell-strewn road crackling under aheavy, stumbling tread.

  Feigning to want to sit down, he fell on the road like a drunkard,heavily. And he spat.

  Then he heard as it were iron clicking two paces from his ear, thenthe noise of his engine shutting up and a man's cry.

  "The weer-wolf," he said, "has his front paws taken in the trap. Hegets up howling, shaking the engine, trying to run. But he willnever escape."

  And he sped a crossbow dart into his legs.

  "And now he falls, wounded," said he.

  And he whistled like a sea-mew.

  Suddenly the church bell rang out the wacharm, a shrill lad's voicecried through the village:

  "Awake, ye sleeping folk, the weer-wolf is caught."

  "Praise be to God!" said Ulenspiegel.

  Toria, Betkin's mother, Lansaem her husband, Josse and Michiel herbrothers, came the first with their lanterns.

  "He is taken?" said they.

  "See him on the roadway," replied Ulenspiegel.

  "Praise be to God!" said they.

  And they made the sign of the cross.

  "Who is that ringing?" asked Ulenspiegel.

  Lansaem replied:

  "My eldest boy; the youngest is running through the village knockingat the doors and crying that the wolf is taken. Praise be to thee!"

  "The ashes beat upon my heart," replied Ulenspiegel.

  Suddenly the weer-wolf spake and said:

  "Have pity upon me, pity, Ulenspiegel."

  "The wolf talks," said they, crossing themselves. "He is a devil andhe knows Ulenspiegel's name already."

  "Have pity, pity," said the voice, "bid the bell be quiet; it isringing for the dead; pity, I am no wolf. My wrists are pierced bythe engine; I am old and I bleed; pity! What is this shrill boy'svoice awaking the village? Pity!"

  "I heard thy voice of old," said Ulenspiegel, vehemently. "Thou artthe fishmonger, the murderer of Claes, the vampire of the poor littleyoung girls. Men and women, have no fear. 'Tis the demon, he throughwhom Soetkin died for grief and pain."

  And holding him by the neck beneath the chin with one hand, with theother he drew his cutlass.

  But Toria, Betkin's mother, stayed him in this movement.

  "Take him alive," she cried.

  And she plucked out his white hairs by handfuls, and tore his facewith her nails.

  And she howled with grief and fury.

  The weer-wolf, his hands fast in the engine and stumbling about theroadway, through his keen sufferings:

  "Pity," said he, "pity! take this woman away. I will give twocarolus. Break those bells! Where are those children that are calling?"

  "Keep him alive!" cried Toria, "keep him alive, let him pay! Thebells for the dead, the death bells for thee, murderer. By slow fire,by red-hot pincers. Keep him alive! let him pay!"

  Meanwhile, Toria had picked up on the road a waffle iron with longarms. Looking closely at it in the light of the torches, she sawit deeply engraved between the two iron plates with lozenges in theBrabant fashion, but armed besides, like an iron mouth, with long sharpteeth. And when she opened it, it was like the mouth of a greyhound.

  Then Toria, holding the waffle iron, opening it and shutting it andmaking the iron ring, seemed as though she had lost her wits for malefury, and gnashing her teeth and with hoarse rattle breath like awoman dying, bit the prisoner with this engine in the arms, the legs,everywhere, seeking most of all his neck, and with every bite saying:

  "Thus he did to Betkin with the iron teeth. He pays. Dost thou bleed,murderer? God is just. The bells for the dead! Betkin is calling meto revenge. Dost thou feel the teeth? 'Tis the mouth of God."

  And she bit him without ceasing and without pity, striking him withthe waffle iron when she could not bite him with it. And because ofher great thirst for revenge she did not kill him.

  "Show compassion," cried the prisoner. "Ulenspiegel, strike me withthy knife, I shall die quicker. Take this woman away. Break the bellsfor the dead; kill those calling children."

  And Toria still kept biting him, until an old man, in pity, took thewaffle iron out of her hands.

  But Toria then spat on the weer-wolf's face and tore out his hairs,crying:

  "Thou shalt pay, by slow fire, by burning pincers, thy eyes tomy nails!"

  In the meantime were come all the fishermen, rustics, and women ofHeyst, at the report that the weer-wolf was a man and not a devil. Somecarried lanterns and flaming torches. And all were crying out:

  "Robber and murderer, where dost thou hide the gold stolen from thepoor victims? Let him give all back."

  "I have none: have pity," said the fishmonger.

  And the women threw stones and sand upon him.

  "He pays, he pays!" cried Toria.

  "Pity," he groaned, "I am all wet with my own blood running. Pity!"

  "Thy blood?" said Toria. "There will be enough left for thee to paywith. Cover his wounds with ointment. He will pay by the slow fire,his hand cut off, with red-hot pincers. He shall pay, he shall pay!"

  And she would have struck him; then out of her senses she fell uponthe sand as though dead, and she was left there till she came backto herself.

  Meanwhile, Ulenspiegel, taking the prisoner's hands out of the engine,saw that there were three fingers lacking on the right hand.

  And he gave orders to bind him straitly and to put him in a fisherman'shamper. Men, women, and children then departed, taking turns to carrythe hamper, wending their way towards Damme to seek justice there. Andthey carried torches and lanterns.

  And the fishmonger kept repeating without ceasing:

  "Break the bells; kill the children that are calling."

  And Toria said:

  "Let him pay, by slow fire, by red-hot pincers, let him pay!"

  Then both held their peace. And Ulenspiegel heard no more, save thelaboured breathing of Toria, the heavy steps of the men on the sand,and the sea roaring like thunder.

  And sad in his heart, he looked at the clouds running like madthings in the sky, the sea where the sheep of fire were to be seen,and in the light of the torches and the lanterns the livid face ofthe fishmonger staring on him with cruel eyes.

  And the ashes beat upon his heart.

  And they marched for four hours till they came to where was thepopulace assembled in one mass, knowing the news already. All wishingto see the fishmonger, they followed the band of fishermen shouting,singing, dancing, and saying:

  "The weer-wolf is taken! he is taken, the murderer! Blessed beUlenspiegel! Long life to our brother Ulenspiegel! Lange leven onsenbroeder Ulenspiegel."

  And it was like a revolt of the people.

  When they passed before the bailiff's house, he came out at the noiseand said to Ulenspiegel:

  "Thou art the victor; praise be to thee!"

  "The ashes of Claes were beating upon my heart," replied Ulenspiegel.

  The bailiff then said:

  "Thou shalt have the half of the murderer's estate."

  "Give it to the victims," replied Ulenspiegel.

  Lamme and Nele came; Nele, laughing and weeping for gladness, kissedher friend Ulenspiegel; Lamme, jumping heavily, smote him on thestomach, saying:

  "This is a brave, a trusty, a faithful one; 'tis my beloved companion;ye have none such, ye others, ye folk of the flat country."

  But the fishermen laughed, mocking at him.

  XLIV

  The bell called Borgstrom rang next day to summon the bailiff,aldermen, and clerks of the court to the Vierschare on the four turfbenches, under the tree of justice, which was a noble lime tree. Allaround were the common folk. Being interrogated the fishmonger wouldconfess nothing, even when he was shown the three fingers severed bythe soldier, and missing from his right hand. He kept saying:

  "
I am poor and old; have compassion."

  But the common folk hooted him, saying:

  "Thou art an old wolf, a child killer; do not have pity on him,judges."

  The women said:

  "Look not on us with thy cold eyes; thou art a man and not a devil;we do not fear thee. Cruel beast, more coward than a cat devouringsmall birds in the nest, thou didst kill poor little girls asking tolive their pretty little lives in all honesty."

  "Let him pay by slow fire, by red-hot pincers," cried Toria.

  And in spite of the sergeants of the commune, the mothers egged on thelads to throw stones at the fishmonger. And the boys did so eagerly,hooting him every time he looked at them and crying incessantly:"Blood-zuyger, blood-sucker! Sla dood, kill, kill!"

  And Toria cried without ceasing:

  "Let him pay by slow fire; by red-hot pincers let him pay!"

  And the populace growled.

  "See," said the women among each other, "how cold he is under thesun that shines in the sky, warming his white hairs and his face tornby Toria."

  "And he shivers with pain."

  "'Tis the justice of God."

  "And he stands there with a lamentable air."

  "See his murderer's hands tied before him and bleeding from the woundsof the trap."

  "Let him pay, let him pay!" cried Toria.

  He said, bemoaning himself:

  "I am poor, let me go."

  And everyone, nay, even the judges, mocked as they listened to him. Hewept feigningly, meaning to touch their hearts. And the women laughed.

  The evidence being sufficient to warrant torture, he was condemnedto be put on the bench until he had confessed how he killed, whencehe came, where were the spoils of the victims, and the place wherehe had his gold hidden.

  Being in the torture chamber, and shod with foot-gear of new leathertoo small for him, and the bailiff asking him how Satan had come tosuggest to him such black designs and crimes so abominable, he replied:

  "Satan is myself, my natural being. Already when a small boy, butugly to look on, unfit for all bodily exercise, I was held a ninnyby everybody and often beaten. Lad nor lass had pity never. In myadolescence no women would have me, not even though I paid. ThenI put on cold hatred against every being born of a woman. That waswhy I denounced Claes, beloved of all. And I loved but Money only,that was my darling, white or golden; to have Claes killed I foundboth profit and pleasure. After I must live like a wolf more thanever, and I dreamed of biting. Passing through Brabant, I saw therethe waffle irons of that country and thought that one of them wouldbe a good iron mouth for me. Why do not I have you by the neck,you evil tigers, that delight in an old man's torment! I would biteyou with greater joy than the soldier and the little girl. For her,when I saw her so sweet, sleeping on the sand in the sun, holdingthe little bag of money in her hands, I felt love and pity; feelingmyself too old and not being able to take her, I bit her...."

  The bailiff asking him where he lived, the fishmonger replied:

  "At Ramskapelle, whence I go to Blanckenberghe, to Heyst, even as faras Knokke. On Sundays and feast days, I make waffles, after the fashionof those of Brabant, in all the villages with yonder machine. It isalways very clean and well oiled. And this novelty of foreign parts waswell received. If you should please to know more, and how it was thatno one could recognize me, I will tell you that by day I reddened myface with rouge and painted my hair red. As for the wolf skin you arepointing to with your cruel finger, questioning me, I will tell you,defying you, that it comes from two wolves killed by me in the woodsof Raveschoot and of Maldeghen. I had but to sew the skins together tocover myself with them. I hid it in a box in the dunes of Heyst; thereare also the clothes stolen by me to sell later at a fit opportunity."

  "Take him from before the fire," said the bailiff. The tormentorobeyed.

  "Where is thy gold?" said the bailiff again.

  "The king shall never know," replied the fishmonger.

  "Burn him with the candles nearer him," said the bailiff. "Put himcloser to the fire."

  The tormentor obeyed and the fishmonger cried:

  "I will say nothing. I have spoken too much; ye will burn me. I am nosorcerer; why do ye set me at the fire again? My feet are bleeding fromthe burns. I will say nothing. Why nearer now? They bleed, I tell you,they bleed; these slippers are boots of red-hot iron. My gold? Ah,well, my only friend in this world, it is ... take me away from thefire; it is in my cave at Ramskapelle, in a box ... leave it to me;grace and mercy, master judges; cursed tormentor, take the candlesaway.... He burns me more ... it is in a box with a false bottomwrapped in wool, so as to avoid a noise if any one shakes the box;now I have told all; take me away."

  When he was taken away from before the fire, he smiled maliciously.

  The bailiff asked him why.

  "'Tis for comfort at being eased," replied he.

  The bailiff said to him:

  "Did no one ever ask thee to let him see thy toothed waffle iron?"

  The fishmonger replied:

  "It was seen like any other, save that it is pierced with holes inwhich I was wont to screw the iron teeth at dawn I took them out;the peasants prefer my waffles to those of the other sellers; andthey call them 'Waefels met brabandsche knoopen', 'waffles withbrabant buttons', because when the teeth are away, the empty holesmake little half spheres like buttons."

  But the bailiff:

  "When didst thou bite the poor victims?"

  "By day and by night. By day I used to wander about the dunes and thehighways, carrying my waffle iron, keeping in hiding, and especiallyon Saturday, the day of the great Bruges market. If I saw some rusticpass, wandering melancholy, I left him alone, judging that his troublewas a flux of the purse; but I used to walk along by him whom I sawjourneying merrily; when he did not look for it I would bite him inthe neck and take his satchel. And not only in the dunes, but on allthe byways and highways of the flat country."

  The bailiff then said:

  "Repent and pray unto God."

  "It is the Lord God that willed I should be what I am. I did allwithout my will, egged on by Nature's will. Wicked tigers, ye willpunish me unjustly. But do not burn me ... I did all without mywill; have pity, I am poor and old; I shall die of my wounds; do notburn me."

  He was then taken to the Vierschare, under the lime tree, there tohear his sentence in the presence of all the people assembled.

  And he was condemned, as a horrible murderer, robber, and blasphemer,to have his tongue pierced with a red-hot iron, his right hand cutoff, and to be burned alive in a slow fire, until death ensued,before the doors of the Townhall.

  And Toria cried:

  "It is just; he pays!"

  And the people cried:

  "Lang leven de Heeren van de Wet," long life to the men of the law.

  He was taken back into prison, where he was given meat and wine. Andhe was merry, saying that he had never till then eaten or drunk,either, but that the king, inheriting his goods, could well pay forhis last meal for him.

  And he laughed sourly.

  The next day, at the first of dawn, while they were taking him toexecution, he saw Ulenspiegel standing beside the stake, and he criedout, pointing to him with his finger:

  "That one there, murderer of an old man, ought to die as well;he flung me into the canal of Damme, ten years ago, because I haddenounced his father, wherein I had served His Catholic Majesty asa faithful subject."

  The bells of Notre Dame rang for the dead.

  "For thee even as for me are those bells tolling," said he toUlenspiegel; "thou shalt be hanged, for thou hast killed."

  "The fishmonger lies," cried all the common folk; "he lies, themurdering ruffian."

  And Toria, like a madwoman, cried out, flinging a stone at him thatcut his forehead:

  "If he had drowned thee, thou wouldst not have lived to bite my poorgirl, like a bloodsucking vampire."

  As Ulenspiegel uttered no word, Lamme said:

  "Did any see him throw
the fishmonger in the water?"

  Ulenspiegel made no answer.

  "No, no," shouted the people; "he lied, the murderer!"

  "No, I lied not," cried the fishmonger, "he threw me in, whileI implored him to forgive me, and by the same token, I got out bythe help of a skiff tied up alongside the high bank. Wet through andshivering, I could scarcely get back to my poor home. I had the feverthen, none looked after me, and I deemed I must die."

  "Thou liest," said Lamme; "no man saw it."

  "No, no man saw it," cried Toria. "To the fire with themurderer. Before he dies he wants an innocent victim; let him pay! Hehas lied. If thou didst do it, confess not, Ulenspiegel. There areno witnesses. Let him pay by slow fire, by red-hot pincers."

  "Didst thou commit the murder?" the bailiff asked Ulenspiegel.

  Ulenspiegel replied:

  "I flung the murderer, the denouncer of Claes, into the water. Myfather's ashes were beating on my heart."

  "He confesseth," said the fishmonger; "he shall die even as I. Whereis the gallows, that I may see it? Where is the executioner withthe sword of justice? The death bells are ringing for thee, rascal,murderer of an old man."

  Ulenspiegel said:

  "I threw thee into the water to kill thee; the ashes were beating onmy heart."