"Presently I shall bring thee a soup of beer and flour, well sweetenedwith cinnamon a-plenty. Knowest thou for why? That thy fat maybecome translucent and shiver upon thy skin: such it is seen whenthou movest. Now here is the curfew ringing: sleep in peace, takingno thought for the morrow, certain to find thy succulent repasts oncemore, and thy friend Lamme to give them thee without fail."
"Begone and leave me to pray to God," said the monk.
"Pray," said Lamme, "pray with the cheerful music of snoring: beerand sleep will make grease for thee, goodly grease. For my part,I am glad of it."
And Lamme went off to put himself in bed.
And the sailors and soldiers would say to him:
"Why, then, do you feed so richly this monk that wishes thee no good?"
"Let me alone," said Lamme, "I am accomplishing a mighty work."
V
December was come, the month of long dark nights. Ulenspiegel sang:
"Monseigneur Sa Grande Altesse Takes off his mask, Eager to reign over the Belgian land. The Estates Spaniardized But not Angevined Deal with the taxes. Beat upon the drum Of Anjou's thwarting.
"They have within their power Domains, excise, and funds, Making of magistrates And offices as well. He hateth the Reformed Monsieur Sa Grande Altesse, An atheist in France Oh! Anjou's thwarting.
"For he would fain be king By the sword and by force, King absolute in all. This Monseigneur, this Grande Altesse; Fain would he foully seize Many fair towns, yea, Antwerp, too; Signorkes and pagaders rise early, Oh! Anjou's thwarting!
"'Tis not upon thee, France, That this folk rushes, mad with rage; These deadly weaponed blows Fall not upon thy noble body; And they are not thy offspring Whose corpses in great heaps Choke the Kip-Dorp Gate. Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!
"No, these are no sons of thine The people fling from the ramparts. 'Tis the High Highness of Anjou, The passive libertine Anjou, Living, France, on thy very blood, And eager to drink ours; But 'twixt the cup and lip.... Oh! the thwarting of Anjou.
"Monsieur Sa Grande Altesse. In a defenceless town Cried, 'Kill! kill! Long live the Mass!' With his handsome minions, With eyes wherein gleams The shameful fire, impudent, restless, Lust without love. Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!
"'Tis they that are smitten, not thee, poor folk, On whom they weigh with tax, Salt tax, poll tax, deflowering, Contemning thee, making thee give Thy corn, thy horses, thy wains, Thou that art a father to them. Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!
"Thou that art a mother to them, Suckling the misbehaviour Of these parricides that sully Thy name abroad, France, that dost feast On the savours of their glory When they add by savage feast. Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!
"A floret to thy soldier crown, A province to thy territory. Give the stupid cock 'Lust and battle' Thy foot on the neck. People of France, people of men, The foot that treads them down! And all the peoples will love thee For the thwarting of Anjou."
VI
In May, when the peasant women of Flanders by night throw backwardsslowly over their heads three black beans to keep them from sicknessand death, Lamme's wound opened again: he had a high fever and askedto be laid on the deck of the ship, over against the monk's cage.
Ulenspiegel was very willing; but for fear lest his friend might fallinto the sea in a fever fit, he had him strongly fastened down uponhis bed.
In his interludes of reason, Lamme incessantly enjoined on them notto forget the monk: and he thrust out his tongue at him.
And the monk said:
"Thou dost insult me, big man."
"Nay," replied Lamme, "I am fattening thee."
The wind blew soft, the sun shone warm; Lamme in his fever was securelytied on his bed, so that in his witless spasms of leaping he mightnot jump over the side of the ship; and deeming himself still in hisgalley, he said:
"This fire is bright to-day. Soon it will rain ortolans. Wife, spreadsnares in our orchard. Thou art lovely thus, with thy sleeves rolledup to the elbow. Thy arm is white, I would fain bite it, bite withmy lips that are teeth of live velvet. Whose is this lovely flesh,whose those lovely breasts showing beneath thy white jacket offine linen? Mine, my sweet treasure. Who will make the fricassee ofcock's comb and chickens' rumps? Not too much nutmeg, it brings onfever. White sauce, thyme, and laurel: where are the yolks of eggs?"
Then making a sign for Ulenspiegel to bring his ear close to his mouth,he said to him in a low voice:
"Presently it will rain venison; I shall keep thee four ortolans morethan the others. Thou art the captain; betray me not."
Then hearing the sea beat softly on the ship's side:
"The soup is boiling, my son; the soup is boiling, but how slow isthis fire to heat up!"
As soon as he recovered his wits, he said, speaking of the monk:
"Where is he? doth he grow in grease?"
Seeing him then, he put out his tongue at him and said:
"The great work is being accomplished; I am content."
One day he asked to have the great scales set up on the deck, andto be set in it, he on one pan, the monk on the other: scarcelywas the monk in place than Lamme soared like an arrow in the air,and rejoicing, he said, looking at him:
"He weighs it down! he weighs it down! I am a weightless spirit besidehim: I will fly in the air like a bird. I have my idea: take himaway that I may come down; now put on the weights. Put him back. Whatdoes he weigh? Three hundred and fourteen pounds. And I? Two hundredand twenty."
VII
The night of the day after this, when the dawn was rising gray,Ulenspiegel was awakened by Lamme crying:
"Ulenspiegel! Ulenspiegel! help, rescue, keep her from going away. Cutthe cords! cut the cords!"
Ulenspiegel came up on the deck and said:
"Why dost thou call out? I see naught."
"'Tis she," replied Lamme, "she, my wife, there, in that skiff roundingthat flyboat; aye, that flyboat whence there came the sound of singingand the viol strings."
Nele had come up on deck.
"Cut the cords, my dear," said Lamme. "Seest thou not that my wound iscured, her soft hand hath healed it; she, aye, she. Dost thou see herstanding up in the skiff? Dost thou hear? she is singing still. Come,my beloved, come; flee not from thy poor Lamme, who was so lonely inthe world without thee."
Nele took his hand, touched his face.
"He hath the fever still," she said.
"Cut the cords," said Lamme; "give me a skiff! I am alive, I am happy,I am healed!"
Ulenspiegel cut the cords: Lamme, leaping from his bed in breechesof white linen, without a doublet, set to work himself to lower awaythe skiff.
"See him," said Nele to Ulenspiegel: "his hands tremble with impatienceas they work."
The skiff ready, Ulenspiegel, Nele, and Lamme went down into itwith an oarsman, and set off towards the flyboat anchored far off inthe harbour.
"See the goodly flyboat," said Lamme, helping the oarsman.
On the fresh morning sky, coloured like crystal gilded by the raysof the young sun, the flyboat showed up her hull and her elegant masts.
While Lamme rowed:
"Tell us now how didst find her again," asked Ulenspiegel.
Lamme replied, speaking in jerks:
"I was sleeping, already much better. All at once a dull noise. Apiece of wood struck the ship. A skiff. A sailor hurries up at thenoise: 'Who goes there?' A soft voice, her voice, my son, her voice,her sweet voice: 'Friends.' Then a deeper voice: 'Long live theBeggar: the commander of the flyboat Johannah to speak with LammeGoedzak.' The sailor drops the ladder. The moon was shining. I see aman's shape coming up on to the deck: strong hips, round knees, widepelvis; I say to myself: 'a pretended man': I feel as it might bea rose opening and touching my cheek: her mouth, my son, an
d I hearher saying to me, she--dost thou follow?--herself, covering me withkisses and with tears: 'twas liquid perfumed fire falling on my body:'I know I am sinning; but I love thee, my husband! I have sworn beforeGod: I am breaking my oath, my man, my poor man! I have come oftenwithout daring to come nigh thee; the sailor at last allowed me:I dressed thy wound, thou knewest me not; but I have healed thee;be not wroth, my man! I have followed thee, but I am afraid; he isupon this ship, let me go; if he saw me he would curse me and I shouldburn in the everlasting fire!' She kissed me again, weeping and happy,and went away in spite of me, despite my tears: thou hadst bound mehand and foot, my son, but now...."
And saying this he bent mightily to his oars: 'twas like the tautstring of a bow that launches the arrow forthright.
As they approached the flyboat, Lamme said:
"There she is, upon the deck, playing the viol, my darling wife withher hair of golden brown, with the brown eyes, the cheeks still freshand young, the bare round arms, the white hands. Leap onward, skiff,over the sea!"
The captain of the flyboat, seeing the skiff coming up and Lammerowing like a demon, had a ladder dropped from the deck. When Lammewas by it, he leapt from the skiff on to the ladder at the risk oftumbling into the sea, thrusting the skiff three fathoms behind himand more; and climbing like a cat up to the deck, ran to his wife,who swooning with joy, kissed and embraced him, saying:
"Lamme! come not to take me: I have sworn to God, but I lovethee. Ah! dear husband!"
Nele cried out:
"It is Calleken Huybrechts, the pretty Calleken."
"'Tis I," said she, "but alas! the hour of noon has gone by formy beauty."
And she seemed wretched.
"What hast thou done?" said Lamme: "what became of thee? Why didstthou leave me? Why wilt thou leave me now?"
"Listen," said she, "and be not wroth; I will tell thee: knowingthat all monks are men of God I confided in one of them: his namewas Broer Cornelis Adriaensen."
Hearing which Lamme:
"What!" said he, "that wicked hypocrite who had a sewer mouth, fullof filth and dirt, and spoke of naught but spilling the blood of theReformed; what! that praiser of the Inquisition and the edicts! Ah,it was a blackguardly good-for-naught rascal!"
Calleken said:
"Do not insult the man of God."
"The man of God!" said Lamme, "I know him; 'twas a man of filthand foulness. Wretched fate! my beautiful Calleken fallen into thehands of this lascivious monk! Come not near me, I will kill thee:and I that loved her so much! my poor deceived heart that was allher own! What dost thou come hither for? Why didst thou tend me? thoushouldst have left me to die. Begone, thou; I would see thee no more,begone, or I fling thee in the sea. My knife!..."
She, embracing him:
"Lamme," said she, "my husband, weep not: I am not what thou deemest:I have not belonged to this monk."
"Thou liest," said Lamme, weeping and grinding his teeth both at thesame time. "Ah! I was never jealous, and now I am. Sad passion, anger,and love, the need to slay and embrace. Begone, thou! no, stay! Iwas so good to her! Murder is master in me. My knife! Oh! this burns,devours, gnaws; thou laughest at me....
She embraced him weeping, gentle and submissive.
"Aye," said he, "I am a fool in my anger: aye, thou didst guardmy honour, that honour a man is mad enough to hang on a woman'sskirts. So it was for that thou wast wont to pick out thy sweetestsmiles to ask me leave to go to the sermon with thy she-friends."
"Let me speak," said the woman, embracing him. "May I die on theinstant if I deceive thee!"
"Die, then," said Lamme, "for thou art going to lie."
"Listen to me," said she.
"Speak or speak not," said he, "'tis all one to me."
"Broer Adriaensen," she said, "passed for a good preacher; I went tohear him: he set the ecclesiastic and celibate estate above all othersas being more proper to win paradise for the faithful. His eloquencewas great and fiery: several wives of good repute, of whom I was one,and in especial a goodly number of widow women and girls, had theirminds troubled by it. The estate of celibacy being so perfect, heenjoined upon us to dwell therein: we swore thenceforward no longerto be spouses...."
"Save to him, no doubt," said Lamme, weeping.
"Be silent," said she, angry.
"Go to," said he, "finish: thou hast fetched me a bitter blow;I shall never be whole of it."
"Yea," said she, "my man, when I shall be always with thee."
And she would fain have embraced and kissed him, but he repulsed her.
"The widows," said she, "swore between his hands never to marry again."
And Lamme listened to her, lost in his jealous musing.
Calleken, shamefaced, went on:
"He desired," she said, "to have no penitents save young and beauteouswives or maids: the others he sent back to their own cures. Heestablished an order of devotees, making us all swear to have no otherconfessors but himself only: I swore it; my companions, more initiatethan I, asked me if I was fain to be instructed in the Holy Disciplineand the Holy Penance: I wished it. There was at Bruges, at the StoneCutters' Quay, by the convent of the Franciscan friars, a house dweltin by a woman called Calle de Najage, who gave girls instructionand lodging, for a gold carolus by the month: Broer Cornelis couldenter her house without being seen to leave his cloister. It was tothis house I went, into a little chamber where he was alone: therehe ordered me to tell him all my natural and carnal inclinations: atfirst I dared not; but in the end I gave way, wept, and told him all."
"Alas!" wept Lamme, "and this swine monk thus received thy sweetconfession."
"He still told me, and this is true, my husband, that above earthlymodesty is a celestial modesty, through which we make unto Godthe sacrifice of our earthly shames, and that thus we avow to ourconfessors all our secret desires, and are then worthy to receivethe Holy Discipline and the Holy Penance.
"In the end he made me strip naked before him, to receive upon my body,which had sinned, the too-light chastisement of my faults. One dayhe made me unclothe myself; I fainted when I must let my body linenfall: he revived me with salts and flasks.--''Tis well for this time,daughter,' said he, 'come back in two days' time and bring a rod.' Thatwent on for long without ever ... I swear it before God and all hissaints ... my man ... understand me ... look at me ... see if I lie:I remained pure and faithful ... I loved thee."
"Poor sweet body," said Lamme, "O stain upon thy marriage robe!"
"Lamme," said she, "he spoke in the name of God and of our HolyMother Church; was I not to listen to him? I loved thee always,but I had sworn to the Virgin, by dreadful oaths, to deny myself tothee: yet I was weak, weak to thee. Dost thou recall the hostelryof Bruges? I was at the house of Calle de Najage thou didst pass byupon thine ass with Ulenspiegel. I followed thee; I had a goodly sumof money; I spent nothing ever for myself. I saw thee an hungered:my heart pulled towards thee, I had pity and love."
"Where is he now?" asked Ulenspiegel.
Calleken replied:
"After an inquiry ordered by the magistrate and an investigationof evil men, Broer Andriaensen must needs leave Bruges, and tookrefuge in Antwerp. They told me on the flyboat that my man had madehim prisoner."
"What!" said Lamme, "this monk I am fattening is...."
"He," answered Calleken, hiding her face.
"A hatchet! a hatchet!" said Lamme, "let me kill him, let me auctionhis fat, the lascivious he-goat! Quick, let us back to the ship. Theskiff! where is the skiff?"
Nele said to him:
"'Tis a foul cruelty to kill or to wound a prisoner."
"Thou lookest on me with a cruel eye; wouldst thou prevent me?" saidhe.
"Aye," said she.
"Well, then," said Lamme, "I will do him no hurt: let me only fetchhim out from his cage. The skiff! where is the skiff?"
They climbed down into it speedily; Lamme made haste to row, weepingthe while.
"Thou art sad, husband?" said Calleken to him.
br /> "Nay," said he, "I am glad: doubtless thou wilt never leave me again?"
"Never!" said she.
"Thou wast pure and faithful, thou sayest; but, sweet, my darling,beloved Calleken, I lived but to find thee, and lo, now, thanks to thismonk, there will be poison in all our happiness, poison of jealousy... as soon as I am sad or but only tired, I shall see thee naked,submitting thy lovely body to that infamous flagellation. The springtime of our loves was mine, but the summer was for him; the autumnwill be gray, soon will come the winter to bury my faithful love."
"Thou art weeping?" said she.
"Aye," quoth he, "what is past can never come again."
Then Nele said:
"If Calleken was faithful, she ought to leave thee alone for thyill words."
"He knoweth not how I love him," said Calleken.
"Dost thou say true?" cried Lamme; "come, darling; come, my wife;there is no longer gray autumn nor winter that diggeth graves."