The Legend of Ulenspiegel Volume Ii Part 58

"'Tis because they are cold," said Lamme.

And he added, sighing:

"Everything is eaten. No more beef, pork, nor poultry; no more wine, alas! nor good dobbel-bier, nothing but biscuit and small beer. Let who loves me follow me!"

"Whither goest thou?" said Ulenspiegel. "No man may go from the s.h.i.+p."

"My son," said Lamme, "thou art captain and master as now. I will never go from the s.h.i.+p if thou dost forbid it. Yet deign to consider that we ate the last of our sausage on the day before yesterday: and that in this stern weather the fire of the kitchen is the sun of good companions. Who would not fain smell here the odour of sauces; sniff up the fragrant bouquet of the divine drink made of those joyous blossoms that are gaiety, laughter, and good will to every man? And so, captain and trusty friend, I dare say this: I devour my very soul, since I eat naught, I who, though loving but repose, never slaying by my will, save it were a tender goose, a fat chicken, a succulent turkey, follow thee amid fatigue and battles. See from here the lights in that rich farm well furnished of big and little cattle. Knowest thou who it is that dwelleth there? It is the boatman of Frisia, that betrayed Messire Dandelot and furthermore brought to Enckhuyse, while it was still in D'Alba's hand, eighteen poor lords our friends, the which, of his doing, were beheaded on the Horse Market at Brussels. This traitor, who hath to name Slosse, got from the duke two thousand florins for his treachery. With the price of that blood, a very Judas, he purchased the farm thou seest there, and his great cattle and the fields around about, which bearing fruit and increasing, I mean land and herds, make him rich as now."

Ulenspiegel replied:

"The ashes beat upon my heart. Thou makest the hour of G.o.d to strike."

"And," said Lamme, "the hour of food in like wise. Give me twenty lads, valiant soldiers and sailors; I will go and seek out the traitor."

"I will be their leader," said Ulenspiegel. "Who loves justice let him follow me. Not all of you, dear friends and trusty; there must be twenty only, else who would keep the s.h.i.+p? Draw lots by the dice. Ye are twenty, come. The dice speak well. Put your skates on your feet and glide towards the star of Venus burning bright above the treachour's farm.

"Guiding yourselves by the clear beam, come, ye twenty, skating and sliding, axe on shoulder.

"The wind whistles and drives white whirls of snow before it on the ice. Come, brave men!

"Ye sing not, nor speak; ye go straight on, in silence, towards the star; your skates make the ice complain.

"He that falls picks himself up at once. We touch the sh.o.r.e; no human shape on the white snow, not a bird in the icy air. Take off the skates from your feet.

"Here we are on land; here are the meadows; put on your skates again. We are round about the farm, holding our breath."

Ulenspiegel knocks on the door; dogs bark. He knocks again, a window opens and the baes says, sticking out his head:

"Who art thou?"

He sees but Ulenspiegel only: the others are concealed behind the keet, which is the washhouse.

Ulenspiegel makes answer:

"Messire de Boussu bids thee betake thee to him at Amsterdam upon the instant."

"Where is thy safe-conduct?" said the man, coming down and opening the door to him.

"Here," replied Ulenspiegel, showing him the twenty Beggars who hurl themselves behind him into the opening.

Ulenspiegel then says to him:

"Thou art Slosse, the traitor boatman that brought into an ambuscade Messires Dandelot, de Battenberg, and other lords. Where is the price of their blood?"

The farmer replies, trembling:

"Ye are the Beggars; grant me a pardon; I knew not what I did. I have no money here within; I will give all I have."

Lamme said:

"It is black dark; give us candles of tallow or of wax."

The baes replies:

"The tallow candles are hanging there."

A candle being lit, said one of the Beggars, in the hearthplace:

"It is cold; let us kindle a fire. Here are proper f.a.ggots."

And he pointed out upon a shelf flower pots in which withered and dried plants might be seen.

He took one by the stalk and shaking it with the pot, the pot fell, scattering over the ground ducats, florins, and reals.

"There is the treasure," said he, pointing to the other flower pots.

In very deed, having emptied them, they found ten thousand florins.

Seeing which, the baes cried out and wept.

The farm servants, both men and maids, came to the cries, in s.h.i.+rts and smocks. The men wis.h.i.+ng to avenge their master, were bound. Soon the shamefaced women, and especially the younger, hid behind the men.

Then Lamme went forward and said:

"Traitor farmer, where are the keys of the cellar, the stables, the cowshed, and the sheep-pens?"

"Infamous pillagers," said the baes, "ye shall be hanged until ye are dead."

Ulenspiegel replied:

"It is the hour of G.o.d; give up the keys!"

"G.o.d will avenge me," said the baes, handing them over to him.

Having emptied the farm, the Beggars departed skating towards the s.h.i.+ps, those light dwelling places of freedom.

"Master cook am I," said Lamme, guiding them; "Master cook am I. Push along the gallant sledges laden with wines and beer; drive on before you, by their horns, or by anything, horses, oxen, swine, sheep, and flocks singing their native songs. The pigeons coo in the baskets; the capons, stuffed with crumb, are astonied in their wooden cages wherein they cannot budge. I am master cook. The ice cries out beneath the steel of the skates. We are at the s.h.i.+ps. To-morrow there will be kitchen music. Let down the pulleys; put girths on the horses, cows, and oxen. 'Tis a n.o.ble sight to see them thus pendent by their bellies; to-morrow we shall be hanging by the tongue to fat frica.s.sees. The crane hoists them up into the s.h.i.+p. These be carbonadoes. Throw me them pell mell into the hold, hens, geese, ducks, capons. Who will wring their necks? The master cook. The door is locked, I have the key in my satchel. Praised be G.o.d in the kitchen! Long live the Beggar!"

Then Ulenspiegel went on board the admiral's s.h.i.+p taking with him Dierick Slosse and the other prisoners, moaning and weeping for terror of the rope.

Messire Worst came at the noise: perceiving Ulenspiegel--his companions lit up by the red glare of the torches:

"What would you of us?" said he.

Ulenspiegel replied:

"This night we took, in his farm, the traitor Dierick Slosse, that brought the eighteen into an ambuscade. This is the man. The others are innocent menservants and maidservants. Then handing him a satchel: