The Legend of the Glorious Adventures of Tyl Ulenspiegel in the land of Flanders Part 14

"Where is your father?" asked the horseman.

"If my father's name is Claes, he is over there," Soetkin told him. "You will find him sowing corn."

The horseman departed in the direction in which she had pointed, and Soetkin also went her way ruefully, for this was the sixth time that she had had to go to the baker's to buy bread with no money to pay for it.

On returning empty-handed to the cottage, Soetkin was amazed to see Claes coming down the road triumphantly seated on the horse of the man in black. He looked very proud of himself, and the man in black walked by his side holding the horse's bridle. Hanging at his side, Claes held a leathern bag which appeared to be full of things. Dismounting from the horse, Claes embraced his companion, gave him a playful pat upon the back, and then, shaking the bag, cried out in a loud voice:

"Long life to Josse, my brother, the good hermit of Meyborg! May G.o.d keep him in joy and fatness, in happiness and health! Our Josse, patron of plenty, and of all abundance, and rich soups!"

And so saying he took up the sack and deposited it upon the table. But Soetkin said sadly:

"My good man, we shall not eat this day. The baker has refused to give me any bread."

"Bread?" cried Claes, opening the sack and letting a river of golden coins roll out on the table. "Bread? Here is bread and b.u.t.ter, meat, wine, beer! Here are hams, marrow-bones, pasties, ortolans, fatted poulets, castrelins, all just as you might find them in the houses of the rich! Bread indeed! Here are casks of beer and kegs of wine! Mad must be the baker who will refuse to give us bread. Verily we will deal at his shop no more!"

"But, my good man!" said Soetkin amazed.

"Nay, listen," said Claes, "and make the most of your good fortune. For these are the facts. Katheline, it seems, has lately been to Meyborg in Germany, and Nele with her, on a visit to my eldest brother Josse, who dwells there as a hermit. Nele told my brother how that we were living in poverty, notwithstanding that we work so hard. And now, if we are to believe this good messenger"--and here Claes pointed to the black horseman--"Josse has left the holy Roman religion and abandoned himself to the heresy of Luther."

The man in black made answer:

"It is they that are heretics, they who follow the cult of the Scarlet Woman. For the Pope is a cheat and a trader in holy things."

"Oh!" cried Soetkin, "speak not so loud, sir. You will have us burned alive, all three."

"Well," continued Claes, "it appears that Josse has made known to this good messenger that inasmuch as he is going to fight in the army of Frederic of Saxony, and is bringing him fifty armed men fully equipped, he has no need of much money to leave it to the hands of some wretch of a landsknecht, now that he himself is going to the war. Therefore, says he, take it to my brother Claes, and render to him, with my blessing, these seven hundred florins. Tell him to live virtuously, and to ponder the salvation of his soul."

"Yea, verily," said the horseman, "now is the time. For G.o.d will reward every man according to his works, and every man according to his merit."

"Good sir," said Claes, "it is not forbidden, I trust, to rejoice in the meantime at this good news? Deign, then, to stay with us, and we will celebrate our fortune with a nice dinner of tripe, well boiled, and a knuckle of that ham which I saw just now at the pork-butcher's. Of a truth, it looked so plump and tasty that my teeth almost shot out of my mouth to close thereon."

"Alas!" said the stranger, "the foolish make merry while the eye of the Lord is yet upon them."

"Come now, messenger," said Claes, "will you eat and drink with us or will you not?"

The man answered: "It will be time enough for the faithful to think about such earthly joys when mighty Babylon has fallen."

Seeing Claes and Soetkin cross themselves, he made as though to leave them. But Claes said to him:

"Since you persist in leaving us without accepting of our hospitality, will you at least give to my brother the kiss of peace on my behalf, and look after him well at the wars."

"That will I," said the man.

And he departed from them, while Soetkin went to make her preparations for celebrating their good fortune.

Now it was quickly noised abroad through the town that Claes that was once so poor had now become rich through the generosity of his brother Josse. And the Dean of Damme was heard to say that it was Katheline no doubt who had laid a charm on Josse, and he said this because Claes, although he had received a large sum of money from his brother, had given not so much as a single vestment to Notre Dame. But Claes and Soetkin were happy again, Claes working in the fields or looking after his business of charcoal-burning, while Soetkin attended to her home right valiantly. Yet still was she sorrowful at heart, scanning ever with her eyes the open road if perchance she might see her son Ulenspiegel returning back to her. And thus it was these three lived on and experienced the happiness which comes from G.o.d while waiting for that which was going to come to them from men.

XXIX

The Emperor Charles had received a letter from England, from Philip, who was now married to the Queen of that country.

"Sir and Father," the letter ran,--"It is matter of sore displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And, as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am dest.i.tute of all authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast the most shameful pamphlets which a.s.sert that I am being bribed by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious burning and persecution. Nor can I discover who it is that writes these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all), they answer by advising me, in coa.r.s.e lampoons, to ask of Satan in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting, but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father, that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition, I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals have no souls, and although it is a.s.suredly permitted to all men, especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat their animals better than their own servants. The stables and dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords who pa.s.s the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown all, my n.o.ble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she, who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman, and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord G.o.d may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what time I still await that other glorious throne to which I shall be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very Glorious and Victorious Majesty.

(Signed) Phle."

To this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:

"Sir and Son,--You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in antic.i.p.ation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lords.h.i.+p over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If G.o.d does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.

"Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.

"Your affectionate father,

"(Signed) Charles."

x.x.x

Ulenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding, but in the district of the bishopric of Mayence he met a wagon full of pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him with them to Rome.

When they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon, and straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the door of an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.

Taking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:

"Hostess," says he, "will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim on pilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be delivered of his sins?"

"We give asile to all such as pay us for it," said the woman.

I have a hundred ducats in my purse," said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact, had no more than one), "and I would dearly like to spend the first of them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine."

"Wine is not dear in these holy parts," she answered. "Come in and drink your fill. It will only cost you a soldo."

And they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottles of wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that the hostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers in her place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back of the inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter's day, where, leaning her head on her new friend's shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.