The Legend of the Glorious Adventures of Tyl Ulenspiegel in the land of Flanders Part 27

And this was the only word of reproach that she uttered.

XLVIII

Six months pa.s.sed, and the devil lover came no more. Nevertheless Katheline did not live without hope of seeing her Hanske again.

Soetkin meanwhile had given up her work altogether, and was always to be found sitting huddled up in front of the fire; and her cough never left her. Nele provided the choicest and most sweetly smelling herbs, but no remedy had any power over her. As for Ulenspiegel, he never left the cottage for fear that his mother might die while he was out.

At last there came a time when the widow could neither eat nor drink without being sick. The surgeon (who also carried on the trade of a barber) came to bleed her, and when the blood had been taken away she was so enfeebled that she could not leave her chair. And at last the evening came when she cried out, all wasted with pain:

"Claes! Husband! And Tyl, my son! Thanks be to G.o.d for He taketh me!"

And with a sigh she died.

Katheline did not dare to watch by that bed of death, so Nele and Ulenspiegel kept watch together, and all night long they prayed for her that was gone.

As the dawn broke a swallow came flying in by the open window.

Nele said: "The bird of souls! It is a good omen. Soetkin is in heaven!"

The swallow flew three times round the room, and departed with a cry. Then there came a second swallow, larger it was and darker than the first. It fluttered around Ulenspiegel, and he said:

"Father and mother, the ashes beat upon my breast. Whatsoever you command me, that will I do."

And the second swallow went off with a cry, just as the first had done. And Ulenspiegel saw thousands of swallows skimming over the fields. And the sun rose.

And Soetkin was buried in the cemetery of the poor.

XLIX

After the death of Soetkin Ulenspiegel grew dreamy, sorrowful, and angry, and he would wander about the fields, hearing nothing, taking what food or drink was put before him, and never choosing for himself. And oftentimes he rose from his bed in the middle of the night and went out into the country alone.

In vain did the gentle voice of Nele urge him not to despair, in vain did Katheline a.s.sure him that Soetkin was now in Paradise with Claes. To both alike Tyl answered:

"The ashes beat upon my breast."

And he was as one mad, and Nele was sorrowful because of him.

Meanwhile, Grypstuiver the fishmonger dwelt alone in his house, like a parricide, daring only to come out in the evening. For if any man or woman pa.s.sed him on the road they would shout after him and call him "murderer." And the little children ran away when they saw him, for they had been told that he was a hangman. So he wandered about by himself, not venturing to enter any of the taverns that are in Damme, for the finger of scorn was pointed at him, and if ever he stood in the bar for a minute, they that were drinking there left the tavern.

The result was that no innkeeper desired him as a customer any more, and whenever he presented himself at their houses they would shut the door on him. The fishmonger would make a humble remonstrance, but they answered that they had a licence to sell wine certainly, but that they were not obliged to sell it against their will.

The fishmonger grew impatient at this, and in future when he wanted a drink he would go to the In 't Roode Valck--at the sign of the Red Falcon--a little cabaret outside the town on the banks of the Sluys ca.n.a.l. There they served him, for they were hard up at that inn, and glad to get anything from any one. But even so, the innkeeper never entered into conversation with him, nor did his wife either. Now in that house there were also two children and a dog; but when the fishmonger made as though he would kiss the children they ran away, and the dog, when he called him, tried to bite him.

One evening Ulenspiegel was standing on his doorstep in a dream, and Mathyssen, the cooper, happening to pa.s.s by, saw him standing there, and said to him:

"If you worked with your hands belike you would forget this grievous blow."

But Ulenspiegel answered: "The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast."

"Ah!" said Mathyssen, "there lives a man who is sadder even than you are--Grypstuiver the fishmonger. None speaks to him, and all avoid him, so much so that when he wants his pint of bruinbier he is forced to go out all alone to the poor folk of the Roode Valck. Verily he is well punished."

"The ashes beat...." Ulenspiegel answered him again.

And the same evening, when the bells of Notre Dame were sounding the ninth hour, Ulenspiegel sallied forth towards the Roode Valck, but failing to find the fishmonger there as he had expected, he went wandering along under the trees that grow by the ca.n.a.l-side. It was a bright moonlight night.

Presently he saw the figure of the murderer coming towards him. He pa.s.sed close in front of Ulenspiegel, who could hear what he was saying, for the fishmonger was talking to himself, as is the custom of they who live much alone.

"Where have they hidden it?" he muttered. "Where have they hidden the money?" But Ulenspiegel answered the question for him by giving him a great blow in the face.

"Alas!" cried the fishmonger as he felt the hand of Ulenspiegel upon him. "Alas, I know you! You are his son! But have pity on me. Have pity! For I am weak and aged, and what I did to your father was not done out of malice, but in the service of His Majesty. Only deign to forgive me, and I will give you back again all the goods that I have bought, and you shall not pay me a penny. You shall have everything, and half a florin over and above, for I am not a rich man. No, you must not think that I am rich!"

And he was about to kneel down in front of Ulenspiegel. But seeing him so ugly, so craven, and so base, Ulenspiegel took hold of him and threw him into the ca.n.a.l.

And he went away.

L

And from many a funeral pyre there ascended to heaven the smoke from the flesh of the victims, and Ulenspiegel, thinking ever upon Claes and Soetkin, wept in his loneliness.

At last, one evening, he went to find Katheline, thinking to inquire of her some way of remedy or revenge.

She was alone with Nele, sewing by the light of the lamp. At the sound which Ulenspiegel made as he came in, Katheline raised her head slowly like one that is awakened from a heavy sleep.

He said: "The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast, and I am fain to do somewhat to save this land of Flanders. But what can I do? I have entreated the great G.o.d of earth and heaven, but he has answered me nothing."

Katheline said: "The great G.o.d cannot hear you. First of all you should have recourse to the spirits of the elemental world, for they, uniting in themselves two natures, both celestial and terrestrial, are enabled to receive the plaints of men and hand them on unto the angels, who themselves in their turn carry them up thereafter to the Throne."

"Help me," he said, "only help me now, and I will repay you with my blood if need be."

"I can help you," said Katheline, "on one condition only: that a girl who loves you is willing to take you with her to the Sabbath of the Spirits of Spring, which is the Easter of Fruitfulness."