The Legend of the Glorious Adventures of Tyl Ulenspiegel in the land of Flanders Part 5

The poor animal had suffered so much pain while being burnt to death that its little body no longer looked the body of a living animal, but seemed rather like the fragment of some root, all wrinkled and distorted. And its mouth, still open with the death-cry, was filled with froth mixed with blood; and the face was wet with tears.

"Who has done this?" said the Emperor.

The Governor did not dare to answer, and the two men stood there silent, sad, and angry.

All at once, in the silence, there was heard a sound of feeble coughing that came from a corner in the shadow behind them. His Majesty turned and beheld Philip, his son, dressed all in black, sucking an orange.

"Don Philip," he said, "come and greet your father."

The child did not move, but gazed at his father with timid eyes that showed no spark of love.

"Is it you," asked the Emperor, "who have burnt alive in the fire this little animal?"

The child bowed his head.

But the Emperor: "If you have been cruel enough to do such a deed, at least be brave enough to own up to it."

The child made no answer.

His Majesty seized the orange from the child's hands, threw it to the ground, and was about to beat his son, who was shaking with terror, when the Archbishop restrained him, whispering in his ear:

"The day will surely come when His Highness shall prove a mighty burner of heretics." The Emperor smiled, and the two of them went away, leaving Philip alone with the monkey.

But others there were, not monkeys, that were destined to meet their death in the flames....

XV

November was come, the month of hail-storms, when sufferers from cold in the head abandon themselves freely to their concerts of coughing and spitting. This also is the month when the turnip-fields are filled with gangs of youths that there disport themselves and steal whatever they can, to the mighty wrath of the peasants, who try in vain to catch them, chasing after them with sticks and pitchforks.

Well, on an evening when Ulenspiegel was returning home from one of these raids, he heard close by, in a corner of the hedgerow, a sound as of groaning. He leant down, and beheld a dog lying stretched out on the stones.

"Hallo!" he cried. "Poor little beast! What are you doing out here so late at night?"

He patted the dog, and found that its back was all wet, as though some one had been trying to drown it. He took it in his arms to warm it, and when he had reached home he said:

"I have brought back a wounded animal. What shall we do with it?"

"Dress its wounds," said Claes.

Ulenspiegel laid the dog on the table; whereupon he and Claes and Soetkin saw that it was a little red-haired Luxemburg terrier, and that it was wounded in the back. Soetkin sponged the wounds, and anointed them with ointment, and bound them up with linen bandages. Then Ulenspiegel took the dog and put it in his bed; but Soetkin desired to have it in her own, saying she was afraid that Ulenspiegel would hurt the little red-haired thing. For in those days Ulenspiegel was wont to toss about in his sleep all night like a young devil in a stoup of holy water. Ulenspiegel, however, had his way, and he took such care of the dog that in the s.p.a.ce of six days it was walking about like any other dog, and giving itself great airs.

And the village schoolmaster christened him t.i.tus Bibulus Schnouffius: t.i.tus after a certain good Emperor of the Romans who was fond of befriending lost dogs; Bibulus because the dog loved beer with all the pa.s.sion of a confirmed drunkard; and Schnouffius because he would always run about sniffing and putting his nose into every rat-hole and mole-hole he could find.

XVI

The young prince of Spain was now fifteen years old, and his custom was to wander about the rooms and pa.s.sages and stairways of the castle. But chiefly was he to be found prowling around the women's quarters, trying to pick a quarrel with one of the pages, who themselves were wont to lurk on the look out, like cats, in the corridors; while others, again, out in the courtyard, would stand singing some tender ballad, nose in air. When the young prince heard one singing thus, he would show himself at one of the windows, and the heart of that poor page would be stricken with fear as he saw that white face there, instead of the gentle eyes of his beloved.

Now among the Ladies of the Court there was a gentle dame from Dudzeel near by Damme in Flanders. Fair-fleshed she was, like fine ripe fruit, and marvellously beautiful, for she had green eyes and reddish hair all wavy and gleaming gold. And of a gay humour was she, and of an ardent complexion, nor did she make any effort to conceal her taste for that fortunate lord to whom for the time being she was pleased to grant the freedom of the fair estate of her love. Such a one there was even now, handsome and proud, and she loved him well. Every day, at a certain hour, she went to find him--a thing which Philip was not long in finding out.

So, one day, sitting himself down on a bench that stood against a window, he lay in wait for her, and there she saw him as she pa.s.sed by, with her bright eyes and her mouth half open, all meet for love and fresh from her bath, with the gear of her dress of yellow brocade swinging about her as she stepped along. Without rising from his seat, Philip accosted her.

"Madame," says he, "could you not spare a moment?"

Restive as some eager mare, stayed in her course towards the gallant stallion that is neighing for her in the field, the lady made answer:

"All here must needs obey the royal will of your Highness."

"Then sit you down by my side," said the Prince. And gazing at her lewdly, harshly, cunningly, he spake again:

"I would have you recite to me the Pater Noster in Flemish. They taught it me once, but I no longer remember it."

The poor lady did as she was bid; and then the Prince commanded her to say it all over again, but more slowly. And so on, and so on, until she had recited it ten times over. After that he began to speak flatteringly to her, praising her beautiful hair, her fresh complexion, and her bright eyes. But he dared not to say a word concerning her lovely shoulders or her rounded throat, or of aught else beside.

When at last she was beginning to hope that she might be able to get away, and was already scanning anxiously the courtyard where her lord was awaiting her, the Prince demanded of her if she could rightly tell him what were the several virtues of woman? She answered nothing, fearing that she might say something to displease him. He then answered for her, setting the matter forth in this wise:

"The virtues of woman are these: chast.i.ty, regard for her own honour, and a modest manner of life." And he counselled her, therefore, that she should dress decently and should always be careful to hide those things which were meet to be hidden. The lady nodded a.s.sent, saying that for His Hyperborean Highness she would certainly take care to cover herself with ten bear-skins rather than with a single length of muslin.

Having put him to shame by this answer, she made off gladly.

But in Philip's heart the fire of youth was alight--not the fiery glow that dares the souls of the brave to lofty deeds, but a dark fire from h.e.l.l itself, the fire of Satan. And it flamed in his grey eyes like the beam of a winter's moon s.h.i.+ning down upon a charnel-house. And it burned within him cruelly....

XVII

Now this beautiful, gay-hearted lady left Valladolid one day for her Chateau of Dudzeel in Flanders.

Pa.s.sing through Damme, with her fat attendant behind her, she noticed a lad of about fifteen years of age sitting against the wall of a cottage blowing a pair of bagpipes. In front of him was a dog with red hair howling dismally, because, as it seemed, he did not at all appreciate the music which his master was making. The sun shone brightly, and at the lad's side there stood a pretty young girl in fits of laughter at the pitiful howling of the dog.

This then was the sight that met the eye of the beautiful lady and her fat attendant as they pa.s.sed in front of the cottage: none else but Ulenspiegel blowing his pipes, and Nele in fits of laughter, and t.i.tus Bibulus Schnouffius howling with all his might.

"You naughty boy," said the dame to Ulenspiegel, "will you never stop making this poor red-hair howl like this?"