Flemish Legends Part 2

"There is none, my friend, there is no way whatever, unless it be the clemency of the worthy fathers. Canst see no pilgrim or wandering friar on the road?"

"None."

"If we see such a one we must give him all our sausage--have we said our grace for it?--and all the bread in our wallet, and humbly invite him into our house, to eat a quarter of roast lamb, well washed down with old wine. I have not much of that kind, but I will gladly give him all there is of it. Canst not see such a one coming?"

"No one," said Blaeskaek. "But open those rabbit's ears of thine and hark to me: I will give thee good counsel, for I wish thee well, blubberer. We must follow the apothecary's advice in half-and-half fashion, so much only, you understand. 'Twould be idolatry of the most shameless kind to put up this statue in the public hall."

"Alas, alas, by all the devils! yes, you are right."

"Very well, then we will put him in a cupboard, which shall be well fastened, but with an opening on the top to let in the air. Therein we will also put a small keg of good beer, and ask him not to use it up too fast. In this way he will be, in fact, within the hall of the inn, and he will keep himself well hid for certain, for in his cupboard he will be able to take what pleasure he may from the songs of the drinkers, rattling of mugs, and clinking of bottles."

"No," said Gans to that, "no, we must follow wholly the apothecary's advice, for he knows more about devils than we. As for this deviling, we will do our best to satisfy him, according to our means. But in spite of it all, I fear we shall one day be burnt, alas, alas!"

VI. Wherein it is seen that the devil is not a good one; and of the evil trick which he played on the good wives of the drinkers.

As soon as they reached The Horn, the two worthies took out from the cellar the statue of the deviling and put it with great respect on top of a press which stood in the hall.

On the morrow there came to this inn nearly all the men of Uccle, brought together in this wise because on that day had been sold publicly in their stables two horses well bred by the late sheriff, Jacob Naeltjens. His son was in no mind to keep them, saying that a man's best steeds were his slipper-shoes.

The men of Uccle were surprised and delighted when they saw the statue of the youngster on the press, especially when Blaeskaek told them that his name was Master Merry-face, and that it was proposed, by way of jest, to establish forthwith in his honour a jolly brotherhood.

They were all willing to do this, and thereupon decided between them that no one should be of their brotherhood until he had drunk, as his baptism, four-and-twenty monstrous great cups of wine, while another brother beat twelve strokes on the plumpest belly of the company there present.

Each night thereafter they gathered together at The Horn, and drank deep enough, as you may well guess.

The most wonderful thing about the business was that in spite of this they worked all day like stout fellows, some at their crafts, some at their trades, others in the fields, contented one and all. But their good wives were not by any means contented, for as soon as vespers sounded all their husbands and sweethearts went off to The Horn, without giving them so much as a single thought, and there stayed until curfew.

And when these worthies went home they did not beat their wives, as some drinkers do, but lay down quietly beside them in bed, and immediately, without saying a word, fell fast asleep and began to sound such fanfares with their noses as Master Porker makes with his snout.

Then the poor women might thump them, cuff them, call their names as they would, to get them to sing their bedfellows a different sort of song, but all quite in vain: as well beat water to get fire out of it.

They awoke only with c.o.c.k-crow, but their temper in the morning was so rough and stormy that none of their womenfolk (that is to say, of such as were not asleep from weariness) dared say a word, either then or at the dinner-hour. All this was brought about by the evil power and influence of the deviling.

On that account there was much sadness among the women, who said, all of them, that if such a state of things went on for long the race of the people of Uccle must needs become extinct, which would be a great pity.

VII. Of the Great Parliament of the Women of Uccle.

So it came about that the women decided between themselves to save the village from this fate, and to this end, while their menfolk were at drink with Pieter Gans, they met together at the house of a certain dame Syske, who was big, fat, loud-speaking, had hair upon her chin, and had buried five husbands, or else seven, I dare not particularize the number for fear of untruth.

There, as a rebuke to their drunken husbands, they quenched their thirst with clear water.

When all were present, the younger ones a.s.sembled on this side and the older on that, the ugly ones among the older, dame Syske opened the talk by saying that they must all go forthwith to The Horn, and there give these drinkers such a drubbing that they would be stiff and sore for a week because of it.

The old and ugly ones applauded this proposal with their hands, their feet, their mouths, and their noses. There was a fine noise, you may well believe.

But the young and pretty ones kept silent as fishes, all save one, very pretty, very fresh and very neat, bearing the name of Wantje, who said very modestly, and blushing somewhat, that it was of no use to belabour their worthy men in this fashion, but rather they must bring them back to good ways by gentleness and laughter.

To this the dame Syske replied: "Little one, thou canst understand nothing of men, for thou art but a maid, or so I believe. For my part I know well enough how I managed my several husbands, and that was neither by gentleness nor by laughter, I promise thee. They are all dead, the worthy men (may G.o.d rest their souls!), but I remember them clearly, and know very well that at the least wrongdoing I made them dance the stick-dance on the field of obedience. None dared eat or drink, sneeze or yawn, unless I had first given him leave. Little Job Syske, my last, did my cooking for me in my own house. He made a good cook, poor little man. But I had to give him many good beatings to bring him to that, and so it was with the others as well. Therefore, little one, give up all these laughters and gentlenesses of thine, they are not worth much, I can tell thee. Let us rather go forthwith and cut ourselves good staves of greenwood, easy enough to find now that it is spring-time, and going off to The Horn let us make fall a good shower of blows on these unfaithful husbands."

At this the old and ugly ones broke out afresh into monstrous howls and tumult, crying, "Out upon them! out on the drunkards! They want a good drubbing, they want a good hanging!"

VIII. Of the great wit which every woman has, and of the modest conversation which the maid Wantje held with the worthies at the inn.

On the morrow all these good women met together once again, and drank as before a great quant.i.ty of clear water; and afterwards went off, armed with sticks, to the place where they knew their men were to be found.

Before the door of The Horn they stopped, and there a great council took place. The old ones wanted to go in with their sticks.

"No," said Wantje, with the young and pretty ones, "we would rather be beaten ourselves."

"Hark to these sillies!" cried the old ones, "these poor silly things. They have not an ounce of pride in their bodies, between the lot of them. Be guided by us, gentle ewekins: we will avenge the dignity of women for you upon these wretched drunkards."

"That you shall not," said the young ones, "as long as we are there."

"That we shall," howled the old ones.

But here a certain young and merry wife burst out laughing.

"See ye not," said she, "whence comes to these grannies so great a rage and such a thirst for vengeance? 'Tis simple bragging, to make us believe that their old croakers of husbands still care to sing them songs."

At these words the old hags were thrown into such a state of fury that one or two died of rage there and then. Others, having quite lost their heads, wanted to kill the maids and young wives who were laughing at them (and 'twas pretty music, all those fresh and merry voices), but the dame Syske stopped them from that, saying that for the present they must take counsel together and not kill one another.

Continuing their discussion, they quarrelled, argued, chattered, jabbered in this and like fashion until curfew-time, when they separated without having made up their minds to anything, by reason of not having had time enough to talk it over.

And there were spoken in this a.s.sembly of women more than 877,849,002 words, each one as full of good sense as a cellarful of old wine.

Pieter Gans, who, as they said, had rabbit's ears, hearing in the street a certain hum of chattering voices, cried out: "Alas, alas! what is this now? Devils for a certainty, dear Jesus!"

"I will go and see, little coward," answered Blaeskaek. But on opening the door he burst out laughing all at once, saying: "Brothers, 'tis our wives."

Thereupon all the drinkers rose and went to the door; some with bottles in their hands, others brandishing flagons, others again clinking their mugs together like church bells. Blaeskaek went out of the room, crossed the threshold of the outer door, and stepped into the street.

"Well, wives," said he, "what brings you here with all this greenwood?"

At these words the young ones let fall their sticks to the ground, for they were ashamed to be caught with such weapons.

But one old woman, brandishing hers in the air, answered for the others: "We come, drunkards, to tell you the tale of the stick, and give you a good thrashing."

"Woe, woe!" wept Pieter Gans, "that, I know, is my grandmother's voice."