The Legend of Ulenspiegel Volume Ii Part 39

"The ashes of Claes were beating upon my heart," replied Ulenspiegel.

The bailiff then said:

"Thou shalt have the half of the murderer's estate."

"Give it to the victims," replied Ulenspiegel.

Lamme and Nele came; Nele, laughing and weeping for gladness, kissed her friend Ulenspiegel; Lamme, jumping heavily, smote him on the stomach, saying:

"This is a brave, a trusty, a faithful one; 'tis my beloved companion; ye have none such, ye others, ye folk of the flat country."

But the fishermen laughed, mocking at him.

XLIV

The bell called Borgstrom rang next day to summon the bailiff, aldermen, and clerks of the court to the Vierschare on the four turf benches, under the tree of justice, which was a n.o.ble lime tree. All around were the common folk. Being interrogated the fishmonger would confess nothing, even when he was shown the three fingers severed by the soldier, and missing from his right hand. He kept saying:

"I am poor and old; have compa.s.sion."

But the common folk hooted him, saying:

"Thou art an old wolf, a child killer; do not have pity on him, judges."

The women said:

"Look not on us with thy cold eyes; thou art a man and not a devil; we do not fear thee. Cruel beast, more coward than a cat devouring small birds in the nest, thou didst kill poor little girls asking to live their pretty little lives in all honesty."

"Let him pay by slow fire, by red-hot pincers," cried Toria.

And in spite of the sergeants of the commune, the mothers egged on the lads to throw stones at the fishmonger. And the boys did so eagerly, hooting him every time he looked at them and crying incessantly: "Blood-zuyger, blood-sucker! Sla dood, kill, kill!"

And Toria cried without ceasing:

"Let him pay by slow fire; by red-hot pincers let him pay!"

And the populace growled.

"See," said the women among each other, "how cold he is under the sun that shines in the sky, warming his white hairs and his face torn by Toria."

"And he shivers with pain."

"'Tis the justice of G.o.d."

"And he stands there with a lamentable air."

"See his murderer's hands tied before him and bleeding from the wounds of the trap."

"Let him pay, let him pay!" cried Toria.

He said, bemoaning himself:

"I am poor, let me go."

And everyone, nay, even the judges, mocked as they listened to him. He wept feigningly, meaning to touch their hearts. And the women laughed.

The evidence being sufficient to warrant torture, he was condemned to be put on the bench until he had confessed how he killed, whence he came, where were the spoils of the victims, and the place where he had his gold hidden.

Being in the torture chamber, and shod with foot-gear of new leather too small for him, and the bailiff asking him how Satan had come to suggest to him such black designs and crimes so abominable, he replied:

"Satan is myself, my natural being. Already when a small boy, but ugly to look on, unfit for all bodily exercise, I was held a ninny by everybody and often beaten. Lad nor la.s.s had pity never. In my adolescence no women would have me, not even though I paid. Then I put on cold hatred against every being born of a woman. That was why I denounced Claes, beloved of all. And I loved but Money only, that was my darling, white or golden; to have Claes killed I found both profit and pleasure. After I must live like a wolf more than ever, and I dreamed of biting. Pa.s.sing through Brabant, I saw there the waffle irons of that country and thought that one of them would be a good iron mouth for me. Why do not I have you by the neck, you evil tigers, that delight in an old man's torment! I would bite you with greater joy than the soldier and the little girl. For her, when I saw her so sweet, sleeping on the sand in the sun, holding the little bag of money in her hands, I felt love and pity; feeling myself too old and not being able to take her, I bit her...."

The bailiff asking him where he lived, the fishmonger replied:

"At Ramskapelle, whence I go to Blanckenberghe, to Heyst, even as far as Knokke. On Sundays and feast days, I make waffles, after the fashion of those of Brabant, in all the villages with yonder machine. It is always very clean and well oiled. And this novelty of foreign parts was well received. If you should please to know more, and how it was that no one could recognize me, I will tell you that by day I reddened my face with rouge and painted my hair red. As for the wolf skin you are pointing to with your cruel finger, questioning me, I will tell you, defying you, that it comes from two wolves killed by me in the woods of Raveschoot and of Maldeghen. I had but to sew the skins together to cover myself with them. I hid it in a box in the dunes of Heyst; there are also the clothes stolen by me to sell later at a fit opportunity."

"Take him from before the fire," said the bailiff. The tormentor obeyed.

"Where is thy gold?" said the bailiff again.

"The king shall never know," replied the fishmonger.

"Burn him with the candles nearer him," said the bailiff. "Put him closer to the fire."

The tormentor obeyed and the fishmonger cried:

"I will say nothing. I have spoken too much; ye will burn me. I am no sorcerer; why do ye set me at the fire again? My feet are bleeding from the burns. I will say nothing. Why nearer now? They bleed, I tell you, they bleed; these slippers are boots of red-hot iron. My gold? Ah, well, my only friend in this world, it is ... take me away from the fire; it is in my cave at Ramskapelle, in a box ... leave it to me; grace and mercy, master judges; cursed tormentor, take the candles away.... He burns me more ... it is in a box with a false bottom wrapped in wool, so as to avoid a noise if any one shakes the box; now I have told all; take me away."

When he was taken away from before the fire, he smiled maliciously.

The bailiff asked him why.

"'Tis for comfort at being eased," replied he.

The bailiff said to him:

"Did no one ever ask thee to let him see thy toothed waffle iron?"

The fishmonger replied:

"It was seen like any other, save that it is pierced with holes in which I was wont to screw the iron teeth at dawn I took them out; the peasants prefer my waffles to those of the other sellers; and they call them 'Waefels met brabandsche knoopen', 'waffles with brabant b.u.t.tons', because when the teeth are away, the empty holes make little half spheres like b.u.t.tons."

But the bailiff:

"When didst thou bite the poor victims?"