The Legend of Ulenspiegel Volume Ii Part 64

At the monk's second meal:

"Here," he would say, "there are koeke-bakken after the Brussels fashion; the French folk call them crepes, for they wear c.r.a.pes on their kerchiefs for a sign of mourning: these are not black, but fair of hue and golden browned in the oven: seest thou the b.u.t.ter streaming off them? So shall it be with thy belly."

"I have no hunger," the monk would say.

"Thou must needs eat," was Lamme's answer. "Dost thou deem that these are pancakes of buckwheat? 'tis pure wheat, my father, father in grease, fine flour of the wheat, my father with the four chins: already I see the fifth one coming, and my heart rejoices. Eat."

"Leave me in peace, big man," said the monk.

Lamme, becoming wrathful, would reply:

"I am the lord and disposer of thy life: dost thou prefer the rope to a good bowl of pea soup with sippets, such as I am about to fetch thee presently?"

And coming with the bowl:

"Pea soup," quoth Lamme, "loves to be eaten in company: and therefore I have just added thereto knoedels of Germany, goodly dumplings of Corinth flour, cast all alive into boiling water: they are heavy, but make plenteous fat. Eat all thou canst; the more thou dost eat the greater my joy: do not feign disgust; breathe not so hard as if thou hadst over much: eat. Is it not better to eat than to be hanged? Let's see thy thigh! it thickens also; two feet seven inches round about. Where is the ham that measureth as much?"

An hour after he came back to the monk:

"Come," said he, "here are nine pigeons: they have been slaughtered for thee, these innocent beasts that wont to fly unfearing above the ships: disdain them not; I have put into their bellies a ball of b.u.t.ter, breadcrumbs, grated nutmeg, cloves pounded in a bra.s.s mortar shining like thy skin: Master Sun rejoices to be able to admire himself in a face as bright as thine, by reason of the grease, the good grease I have made for thee."

At the fifth meal he would fetch him a waterzoey.

"What thinkest thou," quoth he, "of this hodgepodge of fish? The sea carries thee and feedeth thee: she could do no more for the King's Majesty. Aye, aye, I can see the fifth chin visibly a-coming a little more on the left side than on the right side: we must fatten up this side that is neglected, for G.o.d saith to us: 'Be just to each.' Where would justice be, if not in an equitable distributing of grease? I will bring thee for thy sixth repast mussels, those oysters of the poor, such as they never served thee in thy convent: ignorant folk boil them and eat them so; but that is but the prologue to the frica.s.see; they must next be stripped of their sh.e.l.ls, and their gentle bodies put in a pan, then stewed delicately with celery, nutmeg, and cloves, and bind the sauce with beer and flour, and serve them with b.u.t.tered toast. I have done them in this fashion for thee. Why do children owe so great a grat.i.tude to their fathers and mothers? Because they have given them shelter and love, but beyond all things, food: thou oughtest then to love me as thy father and thy mother, and even as to them thou owest me the grat.i.tude of thy stomach: roll not against me then such savage eyes.

"Presently I shall bring thee a soup of beer and flour, well sweetened with cinnamon a-plenty. Knowest thou for why? That thy fat may become translucent and shiver upon thy skin: such it is seen when thou movest. Now here is the curfew ringing: sleep in peace, taking no thought for the morrow, certain to find thy succulent repasts once more, and thy friend Lamme to give them thee without fail."

"Begone and leave me to pray to G.o.d," said the monk.

"Pray," said Lamme, "pray with the cheerful music of snoring: beer and sleep will make grease for thee, goodly grease. For my part, I am glad of it."

And Lamme went off to put himself in bed.

And the sailors and soldiers would say to him:

"Why, then, do you feed so richly this monk that wishes thee no good?"

"Let me alone," said Lamme, "I am accomplishing a mighty work."

V

December was come, the month of long dark nights. Ulenspiegel sang:

"Monseigneur Sa Grande Altesse Takes off his mask, Eager to reign over the Belgian land.

The Estates Spaniardized But not Angevined Deal with the taxes.

Beat upon the drum Of Anjou's thwarting.

"They have within their power Domains, excise, and funds, Making of magistrates And offices as well.

He hateth the Reformed Monsieur Sa Grande Altesse, An atheist in France Oh! Anjou's thwarting.

"For he would fain be king By the sword and by force, King absolute in all.

This Monseigneur, this Grande Altesse; Fain would he foully seize Many fair towns, yea, Antwerp, too; Signorkes and pagaders rise early, Oh! Anjou's thwarting!

"'Tis not upon thee, France, That this folk rushes, mad with rage; These deadly weaponed blows Fall not upon thy n.o.ble body; And they are not thy offspring Whose corpses in great heaps Choke the Kip-Dorp Gate.

Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!

"No, these are no sons of thine The people fling from the ramparts.

'Tis the High Highness of Anjou, The pa.s.sive libertine Anjou, Living, France, on thy very blood, And eager to drink ours; But 'twixt the cup and lip....

Oh! the thwarting of Anjou.

"Monsieur Sa Grande Altesse.

In a defenceless town Cried, 'Kill! kill! Long live the Ma.s.s!'

With his handsome minions, With eyes wherein gleams The shameful fire, impudent, restless, l.u.s.t without love.

Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!

"'Tis they that are smitten, not thee, poor folk, On whom they weigh with tax, Salt tax, poll tax, deflowering, Contemning thee, making thee give Thy corn, thy horses, thy wains, Thou that art a father to them.

Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!

"Thou that art a mother to them, Suckling the misbehaviour Of these parricides that sully Thy name abroad, France, that dost feast On the savours of their glory When they add by savage feast.

Oh! the thwarting of Anjou!

"A floret to thy soldier crown, A province to thy territory.

Give the stupid c.o.c.k 'l.u.s.t and battle'

Thy foot on the neck.

People of France, people of men, The foot that treads them down!

And all the peoples will love thee For the thwarting of Anjou."

VI

In May, when the peasant women of Flanders by night throw backwards slowly over their heads three black beans to keep them from sickness and death, Lamme's wound opened again: he had a high fever and asked to be laid on the deck of the ship, over against the monk's cage.

Ulenspiegel was very willing; but for fear lest his friend might fall into the sea in a fever fit, he had him strongly fastened down upon his bed.

In his interludes of reason, Lamme incessantly enjoined on them not to forget the monk: and he thrust out his tongue at him.

And the monk said:

"Thou dost insult me, big man."

"Nay," replied Lamme, "I am fattening thee."