The Legend of Ulenspiegel Volume Ii Part 4

And the king was inheriting.

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Going through the Walloon country, Ulenspiegel saw that the prince had no succour to hope for thence, and so he came up to the town of Bouillon.

Little by little he saw appearing on the road more and more hunchbacks of every age, s.e.x, and condition. All of them, equipped with large rosaries, were devoutly telling their beads on them.

And their prayers were as the croakings of frogs in a pond at night when the weather is warm.

There were hunchback mothers carrying hunchback children, whilst other children of the same brood clung to their skirts. And there were hunchbacks on the hills and hunchbacks in the plains. And everywhere Ulenspiegel saw their thin silhouettes standing out against the clear sky.

He went to one and said to him:

"Whither go all these poor men, women, and children?"

The man replied:

"We are going to the tomb of Master Saint Remacle to pray him that he will grant what our hearts desire, by taking from off our backs his lump of humiliation."

Ulenspiegel rejoined:

"Could Master Saint Remacle give me also what my heart desireth, by taking from off the back of the poor communes the b.l.o.o.d.y duke, who weighs upon them like a leaden hump?"

"He hath not charge to remove humps of penance," replied the pilgrim.

"Did he remove others?" asked Ulenspiegel.

"Aye, when the humps are young. If then the miracle of healing takes place, we hold revel and feasting throughout all the town. And every pilgrim gives a piece of silver, and oftentimes a gold florin to the happy one that is cured, becomes a saint thereby and with power to pray with efficacy for the others."

Ulenspiegel said:

"Why doeth the wealthy Master Saint Remacle, like a rascal apothecary, make folk pay for his cures?"

"Impious tramp, he punishes blasphemers!" replied the pilgrim, shaking his hump in fury.

"Alas!" groaned Ulenspiegel.

And he fell doubled up at the foot of a tree.

The pilgrim, looking down on him, said:

"Master Saint Remacle smites hard when he smites."

Ulenspiegel bent up his back, and scratching at it, whined:

"Glorious saint, take pity. It is chastis.e.m.e.nt. I feel between my shoulder bones a bitter agony. Alas! O! O! Pardon, Master Saint Remacle. Go, pilgrim, go, leave me here alone, like a parricide, to weep and to repent."

But the pilgrim had fled away as far as the Great Square of Bouillon, where all the hunchbacks were gathered.

There, shivering with fear, he told them, speaking brokenly:

"Met a pilgrim as straight as a poplar ... a blaspheming pilgrim ... hump on his back ... a burning hump!"

The pilgrims, hearing this, they gave vent to a thousand joyful outcries, saying:

"Master Saint Remacle, if you give humps, you can take them away. Take away our humps, Master Saint Remacle!"

Meanwhile, Ulenspiegel left his tree. Pa.s.sing through the empty suburb, he saw, at the low door of a tavern, two bladders swinging from a stick, pigs' bladders, hung up in this fashion as a sign of a fair of black puddings, panch kermis as they say in the country of Brabant.

Ulenspiegel took one of the two bladders, picked up from the ground the backbone of a schol, which the French call dried plaice, drew blood from himself, made some blood run into the bladder, blew it up, sealed it, put it on his back, and on it placed the backbone of the schol. Thus equipped, with his back arched, his head wagging, and his legs tottering like an old humpback, he came out on the square.

The pilgrim that had witnessed his fall saw him and cried out:

"Here is the blasphemer!"

And pointed to him with his finger. And all ran to see the afflicted one.

Ulenspiegel nodded his head piteously.

"Ah!" said he, "I deserve neither grace nor pity; slay me like a mad dog."

And the humpbacks, rubbing their hands, said:

"One more in our fraternity."

Ulenspiegel, muttering between his teeth: "I will make you pay for that, evil ones," appeared to endure all patiently, and said:

"I will neither eat nor drink, even to fortify my hump, until Master Saint Remacle has deigned to heal me even as he has smitten me."

At the rumour of the miracle the dean came out of the church. He was a tall man, portly and majestic. Nose in wind, he clove the sea of the hunchbacks like a ship.

They pointed out Ulenspiegel; he said to him:

"Is it thou, good fellow, that the scourge of Saint Remacle has smitten?"

"Yea, Messire Dean," replied Ulenspiegel, "it is indeed I his humble worshipper who would fain be cured of his new hump, if it please him."

The dean, smelling some trick under this speech:

"Let me," said he, "feel this hump."

"Feel it, Messire," answered Ulenspiegel.

And having done so, the dean: