Читать книгу The Legend of the Glorious Adventures of Tyl Ulenspiegel in the land of Flanders and elsewhere - Charles de Coster - Страница 12

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One Day of All Souls, Ulenspiegel went forth from Notre Dame with certain other vagabonds of his own age. Among them was Lamme Goedzak, who seemed strayed among them like a lamb in the midst of a herd of wolves. Lamme treated them with drinks all round, for his mother, as her custom was on Sundays and feast days, had given him three patards.

So he went with his companions to the tavern In dem Rooden Schildt—at the sign of the Red Shield. Jan van Liebeke kept the house, and he served them with dobbel knollaert from Courtrai.

They began to be warmed with the drink, and the talk turned on the subject of prayer, and Ulenspiegel declared quite openly that, for his part, he thought that Masses for the dead did nobody any good, except the priests who said them.

Now in that company there was a Judas, who went and denounced Ulenspiegel for a heretic. And in spite of the tears of Soetkin, and the entreaties of Claes, Ulenspiegel was seized and taken prisoner. He remained shut up in a cellar for the space of a month and three days without seeing a soul. The jailor himself consumed three-quarters of the ration that was given him for food.

During all this time the authorities were informing themselves as to Ulenspiegel’s reputation—whether it was good or whether it was bad. They found that there was not much to be said against him except that he was a lively sort of customer, always railing against his neighbours. But they could not find that he had ever spoken evil of Our Lord God, or of Madame the Virgin, nor yet of the Saints. On this account the sentence passed on him was a light one, for he might easily have been condemned to have his face branded with a hot iron and to be flogged till the blood flowed. But in consideration of his youth, the judges merely sentenced him to walk in his shirt behind the priests barefoot and hatless, and holding a candle in his hand. And this he was to do on the Feast of the Ascension, in the first procession that left the church.

So it was done, and when the procession was on the point of turning back, Ulenspiegel was made to stop beneath the porch of Notre Dame, and there cry out aloud:

“Thanks be to our Lord Jesus! Thanks be to the reverend priests! Sweet are their prayers unto the souls in purgatory; nay, they are filled with every virtue of refreshment! For each Ave is even as a bucket of water poured upon the backs of those who are being punished, and every Pater is a tubful!”

And the people heard him with great devotion, and not without a smile.

On Whit-Sunday the same proceeding had to be gone through, and Ulenspiegel followed again in the procession with nothing on but his shirt, and with his head bare, and no shoes on his feet, and holding a candle in his hand. On returning to the church he stood up in the porch, holding the candle most reverently in his hand, and then in a high, clear voice (yet not without sundry waggish grimaces) spake as follows:

“If the prayers of all good Christians are very comforting to the souls in purgatory, how much more so must be those of the Dean of Notre Dame, a holy man and perfect in the performance of every virtue. Verily, his prayers assuage the flames of fire in such wise that they are transformed all of a sudden into ice. But yet be sure that not an atom of it goes to refresh the devils that are in hell.”

And again the people hearkened to what he said with great devotion. But some of them smiled, and the Dean smiled too, in his grim ecclesiastical way.

After that, Ulenspiegel was condemned to banishment from the land of Flanders for the space of three years, on condition that he went to Rome on pilgrimage and brought back with him the papal absolution. For this sentence Claes had to pay three florins: but he gave an extra florin to his son, and bought him a pilgrim’s habit.

Ulenspiegel was heart-broken when he came to say good-bye to Claes and Soetkin on the day of his departure. He embraced them both, and his mother was all in tears; but she accompanied him far on his way, and Claes went too, and many of the townsmen and townswomen.

When they were home again Claes said to his wife:

“Good wife, it is very hard that such a boy should be condemned to this cruel punishment and all for a few silly words.”

“Why, you are crying, my man!” said Soetkin. “Truly, you love him more than you like to show. Yes, you are sobbing now with a man’s sobs, sobs that are like unto the tears of a lion.”

But he answered her not.

As for Nele, she had gone to hide herself in the barn, so that none might see that she also wept for Ulenspiegel. But she followed afar after Soetkin and Claes and the other townsfolk: and when she saw her lover disappearing in the distance, she ran after him and threw herself on his neck.

“In Italy you will meet many beautiful ladies,” she said.

“I do not know about their being beautiful,” he replied, “but fresh like thee—no. For they are all parched with the sun.”

They walked a long way side by side, and Ulenspiegel seemed thoughtful, muttering from time to time:

“I’ll make ’em pay—I’ll make ’em pay for their Masses for the dead!”

“What Masses are those you speak of?” Nele inquired. “And who is to pay for them?”

Ulenspiegel answered:

“All the deans, curés, clerks, beadles and the rest, both superior and inferior, who feed us with their trash. See now, if I had happened to be a strong working man they would have robbed me of the value of three years’ labour by making me thus to go on this pilgrimage. But as things are, it is the poor Claes who pays. Ah, but they shall give me back my three years a hundredfold, and with their own money I myself will sing for them their Masses for the dead!”

“Alas, Tyl!” said Nele, “be prudent, or they will have you burnt alive.”

“I am fireproof,” answered Ulenspiegel.

And they parted from one another, she all in tears, he heart-broken and angry.