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The Legend of Ulenspiegel, Volume 1 (of 2) / And Lamme Goedzak, and their Adventures Heroical, Joyous and Glorious in the Land of Flanders and Elsewhere
Book I
I
When May was unfolding the whitethorn blossom Ulenspiegel, son of Claes, was born at Damme in Flanders.
A gossip midwife, by name Katheline, wrapt him in warm swaddling clothes, and, looking at his head, pointed out a caul on it.
“A caul! he is born under a lucky star!” exclaimed she, rejoicing.
But in a moment, lamenting and displaying a little black spot on the babe’s shoulder:
“Alas,” she wept, “’tis the black print of the devil’s finger.”
“Master Satan has been getting up very early, then,” rejoined Claes, “if he has had time already to put his mark on my son.”
“It was not yet his bedtime,” said Katheline, “for there is Chantecleer only now waking up the hens.”
And she went away, putting the child in the arms of Claes.
Then the dawn burst through the night clouds, the swallows skimmed the meadows with shrill cries, and the sun showed his dazzling countenance, bright and red upon the horizon. Claes threw the window wide and spake to Ulenspiegel.
“Son with the caul,” said he, “lucky son, here is our lord Sun coming to salute the soil of Flanders. Look always on him when thou canst, and whenever thou art in a maze, knowing not what to do so as to do right, ask counsel of him: he is bright and warm; be thou honest as he is bright, and kind even as he is warm.”
“Husband Claes,” said Soetkin, “you are preaching to deaf ears; come, drink, my son.”
And the mother offered the newly born nature’s goodly flagons.
II
While Ulenspiegel drank of them, and called for no cup, all the birds in the countryside awoke.
Claes, who was binding faggots, looked upon his wife as she gave the breast to Ulenspiegel.
“Wife,” said he, “have you laid up store of this good milk?”
“The jars are full,” said she, “but that is not enough for my content.”
“You speak piteously of so great a joy.”
“’Tis in my mind,” said she, “that in the wallet you see hanging by the wall there is not one poor patard.”
Claes took the wallet in his hand; but in vain did he shake it, no morning song of coin answered him from within. Thereat he was chapfallen, but wishing nevertheless to hearten his good wife.
“Why do you vex yourself?” said he. “Have we not in the hutch the cake Katheline gave us yesterday? Do not I behold a noble piece of beef that for three days at least will make good milk for the babe? That sack of beans squatting so snugly in the corner, does it prophesy famine? Yon firkin of butter, is it a ghost? Be they but phantoms, those bright platoons and companies of apples ranged warrior-like in ranks of eleven in the loft? Doth not that full-girthed cask of Bruges cuyte, that in its belly keeps the wherewithal for our refreshing, doth it not proclaim good drinking?”
“Needs must,” said Soetkin, “when the babe is borne to baptism, that we give two patards to the priest and a florin for the feasting.”
Therewith entered Katheline, holding a great sheaf of plants in her hand, saying:
“I bring the lucky babe angelica, that keepeth man from lewdness; fennel that putteth Satan to flight…”
“Have you not,” said Claes, “gotten the herb that conjureth florins?”
“Nay,” quoth she.
“Then,” said he, “I will even go see if there be none in the canal.”
Forth he went carrying line and net, being well assured of meeting nobody, for it still lacked an hour of the oosterzon, which is, in Flanders, the morning sun of six of the clock.
III
Claes came to the canal of Bruges, not far from the sea. There, baiting his line, he cast it in the water, and let down his net. A little lad, well attired, lay upon the other bank, sleeping like a log upon a clump of mussels.
The noise Claes made awoke him, and he would have fled away, fearing it might be some sergeant of the commune coming to turn him off his couch and hale him to the Steen for unlicensed vagrancy.
But his fears ceased when he knew Claes and when he heard him call:
“Would you like to earn six liards? Drive the fish this way.”
The lad on the word went down into the water, with his little belly already showing round and puffed up, and, arming himself with a tuft of long reeds, drove the fish toward Claes.
His fishing over, Claes drew in his net and line, and walking across the lock, came to the lad.
“You are he,” said Claes, “whom they call Lamme by baptism and Goedzak for your gentle nature, and you live in the street of the Heron, behind Notre Dame. How comes it, young and well clothed as you are, that you must needs sleep on a public bed?”
“Alas, master coalman,” replied the lad, “at home I have a sister a year younger than I, who beats me with heavy blows for the smallest wrangle. But I dare not take my revenge on her back, for I should do her a hurt. Last night, at supper, I was an-hungered and cleaned with my fingers a dish of beef and beans in which she meant to have a share. There was not enough of it for me, master. When she saw me licking my lips for the goodness of the sauce, she became as one out of her wits, and beat me so fast and furiously that I fled all bruised from out of the house.”
Claes asked him what his father and mother did during all this cuffing.
Lamme Goedzak replied:
“My father beat me on one shoulder and my mother on the other saying, ‘Avenge thyself, coward!’ But I, not willing to strike a girl, fled away.”
Suddenly Lamme grew pale and trembled all over.
And Claes saw a tall woman approaching, and by her side a little girl lean and of a fierce aspect.
“Ah!” said Lamme, taking hold of Claes by his breeches, “here be my mother and my sister coming to find me. Protect me, master coalman.”
“Here,” said Claes, “first take these seven liards for wages and let us go stoutly to meet them.”
When the two women saw Lamme, they ran to him and both were fain to beat him, the mother because she had been anxious and the sister because it was her habit.
Lamme hid behind Claes and cried:
“I have earned seven liards, I have earned seven liards, do not beat me!”
But already the mother was hugging him, while the little girl tried with might and main to open Lamme’s hands to have his money. But Lamme cried:
“It’s mine. You shall not have
