Sir Halewyn

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Title:     Sir Halewyn
Author: Charles de Coster [More Titles by Coster]

Translated from the French
By Harold Taylor


I. Of the two castles.

Sir Halewyn lifted up his voice in a song.

And whatever maid heard that song must needs go to him straight away.

And now to all good Flemings will I tell the tale of this Halewyn and his song, and of the brave maid Magtelt.

There were two proud castles in the province of Flanders. In one dwelt Sir Roel de Heurne, with the lady Gonde, his good wife; Toon the Silent, his son; Magtelt, his fair daughter, and a host of pages, grooms, varlets, men-at-arms, and all the other members of the household, among whom an especial favourite was Anne-Mie, a girl of gentle blood, maid to the lady Magtelt.

Of everything that was made by his peasants, Sir Roel took naught but what was the best.

And the peasants said of him that it was a good master who took only as much as he needed, when he might have left them with nothing.

In the other castle lived Sir Halewyn the Miserable, with his father, brother, mother, and sister, and a large following of rascals and brigands.

And these were an ill-favoured crew, I can tell you, past masters of robbery, pillage, and murder, such as it is not good to meet at too close quarters.


II. Of Dirk, called the Crow.

This family were issue by direct line of Dirk, the first of the Halewyns, to whom was given the name of the Crow, because he was as greedy of booty as a crow is of carrion.

And also because he was clad all in black, and his men with him.

This Dirk, who lived in the time of the great wars, was like a thunderbolt in battle, where, with his only weapon, a heavy club, furnished with a beak at one side, he broke javelins, splintered lances, and tore away mail as if it had been cloth; and no one could well resist his onslaught. And in this manner he so frightened his enemies that when they saw Dirk and his black soldiers bearing down upon them, shouting, yelling, without fear of any one, and in great number, they gave themselves up for dead before ever battle was joined.

When victory was won and the more important booty divided (whereof Dirk always secured the lion's share and never came off badly), the other barons and their knights would leave the rest of the field to him and

his followers, and would go off, saying: "The pieces are for the crow."

No other man-at-arms would dare to stay behind then, or he would have been quickly taken and slain without waiting. And thereafter Dirk's men would begin to play the crow in earnest; cutting off fingers to get the rings on them, even of those not yet dead, who cried out to them for succour; chopping off heads and arms so that they might pull away clothes the more easily. And they even fought amongst themselves, and sometimes killed one another, over the bodies of the dead, for the sake of neck-pieces, straps of hide, or more paltry stuff still.

And stayed sometimes on the battlefield over this business three days and three nights.

When all the dead were stark naked they piled up their gains into carts which they brought for this purpose.

And with these they returned to Dirk's castle, there to hold high revel and have good cheer. On the way they fought the peasants, taking whatever women and girls were at all comely, and did with them what they pleased. In this way they passed their lives fighting, pillaging, robbing the helpless, and caring nothing at all for either God or devil.

Dirk the Crow became exceedingly powerful and got very much worship, both by reason of his prowess in battle and from the fact that My Lord the Count gave him after his victories the demesne of Halewyn, with powers of seigneury, both of the higher and the lower order.

And he had a fine escutcheon made for himself, wherein was a crow sable on a field or, with this device: The pieces are for the Crow.


III. Of Sir Halewyn and how he carried himself in his youth.

But to this strong Crow were born children of a quite other kind.

For they were all, strangely enough, men of the quill and writing-desk, caring nothing for the fine arts of war, and despising all arms.

These great clerks lost a good half of their heritage. For each year some stronger neighbour would rob them of a piece of it.

And they begot puny and miserable children, with pale faces, who passed their time, as clerks are wont, lurking in corners, sitting huddled on stools, and whining chants and litanies in a melancholy fashion.

Thus came to an end the good men of the line.

Siewert Halewyn, who was the wretch of whom I am to tell you this tale, was as ugly, puny, woebegone, and sour-faced as the others, or even worse than they.

And like them he was always lurking and hiding in corners, and shirking company, hated the sound of laughter, sweated ill-humour, and, moreover, was never seen to lift his head skywards like an honest man, but was all the while looking down at his boots, wept without reason, grumbled without cause, and never had any satisfaction in anything. For the rest he was a coward and cruel, delighting during his childhood in teasing, frightening and hurting puppies and kittens, sparrows, thrushes, finches, nightingales, and all small beasts.

And even when he was older, he hardly dared to attack so large a thing as a wolf, though he were armed with his great sword. But as soon as the beast was brought down he would rain blows on it with high valour.

So he went on until he was old enough to marry.


IV. How Sir Halewyn wished to take himself a wife, and what the ladies and gentlewomen said to it.

Then, since he was the oldest of the family, he was sent off to the court of the Count, there to find himself a wife. But every one laughed at him, on account of his marvellous ugliness, more particularly the ladies and gentlewomen, who made fun of him among themselves, saying:

"Look at this fine knight! What is he doing here? He has come to marry us, I suppose.--Who would have him, for four castles, as many manors, ten thousand peasants and half the gold in the province? None.--And that is a pity, for between them they would get fine children, if they were to be like their father!--Ho, what fine hair he has, the devil must have limned it with an old nail; what a fine nose, 'tis like a withered plum, and what fair blue eyes, so marvellously ringed round with red.--See, he is going to cry! That will be pretty music."

And Sir Halewyn, hearing the ladies talk after this fashion, could not find a word to answer them with, for between anger, shame, and sorrow his tongue was fast stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Nevertheless he would take a lance at every tournament, and every time would be shamefully overcome, and the ladies, seeing him fall, would applaud loudly, crying out: "Worship to the ill-favoured one! The old crow has lost his beak." Thus they compared him, for his shame, with Dirk, the old stock of the Halewyns, who had been so mighty in his day. And, acclaimed in this fashion every time he jousted, Sir Halewyn would go back from the field in sorrow to his pavilion.


V. How it came about that Sir Halewyn, after a certain tournament, called upon the devil for aid.

At the third tournament wherein he was beaten there were on the field his father, mother, brother, and sister.

And his father said:

"Well, look at my fine son, Siewert the soft, Siewert the overthrown, Siewert the faint-heart, coming back from jousting with his tail between his legs, like a dog thrashed with a great stick."

And his mother said:

"I suppose for certain that My Lord the Count has put a gold chain round thy neck, and acclaimed thee publicly, for having so valiantly in this jousting jousted on thy back, as in the old days my lord of Beaufort was wont to make thee do. Holy God! that was a fine tumble."

And his sister said:

"Welcome, my fair brother, what news do you bring? Thou wert the victor for certain, as I see from thy triumphant mien. But where is the wreath of the ladies?"

And his brother said:

"Where is your lordly bearing, My Lord Siewert Halewyn the elder, descendant of the Crow with the great beak? For such a Crow vanquishes without much trouble eagles, goshawks, shrikes, gerfalcons, sparrow-hawks. Are you not thirsty, my brother, with the thirst of a baron, of a victor, I will not say of a villein? We have here some fine frog's wine, which will cool the fires of victory in your belly."

"Ha," answered the Sire, grinding his teeth, "if God gave me strength, I would make thee sing a different song Sir Brother."

And saying this, he pulled out his sword to do so, but the younger, parrying his thrust, cried out:

"Bravo, uncrowlike Crow! Bravo, capon! Raise up our house, I beg of thee, Siewert the victorious!"

"Ha," said the Sire, "and why does this chatterer not go and joust as well as I? But he would not dare, being that kind of coward who looks on at others, folding his arms and making fun of those who strive."

Then he dismounted from his horse, went off and hid himself in his chamber, cried out to the four walls in a rage, prayed to the devil to give him strength and beauty, and promised him, on the oath of a knight, that he would give him his soul in exchange.

So he called on him all through the night, crying out, weeping, bewailing his lot, minded at times even to kill himself. But the devil did not come, being busy elsewhere.


VI. Of the rovings and wanderings of Sir Halewyn.

Every day after this, whether it were fair or foul, light sky or dark, storm or gentle breeze, rain, snow, or hail, Sir Halewyn wandered alone through the fields and woods.

And children, seeing him, ran away in fear.

"Ah," said he, "I must be very ugly!" And he went on with his wandering.

But if on his way he met some common man who had strength and beauty, he would bear down on him and oftentimes kill him with his sword.

And every one grew to shun him, and to pray to God that he would soon remove their Lord from this world.

And every night, Sir Halewyn called on the devil.

But the devil would not come.

"Ah," said the Sire sorrowfully, "if thou wilt only give me strength and beauty in this life, I will give thee my soul in the other. 'Tis a good bargain."

But the devil never came.

And he, restless, always in anguish and melancholy, was soon like an old man to look at, and was given the name throughout the country of the Ill-favoured Lord.

And his heart was swollen with hatred and anger. And he cursed God.


VII. Of the Prince of the Stones and of the song.

One day in the season of plum-picking, having roved over the whole countryside, and even as far as Lille, on the way back to his castle he passed through a wood. Ambling along he saw among the undergrowth, alongside an oak, a stone which was of great length and broad in proportion.

And he said: "That will make me a good seat, comfortable enough to rest on for a little while." And sitting down on the stone he once again prayed to the devil to let him have health and beauty.

By and by, although it was still daylight, and the small birds, warblers and finches, sang in the woods joyously, and there was a bright sun and a soft wind, Sir Halewyn went off to sleep, for he was very tired.

Having slept until it was night, he was suddenly awakened by a strange sound. And he saw, by the light of the high moon and the clear stars, as it were a little animal, with a coat like a mossy stone, who was scratching up the earth beneath the rock, now and again thrusting his head into the hole he had made, as a dog does hunting moles.

Sir Halewyn, thinking it was some wild thing, hit at it with his sword.

But the sword was broken at its touch, and a little mannikin of stone leapt up on to his shoulders, and smote his cheeks sharply with his hard hands, and said, wheezing and laughing:

"Seek, Siewert Halewyn; seek song and sickle, sickle and song; seek, seek, ill-favoured one!"

And so saying he hopped about like a flea on the back of the Miserable, who bent forward as he was bid, and with a piece of his sword dug in the hole. And the stony cheek of the little mannikin was alongside his own, and his two eyes lit up the hole better than lanterns would have done.

And biting Halewyn's flesh with his sharp teeth, striking him with his little fists, and with his nails pinching and pulling him, and laughing harshly, the little mannikin said: "I am the Prince of the Stones, I have fine treasures; seek, seek, Miserable!"

And saying this, he pommelled him beyond endurance. "He wants," he screamed, mocking him, "Siewert Halewyn wants strength and beauty, beauty and strength; seek then, Miserable."

And he pulled out his hair in handfuls, and tore his dress with his nails until he was all in rags, and kept saying, with great bursts of laughter: "Strength and beauty, beauty and strength; seek, seek, Miserable!" And he hung from his ears with his two hands, and kicked his stone feet in his face, notwithstanding that the Sire cried out with pain.

And the little mannikin said: "To get strength and beauty, seek, Halewyn, a song and a sickle, seek, Sir Miserable!" And the Miserable went on scratching out the earth with his piece of sword.

Suddenly the earth fell away under the stone, leaving a great hole open, and Halewyn, by the light of the mannikin's eyes, saw a sepulchre, and within the sepulchre a man lying, who was of marvellous beauty and had none of the appearance of death.

This man was clad all in white, and in his hands held a sickle, whereof both handle and blade were of gold.

"Take the sickle," quoth the little mannikin, thumping his head with his fists.

Sir Halewyn did as he was bid, and straightway the man in the tomb became dust, and from the dust came a white flame, tall and spreading, and from the white flame a wonderfully sweet song.

And suddenly all about the wood was spread a perfume of cinnamon, frankincense, and sweet marjoram.

"Sing," said the mannikin, and the Miserable repeated the song. While he was singing his harsh voice was changed to a voice sweeter than an angel's, and he saw coming out of the depths of the wood a virgin of heavenly beauty and wholly naked; and she came and stood before him.

"Ah," she said, weeping, "master of the golden sickle. I come, for I must obey; do not make me suffer too much in the taking of my heart, master of the golden sickle."

Then the virgin went away into the depths of the wood; and the mannikin, bursting out into laughter, threw Sir Halewyn down on to the ground, and said:

"Hast song and sickle; so shalt thou have strength and beauty; I am the Prince of the Stones; farewell, cousin."

And Halewyn, picking himself up, saw no more of either the mannikin or the naked maid; and studying well the golden sickle, and pondering in his mind what could be the meaning of the man in the tomb and the naked virgin, and inquiring within himself in perplexity what use he could make of the sickle and the sweet song, he saw suddenly on the blade a fair inscription, written in letters of fire.

But he could not read the writing, for he was ignorant of all the arts; and, weeping with rage, he threw himself into the bushes, crying out: "Help me, Prince of the Stones. Leave me not to die of despair."

Thereupon the mannikin reappeared, leapt upon his shoulder, and, giving him a stout rap on the nose, read on one side of the blade of the sickle this inscription which follows:


Song calls,
Sickle reaps.
In the heart of a maid shalt thou find:
Strength, beauty, honour, riches,
From the hands of a dead virgin.


And upon the other side of the blade the mannikin read further:


Whoso thou art shalt do this thing,
Writing read and song sing:
Seek well, hark and go;
No man shall lay thee low.
Song calls,
Sickle reaps.


And having read this the mannikin went away once more.

Suddenly the Miserable heard a sad voice saying:

"Wilt thou seek strength and beauty in death, blood, and tears?"

"Yes," said he.

"Ambitious heart, heart of stone," answered the voice. Then he heard nothing more.

And he gazed at the sickle with its flaming letters until such time as My Lord Chanticleer called his hens awake.


VIII. What Halewyn did to the little girl cutting faggots.

The Miserable was overjoyed at what had come about, and inquired within himself whether it would be in the heart of a virgin child or of a marriageable virgin that he would find what was promised him, and so satisfy his great desire for worship and power.

Pondering this he went a little way through the wood and stationed himself near to some cottages where he knew there were maids of divers ages, and there waited until morning.

Soon after the sun was up, a little girl came out, nine years old, or rather less, and began collecting and cutting up faggots.

Going up to her, he sang the song and showed her the sickle.

Whereupon she cried out in fear, and ran away as fast as she could.

But Halewyn, having quickly overtaken her, dragged her off by force to his castle.

Going in, he met on the bridge his lady mother, who said to him: "Where goest thou, Miserable, with this child?"

He answered:

"To bring honour to our house."

And his lady mother let him pass, thinking him mad.

He went into his room, opened the side of the girl beneath a breast just budding, cut out the heart with the sickle, and drank the blood.

But he got no more strength from it than he had before.

And weeping bitter tears, he cried: "The sickle has played me false." And he threw down into the moat both the heart and the body.

And the lady Halewyn seeing this poor heart and body dropping into the water, ordered that they should be taken out and brought to her.

Seeing the body rent open under the breast, and the heart taken out, she became afraid lest Siewert her first-born was following dark practices.

And she put the girl's heart back in her breast, and gave her a very fine and Christian burial, and had a fair great cross made on her winding-sheet, and afterwards she was put in the ground and a fair mass said for the quiet of her soul.


IX. Of the heart of a maid and of the great strength which came to Sir Halewyn.

Sorely troubled, and falling on his knees, Halewyn said: "Alas, is the spell then impotent? I sang, and she would not come to my singing! What would you have me do now, Lord Prince of the Stones? If it is that I must wait until nightfall, that I will do. Then, without doubt, having no sun to hinder your powers, you will give me strength and beauty, and all prowess, and you will send me the virgin I need."

And he went at night to wander in the woods round about the cottages, and there, singing his song, and looking out to see if any were coming.

He saw by the light of the bright moon the daughter of Claes, a poor mad man, nicknamed the Dog-beater, because he used to thump and pommel grievously whomever he met, saying that these accursed dogs had robbed him of his coat, and must give it him back again.

This girl took care of Claes very well, and would not marry, though she was a beautiful maid, saying: "Since he is simple, I cannot leave him to look to himself."

And every one, seeing her so stout-hearted, gave her, one some of his cheese, another some beans, another some flour, and so they lived together without wanting for food.

The Miserable stood still at the edge of the wood and sang. And the maid walked straight towards the singing and fell on her knees before him.

He went home to his castle, and she followed him, and entered in with him, saying no word.

On the stair he met his brother, just returned from boar-hunting, who said, in mocking wise:

"Ah, is the Miserable about to get us a bastard?" And to the girl: "Well, mistress, thy heart must be fast set on my ugly brother that thou must needs follow him in this wise, without a word spoken."

But Halewyn, in a rage, hit out at his brother's face with his sword.

Then, passing him by, went up into his own room.

And there, having shut fast the door, from fear of his brother, he stripped the girl quite naked, as he had seen the virgin in his vision. And the girl said that she was cold.

Quickly he opened her breast with the golden blade, under the left pap.

And as the maid gave the death-cry, the heart came out of itself on the blade.

And the Miserable saw before his eyes the little mannikin coming out of the stones of the wall, who said to him, grinning:

"Heart on heart gives strength and beauty. Halewyn shall hang the maid in the Gallows-field. And the body shall hang until the hour of God." Then he went back into the wall.

Halewyn put the heart on his breast, and felt it beating firmly and taking root in his skin. And suddenly his bent back was straightened; and his arm found such strength that he broke easily in two a heavy oaken bench; and looking at himself in a mirror-glass he saw an image so beautiful that he could scarce tell it for his own.

And he felt in his veins the fire of youth burning.

Going down into the great hall he found there at supper his father, mother, brother, and sister.

None of them would have known him but for his voice, which was unchanged.

And his mother rose and peered into his face to see him better.

And he said to her: "Woman, I am thine own son, Siewert Halewyn, the Invincible."

But his brother, whom he had but lately smitten in the face, ran towards him hotly, saying: "Cursed be the Invincible!" and struck him with his knife. But the blade snapped off like glass against the body of the Miserable; whereupon the younger brother seized him in his arms, but the Miserable tore him off and threw him to one side as if he had been a caterpillar.

Then he rushed at him with his head down, like a battering-ram, but as soon as his head touched the Miserable it was cut open, and the blood ran down over his face.

And his father and mother, his sister and the wounded brother, threw themselves on their knees and asked his forgiveness, begging him, since he had become so powerful, to bring them riches and honour.

"That I will," said he.


X. How the Miserable robbed a Lombard goldsmith, and of the pleasant speech of the ladies and gentlewomen.

On the morrow, armed only with the sickle, for he despised other arms on account of the strength which the spell gave him, Halewyn took the body of the maid to the Gallows-field and there hanged it on the tree.

Then he rode off to the city of Ghent.

And the ladies, gentlewomen and maidens of the town, seeing him pass by on his black horse, said among themselves: "Who is this fair horseman?"

"'Tis," he cried right proudly, "Siewert Halewyn, who was called the Ill-favoured one."

"Nay, nay," said the bolder among them, "you are making fun of us, My Lord, or else you have been changed by a fairy."

"Yes," said he, "and, moreover, I had fleshly knowledge of her; and so shall have of you, if I please."

At these words the ladies and gentlewomen were not at all put out.

And he went to the shop of a Lombard goldsmith in that town, who had at one time and another lent him six-and-twenty florins. But the goldsmith did not know him for himself.

He told him that he was Sir Halewyn.

"Ah," said the goldsmith, "then I pray, My Lord, that you will repay me my six-and-twenty florins."

But Halewyn, laughing: "Take me," he said, "to the room where thou keepest thy gold."

"My Lord," said the goldsmith, "that I will not, for all that I hold you in high esteem."

"Dog," said he, "if thou dost not obey me I will strike thee dead instantly."

"Ha!" said the goldsmith, "do not come blustering here, My Lord, for I am neither serf nor peasant, but a free burgess of this town. And if you are so minded as to lay your hands on me, I shall know how to get redress, I promise you."

Then Halewyn struck him, and the burgess called for help.

Hearing this cry, apprentices to the number of six came down into the shop, and, seeing Halewyn, ran to seize him.

But he beat them off likewise and bade them show him where the gold was kept.

Which they did, saying one to another: "This is the Devil."

And the goldsmith, weeping: "My Lord," said he, "do not take it all."

"I shall take what I will," said Halewyn; and he filled his money-bag.

And in this way he took from the goldsmith more than seven hundred golden bezants.

Then, seeing the poor man lamenting his lot, he struck him two or three hard blows, telling him not to whine so loud, and that before the month was out he would take from him double the amount.


XI. Of the arrogant arms of Sir Halewyn.


And the Miserable became the richest, most powerful, and most feared baron in the whole province.

And blasphemously he compared himself to God.

And considering that the old arms of Dirk, and his device, were too mean for his new magnificence:

He sent to Bruges for painters in heraldry to fashion them afresh.

These painters put the old crow away in one quarter, and on a field argent and sable blazoned a heart gules and a sickle or, with this device: None can stand against me.

Moreover, he had this same blazon fashioned into a great standard which was flown from his castle keep. And also had it cut in stone over the gate. And on his shield, which he caused to be made larger so that the arrogant device might be seen to better advantage. And on his arms, his clothes, and wherever it could be put, there he had it as well.


XII. How Sir Halewyn jousted with a knight of England.

It so happened that at about this time My Lord of Flanders let call a tournament.

And sent out to all his lords and barons to come to Ghent for that purpose.

Halewyn went thither and set up his shield among the others.

But the barons and lords, seeing the arrogant device and the great size of the shield, were greatly put to offence thereat.

And all of them jousted with him, but each was overthrown in turn.

Among them was present an English knight of much prowess, who rode out to the middle of the tourney-field and stood straight and proud before Sir Halewyn.

"Well," quoth he, "My Lord the Invincible, it displeases me to see thee planted there so arrogantly and unhorsing us all in this fashion. Wilt thou fight with me?"

"Yes," said Sir Halewyn.

"If I overcome thee, thou shalt be my servant and I shall take thee with me into Cornwall."

"Yes," said Sir Halewyn.

"And cause thee to grease my horses' hooves, and empty the dung from the stable; and find out whether thou art invincible at such work also."

"Yes," said Sir Halewyn.

"And if thou art not invincible, the invincible stick shall thrash thee invincibly."

"Yes," said Sir Halewyn.

"But if thou overcome me, this shall be thy guerdon:

"Five-and-twenty bezants which are in the house of thy Lord, the noble Count of Flanders; all the accoutrement of my horse, which is of fine mail; his fair saddle of pear-wood, covered with leather, and saddle-bows richly figured with ten horsemen lustily fighting and with Our Lord driving out the devil from one possessed; furthermore my helm of fine wrought steel, and on it a crest of silver, gilt over, with spread wings, which may very well, notwithstanding thy device, stand against thy bleeding heart, thy gaping sickle, and thy miserable crow. Well, My Lord the Invincible, dost think thou shalt win invincibly the five-and-twenty bezants, the helm of my head, and the trappings of my horse?"

"Yes," said Sir Halewyn.

Then, after My Lord himself had given the signal, they ran together with a great clatter.

And the English knight was overthrown like the rest.

Then all the ladies acclaimed and applauded the Miserable, crying out: "Worship to Siewert Halewyn the noble, Siewert Halewyn the Fleming, Siewert Halewyn the Invincible."

And on his way back to the house of My Lord, there to feast with him, he was by these ladies kissed, fondled, and made much of without stint.

And, putting on the gear of the English knight, he went off to the towns of Bruges, Lille, and Ghent, thieving and ravishing everywhere.

And came back from each expedition with much booty.

And felt the heart all the while pouring live strength into his breast and beating against his skin.

Then he went back to his own castle with the five-and-twenty bezants and the arms of the knight of England.

When he sounded the horn there came to him his mother, who, seeing him so gilt over, was overcome with joy, and cried: "He brings us riches, as he promised."

"Yes," said Sir Halewyn.

And she fell at his feet and kissed them.

As also did the younger brother, saying: "Sir Brother thou hast lifted us up from poverty, I will willingly serve thee."

"So shouldst thou, indeed," said Halewyn. Then, going into the hall: "I would sup," he said, "thou, woman, fetch me meat, and thou, fellow, drink."

And on the morrow, and every day thereafter, he made to serve him at table, as if they had been his private servants, his father, mother, brother, and sister, turn by turn.


XIII. Of the heart dried up and of the dame Halewyn.

But one morning while he was at meat in his castle, when his father and sister were gone to Bruges to buy corn-coloured cloth-of-scarlet for their clothes,

And he was being served, with all humility, by his mother and brother,

He became suddenly quite cold, for the heart had ceased to beat.

Putting his hand to his breast, he touched dried-up skin.

Then he felt his face go back as it was before, his shoulders shrink down, his back hump up, and all his body lessen in stature.

Looking at his mother and brother in turn, he saw them laughing and saying to each other: "See, here is our master back in his old ugly skin, and with his old ugly face."

"Ha, My Lord," said his brother, coming boldly up to him and speaking insolently, "will you not take some of this clauwaert to hearten yourself? You have no longer, it seems, your former strength."

"Wilt try it?" said the Miserable, and struck him with his fist, but did him no more hurt than if he had been a fly.

Seeing this the younger brother grew bolder, and seating himself close to Halewyn on the seat:

"My lord," said he, "you have had pudding enough, I think, 'tis my turn to eat."

And he took the pudding from off his platter.

"My lord son," said his mother, "now you shall give to me, who am old, some of this old wine you have kept for yourself."

And she took the cup out of his hand.

"My lord brother," said the younger son, "methinks you have too much of this roast of lamb with sweet chestnuts; I will take it, if you please."

And he put the roast of lamb before his own place.

"My lord son," said his mother, "you do not much like, it seems, this fair cheese and barley tart, give it to me, I pray you."

And the Miserable, dumbfounded, gave it to her.

"My lord brother," said the younger son, "you have been sitting there long enough like an emperor, will you be pleased to stir your limbs now and serve us?"

And the Miserable, getting up, served them as he was bidden.

"My lord son," said his mother, "I see you now submissive to our orders, will you be pleased to ask my pardon for having so long kept me standing like a private servant, fetching you food and drink, though I am your mother?"

And the Miserable fell at her feet.

"My lord brother," said the younger son, "wilt thou be pleased to fall at my feet likewise, and kiss them, for that thou hast made me do the work of a serf?"

"That I will not," said the Miserable.

"Thou wilt not?"

"I will not," said the Miserable, and stepped back a pace.

"Come hither," said his brother.

"I will not," said the Miserable.

Then the younger ran at him, and, bearing him to the ground without difficulty, began thumping and pommelling him, and striking him in the face with his golden spurs, saying: "Avenge thyself, Siewert Halewyn the Invincible. None can stand against thee, save I. Thou hast long treated us as serfs in thy house, now I will treat thee as a cheese and crush thee underfoot. Why dost thou not now caper as a kid, or fly away as a bird, Siewert the enchanted?" and, going into a frenzy of rage, he drew his knife, saying: "I will cut thee off thy head unless thou cry mercy."

"I will not," said the Miserable.

But his mother, hearing these words, took quickly from the fire a handful of embers, and notwithstanding their heat, threw them into the eyes and mouth of the younger brother, saying: "Thou shalt not kill my first-born, wicked son."

And while the younger brother was howling by reason of the pain from the embers, which blinded him, his mother took the knife from him, and while he was twisting this way and that, swinging up his arms to strike whomever he could, she threw him down, shut him up in the room, and went out dragging her first-born after her. Then, although she was feeble with age, she carried Halewyn up into the tower on her back, as a shepherd carries a lamb (for he had quite lost his senses), and there tended him and bathed his face and breast, which were torn and bleeding, and there at nightfall left him and went away.


XIV. Of the great weakness of Sir Halewyn and of the days and nights which he spent in the forest.

The Miserable, alone and somewhat comforted, rose to his feet, and was right glad to feel the sickle still at his belt; opened the door, listened to make sure that he could hear nothing, and that his brother was not there.

And when the night was fully dark, went down the stair slowly, sitting-wise.

For he was so weakened by the blows and wounds he had received that he could not hold himself upright by any means; and in this fashion he went on until he reached the bridge, and, finding that still down, crossed over it.

And very wearily he made his way to the forest.

But he could not, on account of his weakness, go so far as the cottages, which were a good two leagues distant to the northward.

So, lying down among the leaves, he sang.

But no maid came, for the song could not be heard from so far away.

And so passed the first day.

When night came again, cold rain began to fall, which sent him into a fever. But notwithstanding this he would not go back to his castle, for fear of his brother. Shivering, and with his teeth a-chatter, he dragged himself northward through the brake, and saw in a clearing a fair pretty maid, rosy-cheeked, fresh, slender, and neat, and he sang his song. But the girl did not come to him.

And so passed the second day.

That night the rain fell anew, and he could not move, so stiff was he from the cold, and he sang, but no maid came. At dawn the rain continued, and while he was lying there among the leaves a wolf came and sniffed at him, thinking him dead, but on seeing it draw near he cried out in a terrible fashion, and the wolf took fright and went off. Then he grew hungry, but could find himself nothing to eat. At vespers he sang anew, but no maid came.

And so passed the third day.

Towards midnight the sky cleared, and the wind grew warmer. But the Miserable, though he was suffering greatly from hunger, thirst, and weariness, dared not sleep. On the morning of the fourth day he saw a girl coming towards him who seemed to be a burgess's daughter. The girl would have run away on seeing him, but he cried out loudly: "Help me! I am worn out with hunger and sickness." Then she drew near to him and said: "I also am hungry." "Art thou," he said, "a maid? " "Ah," said she, "I have had to flee from Bruges, because the priests would have burnt me alive, on account of a brown mole which I have on my neck, of the size of a pea, coming, they say, from my having had fleshly commerce with the devil. But I have never seen the devil, and do not know what he is like."

He, without listening to her, asked again if she were a virgin, and, as the girl said nothing, he sang his song.

But she did not move from where she stood, only saying: "You have a very sweet and strong voice for one so wasted with sickness and hunger."

Then he said to her: "I am the lord Siewert Halewyn. Go to my castle and ask to be taken to my lady mother, and without speaking to any one else, whosoever he be, tell her that her son is hard put to it in the forest with hunger, fever, and weariness, and will die before long if none bring him help."

The girl went off as he bid her, but coming out of the wood she saw in the Gallows-field the body of the maid hanging, and ran away in a fright. Passing into the territory of Sir Roel de Heurne she craved food and drink at the cottage of one of his peasants. And there she told how she had found Sir Halewyn dying of hunger. But she was told in reply that the said lord was crueller and more wicked than the devil himself, and should be left to be eaten by the wolves and other beasts of the forest.

And the Miserable waited, lying in the leaves in great anguish.

And so passed the fourth day.

And at dawn of the fifth, having seen no more of the girl, he supposed that she had been caught by the priests and taken back to Bruges to be burnt.

Quite disheartened, and chilled with the cold, and saying that he would soon die, he cursed the Prince of the Stones.

Nevertheless, at vespers he sang once more.

And he was then by the side of a forest way.

And he saw coming through the trees a fair maid, who fell on her knees before him.

And he did to her as he had done to the others.

Then rose full of fresh strength, vigour, and beauty, and with the heart resting against his own went off to the Gallows-field, carrying the body, and there hanged it by that of the first virgin.


XV. How the Miserable, having hanged fifteen virgins in the Gallows-field, held wicked revels and cruel orgies.

Sir Halewyn became most powerful and greatly feared, and killed up to fifteen virgins, whom he hanged in the Gallows-field.

And he led a riotous life, eating, drinking, and carousing continually.

All those ladies who had made fun of him in the days of his impotence and ugliness were brought to his castle.

And having had his will of them he turned them out of doors like bitches, so wreaking upon them his evil vengeance.

And from Lille, Ghent, and Bruges came the most beautiful courtesans, with their badge on their arms, and they ministered to his pleasure and to that of his friends, among whom the more evil were Diederich Pater-noster, so called because he was a great frequenter of churches; Nellin the Wolf, who in battle attacked only the fallen, as wolves do; and Baudouin Sans Ears, who in his court of justice always cried: "Death, death," without waiting to hear any defence whatever.

In company with the fair courtesans these same lords held revels and orgies without end, and took from their poor peasants all they had, corn, cheese, jewels, cocks, oxen, calves, and swine.

Then, having stuffed themselves as full as they could hold, threw to their dogs choice viands and rich cakes.

Gave to be broken and pounded up for their hawks and falcons, the meat of fowls, cockerels, and doves; had the hooves of their horses bathed in wine.

Oftentimes until midnight, or even until cock-crow, there would be beating of drums, trilling of pipes, squeaking of viols, skirling of bagpipes, and winding of horns, for their entertainment.


XVI. How the burgesses of the good town of Ghent gave protection to the virgins of the domain of Halewyn.

Meanwhile in the cottages of the peasant folk were tears, hunger, and great misery.

And when the fifteenth maid had been taken in the domain of Halewyn,

The mothers prayed to God that he would make them barren, or else that they might bear men-children only.

And the fathers complained and said to one another sadly: "Is it not a pitiful thing to see these sweet and gentle flowers of youth so brought to death and dishonour!"

And some among them said: "Let us go by night to the good town of Ghent, taking with us all our virgin daughters, and tell the whole tale to the burgesses, begging their blessed protection for them, and leaving them there in the town if we are so permitted. So they will escape death at the hands of our master."

Every one who heard this plan thought it a good one; and all the peasants with daughters who were virgins took them off to Ghent, and there told the story to the commune, and the good men gave them protection.

Then with lighter hearts the peasants returned to the domain of Halewyn.


XVII. Of what Sir Halewyn did on the borders of his domain.

Not long afterwards a hard winter set in, with bitter cold and furious storm.

And the heart of the fifteenth virgin no longer beat strong against Sir Halewyn's breast.

And he sang, but none came. Wherefore he was disappointed and angry.

But calling to mind that there were, in the castle of Sir Roel de Heurne, two girls supposed by common report to be virgins,

And that this castle was no more than the fifth part of a league from the borders of his land,

And that therefore the two maids would be able to hear and come to the call of his song,

He went each night and stationed himself on the farthest border of his demesne, and there sang towards the said castle, notwithstanding the bitter cold, and the snow beginning to fall abundantly.


XVIII. Of the damosels Magtelt and Anne-Mie, and of Schimmel the dapple-gray.

While the Miserable was roaming the woods, Sir Roel de Heurne and the lady Gonde, his wife, richly clad, and wrapt round with deer-skins, which give particular warmth to the body, were sitting snugly on their coffers before their good fire of oaken logs, chatting together as old folk will.

But it was the Lady Gonde who spoke most, being the woman.

And she said:

"My good man, do you hear the storm raging furiously in the forest?"

"Yes," answered Sir Roel.

And his lady said further:

"God has been kind to give us, against this great cold, such a fine castle so strongly built, such good clothes, and such a bright fire."

"Yes," answered the Sire.

"But above all," said she, "he has shown us his divine grace by giving us such good and brave children."

"True," answered the Sire.

"For," said she, "nowhere could you find a young man more valiant, courteous, gentle, and fitter to uphold our name than Toon, our son."

"Yes," said the Sire, "he has saved my life in battle."

"But," said his lady, "he has this fault, that he is so scant of words that we scarce know the tone of his voice. He is well called the Silent."

"There is better worth to a man," said the Sire, "in a good sword than in a long tongue."

"Here I see you, my lord," said the lady, "pent up with your reflections, for sadness and gravity are the lot of old age, but I know well a certain maid who would smooth out your forehead and set you laughing."

"'Tis possible," said the Sire.

"Yes," said she, "it is certainly possible, for when Magtelt our daughter comes into this room, I shall see my lord and husband turn happy at once."

At these words Sir Roel nodded his head and smiled a little.

"Yes, yes," said his lady, "for when Magtelt laughs, then laughs my old Roel; when she sings, then my old Roel grows thoughtful and nods his head happily, and if she passes by, he follows with smiling eyes each step of his little daughter."

"True, Gonde," said the Sire.

"Yes, yes," said she, "for who is the well-being and joy of this house? 'Tis not I, who am old, and losing my teeth one by one; nor you either, my fellow in antiquity; nor the Silent either; nor Anne-Mie the private servant, who, though she is very sweet and healthy in her person, is something too quiet in her ways, and laughs only when she is set laughing. But she who makes our old age happy, she who is the nightingale in the house, she who is always coming and going, passing and repassing, flying hither and thither, singing and singing again, as happy as a peal of bells at Christmastide: 'tis our good daughter."

"So it is," said the Sire.

"Ah," said his lady further, "it is a happy thing for us to have such a child, since both of us have already cold in our feet at all seasons. For without her we should pass our time in sadness, and from our old feet the cold would creep up to our hearts, and so we should be taken to our graves more quickly."

"Yes, wife," said the Sire.

"Ah," said she, "another damosel would have wished for love-suitors, and to go to the court of My Lord to get a husband. But our little maid gives no thought to that, for hereabout she loves no one but ourselves, and her who goes everywhere with her, and is as a sister to her, Anne-Mie the private servant; but not without teasing her a little in order to make her laugh."

"True," said the Sire.

"Yes, yes," said his lady, "and every one loves her, admires her, and respects her, pages, grooms, varlets, men-at-arms, private servants, serfs, and peasants, so joyous and merry is she, so brave and gentle is her bearing. There is no one, even down to Schimmel, the great war-horse, who does not follow her like a dog. Ah! When he sees her coming he whinnies joyously; and she alone must bring him his oats and corn; from none other will he take a grain. She treats him like a man, and often gives him a great draught of clauwaert, which he drinks up with relish. She makes herself understood to him by words, but she must never be cross with him, or he makes as if to weep, and looks at her with so sad a manner that she cannot withstand it and then calls him to her, saying: 'Beautiful Schimmel, brave Schimmel,' and other soft words; hearing which the good dapple-gray gets up and comes close to her to have more compliments. He suffers no one on his back but she, and when he is carrying her he is as proud as My Lord of Flanders at the head of his good barons and knights. So she has her sovereignty over every one, by joyousness, goodness, and fair speaking."

"Yes," said the Sire.

"Ah," said his lady, "may the very good God watch over our little one, and may our old ears hear this fledgeling nightingale singing always."

"Amen," said the Sire.


XIX. How Magtelt sang to Sir Roel the lied of the Lion, and the song of the Four Witches.

While Sir Roel and the lady Gonde were talking together,

The snow had fallen in great quantity,

And had quite covered Magtelt and Anne-Mie, who were coming back from having taken an eagle-stone to the wife of Josse, for her to bind to her left thigh and so get ease in her lying-in.

And the girls came into the great hall, where Sir Roel was sitting with his good wife.

Magtelt, drawing close to her father, knelt to him in salutation.

And Sir Roel, having raised her up, kissed her on the brow.

But Anne-Mie stayed quietly in a corner, as became a private servant.

And it was a good sight to see these two maids wholly covered with snow.

"Jesus-Maria," said the lady Gonde, "see these two sillies, what have they been doing to get themselves clothed in snow in this fashion? To the fire quickly, children; draw to the fire and dry yourselves."

"Silence, wife," said Sir Roel, "you make youth faint-heart. In my young days I went through cold, snow, hail, thunder, and tempest without a thought. And so do I still, when there is need to, and I will have Magtelt do the same. Thanks be to God! 'tis not from a fire of logs that a daughter of ours must get warmth, but from the natural fire which burns in the bodies of the children of old Roel."

But Magtelt, seeing him about to grow angry, went and knelt at his feet.

"Lord father," said she, "we are not cold at all, for we have been leaping, dancing and frolicking so heartily, thumping and drubbing each other, that we turned winter into spring; furthermore we sang some fine songs, which I beg you will give me leave to sing over again to you."

"So I will, little one," said Sir Roel. So Magtelt sang him the lied, of Roeland de Heurne the Lion, who came back from the Holy Land, and brought thence a great sword; and also the song of the Four Witches, wherein you may hear mewling of cats, bleating of goats, and the noise which they make with their tails in rainy weather.

And Sir Roel forgot his anger.

When Magtelt had done singing he caused supper to be served and the cross lit up, which threw over them a bright light from the four lamps burning at the end of each arm.

And he made his daughter sit at his side.

Anne-Mie came likewise to sit at table, beside the lady Gonde, who said: "Young company warms old folk."

And there were served to them that evening fine white bread, beef salted and smoked in the chimney among the sweet smoke of fir-cones, Ghent sausage, which was invented, they say, by Boudwin the Glutton, bastard of Flanders, and old clauwaert.

Supper finished, and a prayer spoken, Magtelt and Anne-Mie went off to bed, in the same room, for Magtelt loved Anne-Mie like a sister and would have her by her side at all times.


XX. Of the sixteenth virgin hanged.

Magtelt, with laughter, singing, and frolic, soon fell asleep.

But Anne-Mie, being somewhat cold, could not close her eyes.

And the Miserable came and stationed himself on the border of his land. Thence his voice rang out clear, soft, and melodious.

And Anne-Mie heard it, and, forgetting that she was but lightly clad, rose up and went out of the castle by the postern.

When she came into the open the snow smote harshly on her face, her breast, and her shoulders.

And she tried to shield herself against this bitter cold and evil snow, but could not, for she had lain down to sleep nearly naked.

Going towards the song she passed barefoot across the moat, whereof the water was hard frozen.

And trying to mount the farther bank, which was high and slippery, she fell;

And cut a great wound in her knee.

Having picked herself up she entered the forest, wounding her bare feet on the stones, and her numbed body on the branches of trees.

But she went her way without heeding.

When she drew near to the Miserable she fell on her knees before him. And he did to her as he had done to the others.

And Anne-Mie was the sixteenth virgin hanged in the Gallows-field.


XXI. How Magtelt sought Anne-Mie.

On the morrow Magtelt, being, as was customary, the first awake, said her prayers to My Lord Jesus and to Madam Saint Magtelt, her blessed patron.

Having besought them earnestly for Sir Roel, the lady Gonde, the Silent, and all the household, most particularly for Anne-Mie, she looked at the maid's bed, and seeing its curtains half drawn she supposed that her companion was still asleep; and so, putting on her fine clothes, she kept saying as she moved up and down the room, or looked at herself in the mirror-glass:

"Ho, Anne-Mie, wake up, wake up, Anne-Mie! Who sleeps late comes last to grass. The sparrows are awake and the hens also, and already their eggs are laid. Wake up, Anne-Mie, Schimmel is neighing in the stable, and the sun is shining bright on the snow; my lord father is scolding the servants, and my lady mother is interceding for them. Canst not smell the savoury odour of beans and good beef broiled with spices? I can smell it well enough, and it makes me hungry; wake up, Anne-Mie." But the girl could not possess herself in patience any longer, and threw the curtains wide open.

Finding no Anne-Mie: "There!" she said, "the rogue, she has gone down without me; and without me, no doubt, is at this same moment eating those good beans and beef."

And going down the stairs at a run Magtelt entered the great hall, where, seeing Sir Roel her father, she knelt to him and asked his blessing, and then likewise to the lady Gonde.

But her mother said to her: "Where is Anne-Mie?"

"I cannot tell," said Magtelt, "she is having some fun with us, I suppose, hidden in some corner."

"That," said Sir Roel, "is not her way, for if any one here makes fun of others 'tis not she, but thou, little one."

"My lord father," said Magtelt, "you make me anxious by talking so."

"Well," said Sir Roel, "go and seek Anne-Mie; as for us, mother, let us eat; our old stomachs cannot wait for food as well as these young ones."

"Ah," said the lady Gonde, "I have no mind to eat; go, Magtelt, and find me Anne-Mie."

But Sir Roel helped himself to a great platterful of beans and good beef, and, falling to it, said that nothing was so easily put out, troubled, made anxious, as a woman, and this for nothing at all.

Nevertheless he was himself a little uneasy, and from time to time looked up at the door, saying that the rascal of a girl would show herself suddenly from somewhere.

But Magtelt, after searching the whole castle over, came back and said: "I can find Anne-Mie nowhere."


XXII. How Magtelt wept bitterly, and of the fine dress which she had.

And Magtelt had great sorrow in her heart, and wept, and made lament, crying: "Anne-Mie, where art thou? Would I could see thee again!" And falling on her knees before Sir Roel, she said: "My lord father, I pray you to send our men-at-arms in goodly number in search for Anne-Mie."

"So I will," said he.

The men-at-arms went out, but dared not pass on to the lands of Halewyn from fear of the spell.

And on their return they said: "We can hear nothing of Anne-Mie."

And Magtelt went up and stretched herself on her bed, and prayed to the good God to send her back her sweet comrade.

On the second day she went and sat before the glazed window, and without intermission looked out all day at the countryside and the falling snow, and watched to see if Anne-Mie were coming.

But Anne-Mie could not come.

And on the third day the lids of her eyes bled for weeping. And on that day the snow ceased falling, the sky became clear, the sun shone therein, and the earth was hard frozen.

And every day in the same place went and sat the sorrowing Magtelt, watching the countryside, thinking of Anne-Mie and saying nothing.

Sir Roel, seeing her so low-hearted, sent to Bruges for some blue cloth-of-scarlet, for her to make herself a dress, and fine Cyprian gold for the border, and fine gold buttons of rich workmanship.

Magtelt worked away at making this dress, but took no pleasure at all at the thought of all this fine apparel.

And so passed away the week, and each day Magtelt worked at her dress, saying nothing and singing never, but weeping oftentimes.

On the fifth day, when the dress was finished, well trimmed with the Cyprian gold and embellished with the rich buttons, the lady Gonde bade Magtelt don it, and then showed her her magnificence in a great mirror-glass; but Magtelt had no heart to be glad at seeing herself so beautiful, for she was thinking of Anne-Mie.

And the lady Gonde, seeing how sad she was and silent, wept also, saying: "Since our Magtelt stopped singing I have felt more bitterly the chill of winter and old age."

And Sir Roel made no murmur, but became sullen and pensive, and drank clauwaert all day.

And at times, turning angry, he bade Magtelt sing and be cheerful.

And the maid sang merry lieds to the old man, who then turned joyous again, and Gonde as well.

And they spent all their time before the fire, nodding their heads. And they said: "The nightingale is come back again to the house, and her music makes the fires of spring sunshine stir in our bones."

And Magtelt, having done singing, would go off to hide herself in a corner and weep for Anne-Mie.


XXIII. Of Toon the Silent.

On the eighth day, the Silent went wolf-hunting.

Following a certain beast he rode into the domain of Halewyn.

And at vespers the lady Gonde, leaving the great hall to go to the kitchen for the ordering of supper, on opening the door saw Toon before her. He seemed loth to come in, and hung his head as if with shame.

The lady Gonde, going to him, said: "My son, why do you not come into the hall to bid good evening to the lord your father?"

The Silent, without answering, went into the hall, and muttering short and sullen words by way of salutation, went to sit in the darkest corner.

And the lady Gonde said to Sir Roel: "Our son is angry at something, I think, since he goes off into a dark corner far away from us, against his habit."

Sir Roel said to the Silent: "Son, come hither to the light that we may see thy face."

He obeyed, and Sir Roel, the lady Gonde, and the sorrowing Magtelt saw that he was bleeding from the head and from the neck, and cast down his eyes, not daring to look them in the face.

The lady Gonde cried out with fright on seeing the blood, and Magtelt came to him, and Sir Roel said: "Who has given my son this shamed countenance, this downcast heart, and these wounds in his body?"

The Silent answered: "Siewert Halewyn."

"Why," said Sir Roel, "was my son so presumptuous as to attack the Invincible?"

The Silent answered: "Anne-Mie hanged in the Gallows-field of Siewert Halewyn."

"Woe!" cried Sir Roel, "our poor maid hanged! shame and sorrow upon us!"

"Lord God," said Gonde, "you smite us hard indeed." And she wept.

But Magtelt could neither weep nor speak from the bitterness of the grief which laid hold upon her.

And she looked at her brother fixedly, and his sunken face blenched, and from the wounds against his eyes dropped tears of blood, and his body was shaken with spasms.

And the Silent sank into a seat, weeping dully like a wounded lion.

"Ha," quoth Sir Roel, hiding his face, "this is the first man of the house of Heurne that has found need to sit weeping. Shame upon us, and without redress, for there is a spell woven."

And the Silent stuffed his fingers into the wound in his neck, pressing out the blood; but he felt nothing of the pain.

"Toon," said the lady Gonde, "do not dirty your wound with your fingers in this wise; you will poison it, my son."

But the Silent did not seem to hear.

"Toon," said the lady Gonde, "do not do it; I, your mother, order you. Let me wash away this blood and dress with ointment these ugly sores."

While she hurried to prepare the ointment and to warm the water in a washing-basin, Toon did not cease his groaning and weeping. And he tore out the hair from his beard in a rage.

And Sir Roel, watching him, said: "When a man weeps 'tis blood and shame, shame without redress. Halewyn has a spell. Ah, presumptuous one, must thou then go to his castle to brave the Invincible?"

"Woe, my lord," said the lady Gonde, "be not so bitter angry with the Silent, for he showed fine courage in wishing to avenge Anne-Mie on the Miserable."

"Yes," said Sir Roel, "fine courage that brings shame to our house."

"Tell," said she, "tell, Toon, the tale to thy father, to show him that thou art a worthy son to him none the less."

"I wish it," said Sir Roel.

"My lord father," said the Silent, groaning, and speaking in short breaths, "Anne-Mie hanging, Siewert Halewyn near to the gallows. He was laughing. I ran at him, cutting at his belly with my sword in the fashion of a cross to break the spell. Invincible! He laughed, saying: 'I will take Magtelt.' I struck him with a knife; the blade turned. He laughed. He said: 'I do not care for punishment, be off.' I did not go. I struck him with sword and knife together; in vain. He laughed. He said again: 'Be off.' I could not. Then he struck me with the flat of his sword in the neck and breast, and with the hilt in the back, like a serf. He laughed. I lost sense from the blows. Beaten like a serf, my lord father, I could do naught against him."

Sir Roel, having heard Toon speak, was less angered, understanding that he had not been presumptuous, thinking also of his great pain and of his bitter groaning and his grievous shame.

With the ointment ready and the water warm, the lady Gonde set to work to dress the wounds of her son, particularly that on his neck, which was a deep one.

But Magtelt wept never a tear, and soon went off to her bed, not without a blessing from Sir Roel her father, and her lady mother.

The three stayed a long while together before the fire, father, mother, and son, without a word spoken, for the Silent, moaning all the while, could not bear his defeat, and the lady Gonde wept and prayed; and Sir Roel, sad and ashamed, hid his face.


XXIV. How the damosel Magtelt made a good resolution.

Magtelt, before she lay down on her bed, prayed, but not aloud. And her face was hard set with anger.

And having undressed she lay down in her bed, tugging at her breast with her finger-nails from time to time, as if she were fighting for breath.

And her breathing was as if she were in agony.

For she was bitter sad and out of heart.

But she did not weep.

And she heard the high wind, forerunner of snow, lifting over the forest, and roaring like a stream in spate after heavy rain.

And it tossed against the window glass dried leaves and branches, which beat on the pane like dead men's finger-nails.

And it howled and whistled sadly in the chimney.

And the sorrowing maid saw in her mind's eye Anne-Mie hanging in the Gallows-field and her poor body pecked by the crows, and she thought of the stain on her brave brother's honour, and of the fifteen poor virgins outraged by the Miserable.

But she did not weep.

For in her breast was a dumb pain, harsh anguish, and a bitter thirst for vengeance.

And she asked very humbly of Our Lady if it were a good thing to let the Miserable any longer go killing the maidens of the land of Flanders.

And at cock-crow she rose from her bed, and her eyes were bright, and proud was her countenance, and her head held high, and she said: "I will go to Halewyn."

And throwing herself on her knees she prayed to the very strong God to give her courage and strength for the revenge of Anne-Mie, Toon the Silent, and the fifteen virgins.


XXV. Of the sword of the Lion.

At sun-up she went to Sir Roel, who was still in bed, on account of the cold.

Seeing her come in and fall on her knees before him, he said: "What wilt thou, little one?"

"My lord father," she said, "may I go to Halewyn?"

At this he became afraid, and saw well enough that Magtelt, unable to rid her heart of the thought of Anne-Mie, was minded to avenge her. And he said with love and anger:

"No, my daughter, no, not thou; who goes there will not come again!"

But seeing her go out of the room he never supposed that she would fail in her obedience.

And Magtelt went thence to the lady Gonde, who was praying in the chapel for the repose of Anne-Mie's soul; and she pulled at her mother's dress, to show that she was there.

When the lady Gonde turned her head, Magtelt fell on her knees before her:

"Mother," said she, "may I go to Halewyn?"

But her lady mother: "Oh no, child, no, not thou; who goes there will not come again!"

And so saying, she opened her arms and let fall the golden ball wherewith she warmed her hands, so that the embers spread this way and that on the floor. Then she fell to moaning, weeping, trembling, and chattering with her teeth, and embraced the girl tightly as if she would never let her go.

But she never supposed that she could fail in her obedience.

And Magtelt went thence to Toon, who, despite his wounds, was already out of bed, and seated on his coffer, warming himself before a new-lit fire.

"Brother," she said, "may I go to Halewyn?"

Saying this she held herself straight before him.

The Silent lifted his head and looked at her severely, waiting for her to speak further.

"Brother," she said, "Siewert Halewyn has killed this sweet maid whom I loved; and has done the same to fifteen other pitiful virgins, who are hanging in the Gallows-field shamefully; he is for this country a greater evil than war, death, and pestilence; brother, I would kill him."

But Toon looked at Magtelt and answered nothing.

"Brother," said she, "thou must not refuse me, for my heart bids me go. Canst thou not see how sad and downcast I am in this house, and how I shall die of sorrow if I do not that which I should. But having been to him I shall come back joyous and singing as before."

But the Silent said not a word.

"Ah," she said, "dost fear for me, seeing how many good knights have assailed him and been by him shamefully overthrown, even thyself, my brave brother, who carriest even now his marks? I am not ignorant that on his shield is written: 'None can stand against me.' But what others could not, one may do. He goes glorying in his strength, more terrible than an oliphant, prouder than a lion, thinking himself invincible, but when the beast goes with assurance the hunter follows the more easily. Brother, may I go to Halewyn?"

When Magtelt had reached so far in her speech, suddenly there fell from the wall whereon it was fastened a fair sword well set and sharpened, and with the blade stout to the hilt. The handpiece was of cedar of Lebanon, set out with golden cresslets, and in the castle this sword was held to be of marvellous virtue and holiness, because it had been brought from the crusade by Roeland de Heurne, the Lion. And none dared use it.

The sword, falling, lay at the feet of Magtelt.

"Brother," said Magtelt, crossing herself, "the good sword of the Lion has fallen at my feet; 'tis the very strong God showing thus his will. He must be obeyed, brother; let me go to Halewyn."

And Toon the Silent, crossing himself as Magtelt had done, answered:

"'Tis all one to me where thou go, if thou cherish thine honour and carry thy crown straight."

"Brother," she said, "I thank you." And the noble maid began to tremble mightily from head to foot; and she who had not shed a tear on hearing of Anne-Mie's death and her brother's dishonour, fell to weeping abundantly, whereby her bitter anger was melted, and bursting into tears by reason of her great joy she said again: "Brother, brother, 'tis the hour of God! I go to the reckoning!"

And she took the good sword.

The Silent, seeing her so brave, lifted himself straight before her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Go," said he.

And she went out.


XXVI. Of the noble apparel of the maid Magtelt.

In her own room she dressed herself in her most beautiful clothes as quickly as she could.

What did the fair maid put on her white body? A bodice finer than silk.

And over the fine bodice?

A robe of cloth-of-scarlet of Flemish blue, whereon were the arms of de Heurne marvellously worked, and the edges next to the feet and the neck embroidered with fine Cyprian gold.

Wherewith did the fair maid bind in her slender waist?

With a girdle of the hide of a lion, studded with gold.

What had the fair maid on her beautiful shoulders?

Her great keirle, which was of cramoisy stitched with Cyprian gold, and covered her from head to foot, for it was an ample cloak.

What had the fair maid on her proud head?

A fine crown of beaten gold, whence fell tresses of pale hair as long as herself.

What held she in her little hand?

The blessed sword brought from the crusade.

So apparelled she went out to the stable, and harnessed Schimmel, the great war-horse, with his saddle of State, a fine leathern seat, painted in divers colours, and richly worked with gold.

And they set out together, through the snow falling thickly.


XXVII. How Sir Roel and the lady Gonde questioned Toon the Silent, and of what he answered.

While Magtelt was on her way to Halewyn, and when the first hour of her journey had already gone by, the lady Gonde questioned Sir Roel: "Sir," she said, "do you know where our daughter may be?"

Sir Roel said that he knew nothing of it; and speaking to the Silent: "Son," said he, "dost thou know where thy sister has gone?"

The Silent answered quietly: "Magtelt is a brave maid; whom God leads he leads well."

"Sir," said the lady Gonde, "do not put yourself to the trouble of questioning him further, for saying so much he has used up his words."

But Sir Roel to Toon: "Son, dost thou not know where she is?"

"Magtelt," answered he, "is a fair maid, and carries her crown straight."

"Ah," exclaimed the lady Gonde, "I am growing anxious; where is she then?"

And she went off to search the castle thoroughly.

But coming back she said to Sir Roel: "She is nowhere in the house; she has defied our orders and gone to Halewyn."

"Wife," said Roel, "that cannot be. Children, in this country, were always obedient to their parents."

"Toon," said she, "where is she? Toon, do you not know?"

"The Miserable," he answered, "fears the beautiful maid; whom God leads he leads well."

"Roel," cried out the lady Gonde, "he knows where our Magtelt has gone!"

"Son, answer," said Sir Roel.

The Silent answered:

"The sword of the crusade fell from the wall at the maid's feet. Whom God guides succeeds in everything."

"Toon," cried the lady Gonde, "where is Magtelt?"

"The virgin," he said, "rides without fear, she goes faster than the armed man: whom God leads he leads well."

The lady Gonde groaned:

"Ah," she said, "our Magtelt will be killed, even now she is stiff frozen, sweet Jesus! The sword of the crusade is of no avail against Siewert Halewyn."

The Silent answered:

"He glories in his strength, thinking himself invincible, but when the beast goes with assurance the hunter follows more easily."

"Wicked son, how couldst thou think to send the little bird to the hawk, the virgin to the enemy of virgins?"

The Silent answered:

"She will come whither none looks to see her: whom God leads he leads well."

"Sir," said the lady Gonde to Roel, "you hear what he says; she has gone to Halewyn, and 'tis this wicked son that gave her leave."

Sir Roel going to Toon:

"Son," said he, "we had here but one joy, that was our Magtelt. Thou hast abused thy privilege in giving her leave to go thither. If she comes not back to us by nightfall I will curse thee and banish thee from my house. May God hear me, and take from thee, in this world bread and salt, and in the other thy portion in Paradise."

"God," said the Silent, "will guide the sword. Whosoever has done wrong, on him let fall the punishment."

Gonde began crying out, weeping and making dole. Roel bade her be silent, and sent a goodly troop of men-at-arms in the direction she had taken.

But they came back without having seen anything of Magtelt, for they had not dared to go into the territory of Halewyn by reason of the spell.


XXVIII. The riding of the maid Magtelt.

Singing and winding her horn, rides the noble damosel.

And she is beautiful with a beauty from heaven; fresh and rosy are her cheeks.

And straight she carries her crown.

And her little hand holds fast beneath her keirle the good sword of Roel the Lion.

And wide open are her fearless eyes, searching the forest for Sir Halewyn.

And she listens for the sound of his horse.

But she hears nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers.

And she sees nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white also the long road, and white also the leafless trees.

What is it makes the flame glow in her clear brown eyes? It is her high courage.

Why does she carry so straight her head and her crown? Because of the great strength in her heart.

What is it so swells her breast? The cruel thought of Anne-Mie, and her brother's shame and the great crimes of Sir Halewyn.

And ceaselessly she looks to see if he be not coming, and if she can hear nothing of the sound of his horse.

But she sees nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white also the long road, and white also the leafless trees.

And she hears nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers.

And she sings.

Then, speaking to Schimmel, she said: "Together, good Schimmel, we are going to a lion. Canst not see him in his cavern, awaiting passers-by, and devouring poor maids?"

And Schimmel, hearing her, whinnied joyously.

"Schimmel," said Magtelt, "thou art glad, I see, to be going to the revenge of Anne-Mie with the good sword."

And Schimmel whinnied a second time.

And Magtelt sought Sir Halewyn everywhere as she went through the forest. And she listened well for the sound of his horse, and looked to see if he were nowhere coming.

And she saw nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white also the long road, and white also the leafless trees.

And she heard nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers.

And she wound her horn.


XXIX. Of the crow and the sparrow, of the hound, the horse and the seven echoes.

When she reached the middle part of the forest, she saw through the thick snowflakes Sir Halewyn coming towards her.

The Miserable had that day on his body a fine dress of blue cloth, on which was broidered in two colours his ugly arms. Round his waist he had a fair belt studded with lumps of gold, and at his belt the golden sickle, and over his dress a fair opperst-kleed of corn-coloured cloth-of-scarlet.

Riding on his roan horse he came up to Magtelt, and she saw that he was handsome.

Before his horse, barking and making a great noise, ran a hound like a wolf, which, on seeing Schimmel, leapt at him and bit him. But Schimmel, with a great kick which he let fly, set him dancing a sorry dance, and singing a pitiful song over his broken paw.

"Ah," thought the maid, "God grant, brave Schimmel, that I may do better for the master than thou hast done for the dog."

And the Miserable came to her:

"Salutation," he said, "fair maid with clear brown eyes."

"Salutation," she said, "Siewert Halewyn the Invincible."

But the Miserable: "What brings thee," he said, "into my lands?"

"My heart," said Magtelt, "bade me come, I wished greatly to see thee, and am content now that I can look at thee face to face."

"So," said he, "have done and shall do all virgins, even more beautiful than thou art."

While they were talking together the wounded hound made a rush at the horse and hung on to Halewyn's opperst-kleed as if he would drag him down to the ground.

Having done this, he went off and sat down in the snow beside the road, and there lifting up his muzzle howled most lamentably.

"See," said he, "my hound crying out to death. Hast no fear, maid?"

"I go," she said, "in God's keeping."

Having moved forward a little way, talking and riding together, they saw in the air above their heads, a crow of great size, on whose neck was perched an angry little sparrow, pecking him, clutching him, pulling out his feathers and piping furiously. Wounded, torn open, flying this way and that, right, left, upward, downward, banging against the trees blindly, and croaking with pain, this crow at length fell dead, with his eyes pecked out, across Halewyn's saddle. Having looked at it a moment, he tossed it aside into the road; while the sparrow flew off to a bough, and there, shaking out his feathers merrily, fell a-piping at the top of his voice in celebration of his victory.

"Ah," said Magtelt, laughing to the sparrow, "thou art of noble blood, little bird; come hither, I will find thee a fair cage and give thee thy fill of wheat, millet, hemp, and linseed."

But Halewyn became mightily angry: "Common little insolent!" he cried, "would that I had thee in a snare! Shouldst not then sing for long thy victory over this noble crow."

None the less the sparrow went on singing without a break, and in this wise seemed to mock at Halewyn, who said to Magtelt:

"Dost dare to applaud and give heart to this little animal, knowing that my shield bears on it the crow of my glorious ancestor Dirk! Knowest thou not that like him thou hast but little longer to sing?"

"I," she said, "shall sing as long as it pleases God, my master."

"There is for thee," said he, "no other master than I, for here I rule alone." Suddenly he turned very cold, for the heart of Anne-Mie, though it still beat, was become like ice in his breast. So, thinking that this heart was about to dry up, he said to Magtelt: "Thou comest in good season, fair virgin."

"Whom God leads," said she, "comes always in good season."

"But," he said, "who art thou, riding in my land, singing and winding the horn, who bringest hither such insolent talk?"

"I," said she, "am the Lady Magtelt, daughter of Roel le Preux, Lord of Heurne."

"And," said he, "art thou not chilled, riding thus in the snow?"

"None," she said, "feels the cold in the race of the Lords of Heurne."

"And," said he, "hast thou no fear, here at my side and on my own land, where no one dares to set foot?"

"None," she said, "knows of fear in the race of the Lords of Heurne."

"Thou art," said he, "a brave maid."

"I," she said, "am daughter of Roel le Preux, Lord of Heurne."

He answered nothing to that, and they went on a while without speaking.

Suddenly he said, lifting his head arrogantly: "Am I not truly the Invincible, the Beautiful, the Strong? Shall I not be so always? Yes, for all things come to my aid in the hour of victory. In former times I must needs sing, in cold, snow, wind, and darkness, to call virgins to me, but now the most proud, noble, and beautiful of maids comes hither in broad day without song to call her: sure sign of growing power. Who is my equal? None, save God. He has the heavens and I the earth, and over all living things triumph and mastery. Let come what may, armies, lightning, thunder, tempest; who can stand but I?"

"I!" answered to his hideous blasphemy seven voices speaking together.

Those voices were the echo of the Seven Giants, which sent back every sound seven times over with great force and volume.

But the Miserable: "Hark!" said he, "my Lord Echo dares to mock the Invincible."

And he burst out laughing.

But the echo burst out laughing likewise, and laughed loud, long, and terribly.

And Halewyn appeared well pleased at the noise, and went on laughing, with the seven echoes after him.

And it seemed to Magtelt as it were a thousand men hidden in the forest.

And meanwhile the hound had taken fright and howled so desperately that it seemed to Magtelt as it were a thousand hounds in the forest crying out to death.

The Miserable's horse had taken fright also, and was so terrified at his master's laughter, the dog's howls, and his own neighing, all ringing out together, that he plunged, reared, stood up on his hind legs like a man, laid back his ears with fear, and would, without doubt, have thrown Halewyn from his back, if, driving him onward with his spurs, he had not made him pass by force the place of the seven echoes.

But Schimmel had not moved at all, and this strangely enough, for he was a young horse, apt to be alarmed.

When the noise was over they rode on their way, speaking few words together as they rode.

And together they came to the Gallows-field.


XXX. How Magtelt came to the Gallows-field.

There Magtelt saw the sixteen virgins hanging, and amongst them Anne-Mie, and all were covered over with snow.

Halewyn's horse began again to rear, plunge, and lay back his ears as a sign of fear; but Schimmel neighed, and pawed the ground proudly with his hoof.

And Halewyn said to Magtelt: "Thou hast there an unfaithful friend, who can neigh happily at the hour of thy death."

But Magtelt answered nothing, and looking steadfastly at those poor virgins prayed to the very strong God to help her in their revenge.

Meanwhile the Miserable alighted from his horse, and taking the golden sickle in his hand came towards Magtelt.

"It is," he said, "the hour of thy death. Get down, therefore, as I have done."

And in his impatience he would have lifted her from Schimmel's back.

But Magtelt:

"Leave me," she said, "to get down by myself; if I must die 'twill be without weeping."

"Thou art a fine girl," said he.

And she, having dismounted from her horse, said: "My lord, before thou strikest, doff thine opperst-kleed of the colour of corn, for the blood of virgins gushes fiercely, and if mine should stain thee I should be grieved."

But before the opperst-kleed was off his shoulders, his head fell to the ground at his feet.

And Magtelt, looking at the body, said: "He strode confidently, thinking himself invincible; but when the beast goes with assurance the hunter follows more easily."

And she crossed herself.


XXXI. Of the sixteen deaths and of the Prince of the Stones.

Suddenly the head spoke, saying: "Go thou to the end of the road, and sound my horn aloud, so that my friends may hear."

But Magtelt:

"To the end of the road will I not go; thine horn will I not sound; murderer's counsel will I not follow."

"Ah," said the head, "if thou art not the Virgin without pity, join me to my body, and with the heart that is in my breast anoint my red wound."

But Magtelt:

"I am the Virgin without pity; to thy body will I not join thee, and with the heart that is in thy breast will I not anoint thy red wound."

"Maid," said the head, weeping and speaking with great terror, "maid, quickly, quickly, make on my body the sign of the cross, and carry me into my castle, for he is coming."

While the head was speaking, suddenly came out of the wood the Prince of the Stones, and he came and seated himself on the body of the Miserable, and taking in his hands the head: "Salutation," he said, "to the Ill-favoured one; art thou now content? What of thy triumphant bearing, my lord the Invincible? She whom thou calledst not came without a song: the virgin without fear, in whose hands is death. But thou must sing once again thy sweet song, the song to call virgins."

"Ah," said the head, "make me not sing, Lord Prince of the Stones, for I know well enough that at the end there is great suffering."

"Sing," said the Prince of the Stones, "sing, coward that hast never wept to do evil, and now weepest at the time of punishment: sing, Miserable."

"Ah," said the head, "have pity, Lord."

"Sing," said the Prince of the Stones, "sing, 'tis the hour of God."

"My lord Prince," said the head, "be not so hard in my evil hour."

"Sing, Miserable," said the Prince of the Stones, "sing, 'tis the hour of the reckoning."

"Ah," said the head, weeping, "I will sing, since you are my master."

And the head sang the faery song.

And suddenly there spread abroad in the air a smell of cinnamon, frankincense, and sweet marjoram.

And the sixteen virgins, hearing the song, came down from the gallows and drew near to the body of Halewyn.

And Magtelt, crossing herself, watched them pass, but felt no fear.

And the first virgin, who was the daughter of the poor simpleton, Claes the Dog-beater, took the golden sickle, and cutting into the breast of the Miserable below the left nipple drew out a great ruby, and put this on her wound, where it melted into rich red blood in her breast.

And the head let a great pitiful cry of pain.

"So," said the Prince of the Stones, "did the poor virgins cry out when thou madest them pass from life unto death; sixteen times hast thou brought death about, sixteen times shalt thou die, besides the death thou hast suffered already. The cry is the cry of the body when the soul leaves it; sixteen times hast thou drawn this cry from other bodies, sixteen times shall cry out thine own; sing, Miserable, to call the virgins to the reckoning."

And the head sang again the faery song, while the first virgin walked away silently towards the wood like a living person.

And the second virgin came to the body of the Miserable and did to it as the first had done.

And she also walked away into the wood like a living person.

So did each of the sixteen virgins, and for each of them a ruby was changed into good red blood.

And sixteen times the head sang the faery song, and sixteen times gave the death-cry.

And one by one all the virgins went away into the depth of the wood.

And the last of all, who was Anne-Mie, came to Magtelt, and kissing her right hand wherein she had held the sword: "Blessed be thou," she said, "who camest without fear, and, delivering us from the spell, leadest us into paradise."

"Ah," said Magtelt, "must thou go so far away, Anne-Mie?"

But Anne-Mie, without hearing her, passed like the others into the depth of the wood, walking silently over the snow like a living person.

While the head was weeping and uttering bitter plaints, came out from the forest the child of nine years old, whom the Miserable had killed first of all. Still wearing her shroud she approached and fell at the feet of the mannikin Prince of the Stones.

"Ah," she said, kissing the head tenderly, stroking it, caressing it, and wiping away its tears, "poor Miserable, I will pray for thee to the very good God, who readily hears the prayers of children."

And the girl prayed in this wise:

"Dear Lord, see how much he is suffering! Is it not payment enough that he should die sixteen times? Ah, Lord, sweet Lord, and you, Madam Mary, who are so kind, deign to hear me and grant him forgiveness."

But the mannikin, starting up, pushed the child away and said harshly: "This head is mine, thy prayers avail nothing; be off, little ragamuffin, go back whence thou came."

And the child went away like the other maids into the depth of the wood.

Then he thrust his hand into the breast of the Miserable and pulled out a heart of stone: then, in his rasping voice, which hissed like a viper and scraped like a thousand pebbles under the iron sole of an armed man, he said: "Ambitious heart, heart of stone, thou wast in thy lifetime cruel and a coward; thou couldst not be content with such ample gifts as God in His bounty had given thee, thou hadst no desire towards goodness, courage, or just dealing, but towards gold, power, and vain honours; thou hadst no love for anything, neither father, mother, brother, nor sister; and so, to get more power and higher jurisdiction, thou killedst the people of the land of Flanders, without shame: and so also thou didst set thyself to hurt the weak, sucking thy life from their life, and thy blood from their blood. So have done and so shall always do this reptile order of ambitious ugly men. Blessed be God, who, by the hands of this frail and winsome maid, has cut off thine head from thy neck and taken thee from the world."

As he spoke he had thrown the heart down into the snow, and trampling over it with great despite, kicking it with his toe like a vile thing, and laughing bitterly, he spoke again in his rasping voice:

"Stone thou art, stone shalt thou be a thousand years, but a live stone, a suffering stone. And when men come and carve thee, cleave thee, grind thee to powder, thou shalt endure it all without being able to cry out. Ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and bleed, my cousin.

"Thou hast starved poor folk, so shalt thou starve a thousand years; thou hast brought cold into their homes, thou shalt freeze in like manner. Ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and bleed, my cousin.

"Thou shalt be a hearth-stone and burn with the heat; paving-stone, and let men walk over thee; stone of a church, and bear upon thee all the weight of the building; and thou shalt suffer every evil, pain, and anguish. Ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and endure, my cousin."

Having said this the Prince of the Stones, driving before him with his foot the Miserable's heart, disappeared among the trees of the forest.

Then Magtelt looked at the head, and saw that its eyes were open wide. She took it up and washed it with snow, then, carrying it with her, rode away on Schimmel, leaving near the body Halewyn's horse and hound, the one moaning softly, the other watching it with sorrowful wonderment.

As she took up the head, the hound growled, but did not dare touch her.

And while she rode away, horse and hound stayed by the body, downcast and sad, and covered with the snow which fell without ceasing.

And they seemed to be guarding their master.


XXXII. How father, mother, and sister sought everywhere their son and brother, and could not find him.

Singing and winding her horn rides the noble maid Magtelt.

And in her heart is joy, at the thought that Anne-Mie, the fifteen virgins, and Toon the Silent are avenged.

And her hand holds fast beneath her keirle the good sword and the head of Halewyn.

And Schimmel trots quickly, eager to be back in his stable.

While she was riding she saw, through the thick snow falling, an old man coming towards her on a black horse.

And the old man said:

"Beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my son Halewyn?"

And Magtelt:

"I left thy son Halewyn well placed, taking his diversion in the snow with sixteen maidens."

And the old man rode on.

When she had gone farther she saw, through the thick snow falling, a young and rosy-cheeked damosel coming towards her on a white palfrey.

And the damosel said:

"Beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my brother Halewyn?"

But Magtelt:

"Go farther, to the Gallows-field, where thou shalt see thy brother in like guise to the sixteen maidens."

And the damosel rode on.

Farther still on her way, Magtelt saw, through the thick snow falling, a young man of haughty and stiff-necked countenance coming towards her on a roan charger.

And the young man said:

"Beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my brother Halewyn?"

But Magtelt:

"Thy brother is a fair lord, so fair that round him sixteen maidens stand sentinel, unwilling to let him go."

And the young man rode on.

After travelling on her way still farther, she saw, through the thick snow falling, an old woman, high-coloured and of robust seeming, despite her great age, coming towards her.

And the old woman said:

"Beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my son Halewyn?"

But Magtelt:

"Thy son Siewert Halewyn is dead; see, here is his head beneath my keirle, and his blood running thick on my dress."

And the old woman cried out:

"If thou had spoken these words earlier thou shouldst not have ridden so far."

But Magtelt:

"Thou art fortunate, old woman, in that I have left thee thine own body and not slain thee as I have thy son."

And the old dame took fright and made off.

And night fell.


XXXIII. Of the feast in the castle of Heurne, and of the head upon the table.

Schimmel trotted quickly, and soon Magtelt reached her father's castle and there sounded the horn.

Josse van Ryhove, who was gate-keeper that night, was filled with amazement at the sight of her. Then he cried out: "Thanks be to God, 'tis our damosel come home again."

And all the household ran to the gate crying out likewise with great noise and much shouting: "Our damosel is come home."

Magtelt, going into the great hall, went to Sir Roel and knelt before him:

"My lord father," she said, "here is the head of Siewert Halewyn."

Sir Roel, taking the head in his hands and looking at it well, was so overcome with joy that he wept for the first time since the eyes were in his head.

And the Silent, rising up, came to Magtelt, kissed her right hand wherewith she had held the sword, and wept likewise, saying: "Thanks be to thee who hast brought about the reckoning."

The lady Gonde was like a woman drunk with joy, and could not find her tongue. At last, bursting into sobs, melting into tears, and embracing Magtelt eagerly:

"Ah, ah," she cried out, "kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, little one! She has slain the Miserable, the sweet maid; the nightingale has vanquished the falcon! My child is come home again, home again my child. Noël! Thanks be to God who loves aged mothers and will not have them robbed of their children. Noël! See, Magtelt the beautiful, Magtelt the singing-bird, Magtelt the joyous, Magtelt the bright of heart, Magtelt the glorious, Magtelt the victorious, Magtelt my daughter, my child, my all, Noël!"

And Magtelt smiled at her, caressing her and stroking her hands gently.

And the lady Gonde, weeping freely, let her do, without speaking.

"Ah," said Sir Roel, "I never saw my wife before in such festival mood." Then suddenly he cried out:

"Festival," quoth he, "this should be a day of festival, the great feast of the house of Heurne!"

And he threw open the door to call his pages, grooms, men-at-arms, and all the household.

But they all held back, not daring to enter.

"Ho!" cried he, in his great joyous voice, "where are cooks and kitchen-maids? Where are cauldrons, pots, and frying-pans? Where are barrels, kegs, flagons and bottles, tankards, mugs, and goblets? Where is clauwaert simple and double? Where is old wine and new wine? Where are hams and sausages, whales' tongues, and loins of beef, meat of the air, meat of the waters, and meat of the fields? Bring in everything there is and set it on the table, for this must be a feast-day in this house, feast for an emperor, a king, a prince; for"--and so saying he held up the Miserable's head by the hair--"our beloved maid has slain with her own hand the lord Siewert Halewyn."

Hearing this they all cried out with a roar like thunder:

"Praise be to God! Noël to our damosel!"

"Go then," said Sir Roel, "and do as I have bid."

And when the great feast was served the head was put in the middle of the table.

On the morrow there was let cry war in the seigneury of Heurne. And Sir Roel went with a goodly force of men to attack by arms the castle of the Miserable, whereof all the relatives, friends, and followers were either hanged or slain.

And My Lord the Count gave to the family of Heurne, the goods, titles and territories of Halewyn, excepting only the ugly shield, and theirs they remain to this day.

[The end]
Charles de Coster's short story: Sir Halewyn

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