Read the book: «Flemish Legends», page 4

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.