XXXI
It was the month of May. The Tree of Justice was green again. Green also were those grassy banks where the judges were wont to seat themselves. Nele was summoned to give evidence, for it was the day on which the judgment was to be promulgated. And the people—men and women—of Damme, stood around the open space of the court, and the sun shone brightly.
Katheline and Joos Damman were now brought before the tribunal, and Damman appeared more pale than ever because of the torture he had suffered, the many nights he had passed without sleep or anything to drink. As for Katheline, she could scarcely support herself on her tottering legs, and she pointed to the sun continually, and cried out: “Put out the fire! My head is burning!” And she gazed at Joos Damman with tender love. And he looked back at her with hate and despite. And his friends, the Lords and gentlemen who had been summoned to Damme, were all present there before the tribunal as witnesses.
Then the bailiff spoke as follows:
“The girl Nele here, who is protecting her mother Katheline with such great and brave affection, has found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday dress a letter signed by Joos Damman. And I myself, when I was inspecting the dead body of Hilbert Ryvish, which was dug up in the field near Katheline’s cottage, found thereon a second letter, addressed to him and signed by the said Joos Damman, the accused now present before you. Is it your pleasure that these letters be now read to you?”
“Read them, read them!” cried the crowd. “Nele is a brave girl! Read the letters! Katheline is no witch!”
And the clerk of the court read out as follows:
“To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman, knight, Greeting.
“Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor; for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five thousand rixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When, therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night, the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird, so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp, and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man, woman, or beast, kill it.
“Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter—a child of mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme—seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.”
Here the clerk of the court stopped reading and said:
“Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman.”
And the people cried out:
“To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!”
But the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be passed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After that he addressed himself again to the aldermen.
“Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday gown. These are the terms of it:
“Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traverse the cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?—Your cold devil,
“Hanske.”
“To death with the sorcerer!” cried the crowd.
The bailiff said:
“Let the two handwritings be compared.”
When this had been done, and when it had been found that they were in all respects similar, the bailiff said:
“After these proofs, Messire Joos Damman is found to be a sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the property of the King, and as such he must be accounted guilty of high treason against God and man.”
And the bailiff and the aldermen gave judgment on Joos Damman, and he was condemned to be degraded from the rank of a nobleman, and to be burned alive in the slower fire till death supervened. And he underwent this punishment on the following day in front of the Town Hall. And all the time he kept on crying: “Let the witch perish, it is she and she alone who is guilty! Cursed be God! My father will avenge me!”
And the people said: “Behold how he curses and blasphemes. He is dying the death of a dog.”
On the next day, the bailiff and the aldermen gave sentence upon Katheline. She was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the Bruges Canal. If she floated she would be burned for a witch. If she sank and was drowned she would be considered to have died the death of a Christian and would be buried in the churchyard.
So on the morrow Katheline was conducted to the canal-bank, holding a candle in her hand and walking barefoot in a shift of black linen. Along by the trees went the long procession. In front was the Dean of Notre Dame, chanting the prayers for the dead, and with him were his vicars, and the beadle carrying the cross. Behind came the bailiff of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks, the sergeants of the commune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. On the edge of the procession there followed a great crowd of women crying, and men mourning, in pity for Katheline, who herself walked like a lamb that allows itself to be led whither it knows not. And all the time she kept on crying:
Katheline led to the Trial by Water
“Put out the fire! My head is burning! Hans, where are you?”
In the midst of the women was Nele, who kept crying also:
“Let them throw me in with her!”
But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.
A sharp wind came blowing in from the sea, and from the grey sky a fine hail fell dripping into the water of the canal. Now there was a boat moored by the side of the water, and this boat the executioner and his assistants commandeered in the name of His Royal Majesty. Then Katheline was ordered to step down into the boat. She obeyed at once, and the executioner was seen standing by her side and holding her securely. Then the provost raised the rod of justice, and the executioner threw Katheline into the canal. For a while she struggled, but soon sank, with one last cry: “Hans! Hans! Help!”
And the people said: “This woman was no witch.”
Thereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and dragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And she was taken into a tavern near by, and placed in front of a bright fire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning to put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and cried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: “Hans! Give me a cloak of wool!”
But Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And she was buried in the garden of the church.
And Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house of Rosa van Auweghem.