“But, Smetse,” said she, “you waste the good things which God has given you. ’Tis well to come to the help of poor folk, but not to do more for one than another. Beggar-men are beggar-men, all are equal!”
“Beggar-men!” exclaimed the devil, “that I am not and never was. Death to the beggar-men! To the gallows with the beggar-men!”
“My lord,” said Smetse, “I beg you not to be angry with my good wife, who knows you not at all. Wife, consider and look at our guest with great attention, but greater respect, and afterwards thou mayest tell thy gossips that thou hast seen my Lord Jacob Hessels, the greatest reaper of heretics that ever was.
“Ah, wife, he mowed them down grandly, and had so many of them hanged, burnt, and tortured in divers ways, that he could drown himself a hundred times in the blood of his dead. Go, wife, go and fetch him meat and drink.”
While he was munching, Smetse said: “Ah, my lord, I soon recognized you by your particular way of saying: ‘To the gallows!’ and also by this rope which finished off your life in so evil a manner. For Our Lord said: ‘Whoso liveth by the rope shall perish by the rope.’ My Lord Ryhove was harsh and treacherous toward you, for besides taking your life he took also your beard, which was a fine one.
“Ah, that was an evil trick to play on so good a councillor as you were in those days when you slept so quietly and peaceably in the Bloody Council—I should say the Council of Civil Disorders, speaking respectfully—and woke up only to say: ’To the gallows!’ and then went to sleep again.”
“Yes,” said the devil, “those were good times.”
“So they were,” said Smetse, “times of riches and power for you, my lord. Ah, we owe you a great deal: the tithe tax, dropped by you into the ear of the Emperor Charles; the arrest of my lords of Egmont and Hoorn, whereof the warrant was written in your own fair hand, and of more than two thousand persons who perished at your command by fire, steel, and rope!”
“I do not know the number,” said the devil, “but it is large. Give me, Smetse, some more of this sausage, which is excellent.”
“Ah,” said the smith, “’tis not good enough for your lordship. But you are drinking nothing. Empty this tankard, ’tis double bruinbier.”