And now November was come, the month of snow-storms, and Ulenspiegel, having been ordered to report himself before William, found the Prince brooding in silence, and biting the lacings of his coat of mail.
“Listen to me,” the Prince said presently, “and give me your whole attention.”
Ulenspiegel answered: “My ears are like the gates of a prison. One enters easily but to get out again is a different matter.”
“Very good,” said William, “but now I would have you go for me to Namur, and to Flanders, Hainaut, Sud-Brabant, Antwerp, Nord-Brabant, and to Gueldre, Overyssel, and the North of Holland, telling the people everywhere that, although it seems that the fates on land are hostile to our most Holy and Christian Cause, we will yet continue the struggle by sea, no matter what the evil powers that are arrayed against us. For God holds the issue in His own good providence, whether in success or failure. And when you are come to Amsterdam you will render an account of all that you have done to Paul Bruys who is my trusty vassal. Here are three passports, signed by the Duke of Alba himself, which were found on certain bodies of the dead at Quesnoy-le-Comte. My secretary has filled them in afresh. And it may be that on your journey you will meet some good companion in whom you can trust. Let him go with you. And those are to be accounted trustworthy who know how to answer the song of the lark with a warlike cockcrow. Here are fifty florins. Be valiant and faithful.”
“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart,” answered Ulenspiegel.
XVII
Now the passports were countersigned both by the King and the Duke, and they authorized the bearer to carry any kind of arms at his convenience. So Ulenspiegel took with him his trusty arquebus as well as a good supply of cartridges and dry gunpowder. He dressed himself in a short cloak and a shabby doublet and hose made after the Spanish fashion, and thus accoutred, with a plumed cap on his head and a sword at his side, he made his departure from the Prince’s army where it lay at the French frontier, and set out for Maestricht.
The roitelets, those heralds of bad weather, were flying around the houses seeking asile from the storm, and on the third day snow fell. Many times during the journey did Ulenspiegel have to show his safe-conduct. But they always let him pass, and so he came at length to the confines of Liége. He was plodding along over a level heath, and a fierce wind was driving the swirling snowflakes against his face, and in front and on every side the heath stretched out all white under the snow that fell in eddies, which themselves were whirled about hither and thither in the squalls of wind. And there were three wolves that began to follow him. But one of them he killed with a shot from his arquebus, and the other two flung themselves upon their wounded comrade, and then made off into the woods, each carrying a piece of the corpse.