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.