Wine-crust, the Blue-beard of Flanders

Ever so many centuries ago, when all Belgium was part of the great

forests, that covered nearly all of northern Europe, there was a chief

of a powerful tribe, who was named Halwyn; or, as we shall call him,

Wine-Crust, or Crusty Wine. He was famous for loving three things,

wine, women and song. Being a magician, he had great power over young

maidens, many of whom thought they would like to marry him.

This Halwyn got his name from a curious custom which he had. He was

very fond of anything sweet, whether it were honey or the sugary crust,

left, by old or sweet wine, on the sides of barrels and the wooden

vessels, in which the wine had stood for a long time. He chipped or

broke it off, and ate it as if it were candy. So people called him Sir

Halwyn, or Wine-Crust.

Now the curious thing about Sir Halwyn and his castle, was, that it was

supposed that he had been married more than once. Yet no one ever saw

his wife with him, or met any one of the wives he had had; for no other

chief or nobleman was ever admitted into his castle. It was because he

had such a fine voice, and could sing so well, that he was invited into

other castles. Yet he never made any return of the courtesies which he

had received. It was rumored about, in Flanders, that he had married in

distant places and brought his brides, one after another, to his own

castle; yet, no one in Flanders or the Ardennes ever saw or heard of

them afterwards.

So, in time, in spite of his good singing, Halwyn’s reputation was so

bad, that no king or noble would allow his daughter, when out hunting,

to go anywhere near the stronghold of Sir Halwyn. Moreover, it was

suspected that he was a magician, and used his magic craft very

cruelly.

In those forest days, girls were trained to riding, wrestling, and the

use of the sword, spear and shield. The women often went to war with

their husbands and brothers, and fought the enemy, both in the tribal

fights and those against the Romans.

Now there was a beautiful maiden, named Quirina, one of several

daughters of the king of Arlon, and she was his favorite and best

beloved child. Her father, mother, brother, and her only sister, who

was never jealous of her, vied with each other in making her presents

of ornaments, and clothes, and pretty things, that would please her;

and all this, she repaid with sweet and tender affection.

Quirina was unusually well skilled in horsemanship, and the use of the

sword and spear. She had brown eyes and hair of the same color, but

much darker, and was tall and slender but very strong.

Though bold in hunting, she was very fond also of pretty clothes, and

when she dressed herself in her best, there was no woman, young or old,

in the castle hall, even on great occasions, that looked finer than

she. In fact, it was well known, through all Belgic Land, that no

maiden possessed a richer wardrobe than Quirina. Many times Sir Halwyn

had tried to win her; and, by openly making love to her, and by

offering her father a title and home for his daughter, he hoped to

succeed. Or, he strove to lure her away, by telling of his great castle

and domain; but had never succeeded. Yet, as much as ever, he seemed

determined to persevere and win her.

Quirina, on the other hand, openly declined; for she was secretly

determined not to be his wife. By this time, also, her father, mother,

brother and sister, had heard the evil reports about Sir Halwyn, and

that none of his wives had ever been heard from, after once entering

his castle. They steadfastly warned their dear sister to beware of the

fellow, as a dangerous person, and not even, in the ardor of her chase

after deer, to get too near his domain.

One day, every one was surprised, when Quirina asked her father to give

his consent for her to go to visit Sir Halwyn’s castle. In the words of

the old Flemish ballad, he answered.

“O neen! myn dochter—neen gy niet;

Die derwaert gaen en keeren niet.”

In English, this is:

“O no, my daughter; no, not so,

They ne’er return who thereward go.”

Then Quirina asked her mother, but she replied to her daughter, exactly

as her father had done.

Then she sought the advice of her older sister, whether she should go

to Sir Halwyn’s castle.

The answer made was the same.

Finally of her brother, she made the same request. His reply was

different from that of the others; for he trusted that his sister’s wit

would extricate her from any difficulty.

“Go where thou wilt, all’s one to me,

But see thou keep’st thine honor free,

Thy crown bear firm and uprightly.”

After receiving these answers, though secretly encouraged, more by what

her brother had purposely refrained from saying, than from what he had

said, this is what the maiden Quirina did:

She went up into that part of her father’s castle called the Virgin’s

Bower, which, in ancient days, was a room upstairs and off from the

main hall, or “house.” It was reached by a stairway built on the

outside. There, in her room, she dressed herself in her finest robes.

First she put on a chemise, which was soft as silk. Over this, was a

skirt and bodice, richly trimmed with lace, made of threads of gold.

Her crimson petticoat, showing behind that part of her dress which was

open in front, was studded with golden stars. Around her neck, she

clasped strings of pearls. Finally, on her head, she placed a coronet,

rich in precious stones. In her resplendent attire, she stood forth as

fair in face, and form, and as gorgeously arrayed, as any queen on

earth.

Then hieing to her father’s stable, she chose from the stalls a horse

that was the finest and fleetest of them all. Leaping upon its back,

she sat astride the steed, riding like a man. Clapping her ankles

against its sides, she rode off in the direction of Halwyn’s castle,

singing aloud, until the woods re-echoed her gladness. She had scarcely

reached the middle of the forest, when Sir Halwyn, having heard her

song, came riding along.

He cantered up to her, swung off his big hat, which had a long feather

in it and bowing low, twice cried out “gegroet,” which is the Flemish

for “Greeting” and “Welcome.” He called her “Fair maid, with the clear

brown eyes.”

Quirina smilingly returned his salutation and seemed pleased to ride

with him. Then their horses cantered on, while they chatted by the way.

Sir Halwyn never seemed more charming in his manners, or more brilliant

in his conversation. She let him choose where they should ride and the

hours passed very pleasantly.

Suddenly they came to an opening in the forest. Quirina looked over to

the left, and beheld a frightful picture, which, revealed the true

character of Sir Halwyn; for there, from the cross-beam of a long

gallows frame, hung the bodies of no fewer than sixteen maidens, whom

this brutish murderer had cruelly put to death.

The monster and magician Halwyn, for such he was, now appeared in his

true character. With a scowl, he cried out:

“Most beautiful of all women, though you are, you are now to die; but,

since you are so lovely, I shall allow you to choose the manner of your

death. Yet decide quickly, for you have but a moment to live.”

Quirina, perfectly cool, instead of piteously entreating the magician

Halwyn to spare her life, thanked him for allowing her a choice between

the gallows and beheading, and made reply:

“Well, if I must decide, let me die under your bright sword. But first,

remove your velvet cloak and fine silk doublet; for a young girl’s

blood spurts out high in the air, and I should be sorry to have your

fine clothes ruined by blood stains.”

Making haste to throw aside his velvet cloak, and then to unlace his

silk coat, rich in gold decoration, Halwyn, while busy at this task,

suddenly found his head off.

The maiden had deftly drawn his sword from its sheath, and with one

skilful sweep of the blade, cut his neck through.

The magician’s head tumbled at her feet, but his tongue uttered these

words, beseeching her:

“Take my hunting horn, and go into yonder grain field, and blow it; so

that my servants and friends may know my fate.”

“Not I,” shouted the angry maiden. “I’ll follow no murderer’s counsel.”

“Well, then, please go under the gallows frame yonder. There you will

find a pot of salve. Bring it, and anoint my red neck with it.”

“Never,” cried the maiden. “I shall follow no murderer’s counsel.”

She propped up the headless corpse, as if Halwyn were still looking at

the gallows, and enjoying the sight of the sixteen maidens’ bodies hung

there.

She took up the head, and repairing to the fountain, she washed it in

the spring water, which was clear and cold, until all the blood was off

it. Then, rolling it up under his cloak to conceal it, and again

sitting astride her horse, she galloped away, singing a song of

victory.

When half through the wood, she met Halwyn’s father.

“Beautiful maiden,” said he, “have you seen my son?”

“I have left him well placed. He sits in the green field, playing with

sixteen of his girls.”

Further on, Halwyn’s brother came riding along.

“Fair one, have you chanced to meet my brother, today?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Your brother is a renowned lord. He told me the secrets

of his art today, with sixteen maidens, well guarded, around him.”

A few furlongs further, she met Halwyn’s sister, who asked her the

news, and whether she had seen anything of her brother.

“Oh, yes!” answered Quirina, “you must ride further on. Then you will

see him with sixteen lovely girls around him. He is a hero, isn’t he?”

Again, as she rode homeward, she met Halwyn’s mother, who inquired

about her son.

“Madam,” answered Quirina, “your son is dead. I have his head in my lap

and my apron, covering it, is stained red with his blood;” and she

rushed past her.

The mother, in grief and rage, called after Quirina, angrily:

“Oh, if you had told me that first, you could never have ridden past

me.”

“Ha! you ugly woman, you are lucky that I let you off with your life,

and did not lay you out stiff like your son.”

Then she rode away furiously. Reaching her father’s castle, she blew a

blast on the horn, which no man could exceed. Her father, brother,

mother, sister, and all the men of the garrison rushed together and

warm was their greeting.

Not one of them knew, or suspected, what had happened; for everything

else was forgotten in the joy of seeing and welcoming her back alive.

In fact, she kept the surprise, which she had in store for them, to the

hour of the banquet.

Then at night, when all were arrayed in their finest clothes, and each

one stood in his proper place, at the long table, and the gleemen had

sung a ballad or two, and it was time to sit down to partake of the

viands:

Quirina walked into the hall, carrying a huge dish, on top of which,

was a big napkin. All the company wondered what was under the cover.

She set it down on the table, and lifted the napkin.

And lo! It was the head of the magician Halwyn.

Then the blasts of the hornmen, and the deafening shouts from the

warriors, told only too well how they enjoyed the gruesome sight of the

wicked magician’s head.