Gabriel had sorted the houses by size. Big houses at the bottom, small houses on top, church towers with the points facing outwards. That last part was a mistake. He had already pricked his hand twice.
The angel had been told to supply Limburg with villages. The hills were in place, the brooks were flowing and the cows were waiting rather impatiently for someone to milk them. Only the people had nowhere to live.
Gabriel considered this an excellent opportunity to do it properly from the start.
He had brought a ruler.
In his sack were streets, façades, gardens and back doors. He had worked out a spot for every house, a hedge for every garden, and for every neighbour enough distance from the next neighbour. He knew people. That last part could not be generous enough.
At his first village he drew a straight line in the ground. Along it he placed six houses. He stepped back, squeezed one eye shut and moved the fourth house a finger’s width.
Inside, a plate fell off the mantelpiece.
“There,” said Gabriel contentedly.
The devil was watching from behind a willow. He had a narrow face, small horns and a tail that could never keep still. Especially when someone was content, that tail gave him trouble.
He came out.
“Nice and straight,” he said.
Gabriel greeted him politely.
“Remarkably straight,” said the devil. “If someone sneezes in there, the whole street can see him.”
“That’s what curtains are for.”
Gabriel picked up the sack and flew on. The devil flew after him. At first he had been thinking of a minor nuisance: all the front doors on back to front, for instance. Or chimneys that smoked downwards. But on the way the angel even measured the distance between two clouds. At that point the devil decided that a bigger intervention was called for.
He drew his sword.
Gabriel heard the metal and turned round. Too late. There was a long, dry rip, and out of the bottom of the sack fell a house.
Then another.
After that so many came at once that there was no point counting any more.
A farmhouse tumbled over a bakery. Two back gardens landed against each other the wrong way round. An alley came down at an angle between a barn and a façade, where it did not really fit but stayed put anyway.
It was a tremendous rumble. From one of the houses a woman came out holding the handle of a teacup.
“Who is responsible for this?” she shouted.
The devil pointed at Gabriel.
He enjoyed doing that. It was almost his profession.
Gabriel pressed his hand under the hole. One last chicken coop stayed caught between his fingers. Down below, he looked at the village that was suddenly lying there. He looked at his ruler.
“That means starting over.”
He bent down to a little house that stood crosswise in the street. But its owner had already sat down on his doorstep.
“Where are you going with my house?”
“To its proper place.”
The man looked at the brook in front of his door. His feet dangled just above the water.
“This is its proper place.”
Further along, the woman with the broken cup had discovered that her kitchen window was now next to the bakery. She stuck her arm out and was handed a warm loaf. She did not wish to go anywhere either.
Gabriel tried three more houses. Nobody cooperated.
And so Montfort stayed exactly as it had fallen.
The devil came back to enjoy his handiwork. He wanted to walk right through the middle of the village, so that everyone could see clearly who had done this. But the street curved away. So did the next one. After the third bend he came out at the same chicken coop.
He took a different route.
The chicken coop.
Now Gabriel was sitting on the doorstep. He was eating a sandwich and said nothing.
Only when the devil appeared for the fourth time did he hold up his ruler.
“Perhaps this will be of some use to you.”