The Lord of the Dance (2/4)

I hope you slept better than I did. It took me hours to get to sleep because of flea bites and I woke a couple of times in the night (apart from Matins ), convinced that there were rats nipping at my fingers and toes although I don't think I've heard any skittering feet since last night's frische Luft performance.
oday, God be praised! is Friday, the 23rd of June, in the year of our Lord, 1284 and if the tales are correct ('scuse the pun), the ratcatcher will be attempting to collect his payment from the burghers of the town, a gros for every rat according to his account. Since the rathaus is a busy commercial focal point, we have an ideal excuse to find a convenient perch beside the entrance where we can sing psalms, perhaps preach a couple of improvised sermons, and ask alms while watching for the ratcatcher.
By sext, I have all but given up hope of seeing anything notable. And my piety has given way to my mischievous nature, which is why when you came back from getting some lunch I was wearing my most pious face and singing quietly "In Taberna Quando Sumus" from the Carmina Burana. The latin sounds pious enough to most common folk, but the words are fun!

In taberna quando sumus non curamus quid sit humus, sed ad ludum properamus, cui semper insudamus. Quid agatur in taberna ubi nummus est pincerna, hoc est opus ut queratur, si quid loquar, audiatur. Quidam ludunt, quidam bibunt, quidam indiscrete vivunt. Sed in ludo qui morantur, ex his quidam denudantur quidam ibi vestiuntur, quidam saccis induuntur. Ibi nullus timet mortem sed pro Baccho mittunt sortem: Primo pro nummata vini, ex hac bibunt libertini; semel bibunt pro captivis, post hec bibunt ter pro vivis, quater pro Christianis cunctis quinquies pro fidelibus defunctis, sexies pro sororibus vanis, septies pro militibus silvanis. Octies pro fratribus perversis, nonies pro monachis dispersis, decies pro navigantibus undecies pro discordaniibus, duodecies pro penitentibus, tredecies pro iter agentibus. Tam pro papa quam pro rege bibunt omnes sine lege. Bibit hera, bibit herus, bibit miles, bibit clerus, bibit ille, bibit illa, bibit servis cum ancilla, bibit velox, bibit piger, bibit albus, bibit niger, bibit constans, bibit vagus, bibit rudis, bibit magnus. Bibit pauper et egrotus, bibit exul et ignotus, bibit puer, bibit canus, bibit presul et decanus, bibit soror, bibit frater, bibit anus, bibit mater, bibit ista, bibit ille, bibunt centum, bibunt mille. Parum sexcente nummate durant, cum immoderate bibunt omnes sine meta. Quamvis bibant mente leta, sic nos rodunt omnes gentes Qui nos rodunt confundantur et sic erimus egentes. et cum iustis non scribantur.

When we are in the tavern, we do not care that we will go to dust, but we hurry to gamble, which always makes us sweat. What happens in the tavern, where money is host, you may well ask, and hear what I say. Some gamble, some drink, some behave loosely. But of those who gamble, some are stripped bare, some win their clothes here, some are dressed in sacks. Here no-one fears death, but they throw the dice in the name of Bacchus. First of all it is to the wine-merchant the the libertines drink, one for the prisoners, three for the living, four for all Christians, five for the faithful dead, six for the loose sisters, seven for the footpads in the wood, Eight for the errant brethren, nine for the dispersed monks, ten for the seamen, eleven for the squabblers, twelve for the penitent, thirteen for the wayfarers. To the Pope as to the king they all drink without restraint. The mistress drinks, the master drinks, the soldier drinks, the priest drinks, the man drinks, the woman drinks, the servant drinks with the maid, the swift man drinks, the lazy man drinks, the white man drinks, the black man drinks, the settled man drinks, the wanderer drinks, the stupid man drinks, the wise man drinks, The poor man drinks, the sick man drinks, the exile drinks, and the stranger, the boy drinks, the old man drinks, the bishop drinks, and the deacon, the sister drinks, the brother drinks, the old lady drinks, the mother drinks, this man drinks, that man drinks, a hundred drink, a thousand drink. Six hundred pennies would hardly suffice, if everyone drinks immoderately and immeasurably. However much they cheerfully drink we are the ones whom everyone scolds, and thus we are destitute. May those who slander us be cursed and may their names not be written in the book of the righteous.

The traffic to and from the building has consisted entirely of scruffy town folk and the occasional richly dressed burgher until a fellow comes out of the building with a deep scowl and shouts up at the windows;
"Wenn Sie nicht zahlen mich in Gelt, ich will etwas viel kostbare von Ihnen" before storming off. ("If you will not pay me in gold, I will take something more precious from you!")
His tatty clothing and the beery smell aren't at all what I was expecting, but he seems like the most likely candidate for the fellow we are looking for. I think we should both hurry along and see if we can't get a good look at him. Perhaps if we offer him a holy blessing he will pause long enough that we can get a good look at him?

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