You should not speak so unkindly of your friend. Perhaps she was dreaming in the hot sunshine and has confused her dream with reality? it is the Year of Grace 1593.
I thank you Monsieur. You see? I told you so.
While we are in the marketplace, we should buy suitable clothing to disguise ourselves as clerics. It shouldn't be too difficult, since the habits are still fairly close to the kind of clothing worn by many poor people. Just in better repair. And then, we must find the cathedral school where it is a fair bet we will find Pére Tabourot teaching, or assisting in the cathedral. I am hoping we may be able to persuade Jehan to spare a little of his time to teach us some of the dance tunes for which he will one day be famous.
You seek Pére Tabourot? but you must hurry! He is summoned to the palace of the Bishop.
When we find Pére Tabourot he is about to leave his tiny office. The tiny elderly priest with short-cropped white hair and twinkling blue eyes has an enormous square bundle wrapped in coarse cloth tucked under his arm and a cane in his free hand.
God be blessed! Please come with me. Would you carry my burden for me? And may the Holy Spirit fill you with His wisdom to make up my shortcomings.
He doesn't even stop to ask who we are, or where we are from, so at least we are spared the risk of a carefully constructed backstory being exposed. And for a gentleman of seventy-four years with a cane, he moves through the crowds with an astonishing turn of speed, calling back to us every now and then to keep up, and offering a hasty blessing to those he bumps into in his haste.
The palace of Charles de Perusse des Cars, temporal duke of Langres and Bishop of Langres, is nothing if not palatial! Liveried guardsmen verify our credentials and the reason for our visit, liveried servants conduct us through the palace to the Bishop's library and bid us wait, and liveried servants bring silver trays of small delicacies to the library before another guest is ushered in.
His dress is not that of a cleric, but nevertheless is subdued in nature and the question in my mind concerning his identity is answered when Pére Tabourot addresses him in familiar terms.
It seems that Pére Tabourot has known Monsieur Edmond Richer for many years, assisted at his baptism, taught him latin and arithmetic, and now the two are brought together once more.
What mischief have you wrought now, Edmond? I doubt his grace would summon you simply for putting tacks on seats today.
In truth, Pére, I cannot be certain, but I think certain views that I hold buzz uncomfortably in the ears of the bishops and cardinals.
Before he can explain further, the conversation is interrupted by the entrance of the duke-Bishop himself, a grand figure in heavy robes and jewelry.
Even though Richer must have been expecting something of this kind, his eyebrows rise slightly. Here in France, the Inquisition is less of a threat, but it remains a threat, nonetheless.
My lord Bishop, I first read the tract De Corrupto Ecclesiae Statu as a student, and in the years since I first read it, my convictions have only been strengthened that the charges leveled against the Church are for the most part sound. It is my conviction that until the powers of Church and State are separated, the Church will continue to be plagued by the corruption of small minds hungry for power.
I find myself more than a little anxious for Monsieur Richer, presenting his views in such an outspoken way to someone who, more than perhaps anybody else, represents the combined power of Church and State. As the discussion continues Richer makes it clearer that his greatest concern is the interference of pontifical authority in political matters, and the atmosphere in the room becomes less strained.
By late afternoon the discussion has covered much more ground, extending far beyond matters theological, and after sharing a light meal at the table of the duke-Bishop, Charles asks Pére Tabourot if he would entertain us. He has among his household possessions a chest of viols, and another of recorders, and Pére Tabourot picks up and admires several of the instruments before balancing a viol against his shoulder and bowing a jaunty melody.
X:21
T:La Millanoise % title
T:The Girl from Milan
C:Thoinot Arbeau % composer
O:Orchésographie % origin.
M:6/2 % meter
L:1/4 % length of shortest note
Q:360 % tempo
K:F % key
V:1 % voice 1
F G A2 G F G2 A B | A2 G F G2 A B A2 z2 | G4 F4 z2 G2 |
G A B2 A G A2 B c B2 | A G A2 B c B2 z4 | A4 G4 z2 F2 |]
X:19
T:La Traditore my fa morire % title
T:The traitor, my killer
C:Thoinot Arbeau % composer
O:Orchésographie % origin.
M:6/2 % meter
L:1/2 % length of shortest note
Q:360 % tempo
K:F % key
V:1 % voice 1
|: d d d c B2 A | A G G F2 D | d d c B2 A | G G F G2 z :|
|: A A A c2 c | c c c d2 d | d d c B2 A | G G F G2 z :|
X:20
T:Si J'Ayme ou non % title
T:Whether I love or not
C:Thoinot Arbeau % composer
O:Orchésographie % origin.
M:6/2 % meter
L:1/2 % length of shortest note
Q:360 % tempo
K:F % key
V:1 % voice 1
A A A z A A | F G A z B B | A G A F z G |
F F E F z F | A G A F z F | D E F G z G |
A G A F z G | F F E F z F |]
These bare-bones melodies can scarcely do justice to the improvisations which he wove around them. All I can say is that before he set the viol down once more, our feet were tapping merrily.
