Tales Of My Life

• Jen Berry, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2011

A fine spring day it is today, where all the ravishing wildlife are radiating with energy and all of the townsfolk belonging to the town I most recently left were in quite high spirits for the new season. Ahh the breeze, it refreshes me so, it is like a pre-performance cool down or applause. I always have to go in smiling, thinking of new ways to stun the crowd with my lute and booming voice. But that isn’t too much of a challenge; I love a good duel with myself to see the new ideas that spring into my mind while I wonder from town to town over fair Britain.

Oh, up ahead, there seems to be a village, but not too many people seem to be lively… well this is where I step in isn’t it. Like every time I visit new towns or villages I go right into the centre of what seems to be their ‘town square’ and tell them of far off news or have requests from the locals, but today I think I’ll start my show like this.

“Listen, listen good townspeople, of the news from a far”, of course, being over dramatic with the speech and actions usually pulls them in and makes them pay attention, but nobody here seems to be interested. Sweet King Richard! I can’t lose my audience, not on such a fine spring morn. Time to ask around.

“Fair maiden, what troubles thee?” I ask a dashingly gorgeous lady.

She turns to me and replies, “Pardon me?”

“What seems to bring this village into gloom?” I asked once again, doffing my cap and bowing as flamboyantly as I can.

“No news has reached our tiny village on the dangers that have befallen great King Richard the Lionheart, everyone here is in the dark.” The replied solemnly then started to wander off.
We can’t have that now can we?

“Good people of this village gather around and I shall tell the tale of King Richard’s current happenings.” Now people have gathered, well, let’s give them a show and see smiles on their faces. “The fate of King Richard was snatched away by devious Duke Leopold of Austria on his return from the Crusades two years ago.” Let’s add some background music to make it more uplifting. “For many a-month our good King was locked away from the world, hoping for a miracle to arrive. When all else gave up hope on finding him, his loyal squire came with that much needed miracle.” Smiles, one of the greatest joys about being a minstrel, bringing joy to the towns I travel to. “Passing by a wall one day where the King was rumoured to be, Blondel the Minstrel was playing King Richard’s favourite song, the one they composed together. Coming by a window Blondel heard the sound being repeated back at him. Lionheart gave Blondel instructions about his imprisonment and told Blondel to speak of the circumstances with the English government to free him.” I could see the anticipation on the people’s faces, all wanting to know what happens next.

“Well go on! What became of King Richard’s imprisonment?”

“Patience my good man, a good story always has an interlude.” I said smugly. This is a trick I was taught by a group of three travelling Minstrels. They told me “To reel them in you have to wait for their reaction, make them want to hear more, and if no response is heard, move on.”

“Please continue!” The beautiful kind lady from before shouted.

“Alright good people if I must. After Blondel rushed back to the castle and told the council of King Richard’s predicament they immediately sent out letters trying to reason with Duke Leopold and finally after close to two years of no light he was freed because of his loyal friend.”

Cheers were everywhere and people embracing flooded the town square. Then the most honoured thing for any Minstrel, an applause after our performances. The pay is also a key factor, but I love performing and making people happy more than money which is why I’ll take a place to stay or clothes over money, which is exactly what I received, lovely lodgings, clothes and meals until I leave. It’s nice to wind down once in a while, these past five weeks I’ve been summoned to various different courts to perform for knight and royalty. To be honest it’s quite nerve-racking.

Three knocks at my door… “Come in”, I chimed.

The beautiful maiden from before entered with four younger children; all seeming to be scared but also excited.

“Excuse me good Minstrel, I know you must be tired from your travels but I was wondering if you could spare a few minutes to tell them of your travels, or at least a poem. Please kind sir.” A brilliant response from my audience.

“Of course I have time to tell a poem, but unfortunately this can only be a poem, nothing more, nothing less.” The children gleamed with enthusiasm and rushed to the side of my bed, the young lady walking slowly with a smile. “Now young children, what poem would you like to hear?” I was bombarded with suggestions; some were for songs of old and some for children’s songs.

“What about ‘Merry it is’?”, asked a sweet voice quietly. All eyes turned to the fair maiden… Merry it is… good choice.

“A perfect request milady, ‘Merry it is’ is one of my favourites.” She reached my bed and sat down looking over the children who were waiting with anticipation.

“Mirie it is while summer y-last
With fugheles son
Oc nu neheth windes blast
And weder strong.
Ei,ei! What this nicht is long
And I with wel michel wrong
Soregh and murne and fast.”

I received quiet applause from the children and the lady for tis not the happiest of songs, but it has a sweet melody and tells of life true. “Thank you, good sir, but I’m sorry I haven’t anything to pay you with.” The young lady said as she led the children out the door.

“Be not with worry, this one is free of charge. If I get any more coins it’ll load my travels.” I jovially joked. She replied with a smile and a ‘thank you’.

‘It’s the least I can do’ I thought, lying back for my long awaited rest.
The early morn light and the sound of the roosters crowing is a peaceful and well known way to begin any day. Advice from my former travelling partner sprung into my head “Start the day off smiling, then everyone is in a good mood” Words of wisdom from a good friend.

When I went outside the house everyone was bustling around the streets because of their jobs. Some of the time I wish I had a settled job, one that doesn’t need to move, but Minstrelsy is my calling. The beautiful maiden I keep running into seems to work at a bakery, which appears like a very relaxing job compared to the quick thinking required of a good minstrel, but what do I know, it looks quite hectic to me.

“Good Minstrel” I received a wave and a morning cheer from the good maiden and waved back. Her smile faded in that moment and she rushed over, tagging the children from last night along. “You seem to be packed and leaving. Does your stay have to be so short?” she said with a longing look in her eyes. The toughest part of being a Wandering Minstrel is having to say goodbye. That’s why Minstrels never get close to anybody.

“Unfortunately it does my good lady, more towns to the east need news and entertainment; I must take my leave now. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and for showing me kindness.” Their expressions dimmed to sadness, I could swear one of the children was becoming teary. “Don’t be sad good people, more Minstrels just like me will pass through here and give excellent news, they might even be an acrobat or a conjuror, anything can happen, I’m a simple lute player, there are much more exciting musicians out there”, I said in a hushed whisper. After all, I didn’t want to make too bad of a name for myself. What startled me were the children wrapping themselves around my legs, I almost fell over. Mumbled weeping was coming from the small children; it made me feel bad to leave, but it was my job. A Wandering Minstrel like myself has to keep moving.

“Good luck with your travels” the young woman said, trying to be strong. Obviously they weren’t good with goodbyes.

“Thank you” was the last thing I said before I left their quaint village. I wouldn’t mind visiting again but only if I’ve gone to every town to the east, then come back. Ah the curse of the Minstrel, to find a village that is well equipped to your lifestyle and the villagers are well natured people, then you must leave them to keep wandering. I heard a story from an overseas Minstrel who has arrived on the shores of Britain that in France the Minstrels are treated like gods, everyone envied the local musicians and paid heavy sums to hear them play. I wouldn’t want that kind of life, too much money to weigh you down. Travelling light is the only way to go for me, just another musician among the rest, nothing remotely special, except I can tell ‘chansons de geste’ in French which has made me highly requested for castles and courts.

On to the next town I suppose, it’ll be a shame to leave the previous village behind but I can’t stop, I have to keep walking. Funny thing is, ‘Wandering’ Minstrels is a perfect name for us musicians who aimlessly walk around each day hoping they’d turn up at town or village at some point in their journey. We Minstrels are a source of entertainment or relaxation, but I’ve been travelling for so long I’ve forgotten where my home town is, I’m pretty sure most Minstrels have. We wander around England or France or Italy or whichever country not looking for anything, not trying to find something, no goal except to give pleasure… just walking. It might seem depressing to some but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s not just my job…It’s my love.