Q - Luther Blissett (interesting novels to read TXT) 📗
- Author: Luther Blissett
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Elias casts his eye over the crowd. In the area around the crockery-sellers he has already recognised brethren from Allstedt. A glance towards the glassmakers confirms the arrival of the peasants of the Hainich. Further along, the ones greeting each other by raising the Bible must be from Salza.
Ottilie raises her eyes, waiting for a signal. She has already identified the sucker, a member of the city Council, pointed out to her by Pfeiffer. They have to wait for the miners of Mansfeld, who have still not shown up. Without them, nothing will happen.
A little boy makes his way through the crowd: ‘Mister, I’ll get you a new suit of clothes! Come and visit my father’s shop, I’ll take you there, mister…’ He clutches my jacket.
I turn around, annoyed, and he whispers, ‘Our brethren the miners are here, behind a brick-cart.’
Elias makes a jerking-motion: ‘It’s starting, we’re all here.’
I drop a coin into the outstretched palm of the little messenger, ruffle his hair, and prepare to enjoy the scene.
Ottilie approaches her husband, at the densest point of the greatest crowd, opposite a lute-player. She comes and stands behind him and lightly presses her breast against his spine, whispers something as she brings her lips to his ear, allowing her blonde hair to brush his shoulder. Then, with one hand, she starts working him between his legs. I see the nape of the poor bugger’s neck turning crimson. He nervously smoothes his beard: he puts up no resistance. Still facing away from her, he bends forward slightly and starts to slip his arm under her skirt. As he makes his way towards the upper regions, Ottilie raises her tempting hand, takes a step backwards and, trapping his arm in that scandalous posture, she starts shouting her head off, slapping him with all her might with her other hand.
‘You bastard, you worm, you revolting worm, may the curse of God be upon you!’
That’s the signal. The brawl breaks out around Ottilie, while from the four corners of the square our brethren start advancing in a tight formation. They knock over the stalls, beat up the traders, trample the brewers.
‘So that’s what the gentlefolk of M�hlhausen get up to, eh? Sticking their hands up people’s skirts?’
The first to reach us is a peasant who’s rammed his way through the crowd, grabbing any townspeople who got in his way by the collar and butting them smack in the face. Immediately after him came one of the miners, with a clutch of hackbuts, sticks and knives stolen from an armourer.
‘These are for you,’ he says. ‘And there are a few more where they came from!’
‘Blasted brewer,’ Ottilie goes on shouting. ‘I recognise him. He’s on the council!’
I yell at the top of my voice, ‘They’ve sold us to the brewers!’
The voices multiply and increase in volume. ‘Bastard councillors, crooks, get out of M�hlhausen!’
Many of the people shouting weren’t even present at the originally staged event, and think it’s a street demonstration to oust the council. And they’re right.
Everything happens at the greatest speed. The tide, as though attracted by some mysterious magnet, starts to engulf the Kilansgasse, which leads from the market square to the Rathaus. Little streams of people scatter here and there: pious souls who suddenly need to go to church.
All of a sudden I look around and discover I’ve been left on my own; Elias, Heinrich and Ottilie have disappeared. A peasant beside me knocks down his enemy for being too well dressed, with an elbow to the throat and a fist under his ribs.
‘Yes, brother, crush the godless as though they were dogs!’ I yell, delighted.
The guards are careful not to show their faces. The city is ours.
*
The first bell of curfew rings out. I find the rest of our group by the Archangel Fountain, where we’ve arranged to meet in case we lost sight of each other. There are another two people there who I don’t think I recognise.
Pfeiffer does the honours: ‘Oh, here he is, our student rebel! These are Briegel and H�lm, two of the eight representatives of the people of M�hlhausen.’
‘And these,’ one of them says to me, waving around what looks like a big rattle, ‘are the keys of our city!’
‘…which is to say,’ the other continues, ‘the right to decide who stays out and who can come in.’
‘We’ve done it. Thomas can come back,’ Ottilie announces with a smile.
‘As for you,’ Briegel or H�lm goes on, ‘the free imperial city of M�hlhausen welcomes you all.’
M�hlhausen, 15 February 1525
Tenth article: we are aggrieved by the appropriation by individuals of meadows and fields which at one time belonged to a community. These we will take again into our own hand unless they have been acquired legitimately.
Eleventh article: […] We will entirely abolish the due called Todfall heriot) and will no longer endure it, nor allow widows and orphans to be thus shamefully robbed against God’s will […]
Twelfth article: In the twelfth place it is our conclusion and final resolution, that if any one or more of the articles here set forth should not be in agreement with the word of God, as we think they are, such article we will willingly withdraw the minute it is proved really to be against the word of God by a clear explanation of the Scripture.� […] For this we shall pray God, since He can grant these, and He alone. The peace of Christ abide with us all.
The news of his arrival flies from mouth to mouth, along the main street. The two wings of the crowd merge together to greet the man who has challenged the princes; people and peasants who have come running from the surrounding villages. I almost weep with emotion. Magister, I have to tell you everything, how we struggled and how we managed to get here, to welcome you, now, without a policeman anywhere around. They’re very frightened, they’re shitting themselves, if they try to show their faces, they’ll be taking an enormous risk. We’re here, Magister, and with your help we’ll be able to turn this city upside down and flush out the council. Ottilie is beside me, her eyes gleaming, wearing a pretty dress so white that it makes her stand out against the mass of coarse townspeople. Here he is! He comes around the bend on a black horse, and at his side is Pfeiffer, who has gone to meet him on the road. Two arms of steel grab me from behind and hoist me into mid-air.
‘Elias!’
‘My friend, now that he’s here, the men from the council will be shitting themselves, you’ll see!’
A vulgar laugh: even the rough miner from the Erzgebirge can’t contain his enthusiasm.
Magister Thomas comes over as the crowd closes behind him and follows him. He sees the sign of greeting from his wife and gets down from his horse. A firm embrace and a whispered word that I don’t catch. Then he turns to me: ‘Greetings, my friend, I’m happy to find you safe and sound on such a day.’
‘I wouldn’t have missed it if I’d lost my legs, Magister. The Lord was with us.’
‘And with them…’ a gestures towards the crowd.
Pfeiffer smiles. ‘Let’s go, you’re going to have to speak in church now, they want to hear your words.’
A gesture: ‘Get a move on, you don’t want to be left behind!’
He holds out his hand to Ottilie and helps her on to the horse.�
I run to the portal of Our Lady’s church.
The nave is full, the people are spilling out on to the little square in front of the church. From the pulpit, the Magister looks out over this sea of eyes, and draws the power of his words from them. They quickly fall silent.
‘May the blessing of God be upon you, brothers and sisters, and may it allow you to listen to these words with a steadfast and open heart.’
Not a breath.
‘The sound of gnashing teeth that is rising up today from the palaces and the monasteries against you, the insults and curses that the nobles and the monks are hurling at this city will not shake your resolution. I, Thomas M�ntzer, salute in you, in this crowd gathered here, the awakening, at long last, of the city of M�hlhausen!’
An ovation arises above the heads of the crowd, the people returning his greeting.
‘Listen. Now you hear all around you the confused, impatient, angry hubbub of those who have always oppressed us: the princes, the fat abbots, the bishops, the notables of the city. Do you hear them yelling out there, outside the city walls? It’s the barking of dogs with their teeth pulled out, brothers and sisters. Yes, the dogs which, with their soldiers, their tax collectors, have taught us the meaning of fear, have taught us always to obey, to lower our heads in their presence, to pay our respects like slaves before their owners. Those who have given us uncertainty, hunger, taxes, back-breaking labour… Now they, my brothers, are weeping with rage because the people of M�hlhausen have risen. When only one of you refused to pay their tributes, or revere as they thought fit, they could have him thrashed by their mercenaries, they could imprison and kill. But now there are thousands of you. And they won’t be able to whip you any more, because you have the whip-hand now, they won’t be able to imprison you any more, because you have taken the prisons and removed the doors, they won’t be able to kill you any more or steal from the Lord the devotion of His people, because His people have risen, and turned their eyes towards the Kingdom. No one will be able to tell you, do this, do that, because from now on you will live in brotherhood and community, according to God’s law. No longer will there be those who work the land and those who enjoy its fruits, because all will work the land and enjoy its fruits in community, as brothers. And the Lord will be honoured because the lords are no longer there!’
Another rumble of enthusiasm echoes in the great drum of the apse, like the roar of ten thousand people.
‘M�hlhausen is a rock of offence, a source of horror for the godless of the earth, a premonition of the fury of God that is about to descend upon them, and that is why they are trembling like dogs. But this city is not alone. Along the road that I have travelled to reach here from Basle, everywhere, in every village, from the Black Forest to Thuringia, I have seen the peasants rising up armed with their faith. Behind you the troop of the humble is forming, desperate to spring the chains of servitude. They need a signal. You must be the first. Do what so many, elsewhere, are still finding it difficult to do. But be certain that your example will be followed by other cities, either nearby or so far off that we don’t even know their names. You must open up the path of the Lord. No one will be able to take away from you the pride of this undertaking. In you I salute free M�hlhausen, the city on which God has placed His watch and His blessing, the city that wrought the revenge of the humble upon the godless of the earth! The hope of the world starts here,
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