PROLOGUE
The Cook of London, whyl the Reve spak, for joye, him thoughte, he clawed him on the bak... All the while that the Reeve had been speaking, the London Cook had been slapping him on the back and roaring with laughter. ‘Ha-ha-ha-ha!’ he guffawed. ‘By Christ’s crucifixion, this bloody miller got his comeuppance! What did Solomon say? – "Don’t let every man into your house!" Letting someone stay the night is fraught with danger. You should be careful who you allow in, mate! I pray to God, so give me sorrow, that as true as my name is Roger of Ware, I’ve never heard a better tale about a miller. What a malicious joke to play in the dark. But God forbid that we should stop now. If you will all condescend to hear a tale off of me, a poor man, I will describe, as best I can, a little escapade that once happened in London.'
‘Tell away,’ urged our host at once, ‘and see that your tale is a good one. You’ve let many a pasty bleed out all its contents and sold many a Jack of Dover that’s been heated up and allowed to cool down twice already; you’ve earned Christ’s curse from many a pilgrim who’s had to run back and forth to the bog after eating the parsley that came with your fatted goose, your shop is so full of flies! But tell on, gentle Roger and take no notice of my jokes, a man can tell as much truth as he wishes to when he’s joking.’
‘That’s very true. But a joke’s not so funny when the truth flies back into your own face, so watch out, Harry Baily, and don’t get angry if I choose to tell a story about an innkeeper. I’ll get my own back before we arrive in Canterbury, though I won’t tell that story yet 'cos there's another one I have in mind.’ Then he laughed again and began to tell the following tale.
THE TALE
There was once an apprentice in our city who was learning the grocery trade. He strutted merrily about like a goldfinch in a wood, as brown as a berry, quite a short little fellow with black hair that was always well-combed. He could dance so well and so enthusiastically that he was called Perkin the Reveller, and he was as full of love and having his wicked way with young ladies as a beehive is of honey. Lucky was the young wench who met up with him!
He was at every wedding, singing and dancing and much preferred to be in a tavern than in the shop. Whenever horses rode in royal procession down Cheapside on the way to the Tower of London or in the opposite direction towards the Palace of Westminster, or if knights jousted on the tournament field nearby, he would run out of the shop to watch, and to sing and dance with all his friends until the festivities were over. He and his mates would arrange times to meet in some street or other to play at dice and there was no apprentice in the whole of London who could cast a pair of dice as well as Perkin could, and he was generous to his friends because of it. His master was well aware of all this, for he often found that the shop-takings were gone.
Certainly the master of an apprentice who revels in dice, riot and wenches, finds himself quickly subsidising a lifestyle which he takes no part in himself. Theft and riot mean the same thing, however skilfully a man can play the guitar or the lute. Exuberance and honesty, among the lower orders, do not sit comfortably together.
This jolly apprentice lived with his master until he was nearly ready to practice the trade himself, although he was often reprimanded and sometimes led in disgrace to the local prison. But at last, his master, going through the books of account, recalled the old proverb: “Get rid of a rotten apple before it makes everything else go bad.” Perkin had to go. Better to lose his services than to risk corrupting all the other servants through his bad influence.
So this grocer sacked Perkin the Reveller, annulled his apprenticeship and sent him away with a kick up the backside. This jolly apprentice was dismissed. Now he can riot all night if he wants to, but not at the grocer's expense.
Because there is no thief who does not have companions who are just as dishonest as he is, he sent his bed and his possessions to a friend who was just as fond of gambling and revelling as he was and who had a wife who, though ostensibly keeping a shop, supported herself and her husband by prostitution…