Heinrich Skau

The ball missed the tavern-keeper by at least an elle and found its tunnel-home in the dirt floor, but to his perception, it slapped by his ear within a very zoll-inch, screaming for his blood and sorely vexed at not having found in ‘Heinrich Skau’ its rightful lodgement and castle. He thrashed and grasped armfuls of the foul floor-covering and hurled it up, up, in a spout of filthy dun-yellow straw, unleashing the stench of weeks, so recently covered. After a few armloads he unscrewed his eyes and looked up, to see the Black, behind a gaping, cave-like pistol muzzle pointed dead at him, his demonic Face awash in a frisking writhe of smoke. The Black opened his mouth, displaying a rank of devouring teeth, and Heinrich Skau’s voiding difficulty resolved itself with no great trouble. The sot in the corner roused himself from an ongoing stupor and wheezily shouted, “Moy’re AYLE!! MOY’RE AAAYYY-AAALE!” The Bohemian clamped eyes shut again and noted mentally that at least the floor-cover was so sodden with unbidden dreck it had not set fire when the gun discharged. Oh, if Patience were here! She’d take this pair and wring their filthen necks… He lowered his head, almost weeping with frustrated anger and shame, and… a quick shadow passed over him, he could sense it, and he opened his eyes. The sot was now peering about, head swiveling, his wrinkled neck and bobbing Adam’s bump rendering him quite like a gin-soaked fowl in appearance. Except for that, and the thin air-rivers of smoke, the room was empty. His two assailants were gone.

“I believe”, said Thomasse, “That this is God Damned Butterine!” Heinrich Skau glared angrily. Why wouldn’t this off-buttoned fool eat his meal and get out? The man had drunk four tankards of ale, and now he was complaining about his bread? He didn’t seem to be in any rush to leave, and now his Black was sauntering over to inspect the meal. Of course it was butterine. What else would Patience make? Lazy slut… “I SAYED, This is FILTHY Butterine!” Heinrich Skau’s patience ran out. “Gett out! GETT OUT!” The white man reared back in outrage, and Heinrich Skau saw the Black begin laughing, LAUGHING! Poorly bred Anglican filth and theyre rotten slaves and servants clutterying up mine tavern filthy- The servant rummaged into his pocket, removed a handful of coins, and tossed them lightly overhand at Skau. The jingling discs pinned through the air, bounced off various parts of his anatomy, and landed in the straw and filth of the floor; the Black might well have thrown them in a privy-hole. Skau roared and began moving towards the servant-man, while the white man in his poorly donned coat lifted up and shouted, “Here now, HERE NOW!” Skau began shouting. “Gehen Sie hinaus! Sie filthy Goddam Weibchen! Get ott Sie ein en meinen Tavern!” Billy began laughing again, and reached into his collar, at a faded, blue silk ribbon tied lightly in a noose around his neck.

Heinrich Skau was having a bad day. The brawl the previous evening had wrecked a great share of his furniture, and as much as he hated, he would be compelled to pay a carpenter to fix his chairs and tables. Now Patience had left for the day, announcing, “Oy’m SICK of yer FACE, HenReek!” God, how he hated the way she spoke to him! The nerve! And him of fine stock. Left in this cesspool. Oh, his innards pained him, and he felt his need to void build, and his misery increased. The apothecary… later today, mayhaps. Patience had gone to see her rotten acquaintances, those gabbling geese on the hill-path, leaving HIM to clean up the blood and vomit and beer… and he knew, he knew, one of his tormentors of the previous night had been the one’s HUSBAND, for Saint…oh, now he couldn’t think of a saints’ name! Look what this place was doing to his Christian soul! He was going to Hell… Well, he hadn’t cleaned it, the mess, he’d dropped sawdust and straw on it. The smell was terrible, but some herbs burnt might help… The door opened. The one nodding sot in the corner wobblied up his head, then dropped it again. A man, respectably dressed, although his coat was buttoned quite wrongly, stepped in. He was followed by a Black man, probably his servant. Heinrich welcomed him: “Hello. Velcom to mine tavern sir. How mite I help du?”

Heinrich Skau is a tavern keeper, an ethnic German from Bohemia, and a refugee from the Thirty Years' War, as he is nominally Protestant. He does not like the French or Spanish as he perceives them as Catholic. He's old and crabby, and his prostate bothers him. He has a 'mulatto' female companion with whom he fights a lot. His appearance is paunchy, with skinny legs, and not athletic, with a large graying mustache and stubble. He shaves his head and wears a battered hat.