Interrupted in his work, he also saw the newcomers, and then cast a
peevish glance at one corner of the room, where stood a table covered
with fine linen and set with silver dishes, among them a platter on which
early pears and juicy plums were spread invitingly. The landlady of The
Pike had arranged them daintily upon fresh vine leaves an hour before
with her own plump but nimble hands. Of course they were intended for
the gentlemen from Nuremberg and their guests. Dietel, too, now knew
them, and saw that the party numbered a person no less distinguished than
the far-famed and highly learned Doctor and Imperial Councillor, Conrad
Peutinger. They were riding to Cologne together under the same escort.
The citizens of Nuremberg were distinguished men, as well as their guest,
but Dietel had served distinguished personages by the dozen at The Blue
Pike for many years--among them even crowned heads--and they had wanted
for nothing. His skill, however, was not sufficient for these city
demigods; for the landlord of The Pike intended to look after their table
himself. Tomfoolery! There was more than enough for him to do that day
over yonder in the room occupied by the lansquenets and the city
soldiers, where he usually directed affairs in person. It roused
Dietel's ire. The cooking of The Blue Pike, which the landlady
superintended, could vie with any in the Frank country, on the Rhine, or
in Swabia, yet, forsooth, it wasn't good enough for the Nuremberg guests.
The Council cook, a fat, pompous fellow, accompanied them, and had
already begun to bustle about the hearth beside the hostess. They
really would have required no service at all, for they brought their own
attendants. It certainly was not Dietel's usual custom to wish any one
evil, but if Gotz Berlichinger, who had recently attacked a party of
Leipsic merchants at Forchheim, or Hans von Geisslingen had fallen upon
them and subdued their arrogance, it would not have spoiled Dietel's
appetite.