Another tale of the Cats of Regensburg
This time the story concerns the Man in Black, the brother of the Man in White. I hope it isn't too long! I do have a habit of writing at length, which I know is a fault. Mary is too kind, because I know she is an accomplished writer in her own right and would have made a much better job of this little tale!
Die Maustersingers
A lifetime in Music deserves something more than just a concert, thought Benno as he padded his way over the cobblestones in Regensburg’s historic centre. Humans don’t have a very good ear for music, anyway, he felt. Now one of the most distinguished musicians of their lovely city was to be honoured by a concert in the Cathedral. Lots of small humans singing, and much blowing and banging of instruments. Benno wished that the cat community of Regensburg could put on something of their own, something more suitable for the Man in Black, brother of the Man in White, He-who-loves-cats, who now lived in the land-across-the-mountains.
It was well-known, because he liked to tell the story often, that one of Benno’s ancestors was a huge tabby who had lived at Linderhof, one of the smaller castles of King Ludwig II. This tabby once had the privilege of having been petted by Richard Wagner when a guest at the castle. Benno liked to think that the Master’s musical inspiration had come partly from the comforting feline presence, and not only that, but that the inspiration went both ways and that since then, the cats in his family line had a particular sensitivity to music.
For this reason, it would be appropriate if he, Benno Vogl, mayor of Regensburg and its most senior ratter, should organise a tribute. He was thinking about this when all of a sudden he found his attention caught by a pair of shiny black eyes. They regarded him with a mixture of wariness and plain insolence. A long whiskered nose twitched and wrinkled and then with an abrupt about-turn, the interloper headed off, its long pink tail disappearing under the door of the great Cathedral which stood proudly in the centre of the little square. So!
Benno lived nearby in the house of a widow, Frau Vogl. As humans go, she was a kindly companion and they lived cheerfully together. Among other things, she was part of a rota of good souls who cleaned the Cathedral, and this duty had brought conflict into the household – cats, she felt, had no business in a place of worship, and certainly not the great medieval cathedral whose twin steeples dominated the skyline.
It was well-known that rats do not live singly, unlike some humans. If you see a rat, there will be others nearby – probably many hundreds. Benno had just seen one in broad daylight scampering into the cathedral, where no doubt it had a nest. In a few days’ time the concert for the Man in Black would be held there – who knows if a rat might not dart across the distinguished gentleman’s well-polished shoes? Frau Heindl, his housekeeper, would not take too kindly to a rat dirtying her handiwork, Benno was sure. This called for action!
That night, while the feline citizens were having their customary promenade, Benno called for an urgent meeting of the Town Council. He headed for the Maushaus and took his seat at the head of the council, on Herr Schliemann’s cushion. The fellow citizens were aghast at the news, as he knew they would be. “A rat appearing at the concert for the Monsignor who-also-loves-cats would bring shame on us all,” opined Otto, the large black and white cat who had recently joined Benno on a long journey of diplomatic importance.
“But how do we get inside the Cathedral to cleanse it of these vermin?” asked Lotti, the elegant Turkish Van.
“We have to wait until the team of cleaners arrives on Friday afternoon and then sneak in when they are busy with the dust-sucking machines” suggested Benno, who was giving it a lot of thought.
“They may see us and throw us out. Humans! They won’t see the rats until it is too late. Rats are crafty things, they hide and people never know they are there.” Said Viktor, the oldest member of the Council. He was small and dark brown and fluffy, a reminder of a long-distant Persian ancestor. Cute he may look, but he was very wise. These days he spent most of his time curled up on his human’s bed, dreaming of his younger days. But today there were serious matters to discuss.
Unlike humans, felines do not spend more time than absolutely necessary to discuss and make decisions and so the meeting closed promptly with everyone knowing what they had to do and when. The Councillors left Herr Schliemann’s shed, passed (or in Benno’s case squeezed) through the gap in the fence and went their own ways.
* * * * *
On Friday afternoon, the team of cleaners arrived with their dusters and vacuum cleaners. The great doors of the cathedral stood wide as the equipment was brought inside. Three of the citizenry began nonchalently to climb the steps to the entrance and were just into the building by a whisker when they were spotted “Shoo! Cats! Off you go and take your dirty paws with you!” There was a flurry of mops and brooms and the three uninvited guests turned to the swirling brush ends, claws extended, as if in play. “I can’t believe it! The cheeky little things want a game! Hop it, nuisance!” But it took a few moments to drive the young cats down the steps and away.
Benno meanwhile, had been watching the incident from nearby, and once the humans’ attention had been drawn by the odd behaviour of the cats, had slipped unnoticed into the great dark building.
Benno had been inside the Cathedral before – most of the cats had at some point. He loved the peaceful atmosphere and the winking lights of the candles on the votive stands. If it were not locked so carefully, the Cathedral would make the most wonderful Maushaus, he thought. He began to imagine himself chairing a meeting in the organ loft when his attention was brought to earth by a muffled, scurrying sound. He quietly made his way up the stone steps to the very organ loft he’d been thinking about and sniffed carefully around the floor under the great keyboard. No mistaking the smell, definitely rats, and they were at home.
He settled into the sphynx position and narrowed his amber eyes. “I have all day, squeakers, so come out when you are ready. Or are you too cowardly?” The hole was too narrow for a cat, and certainly not a fat ginger tabby.
“Leave us alone! Your human gives you more than enough to eat we can see, so why bother us?” came the reply, bold and insolent.
“Your scrawny worm-infested insides do not interest me. I am here to ensure that you do not spoil a very special concert.”
“Why should you care about humans?”
“I don’t especially but this one is a friend to the cat world and a brother to He-who-loves-cats, formerly of this city. I will not have you spoiling his evening by running around the place as if you own it.”
“Well we do own it. But don’t worry, Moggins, we stay out of human sight – they put down that terrible food for us once they see us and many of our younglings die. Why should we want to be seen?”
“Is this true?” asked Benno suspiciously. He recalled that special food, one of the citizens had eaten some of it in an area known for its rats and had died an agonising death. Benno shuddered at the thought.
“It is true,” said another voice, higher and more faint.
“Very well, a truce. For now. But don’t you dare show your faces or tails during the concert.”
Benno strolled thoughtfully down the ancient stone steps and found himself in the nave again. There was a cry of surprise and Frau Vogl had swept up her beloved pet and carried him firmly to the exit.
“Security is tight” he muttered, after the indignity of being plonked down in the sunshine, right in front of the three young cats who had caused the disturbance. “But at least that is the rats dealt with, now there is the other matter of the concert itself. We won’t be able to get into the Cathedral, which is a pity, as I think a cats’ chorus would add greatly to the splendour of the occasion. We must think of something else.”
* * * *
Monsignor Georg had a delightful evening. Surrounded by many friends and former pupils, he had listened to a wonderful concert of sacred music performed by local music students at the university, and the Domspatzen themselves, the choir which he had once been responsible for. His only regret was that his brother was too far away to hear it. He let himself into his flat in the Luzengasse and removed his coat.
It was a beautiful night and the sky was full of stars. He looked out of the window onto the little courtyard below, the music still ringing in his ears. Suddenly, from the shadows, he noticed a small silent figure emerge, followed by another, and another…. Could he believe his eyes? Was he really looking at a row of five well-fed cats lined up on the wall and appearing to look straight at him? He smiled at them and his eyes twinkled with merriment. Then in unison they began to sing, a curious yowling sound. If he were not a rational person, he would swear they were singing for him!
The following morning the phone rang at the appointed time, ‘Hallo, Joseph! Yes, all is well here. I must tell you about the wonderful concert last night!’ And at the other end of the line, the Man in White heard about the Palestrina, Allegri and Mozart that had been performed so beautifully, “but the strange thing is what happened after the performance. Some cats lined up in my courtyard to serenade me! Yes, ha ha, I know! Sehr komisch, and then I had a very strange dream. No I had not been drinking too much weissbier… In the dream the cats had come to a truce with the local rats not to disturb my concert and afterwards they performed for me – they called themselves Die Maustersingers!”