Bards are badass

Once again let the sands of time cease to slip through the hourglass as we take a look at one of the often misunderstood types of role-playing characters. While misunderstood it is also one of the most popular. To those few who are familiar with the historical role of these people it can be quite annoying to watch the errors others make in playing them. The historically correct version is just as interesting to play, maybe even more. I’m talking about the minstrels, troubadours, musicians, and other entertainers of the medieval courts.

It is important to understand the way minstrels are viewed by most games today. They are seen as colorful people, dependent on their music to enthrall the audience and create various magical effects. Once in a rare while they’re assassins maintaining a somber, noble facade during daytime. They are seen as being musicians and entertainers. Many of the instruments that role-playing games attribute to them were not even invented yet during the Middle Ages.

No medieval person would recognize a violin, at least not as we know the term. Okay, so fantasy roleplaying games are not supposed to be realistic (I’ll throw a most realistic fireball at you for that). It’s still a shame to alter the entire background of a noble, respected, and – as it was, vital – trade just because it seems easier at first glance.

Vital? How is the minstrel vital?

During the Golden Age of Rome and up through the Middle Ages, kings, emperors, and nobles came and went faster than anyone could keep track of. For instance, during the third century AD, the Roman Empire had 27 emperors, no less than 17 of them were murdered. In 69 AD, some 130 years earlier, Rome had four different emperors (Galba, Otho, Vitellius, and Vespasian). Most of them were incompetent fops – but no empire, regardless of size, can bear that amount of stress. It is impossible to maintain a state and body of government on such an unstable foundation.

This is where the minstrel was about to become important. Though minstrels did exist during the Roman ages they had not yet developed their social skills and their special status as courtiers and news-bearers. As the age of armored knights began, the opulence of the courts exploded into outrageous orgies. According to many literary sources, Caligula would have blushed at what went on at European courts at this time. Wine, ale, and anything else with alcohol in it flowed. People performed unspeakable acts in public, and took pride in it.

The minstrel was there. He was providing the musical entertainment. But sometimes his songs were different than originally written.

If a minstrel had acquired information that might indicate danger to the ruler or another powerful person, he had learned how to alter the songs slightly, barely noticeably. The message thus relayed was supposedly only understandable to the few to whom it was intended. The rest of the crowd just sat back and didn’t notice. Sound wild? Sure, but it worked, and well. A good minstrel could relay such a message at a moment’s notice. He could improvise the changes to his tune as he played it. A skilled minstrel was worth his weight in blood, so to say.

Present day scholars mourn the loss of written sources of how this feat was achieved. The art has been lost over the ages. Of course, not every minstrel could do it either. Most were inept. For every true minstrel there would be dozens of amateurs just trying to make a living. Most of them probably didn’t even play well, preferring a more ‘plinkety-ploinkety’ approach.

The minstrel was akin to Alan-a-Dale from the Robin Hood tales, using his instrument to create the mood and atmosphere, then talking his way through his story. Songs were often more stories with a few notes stuck in here and there.

How did the minstrel know about the plot to kill the king and put his evil brother on the throne? Usually he didn’t. This is where his special social status was seen at its best. He was viewed as we’d view a truck full of drunk soccer fans: You don’t want to stop it unless you really like serious trouble. Anyone who knew about a plot or just suspected one would send for the minstrel, requesting a solo performance (well, fair maidens would probably just send a note, given that they’d really not want daddy to think they had male visitors to their rooms). They would inform the minstrel of their concerns. They would pay him well. And he would make the required changes to his music before the evening performance.

With everyone laughing and speaking loudly (and lewdly) at the banquet table it could be difficult to hear what the minstrel was actually singing. Hence the minstrel would often perform twice, once before dinner, and once after. During the performances everyone would be listening, for hidden messages or just for enjoyment.

A famous example of a minstrel’s song contributing to the conviction of a group of alleged criminals occurred in Denmark in 1286. The Danish king, Erik Klipping, was murdered on a hunting trip. A group of noblemen were later convicted, after a minstrel had sung to the new king, Erik Menved, a story of a great king who had an affair with one of his noblemen’s wife while the nobleman was away on a mission for the king. Once the nobleman came home and found out he gathered his buddies and they all went hunting royal game. The names and locations had been changed, but Erik Menved got the clue and the nobleman with the unfaithful wife was convicted (to this day we still don’t know whether justice was served). Half a dozen of important men were banned from the country on basis of a seemingly innocent ditty cleverly delivered by a minstrel. Those men were some of the most powerful lords of their time. And then the minstrel packed his bags and left the castle and walked right back out of the history books again.

It is easy to overlook this aspect of the superstars of medieval music. They underwent years of hard training to become good at what they did, and they were well respected. That was their true value: They sold information.

Obviously, the less educated counterparts singing at common market fairs were not elite newsbrokers. They were far more numerous and accordingly less skilled. Nor did they share the respect and high social standards of their professional courtier colleagues.