It was going to be a lovely day of spring, the sun was pleasantly warm and the sky marred by just a few white clouds. It was going to be a lovely day of spring and, at least two hours before midday, he was already drinking, sitting in the shadow of a tree away from home, where his woman would not see him. His back against the tree, his legs spread out, his shirt half-way buttoned and his vest completely unbuttoned, with a bottle of brandy nearby in hand and another empty one nearby.
He saw the masons working from afar, they were building his mansion. It was going to be a large stone building, with a tiled roof, arcades all around the outside, stained glass windows, and fresh-painted plaster on the inside.The floor would be a great mosaic in the main room and green marble tiles everywhere else. Rich tapestries, velvet curtains, elegant beams with gilded capitals. And the cellar, ah! The cellar! Casks of prized wine, ale, cider, brandy, rum, whiskey, applejack; the Prancing Pony would pale in comparison. A dream come true. But somebody made sure that dream would not come true.
The whole neighbourhood could hear him yelling.
"Tear it down! Tear it down! Tear it down!"
The masons heard him too, but they could not immediately make out the words. The master builder ordered them to halt, and they all watched him advancing with long, wobbly strides towards them.
"Tear it down! Tear it down! Tear it down!"
They had not gone very far, they had only dug out a hole and secured the foundations, and now they were starting to build over the cellar.
"Tear it down! Tear it down! Tear it down!"
The master builder went to meet him in the yard but the tall merchant, his face red like a ripe strawberry, stopped ten feet away and held out his right arm, fully stretched, pointing a broken bottle at the man.
"Tear it down! Tear it down! Tear it down!"
The builder tried to talk to him, but he just would not stop yelling.
"Tear it down!"
