So, after a hearty supper, we joined the Night Watchman on the steps of the Town Hall along with a hundred or so others. Though we’d walked around the old city earlier in the day, we were looking forward to hearing a few different stories and, from the little we’d heard last evening, to a few giggles as well.
He walked, we followed. From time to time, he stopped by a bench or a step and climbed upon it to address the ever-growing audience. His stories were interesting, well recounted and his humour was dry as a bone. Those without English as their first language possibly missed a fair number of his asides, sadly. But he was patient, waited for the slowest of the group to arrive before starting to speak and did his best when challenged by vehicles in narrow streets and the odd busker. In fact, he only had to threaten use of his halberd on one single occasion!
Overlooking the double bridge, the view was splendid. The sun was just beginning to set and the ochre houses shone beautifully in the evening light.
In yesterday’s post, I made reference to “the famous double bridge”. To be truthful, we had no idea why it’s famous and could find nothing about it in our guide books. Actually, I had slotted it into my mental folder marked “find out later”, but a lack of internet last evening meant that I couldn’t. However, the Night Watchman told the story of the end of WW2, when the German army conceded Rothenburg to a particularly considerate American official, negotiating the deal on that very bridge.
So there we were. The NightWatchman bade us farewell and wished us a peaceful night. Goodnight Rothenburg!