As always, if you're doing exams, I'd suggest you read Peter Ackroyd, not me. Or read both of us if you really want to; but if you're going to quote anyone, make it him. Or (and here's an out there idea) quote Chaucer directly.
On that note, you probably really ought to have a look at some of the orginal text sometime, even if you're not doing exams. Difficult to understand, but quite beautiful to listen to. Remember the old and crusty carpenter, with his young and lusty wife?
This carpenter hadde newe a wyf,Pretty, isn't it?
Which that he lovede moore than his lyf;
Of eighteteene yeer she was of age.
Jalous he was, and heeld hire narwe in cage,
For she was wylde and yong, and he was old,
And demed hymself, been lik a cokewold.
Anyway enought of all that; these re-tells aren't going to re-tell themselves, and we've had an angry summoner simmering away since Monday.
The Summoner's Tale: Once there was a dodgy friar. (You may notice, here, a startling similarity to the Friar's tale. This is no coincidence. The Summoner is mightily annoyed with the Friar by now; in fact during the prologue to his tale he talks about a swarm of friars coming out of the devil's bottom. The summoner is a little obsessed with bottoms, as you will see.)
His name was Friar John, and he spent his time going from house to house, beging for alms. He would make a list of the people who donated food, or clothes, or other worldly posessions, but then as soon as he got around the corner he would cross their names off the list so he could pretend they hadn't donated anything.
He goes to visit a guy called Thomas, and his wife, who usually look after him pretty well. He has dinner, and lectures the guy for a while, and tells him lots of boring stories, one of which involves a drunken guy doing a William Tell impression that goes horribly wrong. I am sure we have all had dinner guests like this.
The Friar offers to hear Thomas give confession, but Thomas says he has already confessed today (Thomas is a bit of a player when it comes to religion; he'll take which ever priest or friar is going) so the Friar asks him for money instead.
Thomas, who is pretty sure the Friar is full of crock by now, says he has something for him but he can only have it on the condition that he share it with the other friars in his convent; all twelve of them have to get an equal share. The greedy friar agrees, and then Thomas drops his bomshell; this thing is hidden up his bum (obsessed, I tell you) and the friar is going to have to fish it out. Nice.
Is it just me, or if you were the friar would you be suspecting something not quite right by now? Anyway, this one doesn't, and he attempts to do as instructed. But as he gets near, Thomas lets off an enormous, rip-roaring, obscene smelling fart (I did warn you from the outset about the high flatulence levels in these tales, didn't I?) and the friar storms off in a huff.
The now quite smelly friar goes off to complain to the lord of the manor and rants and raves for a good couple of minutes (I am guessing; certainly for a good couple of pages). Interestingly, the thing he is most cross about is now he has to work out a way to divide the fart equally between his colleagues. Seriously, this is the bit he has a problem with.
He goes on for another page or so talking to himself, ruminating about the physics of farts, and trying to figure out a solution. A young squire who is nearby overhears him and suggests arranging the Friars around a giant cart-wheel, one at the end of each spoke, and then inviting Thomas along to sit in the middle of the cartwheel to give a repeat performance.
Annoyingly, this is where the story ends so we don't find out if the solution works, or how the friar sells the idea to his colleagues (right, gents, what I'd like you to do is kneel down around this giant wheel...); but we do find out that the Lord of the manor and everyone around him thinks Thomas is pretty ace and that the Friar got what was coming to him. Which I think is the point the summoner is trying to make.
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