The Innkeeper's Diary by Jake Denz

            The year is 1618, just two short years since the death of Miguel de Cervantes, easily my favorite author. His most famous work was the story of Don Quixote, a crazy man that thought himself to be a knight and rode around on horse back living out his fantasies. As you read I’m sure you wonder to yourself why I am telling you this. The answer is quite simple, I found in my travels the diary of the innkeeper that “knighted” Don Quixote and allowed him to stay at his inn for a brief period of time in the first days of his adventures.

            Before I begin to tell you of the stories found in the diary, I first must say that I believe that I am the first man other than the innkeeper himself to lay eyes on the diary. Among my many travels, I need not tell you my work because I do not want to distract from the story, I came across an inn one night and decided to rest there. As I arrived I sat down for supper and I overheard a group of workers at the far end of the room. They told tales of the travelers they had encountered at the inn and stories of the myths of travelers many years ago, perhaps before any of them worked at the inn. Curiously, I moved closer to hear and eventually I joined in the conversation discussing the many men I have encountered in my day. The night went on and it was getting late, one of the workers asked me if I had a room to spend the night in. After quickly realizing that I had spent the whole evening sharing stories with the workers I told him I did not. Unfortunately while I was wasting away the evening all of the rooms of the inn became filled. Luckily for me though since I had befriended some of the workers they told me I could stay in the innkeeper’s room since he had fallen ill and had not been to the inn in a long time. At first I said that I could not intrude like that but they insisted I stay since it was so late. So I accepted their offer and stayed the night in the innkeeper’s room. Before I laid down to sleep I noticed a bookshelf along the far wall of the room and I went over hoping to get a bit of reading done before I slept. Now I noticed a diary the man kept and knew it to be rude if I were to read from it. Then after a few moments I began to think of the stories the workers told and I thought that there was sure to be a few great stories in this man’s diary, so inappropriate as it may be, I began to read. I finally came across a story that seemed a bit familiar, after I read a bit more I realized that it was the story of Don Quixote’s brief stay at the inn, the room I was staying in belongs to the man from the story of Don Quixote. I finished reading and then tore the pages out so that one day I may share them and fans of Don Quixote, and they could read just a bit more and enjoy the story from a different view. Now mind you that from this point forward I will be speaking directly from the diary as written by the innkeeper, the words are his, not my own.

            I must say that for as many years as I have run this inn I have met some characters, but none quite as odd as the man who stayed here briefly last night. He called himself Don Quixote de la Mancha, and rode an old, weary looking horse, wore old, dingy looking armor, and carried a lance that looked no more useful than the armor if he were to get into battle.

            At first he was entertaining, claiming my inn to be castle, as if this dump could ever be confused with a castle. He charmed the girls at the entrance and they helped him to eat and drink since he could not get his homemade helmet off without disassembling it. We all shared a good laugh and thought he was a charming man. He seemed to be a bit old which may explain where his charm came from, but then also the source of his insanity as well. After a few hours of watching him be fed and helped to drink through a cane I had fashioned simply for my own amusement, I hoped he would go to sleep and leave in the morning, but much to my dismay, the festivities of the night caused by Don Quixote were just getting started.

            Just as I was about to lay down for the night and write in here of the stories of this man which were still so fresh in my mind that I could not wait to get them on paper and read the accounts for years to come, the man approached me with an odd request. Keeping in mind that he called the inn a castle, I was still a bit shocked when he referred to me as a knight. He confessed that he had not yet been knighted and requested that I knight him so he may begin his travels in the morning. It was at this point that the same thoughts of stories which not long ago had brought me much excitement to write became feelings of pity. I now felt bad for the man as I realized that he was not simply putting on an act, he believed he was a knight. Out of sorrow I agreed to knight him, which I hoped would bring him some happiness but I told him to wait until the morning in hopes that he would realize how ridiculous this all was and would wake up to his senses and ride home, giving up his idea of being a knight. Once again much to my own dismay he agreed and asked for a Chapel in which he could keep the vigil of arms. Again I was filled with pity and sadness that my plan of telling him to go to sleep would not happen, so I furthered my lying and told him that the Chapel was torn down for remodeling but that he could keep his vigil at the far end of the inn. He agreed and was off to keep vigil, and all the while I was thinking to myself that I had made a mistake I should have sent him away for his own good.

            As the night went on I continually checked on him to see if he had come to his senses yet, but he had not, he was keeping vigil all night by himself. Others gathered to watch, laughing at him, I laughed alongside but could not help but pity this man. Finally after a few hours, one of the muleteers at the inn attempted to get to the feeding trough, but to do so he had to remove the armor Don Quixote had left there for the vigil. I did not see the incident occur, but I hear that the muleteer was brutally knocked out by Don Quixote. I know knew that I must do something about this man. I finally decided that the only way to rid of him was to tell him I knighted him and let him be on his way. As I was on my way over I saw another muleteer attempt to move the armor, Don Quixote attacked this muleteer more viciously and actually killed the poor man. At this I became enraged, but fearing the same fate as the muleteers, I calmly approached Don Quixote, apologized for the muleteers’ behavior, and told him I would knight him there. So I made up some lines that sounded good enough since I have never actually seen a man be knighted before and told Don Quixote he was now a knight. I told him to go back home and retrieve more money and clothes, since a knight should always have both with him. I had hoped that he would listen, go home and his family would find him and talk him out of his insane fantasy of being a knight. At that he rode off in the morning and all I could do was hope that he never return and that he stay home where he belonged and not pursue his dreams of knighthood.

            Now I have met many men and some almost as odd as Don Quixote, but never quite the same. Don Quixote was charming yet annoying, good-hearted yet killed a man, I could not quite figure out how to deal with him. Nevertheless, he is gone now and I thought it important to record the story here since it is one of the strangest things I have ever been a part of. Hopefully I will never have to deal with this kind of man again, I am getting old and I am tired of meeting men like this at my inn.

            So that ladies and gentlemen, is the story of Don Quixote’s stay at the inn in the words of the innkeeper himself. Regrettably, I do not know the fate of the innkeeper, but I knew the story was important so I wanted to share it with you since the innkeeper has clearly never read the rest of the story of Don Quixote, or else he would have known about the rest of his travels. I believe I did the right thing by taking the story from his diary because I can only hope that had the innkeeper heard of the rest of the story, he would have shared his story with the world as well