Knuckles are white and tight. Pulses are throbbing and spit is flying from chapped lips. Here in the courtyard in front of the village inn, an argument is flaring up.
From a silent whisper to the brink of a brawl, misunderstandings and antagonism build as more and more Bavarian beer gets swigged. The air is thick with accusations of witchcraft and sorcery. Everyone here fears being branded. Branded as dishonest, deceitful, evil.
But from the tables of the little inn the devastating rumours seep into the village streets. Rumours about who is behind the bad harvest. Who is to blame for all this death and disease. Rumours that might land entire families in poverty and exclusion – or worse.