The master

When finally, after having almost destroyed it by knocking, they opened the door wide, everyone in the inn - with their throats still warm from the singing and mugs in their hands - remained motionless, staring at the newcomer as if he had fallen from the sky.
«Do you have any good wine?» he shouted at that greasy stain that was preparing the table for him.
The women, like chickens in the afternoon, began to laugh more shrilly and one, pawing, approached him to ask him what his origins were and what strange reasons had brought him to those lands avoided by everyone.
As they arrived, with wine, slops and juicy dishes, with a thud - a bang that made one believe that war had broken out again - the door was violently thrown open and a sort of heavy bag was thrown in, revealing itself, once on the ground, to be a smelly bloody corpse. A deranged woman appeared at the door screaming incoherent phrases about a debt collector sent from Naples to fleece those people and then disappeared for several weeks. He screamed that after having taken advantage of her beautifully, having eaten and drunk like a pig in her house, served and revered like a prince, he then also wanted to take advantage of his daughter, perhaps both of them together. And continue to be comfortable pigs at home for who knows how long, until he broke his ass and went back to Naples.
But yes, everyone had heard about Nardello, the missing tax collector – the little hen began to tell him. Even Duke Morales had been forced to return here to spread the notice so that this bloodsucking Christ could be found. But who would have thought that he was dead in his house Patatara?
A universal twist and turn: some approached the body and immediately moved away since the stench upset your stomach, some tried to leave so as not to have anything to do with that story, some said "go call the guards!". But which guards?! No no no, here we needed someone who knew what he was doing and would resolve the issue properly without anyone being fooled.
In short, in an instant Matteo Carato, the lord's trustee, appeared at the door: and it was over immediately, the virivirì.
“How did this one end up here?” he began to say, looking at everyone.
There was a furious outburst of I don't know, I wasn't there, I had nothing to do with it. In short, it ended up that that foreigner who had just arrived, coincidentally, just before the dead man, had something to do with this whole story - nothing it happens by chance – and here we had to understand; better to get him now before he left.
The trustee approached him to ask him who he was and where he came from.
«My name is Antonio Campana and I come from Stilo, I am a traveler in search of better luck».
What the fuck was he talking about? It seemed to be the question plastered on everyone's faces. In short, in the end he took him with him and brought him to his master, the master of everyone in that place.