Whenever the name Emperor Sigismund is mentioned, everyone imagines a cantankerous red fox, an irate, foul-tempered old man, obsessed with plotting other people’s downfall. But that wasn’t the case.

Sigismund enjoyed a good laugh, he chuckled till tears ran down his face. And I should know, because I was his court jester, Boro. But my story here is a different one. In the year 1422, on my way to Germany, I was thrown into a Hussite jail.

That pack of curs, if you’ll pardon the expression, knew who I was only too well, and wanted to exchange me for a tidy sum of money. In chains they dragged me back and forth throughout the land, until we came to the town of Brno, to which the Hussite’s had laid siege.

The Brno citizens were standing firm. They trusted their strong walls and underground passages, through which food and other necessary items could be smuggled in. So confident were they of their ramparts, that from their heights they mooned their naked arses, if you’ll pardon the expression, at the enemy. The Hussites therefore decided to take the town by cunning. Through messengers they entered into a secret plot with a certain Councillor Haas, who promised to open the city gates for a sum of money. Now my plan was simple: to save the city and place myself safely behind its walls, whatever the danger might be. Well, all evening I entertained my captors with jokes. In return, they unshackled me for the night. When all the drunken winos, if you’ll pardon the expression, had fallen asleep, I quietly slipped from the tent and ran away as fast I could.

Helped by good people, the next day I was standing in Brno Town Hall, where I narrated to the council everything I had learnt. Everything happened quickly after that. Under torture, Haas confessed, and, as just reward for treachery, the citizens of Brno cut off his head. This object they spiked on the city walls to let the enemy see that Haas’s treason was known. Later, the head was placed into the walls of the town hall, where shortly after, and much to everyone’s surprise, it turned to stone.

And that stone head, hard as Hass’ treacherous heart, stares out from the town hall until this day.