The Tales of Tarya, Books 1-3

Chapter 7 - Initiation-1

InitiationThe feast covered an entire woollen blanket, a banquet of subdued colours and delicious scents: pies crisscrossed with pale pastry, tarts with sodden fruit, the great honey-roasted bird, and sweet cakes made from sultanas and milk. Mina’s stomach made protest at the sight. No food all day, and now enough food to sate the entire village of Andon. Roberto lifted his eyebrow at the gurgling noises from her stomach, and made as if to pass a mead-filled goblet to her. The smell wafting from it nearly made her gag.

‘Now, be careful to drink slowly,’ Roberto said with a grin. Seeing her face, he took the goblet back.

‘Mama, I think perhaps the dandelion wine for Mina!’

Roberto passed the rejected goblet to Jal. Soon, each player held a goblet, though no one drank. Mama Tina handed Mina another goblet, half full of a pale, golden liquid with a subtle fruity smell.

Dario stood then, and all the players followed his example. He spoke gravely of Aldo, their friend, protector and father. He raised his goblet, and they all cried out Aldo’s name and drank.

Uberto spoke next, reminding them of the early days, when Aldo had been a handsome Inamorato, and how he’d outgrown the costumes to become the youngest Il Dottore in the history of playing. The players raised their goblets at that.

‘And what a Dottore! No one was cuckolded as well as he. No one made such a brilliant fool. He could bluster and bumble as none could!’

Uberto had been speaking in his usual, rapid, dramatic manner. Now he stopped, staring out past the players. He dropped his voice to a whisper.

‘I will miss you, old friend.’

With that, he turned quickly away, but Mina saw how his face crumpled. The players fell silent. Jal stepped in to break the moment, speaking of how much he’d learned from Aldo. He and Roberto began a light banter that mixed praises of Aldo with insults to each other.

Mina looked at Ciro, remembering what Uberto had said, and realised he looked defeated. His wolfish mask was gone. He sat with his back straight but his head bowed down. Occasionally he looked up, catching no one’s eyes, deeply etched lines around his own. His hands grasped one another in a desperate, constant movement. Once, he accidentally caught Mina’s eyes and looked away, defeat written deeply on his face. He’d lost his predatory air.

Each player spoke about Aldo in turn and raised their goblet to him, though when Isabella spoke, her speech was all about Isabella as well. Mina was unsure what she should say when her turn came, but as Isabella finished, Jal nudged her and she found herself standing. In the dark, and the candlelight, each player had smudges of shadow under their eyes. Mina realised that despite their bright words, they all mourned.

‘Aldo’s life was a gift to all of us,’ she said, and the others nodded. ‘It was a gift to all who saw him play. I know I’ll always carry his gift with me as part of the tale of my life.’

She raised her glass slightly and took a small sip, then sat. A tear smeared her sight and she blinked it away, thinking of the vision she’d seen on the river. What had Aldo been going to tell her about Tarya? What was she to decide now?

Ciro stood, stumbling a little, and though he held up his goblet, his voice was inaudible. He stammered, swallowed, then tried again, his face broken. No one could understand a word that came from his mouth. Finally he just shook his head, turned, and walked away into the darkness beyond the candlelight. Mina realised Uberto was right. Ciro was a broken man.

The others watched him go, but Mina turned back and saw a sneer flicker across Roberto’s face. Before she could respond, however, Jal entered the players’ circle carrying his mandola, the five-stringed instrument he played beautifully in performances to serenade his Inamorata.

‘Let’s celebrate Aldo’s life,’ Jal said. Roberto whooped, and ran to the wagon to fetch another instrument. Isabella followed. The mood brightened considerably.

Uberto leaned over to Mina. ‘Good food, good drink, fine singing and close family. What do you think of the Innaroi way, Mina?’

Mina’s eyes felt heavy with uncried tears, but she remembered Aldo’s cheerful smile and realised he would have liked a celebration. At village funerals, everyone was so sombre it drove her crazy. Surely this was the right way to commemorate a life? She smiled at Uberto, and reached out to clasp his hand briefly.

Jal began to pluck out a song then, and Roberto added a beat with his drum. Isabella started piping on a long, hollowed out wooden instrument, like a whistle, but held sideways. Perhaps noticing Mina was captivated by it, Dario whispered, his breath warm on Mina’s neck.

‘That’s a flauto. If you listen carefully you’ll hear the sounds of the forest it came from. Isabella could have been a musician but she never would.’

‘Not enough attention!’ Mina said, and Dario nodded, grinning.

A lively dance tune began, and Dario bowed to Mina, offering his hand. Their fingers entwined naturally, and a thrill passed through her as he placed his other hand on her back. For the first time, though, it occurred to her to wonder where this could possibly lead, when it was forbidden.

Uberto and Mama Tina danced a circuit around the wagons nearby, laughing, and Mina wondered how their relationship had developed. They were married, but theirs must have begun as a romance between players. But what was between her and Dario? Stolen, thrilling kisses were no indication of anything more.

Mina became distracted by the sight of Mama Tina and Uberto dancing in and out of the light of the hanging candles, eerie patches of darkness sweeping across their faces. Mama Tina seemed to have difficulty keeping up with her husband, who danced like a much younger man. As the song ended she leaned against the bright paintings on the wagon and held her hand to her side, bent forward a little, breathing in heavy wheezes. Yet she was laughing still.

The dance ended, Dario bowed to Mina. He kissed her hand, a lingering kiss, and there were unspoken words hovering between them. Mina wished she could take his hand and dance again, and again, until the night faded away.

‘Shall we …’ Dario said, his voice low, and Mina leaned toward him.

‘My turn to dance with the lovely Mina,’ Roberto cried. ‘Dario, take over the rhythm.’

Dario shrugged and half-grinned at Mina, then stepped up to do his duty with the music.

‘I will sing,’ Lisette said. ‘Let us have “The Cruel Parting”.

‘Far too solemn for tonight,’ Robert objected. ‘Besides, you can’t dance to it.’

But Jal had already begun to pick out a gentle melody on the mandola, and Isabella added a haunting, breathless descant. The others sank to the ground to listen as Lisette began.

My love was the fairest in all of the land

Tempestuous beauty with eyes like a song

And I was the proudest of men to be with her

Her skin white as milk, her hair winding long

I met her in winter, when snow was a-falling

I loved her in springtime, as flowers grew bright

I asked her in summer to stay with me always

But lost her in autumn, on a cold shadowed night

She was not of my people, this heavenly beauty

Our families were distant, and never could meet

Her brothers grew angry that I had come a-courting

And swore they would take her away, far from me

I made her a home and I gave her my love

But her brothers came hither to snatch her away

I fought them off bravely, protecting my dearest

Her life was with mine now, I told her to stay

My dear one was saddened to see her beloved

And brothers three locked in a terrible fight

She grasped from the fire a great burning cinder

And crying out madly, her dress caught alight

We rushed there to save her, and quenched the wild flames

But she was burned badly, her fate had been set

Our fight it was over, but all hearts were broken

None could forgive now, and none could forget

The years are long gone, and my memories grow dim

But the face of my loved one I hold in my heart

Her people I’ll hate till the end of my days

For the cruelty of love, and our lives torn apart

The last echoes of the sad melody lingered in the air. Mina’s heart ached at the longing in Lisette’s voice. A sense of loss sat in the air all around the players. For Mina, there were layers of loss. The ache for Aldo burned heavily in her, but the song had reminded her of Uncle Tonio too. He had lost his love much like this, and it had broken him.

‘What a beautiful song,’ she said.

Lisette ducked her head shyly. ‘I wrote the words from a story I hear when I first join the players. It is so sad it stay in my head. The young woman torn between family and love, so she become mad. The music, it is from many years in this troupe. I do not know who wrote it.’

Mama Tina looked at Uberto.

‘Where did the story come from?’ Mina asked Lisette, leaning toward her eagerly.

Mama Tina spoke softly. ‘The Archiari Players told it many years ago, before any of you joined our troupe. Sometimes we meet up on the road and exchange stories. It’s always good to hear of adventures, safe towns, friendly villages, that sort of thing. This was a tale they had heard, who knows how long ago …’

Her tone was casual, but Mina thought she caught something, just underneath the words. She was about to ask another question when Uberto smoothly interrupted.

‘No more tales of mourning tonight. A lighter song now!’

Dario, taking the cue, picked up his drum again and began a rhythmic pounding. Jal began a dance tune, his fingers flying across the mandola strings. The celebration continued. Mina sank back, fury building. Uberto was like a watchman who always shut the gate in her face just as she was about to walk through to discover … something. She stood up and walked over to where Uberto sat, smiling at the lively song.

‘I want to know. I’ll take the oath now. No more waiting.’

Uberto’s eyes flickered black, a strange, almost triumphant smile vanishing even as it appeared. Then he nodded and stood, raising his hand into the air with a twist of the wrist to signal silence. The music sputtered and stopped.

‘It is time,’ Uberto said. ‘Mina has reminded me. She was to take the oath tonight. Despite Aldo’s death, we must keep to our plan. Time chases us to Aurea. Tonight, Mina undergoes the initiation that will make her truly one of us.’

Ciro stepped out of the darkness encircling their small party. ‘The girl isn’t one of us, Uberto. Her talents are different. She is a story teller. Not a travelling player.’

Isabella stood, flicking her hair over her shoulder. In the candlelight it seemed to throw golden sparks. ‘Are you saying she’s better than us?’ she demanded.

Ciro shook his head. ‘Look at us. We’re exiles in our own land. We’re abused and have rocks thrown at us. Mina could be esteemed, revered, wherever she goes. A story teller with her gifts …’

‘But she can transform …’ Jal began.

‘Not in the same way as us,’ Dario said. ‘She doesn’t transform into someone different. She transforms Tarya itself with her telling. I’m not sure how she can use that, when the audience doesn’t see it, but it’s not playing either.’

‘But the scenery she creates helps our playing. It’s all the same, isn’t it, the gift of Tarya?’ Roberto looked at each of them in turn. Hearing his words, most nodded, but Dario looked worried, and Lisette thoughtful.

‘I want to take the oath now,’ Mina said.

The players fell silent. Uberto nodded to Jal and Roberto, who disappeared inside the wagon.

‘It’s lucky we brought the stage wagon, with the masks,’ Isabella said.

Roberto reappeared at the wagon door and began passing out masks until each of the players had one. He disappeared inside the wagon and returned again, this time with a small box of pale wood. There was some kind of pattern inlaid in the lid, but Mina couldn’t tell what it was. Uberto caught his eye and shook his head firmly.