The Tales of Tarya, Books 1-3

Chapter 2 - Introductions on the Road-1

Introductions on the RoadUberto put his arm around Mina’s shoulder, drawing her to him within the folds of an imaginary cloak.

‘Come, we have a little time before we begin. I will introduce you.’

He led her across the cobbled square. Nerves nearly overwhelmed her, but Uberto turned and offered her his hand, his irresistible energy drawing her forward into the group of players.

Several players gave her warm but perfunctory greetings, then left. They had a show to do. A smiling older woman remained. Her black hair was heavily streaked with white and tied back in a long braid. Though she was plump, there were remnants of youthful beauty in her broad face and wide eyes. Uberto introduced her as his wife, Cristina.

‘Cristina no longer plays. She is too busy caring for us all, aren’t you, my love?’

Uberto gave his wife a prolonged kiss on the lips. Mina looked away, embarrassed.

‘Most of the players call me Mama,’ Cristina said in a quiet voice, and her eyes missed nothing as Mina’s face fell, ‘but you’re close to your own Mama, of course, so perhaps you would like to call me Mama Tina. Only this old fool calls me Cristina.’

Mina couldn’t imagine anyone considering Uberto an old fool. She guessed he was sharp as one of her father’s knives, and there was something ageless about him. The town bell chimed. Uberto bowed to Mina and his wife.

‘Time to perform,’ he said. ‘I must put on my costume, and be quick about it. Your apprenticeship begins now, Mina. Watch the performance, and learn.’

He dashed away. Mama Tina watched him disappear behind the wagon.

‘He still tears around as though in the golden days of youth. I can’t keep up with him anymore.’ Mama Tina sighed.

A young man swooped in and seized Mina’s hand, kissing it. He was dressed in the smart uniform of a soldier, and despite his white-painted face he was so handsome it took Mina’s breath away. He sported a head of blond curls and his lips were full and rosy. Seeing his hair, Mina realised he must have played Silvio at yesterday’s performance.

‘What a great honour to encounter such beauty,’ he said. His voice sounded young but his words belied experience.

‘Get away, Jal,’ Mama Tina said, slapping the lad’s hand away. ‘Watch out for him, Mina. He takes his role far too seriously. Inamorato by name, lover by nature. But his eyes wander, his hands wander …’

Mina blushed.

Jal groaned. ‘Mama, don’t go scaring away the most beautiful girl I’ve encountered in any of these villages.’

‘You do have a broad basis for comparison,’ Mama Tina scoffed, ‘but you know the rule. No relationships between players. So no encountering Mina!’

Jal grinned, tipping his head to her. Still, his inspection lingered over Mina’s body in a way that made her uncomfortable and excited at the same time.

‘Better go finish my face,’ Jal said, before he too disappeared behind the wagon.

Mina turned to the older woman, puzzled. ‘Why doesn’t he wear a mask?’

‘The lovers, Inamorato and Inamorata, don’t wear masks.’

As she spoke, Mama Tina led Mina to a vantage point at the edge of the town square where they could watch the performance. While Mina had been meeting the players, the town square had filled up with an expectant audience. Mama Tina continued as though she’d given her speech many times.

‘They’re simple people, the Inamorati. They dream of love alone, not the ambitious dreams of others. To transform into a lover is easy. It needs no mask because the need for love is all around us, ripe for the plucking. Everyone transforms into a lover at certain times. True love may be rare, but in people’s dreams it’s common as mud, so it’s easy to bring onstage.’

She surveyed the gathered villagers with a strange, almost hungry, expression on her face. ‘A good crowd. Uberto will be happy.’

Last time Mina had seen the players, Harlequin had come through the crowd, luring people to the stage. This time, though, he stepped through the curtain, and a sigh like a sad breeze went through the audience. Mina thought, He doesn’t need to lead the crowd this time. They’re here, waiting. She laughed at herself, imagining she was starting to think like a player already.

The crowd hushed, expectant. Harlequin bowed low, his cape swooping, his long nose almost touching the ground. Many people laughed at this. But he pulled his head up in a quick, jerking movement, and caught them with his silent stare. They dropped into an awkward hush, broken by the occasional nervous giggle. Harlequin’s mouth, below the enormous nose, was pulled into a high grin. Yet to Mina it was more a grimace. She wondered what it was like to wear a mask. Harlequin waited a little longer, drinking in the expectations of a hundred people.

‘Welcome, welcome, fair gentle folk. You are all fair, though not all gentle, I do see, and I do see you all. But do you see me? I wonder. What do you see? Do you wonder at what you see? But you know me. I am Harlequin. I may be who I am not, but I may be who I am. I am the speaker of truth, the riddler of dreams. Do you bring me your dreams? What dream shall we have today? What tale would you hear? A tale of riches, or power? Of beauty or wisdom or travel? We have travelled far to be here, in this town the rest of the land has forgotten. Ah, but we do not forget you, fair Andon, beautiful town near the beautiful sea. For you are a town full of dreams and tales. Of what should I speak?’

From the middle of the crowd a voice was heard.

‘Tell us a tale of travel.’

The crowd took up the cry. Harlequin held up one hand and they were stilled.

‘Journeys to far lands. Yes, that is a dream worthy of telling. Let us begin.’

Harlequin swept his hands out wide and behind him the curtains parted. The playing began.

‘Once, there was a man powerful and wealthy. He lived in a village such as yours …’

Onto the stage strutted an overweight, balding man in voluminous black robes and a half mask with a heavy brow and bulbous nose. Bright red cheeks belied a healthy appetite for drink. He shouted out and a young girl appeared, in white makeup, the skirt on her white dress like a giant bell. Another old man appeared, much leaner than the first, in bright red stockings and an extravagant codpiece that matched his enlarged nose so well the crowd broke into laughter. Walking behind him was a similarly lean man in a light grey tunic and a mask that, though human featured, reminded Mina of a mouse or fox with its sharp, long nose. As the scene progressed it became apparent this young man was a servant posing as the older man’s son, in order to win a dowry and escape to exotic lands. The two old men, one fat, one thin, began making arrangements for the marriage of the servant to the young beauty.

Mina watched the actors closely, paying little attention to the story. Each character had a distinct walk and stance. Each had a unique voice, high pitched or stuttering or lyrical. Just as Mina was gaining a sense of how they created the different characters, a strange thing happened.

As the servant-son spoke of his dream to travel, his mask seemed to melt, features emerging from the darkened leather. Mina blinked. The mask was entirely gone, revealing a strong, handsome, though strangely blurred face. Her imaginings about the masks had been real. The player continued to speak, with great longing, of far off wondrous lands as the mask shimmered and resolved into clear features. Mina started and almost cried out. It had been a long time since she’d seen that face anywhere but in her dreams. She leaned forward, astonished.

Despite her mother’s comment that he hadn’t been with the players when they returned years ago, Paolo stood now on the wagon stage, speaking of his dreams. Enraptured, Mina was startled when Mama Tina whispered to her.

‘Come with me, Mina.’

Mina wanted to keep watching the players. Was this Paolo? The mask wavered again, and uncertainty returned. She tried to move forward a little to gain a closer view. Mama Tina drew Mina away, her grip firm.

‘What you have just seen is Transformation. It is at the core of our art. With time you too will learn how to transform. But come, we have work to do.’

They threaded their way along the edge of the crowd to the back of the stage wagon. Mina wondered what had just happened onstage, and how it had happened. There was something strange in the way the mask had changed, something almost mystical, which reminded her of the stories of the Creator.

She had a feeling her life was about to change in ways she’d never thought possible, and part of her wanted to return home. But farewells had been spoken, and a destiny had been set before her. Apprehension battled with excitement as she wondered what, or who, she would discover in this new world.

~

Mina was woken by morning clatter and sat up, banging her head. She remembered too late that she was not in her own bed, but in a player wagon, in a field miles from Andon. Though most of the night before was a blur of new experiences, she clearly remembered her disappointment at finding no hints that Paolo might ever have travelled with the troupe.

Climbing down a narrow ladder, she examined her new home. The wagon was small. One side held two bunk beds, the wall behind them adorned with jewellery, scarves and ribbons hanging from numerous hooks. Several low cupboards sat below the bottom bunk. A rail running the length of the opposite wall bowed under the weight of a riot of costumes in more colours than Mina had ever seen. At the end of the space was a patched curtain.

Mina opened cupboard doors and sifted through the shining jewellery, curious and excited to see so many bright new things. She startled when a slender girl stepped from behind the curtain. By the look of her ash-blond hair, she was the Inamorata of the evening’s performance. Her lips were very full and red, almost overwhelming the perfection of wide brown eyes and an even nose.

‘You’re awake! I would have woken you but after all those bad dreams I thought you might need to sleep,’ the girl said, her voice sweet.

Puzzled, Mina tried to remember her dreams, but they were gone with the stars.

‘I’m Isabella,’ the blonde continued. ‘We didn’t meet last night. I couldn’t be bothered pushing through the crowd.’

Mina remembered last night’s introductions. The men of the player troupe had crowded around her, but she hadn’t spoken to the women.

‘The men were pretty friendly,’ Mina said with a smile. ‘I can’t remember any of their names though.’

‘Oh, neither can I,’ Isabella laughed, a practiced tinkle, ‘and I’ve known them forever.’ She drew Mina into a quick hug, kissing both cheeks.

‘I’m so looking forward to having a friend my own age. Let’s find some breakfast. We’ll be on the road soon and it’s a long time till lunch.’

Isabella pulled a purple shawl from a pile of colourful clothes heaped on the floor and draped it over her shoulders.

‘Aren’t you going to get dressed?’ Mina asked.

‘Oh, they’ve seen it all anyway.’

She laughed at Mina’s shocked reaction. ‘We change in front of each other in the wings all the time. Come on! If we wait around putting on clothes, the food will be gone! After a few days of performance we’re all starving!’

Isabella pulled another shawl, green and silver this time, from the pile of clothes and tossed it to Mina, then was out the wagon door before Mina could pull it over her shoulders.

‘Wait,’ she called after the other girl. ‘Are the men always that friendly?’

Scrambling down the steps at the back of the wagon, she nearly bumped into Isabella, who had stopped sharply.

‘You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? You may even pick up transformation without the usual agonies!’

‘What do you mean, transformation?’ Mina asked, but Isabella grabbed her hand and pulled her across the damp grass without replying. Though it was barely light, Mina was able to have her first proper look at the player encampment. Four wagons encircled an open fire, and despite the early hour, all the players were there. And most were fully dressed. Mina guessed Isabella’s casual dress code was due more to her own lateness than any other reason.