The Tales of Tarya, Books 1-3

Chapter 2 - Introductions on the Road-2

‘Here we are,’ Isabella announced to the crowd gathered around the fire, and seized a wooden trencher from Jal, the only player whose name Mina could remember. Bacon and eggs sizzled on a huge metal platter. Isabella began loading some onto the trencher. Mama Tina was busy cooking more over the fire. Jal tried to grab Isabella around the waist, but she deftly side-stepped, announcing to the group:

‘You’ll have to tell Mina your names again, she’s forgotten them all. And while you’re at it, explain why you were all so friendly last night, you lechers!’

‘Because she is a luscious peach,’ said a man with a sharp nose and spiky black hair. His eyes were a brown so pale they were almost orange. He made an elaborate bow, but didn’t smile. ‘Roberto.’

He’d been introduced to her last night as Scapino, the servant-son from the performance.

‘We always welcome such beauty to our company,’ added an older man with mottled skin and a red nose, one of the fathers from the play. His plate was piled high with food, and having spoken, he tucked a large forkful into his mouth with relish, then washed it down with a mug of some brew or other. Standing, he gave a deep bow. Unfortunately, the flecks of food around his mouth detracted from his lordly manners. ‘Aldo, Il Dottore, at your service. Welcome!’

Mina noticed the other old man from the performance staring at her over a plate that held only a single egg. His face was long and grim, with a large nose and carved cheeks, and his eyes were hungry.

‘Ciro,’ he said, proffering his hand. When Mina took it, his grip was tight and clammy. One finger slid against her skin, and she suppressed a shudder.

‘Hello, Mina,’ another player said, offering her a plate of fresh cooked bacon.

She released Ciro’s hand with relief and returned this man’s warm smile. He was very tall, with gentle brown eyes burnished with copper, and shoulder length dark brown hair.

He smiled a ready smile. ‘Welcome to the Gazini Players,’ he said, ‘I’m Dario.’

As Mina accepted the proffered plate, someone stepped in front of Dario, pushing the plate against her dress. When Mina righted the plate the food dropped to the ground. A piece of egg stuck to her shift, then fell, leaving a yellow grease stain. The woman poked a finger into her chest.

‘There’s no space for you. Who will she play, Mama? We have no need of someone new!’

The woman had faded brown hair knotted untidily in the nape of her neck, and her dress was grey and shabby. Around her neck hung a simple silver locket in the shape of a circle. Mina guessed she was about thirty, although deep lines were etched around her dark eyes. She spoke with a musical yet stilted accent, some words distorted almost beyond recognition.

‘Oh, Lissy, sweetheart, don’t scare her away,’ Jal said, and winked at Mina, who felt a blush creep up her face.

Isabella hooked her arm through Mina’s. ‘Don’t worry about Lisette. She’s always like this.’

‘Come on, let’s get you some more food,’ Dario said, taking her plate from her.

Lisette wouldn’t let the matter go. ‘Why you are here? Why you join us?’

‘Don’t worry, Mina, you don’t have to answer Lisette’s questions,’ Dario insisted.

‘I don’t mind. I …’ Mina looked around as all the players leaned in toward her with thinly concealed eagerness, and her mother’s words came back to her.

Be wary.

She realised she knew nothing about these people, except that Paolo had disappeared while travelling with them.

‘My father says I have a gift. For telling,’ she said.

‘Well, why not to join a story teller, eh?’ Lisette demanded.

‘I think the players are more exciting. As a child I used to long for the players to visit Andon.’

Waiting to see Paolo.

Aldo chuckled as he piled more food onto his plate. ‘Such devotion!’ he said.

‘Oh Aldo, seconds! Quick, Mina, or you really will miss out.’ Isabella dragged Mina back to the food, piled eggs onto her plate and drew her away from the others a little. They sat on the ground together and began eating. Isabella, it seemed, couldn’t stay silent for long. She whispered a few warnings. ‘Don’t let Ciro get you alone, and watch out for Lisette. She’s from Rien and she’s a bit … crazy.’

‘Rien?’ Mina asked, a little too loudly. ‘You mean, the country?’

Isabella stopped with a forkful of egg halfway to her mouth. ‘Ssh! She’ll know we’re talking about her. Haven’t you met anyone from outside Litonya before?’ Her eyes widened.

‘Not really,’ Mina replied with a shrug.

‘How are we all this morning?’

Uberto’s buoyant voice stilled the friendly chaos of breakfast. He walked amongst the seated players with a word here and a pat on the back there. Mina found it hard to imagine this thin, fragile-looking man as the mercurial performer Harlequin. Yet his hands had a quickness to them that hinted at his onstage persona. He never seemed to be still. The other players listened to him with a quiet respect that marked him as their leader. At the same time, they greeted him like a father, presenting thoughts or experiences from the evening’s performance for his approval. Through the noise, one voice cut the rest to silence.

‘The performance was dispirited but these peasants know no better. Rehearsal is required. How did we do?’

The speaker was the older man with the hungry eyes. Despite his negative words, Uberto responded with a broad smile.

‘Ah, Ciro, thunder cloud as always. But you are right. The performance was below standard. The transformations were weak, and late. Projection was poor. I don’t want to hear any protests!’

He held up his hand to stop the few who began to respond. ‘You have been relaxing in these little villages far from anywhere, but we journey now to Aurea to play for the king and queen at the Festival of Lights.’

‘The competition happens once every five years!’ Isabella whispered to Mina.

Uberto gave the girl a piercing look, his head c****d to one side. ‘We will rehearse at every stop,’ he said.

Ciro, eyeing Jal and Roberto, spoke up again. ‘Yesterday some transformations were beginners’ work!’

‘Ah yes, thank you for reminding me, Ciro.’ Uberto beckoned Mina, who came to his side. ‘No doubt you have all met Mina by now. I will train her in Transformation myself. And when she is training no one is to seek her in Tarya. Do you understand me? No one.’

Lisette stood up, hands on hips. ‘Are you saying she is stay? But how? We have no role for her. They are all filled.’

Uberto stared at her. Lisette looked down, her hands dropping to her sides. Mina heard a few whispers but couldn’t make out the words.

Uberto’s voice silenced the whisperers. ‘Do you understand me?’

He stood without moving a muscle, a shocking contrast to the constant movement of before. The company nodded and murmured quick assent, then were silent.

Uberto continued, ‘It is a long ride to Clusone. Tonight we stop at Lake Oro, and rehearse! Isabella, show Mina around while we pack, then to the wagons!’

Isabella grabbed the plate of half-eaten food from Mina and handed it to Mama Tina, then took a firm grip on Mina’s elbow and drew her away. Glancing back at the food, Mina mused that she would soon starve if meals were always so fleeting.

~

Chattering unceasingly, Isabella gave Mina a quick tour of the four player wagons. Still dressed in only her shift and shawl, Mina found she didn’t care. Perhaps Isabella’s ease with being half dressed was rubbing off on her. Besides, this first glimpse of the realities of player life was far too interesting to waste time dressing.

At the stage wagon the men were backing a proud-looking black horse into place. Isabella declared he’d once been a war horse, and that this wagon was home to Uberto and Mama Tina, if you could call it a home when they could keep nothing in it, not even their bedding. With the side doors closed, it was impossible to tell that the wagon opened out into a stage. The scene painted across the side offered no visible lines as clues. Unlike the other wagons, this one had a flat roof, not domed, though it sloped upward at the stage side.

The next wagon was almost half as long again as any of the other four, its domed roof high. At each corner of the roof hung a hook. Peppe-Nappa, the wagon’s horse, looked like he’d been splashed with brown paint, and he nuzzled Mina’s hand in a friendly fashion. He was huge, with shaggy hair around his hooves. The girls peeked in the back of the wagon and saw bunks for six, and cupboards everywhere. Isabella explained that they were filled with food, pots, and the other necessaries for life on the road. Jal, Dario and Roberto made this wagon their home.

‘There’s room for a few more zanni too, if Uberto decides to hire some before the festival,’ Isabella said.

‘Zanni?’ Mina asked.

‘Servants. In the plays. They do most of the physical comedy, lots of crude jokes, that sort of thing.’

‘Is that what I’ll be doing?’

Isabella flicked her hair over her shoulder with nonchalance. ‘I guess so. Well, you can’t be the Inamorata!’

The last wagon was home to Ciro and Aldo. Isabella told Mina it contained the extra paintings and props to transform the stage during performances, but seemed wary of even looking inside it. This wagon was carved of dark wood, without the bright, almost garish colours of the other wagons.

‘Watch out for Brandino,’ Isabella warned, indicating the brown horse that fought against Dario’s attempts to back him into place, his black mane flicking the air. ‘He looks a lot like Petruchio, our horse, but he’s a mean son of a … Must be from having to cart Ciro around all day.’

They returned to their own wagon. It was dark inside, the hanging costumes blocking all the light from the windows.

‘Dario seems nice,’ Mina said. She told herself there was nothing in the comment, but Isabella saw straight through her. The other girl slapped herself on the forehead with the heel of her hand.

‘Don’t even think about it, Mina. It’s forbidden. You could be kicked out. Besides, there are plenty of men out there far wealthier than a player will ever be! And they like to give player girls pretty gifts. We’re exotic to them. Don’t worry, I’ll help you figure it all out.’

The tour ended, Mina sat on her bunk, dazed by the torrent of words and this new, unknown world. Life in Andon had been comfortable and constant. Now she was the newcomer, the uninitiated one. The words the players used were strange to her. Their day to day routines, second nature to them, were part of a world that might as well be as distant as Rien. Mina pushed these worries aside as she looked around the treasure trove that was the girls’ wagon. Being new could be exciting too.

Isabella grabbed Mina’s cloth bag off the bed and began emptying it. As she drew Mina’s dresses out, she shook her head and tossed them aside. Their muted colours, the greens and pale blues of the earth and sky, were a reminder of the real world amidst the glitter and garish hues of the fabrics strewn throughout the wagon.

‘Will you leave my clothes alone?’ Mina asked, standing up.

‘Oh, don’t worry, you won’t need them. You can wear any of the costumes. They’re much more sophisticated, and our audience expects players to bring a bit of glamour …’

‘I’m quite happy with what I have, thank you!’

‘We’ll soon fix that,’ Isabella replied, and Mina wondered why the comment sounded a little threatening.