The Tales of Tarya, Books 1-3

Chapter 2 - Introductions on the Road-3

With a jolt the wagon tilted, almost knocking Mina from her feet. Isabella caught her and held her elbow as the wagon bumped again. Before Mina could ask what had just happened, Lisette stepped from behind the curtain that divided the wagon in half. She seemed unperturbed by the jolts. Standing too close to Mina, she glared at her, not breaking eye contact.

‘New people don’t last long the most times. When you see the world, outside the village, pffft! You will realise this is not the glamour. With us there is nothing for you. You will want more.’

‘Mina’s smart,’ Isabella interrupted. ‘I think she’ll learn quickly and be with us a long time. There’s always room for another servant onstage.’

Lisette frowned. ‘But we go now to Aurea, to the festival. We need new material …’

‘And we’re going to Clusone to sort that out.’ There was a warning in Isabella’s voice. ‘Uberto’s training Mina himself. He must think she has a future … with us.’

Mina could see the tension between the two girls, but she couldn’t guess what was behind it. Perhaps sharing a wagon caused this friction.

Isabella picked up one of Mina’s dresses and held it out to her. ‘We have to get going. Since you prefer the mundane,’ she looked at the dress with distaste, ‘I suggest you put this on. Then you can sit up front with me. Lisette doesn’t like scenery.’

‘The movement, it make me ill sometimes,’ Lisette muttered. Mina began pulling her dress over her shift as the other girls continued their argument. Isabella stepped into a red skirt, then pulled on a black bodice.

‘The movement is worse when you sit inside,’ she said. Her fingers laced the bodice with practiced ease. ‘Besides, the sunlight would make you feel better.’

‘The sunlight would make me dark like you. In my country fair skin is the height of beauty. In the courts of Aurea too. Your dark skin, pffft!’ With that, Lisette picked up a thick black shawl, wrapped it around herself, and ventured back behind the curtain.

‘I told you. Crazy! Let’s see some scenery.’

Isabella led Mina beyond the curtain. Lisette’s half of the wagon was almost identical to theirs, except it was much neater, and the costumes were the tunics, pants and stockings the men wore. Lisette was huddled on the lower bunk, wrapped in the shawl. Isabella led Mina through a door that opened in two halves, top and bottom, to the front of the wagon. On either side of the door a seat overlooked a horse already in place. He was the same soft brown as the angry horse from earlier, but his mane was light brown rather than black.

‘How … what … how did that horse …?’

Isabella giggled, a light tinkle of a sound, and picked up the reins from the seat on the right. ‘The jolt you felt was the men fixing Petruchio to the wagon. He backs right into place. He’s very smart.’

Isabella sat on the right hand seat. With a flick of her wrist and an indecipherable cry she touched Petruchio’s flanks with the reins, and he began trundling forward. The wagon lurched, and Mina tumbled into the other seat. There was a low arm rest but no protective rail. Mina clutched at the arm rest with her left hand.

Up ahead, the stage wagon was moving off too, Uberto at the reins. Mina heard cries and laughter behind them, but sat clutching the arm rest, afraid to turn and look. She imagined the other wagons were falling in behind.

Isabella resumed her prattle. ‘We all have jobs, as well as performing. Dario paints all the artwork. Isn’t it fantastic?’

Mina nodded, daring to glance over her shoulder at the bright figures dancing across the wagon behind her. They were so lifelike.

‘Mama looks after us, and tells fortunes. Some people say it’s wrong, but they still get their fortunes told in secret. Mama uses our wagon for readings, so I have to tidy sometimes. Ugh! Except when they’re rich, she goes to their houses. But the stupid villagers wouldn’t have an Innaroi in their house for any reason.’

Mina was starting to feel ill from the seat’s lurching. Her skin felt too warm and her stomach churned. She tried to concentrate on Petruchio, the only still thing in her line of sight. The landscape moved slowly by. If she closed her eyes the movement became more pronounced.

Isabella didn’t notice her new friend’s paleness, continuing her lecture without a pause. ‘One day I’ll be rich enough to make everyone come to me. Anyway, where was I? Dario tends the horses. Lisette and I sew the costumes and make the props.’

‘Isabella, I …’

Mina could hardly get the words out and clearly Isabella didn’t hear her.

‘Uberto negotiates fees, collects payment, bribes town officials … what are you doing?’

In desperation Mina had grabbed one of the reins and now she pulled it, hard. It flicked against Petruchio’s side and both girls were jolted backward as he started moving faster. Somehow he managed to gather speed despite his heavy load. The wagon rattled and creaked, its wheels making a strange whirring sound. Yelling words at Mina that the village girl had never heard but guessed were rude, Isabella snatched the rein back and fought to bring Petruchio’s speed back under control. She threw all her weight into pulling on the reins. But the horse was panicked, galloping forward as if to escape the wagon thundering on his tail. He gained on the wagon ahead.

Isabella pulled on the reins again, calling out in a strange, high pitched ululation, panic creeping into her voice. The wagon began making loud cracking noises. Isabella swore and called again. Finally Petruchio heard her. His ears pricked up at the strange call, and with Isabella’s coaxing he slowed down, returning to his walk.

Isabella slowed him down further, increasing the space between the two wagons. Once they had returned to a safe pace, she swung to face Mina.

‘Why did you do that, you fool? You could have killed us!’

‘I meant for him to stop, not charge off. I’m sorry.’

‘Never, never touch the reins! Ever! Do you understand?’

‘But you wouldn’t stop talking! I’m feeling sick.’

‘You i***t! Don’t you know anything about …?’ Mina’s shocked face stopped Isabella from launching another tirade. She lowered her voice and dropped her anger. ‘Just don’t do it again, Mina.’

Isabella’s mask of sweetness had been swept away entirely. Mina stared at her until Isabella broke away, looking down. Then she let out a whistle, and the wagon up ahead stopped. They sat for a few minutes in silence, as Mina regained some colour. Isabella looked around, restless, but didn’t speak to Mina. When they started off again, Mina was feeling well enough to think about what Isabella had just said.

‘You said villagers won’t let Innaroi in their house. Is Mama Innaroi?’ she asked.

Isabella looked at Mina with an expression of disbelief. ‘We’re all Innaroi. You’re Innaroi now you’ve joined us. Well, the people we visit will see you that way anyway, so same difference. “Innaroi” live life on the road. Players, other artisans …’

‘But I thought Innaroi were from another country. Like Lisette is from Rien.’

Isabella laughed and shook her head.

‘What about story tellers? They travel too,’ Mina asked, confused.

‘No, they’re not Innaroi. They’re special,’ Isabella responded bitterly.

‘I thought all artisans were special, because of their talents. Innaroi are different. People in Andon call them thieves.’

‘People call us whatever they want. We’re Innaroi, so they can look down on us, and we’re artisans, so they take what they can from us, from our performances.’ A strange smile played across her full lips. ‘We get enough out of them in return though.’ She hurried on. ‘But tell me about life in Andon. It’s such a small town. Weren’t you desperately bored?’

Distracted, Mina began telling a tale about Augusto Donaro Bendigo, the Andon baker who had an affair with a new woman each spring, and thought he was so discreet, but who could be made to blush with the slightest provocation. He hadn’t been killed by a jealous husband so far because people found it more amusing to place bets on who would be his next conquest, and to observe the extremes he went to, to disguise his actions.

‘But why,’ Isabella asked in exasperation, ‘if the whole town knows, do the ladies still fall for his charms?’

Mina smiled. ‘That’s the one thing in this whole affair that is kept a secret! Maybe the ladies want to find out!’

Isabella laughed her tinkling laugh, and they rode on together, peace restored, giggling at the personalities of a small town. Mina pushed to the back of her mind the fleeting realisation that Uncle Tonio’s wife, Anastasia, an Innaroi, might have been a player.

~

Their easy chatter whiled away the journey as the sun rose. Spring was dissolving into the hotter weather of summer. Meadow flowers dotted the green fields, scenting the air. Isabella spent some time teaching Mina the various whistle signals the players used to communicate with each other while on the road. After a while the terrain grew steep, and Isabella stopped talking to concentrate on steering Petruchio. Mina began to understand why Andon had so few visitors, isolated as it was behind these hills. Around them, the land became dryer. There were few trees and the flowers became sparser.

When the sun was very high, they reached flatter ground. Mina heard a whistle from Uberto’s wagon. Isabella began slowing the meandering horse down.

‘Lunch,’ they both said, laughing together.

The other wagons had already stopped by the time Isabella manoeuvred their wagon into place. Mama Tina and Dario were carrying food from inside the servants’ wagon and placing it on a worn green cloth. Mina hurried to help. She recognised the bread as Augusto Donaro Bendigo’s special twisted loaves and told Isabella with a giggle. They began joking about love potions in the bread, to the confusion of the others.

Lunch was a quick but lighthearted affair. Ciro kept himself separate from the frivolity. Mina was uncomfortably aware of him watching her a few times during the meal.

Dario sat next to Mina and cut open some pomegranates for her. He spoke about his life with the players, in a strong, deep voice. He’d joined the troupe when he was three years old and told Mina how he’d learned to play his character, Il Capitano, a soldier and coward who was often the brunt of jokes onstage. He adopted a high-pitched voice and began bragging about his skill with a sword, making Mina laugh with the way he could be so different.

Dario broke character and joined her laughter. Their eyes met, and Mina felt a strange lurch in her stomach. She looked away, blushing. Feeling someone watching, she looked across and saw Uberto watching her, and remembered Isabella’s warning. Relationships were forbidden amongst players. She blushed again.

After the wagons set off in the afternoon, the land became flatter and greener. Before long a circle of blue appeared in the distance, glistening like a precious stone. Mina guessed it must be Lake Oro, their camp for the night. The steady pace of the horses brought them near the lake before the afternoon had died.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Mina sighed as they rode down a gentle slope toward the gleaming water. The sun had begun its descent, but the shadowed hues of evening hadn’t yet crept into the air. It felt to Mina like one of those afternoons so perfect you wish it could linger an hour longer.

Isabella tapped Mina’s arm and pointed beyond the lake. ‘See, over there, the mountains?’

Mina nodded. She had noticed them a while ago, first as a distant blue haze, then more and more as distinct, looming shapes. Their peaks were so jagged they were like rows of teeth.