The Tales of Tarya, Books 1-3

Chapter 3 - A Tale Needs Telling-3

‘We will rehearse the Tale of the Insatiable Duke,’ Uberto told the other players.

‘Well,’ Roberto said, ‘if she can tell that one without blushing, she is gifted indeed!’

The troupe laughed. Mina blushed scarlet, which made them laugh more. She laughed with them.

‘Costumes and make-up, then onstage in ten!’ Uberto called, and the troupe dispersed to fetch masks, costumes, props, and to set up the stage. Well practiced in their work, ten minutes was all they needed.

~

Isabella took Mina to hunt through costumes for a suitable dress, but dismissed every one. Eventually, she pulled out an ankle-length red silk jacket, covered with fine embroidery of twisted trees and exotic birds. It buttoned from ankle to neck on the left side of the body with elaborate cloth buttons. Mina gasped.

‘It’s from Anice,’ Isabella said. ‘They sell everything at the markets there. Cloth of silk, statues of gold, strange gods from strange lands, spices, scents …’

‘Hadn’t we better go?’ Mina interrupted. She could hear Uberto calling.

‘One last thing,’ Isabella said, grabbing a black pencil. ‘Let’s make your eyes exotic.’

‘But I’ll have a mask on. And if I transform no one will see …’

‘If you transform?’ Isabella laughed her tinkling laugh and drew heavy dark lines across Mina’s eyelids. ‘Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know about nerves yet, do you? When you see the audience glaring up at you, expecting the world, it can be very hard to reach Tarya. Don’t be disappointed if you don’t transform tonight, or tomorrow in Clusone. It’s one thing to transform in rehearsal, but another to try to find Tarya in front of an audience.’

Mina pulled away from Isabella. ‘We have to go. Isabella, I’m part of this troupe now. You don’t know what I can do. I barely know what I can do. But I’m not going to give up before I’ve even started.’

She turned and hurried out of the wagon. Isabella followed behind her, scooping up the elaborate skirts of the Inamorata costume and running to catch up.

‘Mina … Wait!’

Mina stopped, and turned back.

Isabella continued. ‘Mina, I’ve been as worried as Lisette that Uberto planned to replace one of us. I didn’t mean to be rude.’

Mina smiled. ‘Can I tell you something?’ she said. ‘If Uberto offered me a place in the troupe, and it meant one of you would lose your place, I wouldn’t take it.’

Isabella searched her eyes, then nodded. Mina grabbed Isabella’s hand and they hurried to the front of the stage.

Uberto, standing centre stage, eyed Isabella carrying her costume and clapped his hands together. ‘Hurry, change in the wings.’

She ran up the steps, which were now at the left side of the stage.

Aldo stepped out from the wings, dressed in a nobleman’s fine robes, his huge belly highlighted by the shining silk, and bowed low to Mina. ‘Lady story teller, you look magnificent.’

Other heads appeared from the wings, and voices chimed in agreement. Mina blushed and spoke quiet thanks.

The stage had once again been transformed. At the back hung the cloth showing a room of books, while the sliding door panel sat on the right hand side of the stage. Set into this panel, an ornate window depicted a tree on a hill in coloured glass.

Uberto came down onto the grass and stood beside Mina. ‘Behold,’ he said. ‘With the addition of a glass window our house becomes a nobleman’s castle. Now, sweetling, I think it best if you come on from stage right and begin to tell the story there. As the other players come on, walk down two steps and remain there. Stage right is the right side of the stage when you are on it, so opposite the window.’

He took both her hands in his own. ‘You know the story, but remember, you just begin it. Give the players the stage and they will bring the characters to life. At times you may need to bring them back to the story. You’ll know when. You have a feel for this. Trust yourself.’

He held out a hand and clicked his fingers. Roberto brought him the mask Mina had worn in her first attempt at playing, and Uberto helped her strap it on. She rested it on her forehead as she’d seen the other players doing.

‘Now, go round the back and enter from the wings,’ Uberto said.

At the back of the wagon another set of narrow stairs led up to the wings. It was hardly more than a ladder, chipped and worn, and the sight of it calmed Mina’s nerves more than anything else. She felt she was entering the world of the players proper, a world where beautiful surfaces concealed strange secrets.

Players crowded the wings. Isabella had changed into her Inamorata costume, the white dress embroidered with purple flowers, and matching slippers. Lisette wore a wench’s outfit, cut very low. Roberto wore a fine tabard over his white tunic.

‘May the world open to you’, he said with a grin, and pulled his mask down over his own features by its long nose. Mina was startled that one action could change his laughing eyes into such a distant, shadowed gaze.

Dario was at the other side of the stage, dressed in a ridiculous outfit with great plumes of feathers and clashing colours. He waved to her and mouthed words that she guessed were the same as Roberto’s greeting. She smiled back. Then she felt a hand on her back. It began sidling down. Expecting Jal, she turned, a sharp put-down on her lips. Her voice died in her throat.

Ciro stood there, leaning in toward her. ‘May the world open to you,’ he whispered, and the words sounded sinister. Suddenly the wings felt too small. Before she had time to respond, however, Isabella grabbed her arm.

‘World to you,’ she whispered, pulling Mina’s mask down onto her face and fitting it in place. ‘Now, begin.’

Mina felt the strange sensation of the mask, a sense that she had slipped away from herself. Taking a deep breath, she walked onto the stage. There was no audience, only Mama Tina, but suddenly Mina understood what it would be like tomorrow, when the empty space in front would be filled by many, many people, watching her alone.

Determined not to cower now, she took a deep breath and began. Except there was nothing to begin. The story was gone. It wasn’t in her head. When Uberto had taught it, she’d been sure she had it down, repeating it to him, not exactly as he had told it, but correct in the main points. She hadn’t transformed, trying as she was to remember it. But she’d thought it was captured inside her head.

Now, though she sought for it, all she could remember was the title. Well, that would be a beginning. So she began. Remembering the exercises she’d done with Uberto, she looked out at the half circle of wagons, picturing the future audience, and took a deep breath. She would win them to her, she decided. They would wait upon her every word, wanting to know what happened in this story she would tell. If only she could find it again!

Mina stepped to centre stage, drawing out the moment. Seeking the threads of the Tale of the Insatiable Duke, she became aware of other tales jostling her thoughts now, waiting to be told. All the tales of her childhood were suddenly there. Somehow, searching for the key to this missing tale had unlocked the door to the many tales she had thought lost. Excitement and something new, a sense of power, welled up inside her.

‘Your turn will come,’ she told the stories inside her head. ‘But right now there is another tale needs telling.’

In the wings, the other players exchanged dismayed glances. Mina realised she must look frozen to them. Stage right, four figures peered around the drops, watching. She could hear their whispers.

‘If she does this tomorrow, we’ll have to begin,’ Aldo said. Roberto and Isabella whispered their agreement. Ciro was silent.

Stage left, Lisette’s face held a frozen smile. ‘I knew this would happen,’ she hissed.

Dario’s anxious reply came back. ‘Let’s help her.’

Uberto’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere. In the wings he was like a shadow, silent and insubstantial. Yet onstage he filled the space, expanding outwards until his energy encompassed an entire audience.

‘She must learn to save herself. It is her first time. Do you not remember your first time? Would it not have shattered your confidence to have another step in? If she cannot save herself, then the rules change, but we must give her the chance.’

And he fell silent, fading into the darkness again.

~

Mama Tina, sitting in front of the stage, could see no signs of embarrassment in Mina, and it surprised her. She knew this happened to every player, either when they first started out, or near the end of their career. By that stage, though, most had the experience to cover it with actions or activities ingrained into their being through long, long years of playing the same character, knowing how they moved and acted, even if the current story was forgotten. Starting out was the difficulty.

This had happened to her, and to many of the young players they had taken on. It was the deciding moment. If they conquered it, years of playing might follow. If not, they soon became one of the audience again, watching from a distance as their own dreams played out for the world. Mama Tina, having seen the beginnings of Transformation earlier, hoped Mina could come through victorious. Her gifts were exceptional, if they could be harnessed. She was covering well. When a player was embarrassed onstage, the audience felt it, and became embarrassed for them. Yet Mina stood there as though she were waiting for the right time to begin. Then Mama Tina saw a flash of triumph in Mina’s eyes.

Ah, she has it, Mama Tina thought.

Then Mina spoke. ‘I will tell you a tale,’ she said, her voice rising clear and strong. No nervous squeak, or strident shout to overcompensate. ‘A tale,’ she continued, ‘of a duke.’

There was another pause, and Mama Tina realised Mina was buying time, though only another player would read the dramatic pauses and know they were a fraction too long.

~

Mina felt all eyes on her. She glanced toward the wings and saw Ciro gazing at her intently. It unnerved her. Then she heard Dario’s whisper from the other side.

‘You can do it, Mina.’

Standing alone, Mina took a breath, and remembered. The whispers in the wings disappeared from her awareness as she saw, as clear as a picture, a great castle perched over a village.

‘This duke was wealthy as could be,’ she said. ‘He had inherited a fine castle, a title of honour, an endless amount of gold, and lands that produced great bounties. He had a beautiful wife, many servants …’

As she painted the picture she saw the castle before her, and watched the other players stepping into the space. Yet they didn’t seem to see what she had conjured.

‘… and fine children who excelled at their learning. He even had the grace and favour of the king and queen, long may their story be told. You would think such riches would make the duke very happy. But whatever bounty the great Creator gave to him, it was never enough. For he was a man with a great dream. He wanted more. Whatever he had, he wanted more.’

And the players began. Mina stepped down from the stage, standing on the second stair from the top, facing the audience that wasn’t there, but watching the playing. The story unfolded, with the duke, Aldo, cheating his partner, played by Ciro, while at the same time lusting after Ciro’s wife, Lisette. Meanwhile, his own wife, Isabella, was being wooed by his bookkeeper, Jal, an unassuming young man. His servant Harlequin was helping the young couple, while also helping his master to arrange meetings with Lisette. At the same time, the other servant, Scapino, was taking love letters he had written to Ciro, pretending they were from Isabella, and laughing at the way in which the man made a fool of himself believing she loved him.

Everything became increasingly complex, with one act of deceit being covered by another, and Roberto and Uberto all the while switching messages and stirring things up. Aldo was the first player to transform, his gentle, puffy face lost in a mask of avarice. Ciro became foolish and confused, tottering around like an old man. The other players followed. And as each character transformed, they gasped or paused, seeing for the first time the castle Mina had created with her words. Mina wondered what Mama Tina was seeing.

As the story unfolded, Mina turned to face the audience again. ‘Now, things might have gone on in this way, with the duke working his evil treacheries and acquiring more wealth, had not a visitor come to his home, from the far off castle of the king and queen.’

Dario stepped onto the stage, gaudy in his costume, preening himself.

‘The king’s nephew, Prince Renaldo, had heard of the duke’s wealth, and on instructions from the king, came to investigate whether the duke was paying sufficient taxes. Having heard also of the duke’s wiles, he posed as a fool, and the duke was taken in.’

Mina watched as the prince unravelled all the strands of the duke’s avarice, and discovered all the hidden plots. Dario was magnificent, appearing in one scene to be a foppish fool, and in the next to be a wily, dangerous man. His transformation was curious, for even within a single scene he could make this transition, his mouth hanging in a silly gape, but in the next instant intelligence snapping in his wide, handsome eyes.

Mina enjoyed the story. She enjoyed watching it, cheering inwardly as the servants managed to bring about the downfall of their greedy master, smiling at the mix-ups and confusions, sighing when the lovers finally declared their love and the prince took the duke away to prison. Yet it all left her feeling useless, despite her beautiful silk coat and the mask. Her additions to the story had been slight. She was a mere ornament at the front of the stage.

Silence fell. The story was finished, but Mina realised something was missing. She spoke again.

‘And so it ends. The duke’s tale is told, and let this be a warning, that greed brings its own downfall.’

Behind her, the players stood stunned by what Mina had wrought on their stage. Experienced professionals all, they were nevertheless rendered silent from finding themselves living their characters and showing their scenarios within a real castle, not the confined wooden set of the player wagon.

Chapter 4