Chiara – Revenge and Triumph (8 page)

"Chiara has asked to join our troupe, and I guess that Alda is sponsoring her; is that right, Alda? She needs a second sponsor."

To Chiara’s surprise, both Antonia and Pepe held up a hand.

"Good, that satisfies our first rule. The second rule is that the newcomer has to add something of value to the troupe —"

"Not so fast, Lorenzo. Aren’t we buying ourselves trouble with the authorities? I mean we know nothing about her," interrupted Carlo.

A ripple of both protests and assent rose.

"It seems obvious that the girl’s in trouble. She’s a runaway —"

"Hardly the right word. Running away from something is probably closer to the truth," interjected Antonia.

"Fine, let’s not quibble over exact words. Running away from something then."

"But this is none of our business, Carlo." It was Alda.

"I’m not so sure about that, Alda," said Pepe. "What if she did something wrong and got into trouble with her former padrone?"

"Yes, she could have stolen something and then run away, and we may get into trouble too," Anna called out.

Chiara wanted to sink into the ground. She fixed her gaze on the candles, flickering in the gentle draft that aired the court through its arched entrance. Alda’s laughter made her look up.

"Oh, Pepino, Anna. Can’t you see that Chiara is no servant girl? Why else do you think she can read and write in Latin, in fact, better than Lorenzo who’s the only one in our group, and he can just barely get by, as he will readily admit."

"All the more reason to know why she’s running away," resumed Carlo. "We don’t want to face suddenly the wrath of some rich and powerful family. They could have us expelled from Pisa or, worse, have us thrown in prison."

Several people started arguing at the same time.

Lorenzo raised his hands. "Quiet, quiet! Only one person at a time. All of you will get your say, but Carlo has a point." He looked at her. "Chiara, I think you have to tell us why and from whom you’re running away."

She started wringing her hands, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Chiara?"

"Chiara, tell us; it’s important," said Alda softly. "Nobody here will judge you, nor will we think less of you. We all carry some baggage we’d rather leave behind."

She struggled with herself silently.

"Please, Chiara."

"My father arranged a marriage with a man I loathe. I begged him many times, but he refused to relent."

"But why do you wear boys’ clothing?" questioned Antonia.

"I thought traveling would be easier, and the women’s garments I took along and all my jewels and my other belongings were stolen from me."

She could feel Antonia’s eyes, almost black in the meager light, pierce into her.

"Refusing to marry the man your father chose is grave. If he’s important, it will cause us untold trouble when they find you with us," remarked Lorenzo.

"My father is not an important man. He is only a small landholder and lives far to the south from here."

"Where?"

She hesitated for a moment. "On Elba. He is an old man and hasn’t left the island in years." She prayed that they would not ask about the man she refused.

"So I think that settles it. There’s little danger from that part," said Alda. "We can now get back to our second and more important rule." Without heeding the interjections from Anna and Carlo, she continued: "Chiara adds a skill that this group has been lacking and needs badly if we want to perform plays of the famous Latin poets Plautus or Terence … I want to say, perform them true to the phrases and meanings intended rather than from dubious hearsay. She can read Latin fluently and translate it truthfully, not to speak of interpreting city ordinances correctly. I’m certain that Lorenzo will agree."

"I agree, Alda, and I don’t want to hear another word about those ordinances. We’ve always managed so far."

"No offense intended, Lorenzo," Alda replied with a smile. "But there’s more. She can also write down clever phrases we come up with on our own. How often did we fail to remember a particularly good twist? She could even write down the skits we have developed."

"And then we could sell them and make money," added Antonia chuckling.

"But can she also write in the vernacular?" queried Pepe.

Alda punched him lightly with an elbow.

"I have read
La Comedia
by the famous Florentine poet, Dante, which is written in the vernacular," answered Chiara. "The writing is not that different from the Latin."

"But is that enough?" questioned Pietro, who so far had not spoken. "As Lorenzo said, we’ve managed fine so far."

"He only said managed, not managed fine," was Antonia’s caustic reply.

"Still, I don‘t think this is of enough value to warrant taking her in. We don’t need somebody who could become a millstone around our neck."

"I will do anything you want me to do," pleaded Chiara. "And I don’t want more than food and a place to sleep."

"You’ll do anything? Anything at all?" questioned Anna. "You would work with Pepe and be his target?"

"Yes."

"You know what that means?"

Chiara nodded, while Lorenzo said reproachfully: "Anna, we all know you hate that task, but you can’t simply shirk it."

"Yes, you agreed to do it," exclaimed Giovanni.

"Yes, I did because Carla suddenly left us and Lorenzo insisted the target had to be a young woman," retorted Anna, "but I also said then that I would only do it until we find somebody else. It isn’t just that I hate it. It unsettles me so that I’ve difficulties remembering my lines later on. If Chiara is willing to be the target, I’m for taking her in."

Alda, Carlo, and Pietro all talked at the same time and suddenly everybody was arguing and shouting. It took Lorenzo a minute to restore calm. "Let Pietro speak," he repeated several times.

"It’s true what Anna said. It isn’t right that she always has to do the most dangerous task of all. She’s always terribly upset before every show, and she said that she would only do it until a replacement could be found. You’ve never treated her fairly. You only give her minor roles."

"Pietro, don’t forget Anna is with us because of you," remarked Lorenzo.

"But you don’t appreciate her talent, and Maria and Alda always get the leading roles."

"I thought we were discussing whether Chiara does bring enough value," intervened Carlo, "and not if Anna should have bigger roles. We’ve talked about this before and said she would get them."

"But you’ve never given her any, and we’ve been with you for more than two years already."

"Pah, Pietro, you always find something to complain about."

"Let’s not trade insults now," interrupted Lorenzo. "As Carlo said, the issue right now is Chiara. We can deal with Anna’s roles later on."

There was silence for a moment.

"Pietro is though right about Anna. We said it would only be temporary, and after all this time she’s still afraid of Pepe’s knives every time she has to stand there," said Antonia and then added with a chuckle: "Besides, Chiara does a wonderful job with my shoulders. I agree to have her."

Alda promptly said: "I’m for taking her in."

"So am I," followed Pepe.

"I’ll have her, but only if she becomes the target," said Pietro, putting great emphasis on the last few words.

Lorenzo looked at Carlo and Giovanni, sitting next to each other.

"I’m still concerned that we’re courting trouble, but if everybody else agrees, I’ll go along," said Carlo, followed by Giovanni’s "So do I."

"Maria."

She nodded.

"I share Carlo’s concern, but won’t raise any objections," remarked Lorenzo with a slight frown. "But we shall follow the usual practice that Chiara has to prove herself first for a month before she becomes a full member of our troupe with all its rights." He turned to her and shook her hand. "Congratulations, Chiara."

"Thank you,
Messere
," she replied, bursting into tears.

"Smile, child, smile and let’s drop the formality. I’m Lorenzo for you now."

She shook hands with everybody, thanking them repeatedly, while tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. When last she faced Alda, she fell into her arms, crying and laughing at the same time.

Lorenzo ordered more wine and the troupe broke up into small groups. Antonia waved Alda and Chiara over to her.

"Alda, Chiara can share our room? And you better find a long skirt for her, so she doesn’t attract all that attention, and her tunic needs washing too."

Alda nodded. "Yes, I think I’ve a suitable skirt in our clothes chest, though I may have to lengthen it a hand width or so."

"I thought you had." She shuffled away, calling over her shoulder: "I’m tired. Chiara, come up to our room with me. But first I need to empty my bladder. It’s through there." She pointed to a narrow corridor.

"Yes, go Chiara. You look exhausted."

Reluctantly, she followed Antonia through the corridor to a second courtyard with an outhouse. She was of two minds. On the one hand she would have liked to stay with Alda and the others, on the other she wanted to lie down, close her eyes, and simply drift into sleep, knowing she would not have to worry about tomorrow.

Their room was on the first level, up an outside staircase. It had barely enough space for two bunks. Chiara helped Antonia remove her outer robe, and then they both lay under the same coarse wool blanket on a straw mattress which was barely wide enough for two people. She hoped that it was not infested by fleas, but was too tired to check, drifting off almost immediately. The last thing she vaguely remembered was Antonia’s murmur: "So you stabbed the man in his good eye, didn’t you. You’re a ferocious young thing."

6

Pisa, June 1347

Next morning, I was awake as the first light of dawn crept into the room. It took me a moment to know where I was, and then a great happiness filled my heart. They had accepted me as one of their own. I was no longer alone. It felt like touching solid ground after drifting helplessly in the sea. It was also strange to lie in the same room with three other people, hearing their sounds of sleep — the wheezing breathing of the old woman next to me, an intermittent snoring of a man on the other bunk, the quiet breathing of his companion. I had not shared a room since my grandmother died, six years before. Lifting my head, I saw the tousled hair of Alda next to the unshaven face of Pepe.

I carefully climbed over Antonia so as not to wake her and went downstairs. In the kitchen, I asked the innkeeper’s wife where I could wash. She gave me a washcloth and a small cake of soap, admonished me to use it sparingly, and directed me to the second courtyard where I could haul up a bucket of water from the deep well. Taking advantage of being alone at this early an hour, I stripped behind the well and quickly washed my body and hair, and, wet as I was, put my clothes back on. I was glad that I had not been bitten by fleas, the scourge of most cheap inns, I remembered my father telling us. When I got back to our room, Alda was up. She held a skirt to my waist and said: "Yes, as I thought. It needs lengthening. I’ll do it later this morning, so that you have it for your afternoon performance."

This reminder brought up a queasy feeling in my belly.

After a breakfast of bread dunked in watered-down wine, Pepe took me back to the second courtyard, where I could get practice serving as his target. With much trepidation, I watched him set up the cart that I had helped push the day before. Its bed of soft pinewood formed a wall about four feet wide and seven feet tall. He gave me a metal mask with slits for the eyes to hold in front of my face and neck and then positioned me at the wall.

"Now, Chiara, I will stand about ten paces away from you and, while you hold yourself perfectly still, I will throw a dozen knives such that they form an outline around you. I have done this trick for more than twenty years and I had only one accident in all this time where I nicked somebody’s arm. I know it is scary to watch the knives come toward you; so at the beginning, you may want to close your eyes until I tell you to step forward, away from the wall."

I must have looked petrified since he asked: "Are you sure you can do it?"

I only managed to nod.

"Now put the mask in front of your face and keep absolutely still."

I did, but I felt my whole body tremble. He called out "Now" and I closed my eyes and held my breath. When I heard the sharp knock and felt the handle of the knife vibrate slightly against the cloth of my right arm, I almost screamed. Again he called out "Now", and a moment later there was the next sharp knock and the handle vibrating against my left arm. I was still holding in my breath and then remembered my brother’s advice. When close to panic, breathe deeply and slowly. I did and started to count the knocks. At ten, I opened my eyes and watched the eleventh knife fly toward my face. But I forced my eyes to remain open. It embedded itself safely next to my right ear, quickly followed by the twelfth on my left ear.

"Take two steps straight forward."

I did, lowered my face mask and turned around. My mouth fell open in utter amazement. Drawn on the board by twelve knives was my shape. And then I heard the applause of many hands clapping. Startled, I turned and faced Lorenzo, Giovanni, Antonia, Alda and Anna.

"You are a very brave girl," exclaimed Antonia, "but then I would not have expected anything else from you."

It was echoed by sounds of approval from the others.

Pepe laughed and asked: "And how did it feel?"

I looked again at the outline. "Scary, very scary, but also exciting."

"Yes, that is the right spirit, girl," he replied, patting my back. "I noticed that you had your eyes open toward the end."

I nodded, feeling ten feet tall, unable to stop grinning.

So, over the next three weeks, except for Sundays, I faced the knives daily once or twice as one of the middle acts in ‘Il Spettacolo Magnifico’, wearing the bright-red outfit Alda had altered for my height, and I never closed my eyes again. I was full of trust for Pepe’s skill. After each performance, I walked around the crowd with a big smile, holding out a basket for their denari and the occasional silver solidi, and Lorenzo was pleased by how many I collected.