The Malacia Tapestry Page 20

  She was so anxious that she approached me. I seized her hands.

  'Perian, I am in desperate straits.'

  'So you are involved in some deep affair, Mistress Kemperer. Why else should you look so pale, as if you were playing The Last of the Cantamas? You have come to a man who can take your mind off your troubles.'

  'If I wanted that sort of thing, don't you think I have wealthier lovers elsewhere, as good in bed, and not so conceited?' Her hands flew to her mouth. 'I didn't mean that, Perian. Just a verbal box on the ears. You're a darling, but this is no time for gallantry. I must get home or I'll be missed. Tell me what Pozzi said.'

  'So it's a wealthy lover, eh?'

  She looked sombrely at me, drawing her brows together without speaking.

  'Tell me who he is, this paragon of lovers.'

  'Oh, go to the Devil! Why should I trust you?'

  'You delight in giving me lectures. I'd like to give you one. You think me unscrupulous and vain, but at least I always trust my friends. It's a duty to do so, at least until they prove false. Better to be duped occasionally than to be suspicious always.'

  'You talk nonsense.'

  But my little speech made me feel better and full of trust myself, so that I repeated everything Kemperer had said to me, embellishing little.

  'Then he doesn't know everything,' said La Singla. She gave me a straight look. 'Nor do you, Perian. Forgive my tantrums.'

  'Of course I do.'

  A kiss on the lips and she was gone. I sat on the bed and rested my chin in my hand, wondering greatly about women, about myself, and about the whole human race.

  By sunset, when the sky grew crimson above the Palace of the Bishops Elect on its high hill, I had recovered from my attack of philosophy. Armida and I, de Lambant and Bedalar, sat in a respectable cafe we could hardly afford, drinking and talking. Portinari was to have been there too, but his father needed him in the dairy. The two chaperons, Yolaria and Jethone, sat nearby in an alcove behind a bead curtain, where they could discuss the price of lace without bothering us.

  Since Portinari was absent, it was my task to tell the story of how the Great Harino's tent caught fire. This I did to such good effect that the girls laughed and shuddered and wished fervently that they had witnessed it too.

  'Have you been busy since we parted this morning?' Armida asked me. 'Apart from enjoying the great fire?'

  'Feverishly busy with rehearsals. Tomorrow I will go to see my sister and arrange a horse for the hunt; I shall not let you down.'

  'It is essential that you should be properly accoutred for the ancestral hunt. Can your brother-in-law advise you?' She used the same tone as she had in the morning.

  'Volpato's never at home. I'll manage. I have much to do. My costumes need replenishment. While I was watching the Ombres Chinoises, before they went up in smoke, I had a striking inspiration for Phalante the Bankrupt.'

  'You should concentrate on one thing at a time.'

  'The battle episode in Karagog gave me the idea. I decided that I will play Phalante as a soldier, not as a dowdy apothecary. Then we could bring in some contemporary business about the bankrupt state of Constantinople, which always raises a laugh. It will naturally amuse a Duke of Ragusa.'

  'Stick to the apothecary,' advised de Lambant. 'You look funnier with leeches than breeches.'

  'I'm incredible as a soldier. I scared myself in my cheval glass. I have my military turn-down boots, and a grand wooden sword in scabbard — a fine property — which hangs from a heavy scarf crossing over the coat from one shoulder.' I rose to show them how it went. 'The effect's pretty staggering. And I have a long cravat dividing in two and falling down to my waist, in the fashion of Croatian mercenaries. It's a better rig-out than Otto Bengtsohn supplies for Gerald. All I lack is a plumed tricorne-hat. You don't have such a thing, Guy?'

  'Neither the hat nor the ambition for one.'

  'You'll like the costume, Armida, and swear that no battlefield would be complete without me. The shadow puppets were nothing! All my joints work with greatest flexibility. In the mirror, I saw the gallant fellow swagger about. Then he drew his sword of best tempered Toledo timber and cut down fifty Ottomans! What speed, what grace, what sheer ferocity! But no hat. Boldness immeasurable, but no hat. A sad tale…'

  ' "He who loves himself well will find no rival",' quoted Armida.

  I was indignant. I took more wine.

  'It was not me I admired but the phantom I created! There's the pleasure in being a player, Armida. Just by changing my outer clothes, I alter the inner man.'

  'If there is an inner man,' said Bedalar.

  'Then the inner man's a weather vane,' said Armida.

  'Not a weather-vane. The inner man is potentially everyone, everything. The mutability of the soul! Each of us, given the chance, could encompass all possibilities. A change of mood, a change of wig, a change of being.' I quaffed down more wine, feeling my art and my power. 'A young man, an old man? Very well. Rich or poor? Cavalier, judiciary, cut-purse, monk, noble, miller, beggar, artist? As you will. All trades, ranks, professions, follies and wisdom, all are within. It needs only the appropriate dress to call forth the appropriate character; he will take me over, live my life for a brief hour, and I his.

  'Everyone would do the same if they dared to, if they were trained to. It's the only freedom.'

  'Is your own life so awful that you have to escape this way?' Bedalar asked.

  De Lambant was looking bored, but the two girls were full of interest.

  'Happy people always "escape", as you call it. They return with riches. I have played such a necromancer that my least mouthful of food had to be eaten by the correct twinkle of the correct star; such an elder statesman that my every limb trembled and creaked for weeks after; such a jackanapes that my friends shunned me while the piece was running; such a sign-crossed lover that I cried myself to sleep every night.'

  Laughing, Armida said, 'Then I dread to think how miserly you will be while playing Phalante.'

  'What I am saying, my peach, my prize, is that by the trifling adjustment of my hat, I have plumbed the wells of Folly or scaled the mountainsides of Truth. Besides all that, what does it matter if my real self is sometimes lost to view?'

  'Have you yet attempted to impersonate a modest person?' Armida asked.

  Proverbially, it is only the wicked who lead busy lives. Yet next morning saw a full day ahead. In an hour or two, Otto Bengtsohn would be working with his zahnoscope at the Chabrizzi Palace; I was not required in the morning but had to go in the afternoon and play a scene with Letitia. This morning, I resolved to see Pozzi Kemperer again and persuade him to let me play Phalante as a cavalier; for that interview I would be suitably dressed. I needed to see that the tailor had cloth for my coat. In the evening, I would leave my friends to amuse themselves while I visited my sister; she would help me to arrange everything necessary for the ancestral hunt at Juracia. There was the horse problem, too. Mandaro kept a cob; but its nature, like its master's, was too clerical for the chase.

  Perhaps Kemperer would lend me a plumed tricorne-hat.

  Allowing the town cocks to rouse me, I rose and dressed myself in calf-boots, the heavy sash, the long cravat, the wooden sword, and other martial adornments. I sang as I dressed.

  'Oh, there are times when we defy what has to be.

  The Malacians being wanton worship chastity…'

  Every so often, I glanced down into the street below, where bustle already attended the long morning shadows. Apprentices were darting hither and yon with food and drink; bales of timber were being delivered to the carvers' workshops, laundry-women were about, and the fishermen with their guttural cries. The milk cart rumbled along the alley, pulled by an ox with silver bells on its horns, and driven by a horned lizard-man.

  A soldier elbowed his way among the crowd. He strolled through a slice of sunshine and happened to catch my gaze as he glanced up. He was wearing a plumed tricorne which corresponded to the pattern I cove
ted.

  He passed on. I was plagued by envy. Here was I in my garret, penniless, with loves and ambitions above the miserable stratum of life into which I had been pitched — loves, ambitions, yes, and talents ! — and there was that swaggering fellow, doubtless with gold in his pocket, doubtless making for an assignation with some voluptuous lady. Otherwise, why should a cavalry captain be up and on foot at this tradesmanly hour of day?

  I dispersed my discontent with song. Dressed at last, hatless, I went down to the street and bought a pastry stuffed with sliced meats and peppers from a friendly baker.

  Munching, I cut through the flea-market to walk under the ruinous arcades of Desport Palace and see the Night Guard dismiss in the square. Acquaintances greeted me at every turn. I saw Letitia's uncle Joze, swinging along painfully on crutches, but he did not see me.

  At one end of the arcades, I leaned against a pillar where a countrywoman sat with her basket of flowers. The sun shone on me, and it was pleasant to watch the smart movements of the Malacian City Guard; they filled me with military thoughts as I broke my fast.

  Close by were two magicians, paying no attention to the parade. They had appropriated an alcove where, among their private filth, they muttered over a great bronze globe — whether of this world or the next I could not guess. Their two corrupt boys played barefoot by them. In the shadowy background, among tarpaulins, a sacrificial goat stared up at a pine growing in riven masonry.

  One of the magicians had a malign, stupid face. It stretched sideways like a toad's, smiling as he turned his head and beckoned to me with one finger.

  I pretended I had not seen the gesture. Stepping back, I barged into a passer-by. I felt a shoulder thrust angrily in my back. So gallant was my mood that by impulse I whirled about, drawing my wooden sword.

  I confronted the cavalier I had seen from my window, plumed hat and all.

  His hand went to his sword-hilt. Even as he did so, his eye flashed from my eye to my sword. At sight of it, his grim expression relaxed; he stretched out his arms.

  'Spare me!' he said. 'I know not how to parry such a blade.'

  I could not help but laugh. He was a handsome little figure, solid, trim, no more than two years my senior. I envied him his curly, brown moustache, the ends of which were uncompromisingly waxed. His eyes were dark and moist, which I took for a sign of untrustworthiness. That unreadable deep brown never means well. Perhaps for that reason, I raised my wooden point till it was at his throat. He made no move to defend himself.

  As we held the dramatic tableau, I could see his history: a well-bred family, a boy accustomed to having his way, an indulgent father, women, a sure career in the military, a good place in the mess, loyal friends, a stable of sound horses, courage, chivalry, ennobling wounds, medals, promotion, a rich marriage, connections at court, honours, the future in his hands. It was not for a wooden sword to gainsay such a destiny. I lowered my point.

  No doubt he'd grow fat and gouty in another ten years.

  Our tableau vivant was broken by the toad magician. He was crippled under his greasy black gown. He crawled across the paving to us, thrusting up one hand on a stringy brown arm, crying to us, 'Take heed, you young masters, take heed. There are no accidents. Stars make character, character makes destiny.'

  As we backed away from him, the single finger came up again, reaching for our chins.

  'You twain, young masters, are unknowingly involved in one bed. That bed bodes no good, and mischief is about to befall you both. As for you' — here he turned his cat gaze to me —'the waters will close over your head unless you swim more surely, and the Dark One will take you!'

  I put up my sword and ran, and the cavalier ran too, pacing beside me.

  'The old reptile lies,' shouted the cavalier. 'I have less than no inclination to climb into your lice-ridden palliasse.'

  'Nor I into your scurvy bed, with its plaguing crabs. Sooner into a river-bed!'

  We halted round the first corner, glaring at each other. It was wonderful how he had run and kept his hat on.

  He smiled again, showing a row of white teeth as good as any actor's, and thrust out his hand.

  'I never heed the words of whores or soothsayers. There's a great world beyond words of which they know nothing. I am Captain John Pellegrino san Lasionio of the Tuscady Heavy Horse, black sheep of the san Lasionio family of Dakka. And I have to admit that I had you under observation.'

  'I am the actor Perian de Chirolo, last scion of a great scholarly family, but with no patience to be a scholar. Equally, I am a soldier only in dress.'

  'As a professional soldier can easily observe… But of course your camouflage in would take anyone else.'

  'By that same token, I can tell you are the black sheep of your family. And I've no more heard of the san Lasionios than you have of the de Chirolos. Why should you have been observing me? I envy you only your splendid headgear — what of mine could you envy?'

  At that, his manner became downcast in a superb way, and he began to pace forward, casting his gaze at his boots. As I fell in beside him, he said, 'I chiefly envy your manifest armistice with the world. In what a carefree way did you stroll along the arcade, eating your rations and enjoying the day. For me, this is a day of fateful decision, and the omens give me no joy.'

  It came to my mind that he might be deciding to give away a surplus mount, and was looking for a suitable recipient; and at once I was persuading my father to stable it in his deserted yard, and Beppolo was grooming it and buying hay at a reasonable price, and friends — and Armida — were there watching me leap into the saddle, smiling and waving.

  'According to the soothsayers, every day is a day for decision.'

  He flashed me a look, half-comic, half-despairing, and smote his chest.

  'Let me declare myself. For the first time, I who always laughed at women's wiles am in love. Enfiladed by love.'

  With a hollow laugh, I said, 'Come, Captain, did my casual manner so easily deceive you? Every day of my life, I am in love. Women are so beautiful, so agreeable, how could it be otherwise? I have a fit of marriage on me for the most beautiful, the most agreeable — and the most damned expensive — of them, and so I must forego all the rest, as I am honourable. So it is only my ability as an actor which conceals most perfect inner turmoil.'

  He dismissed my words with a gesture.

  'I do not act. I am a man of action. Now I'm embattled in a world of love whose strategies I always despised.'

  'Don't despise it — cultivate it.'

  'I despise it. I'm a soldier, not a coxcomb. Yet today I'm in the ambush I laughed about yesterday. For the one I love — oh, why do I parade my woe? — the one I love above even my honour is already married, and to such a mean and lecherous old fart that her every hour is misery. If ever there was a wedding of Greek fire and pipeclay… yet she clings to it from the sweet goodness of her heart… Can a man love too much, de Chirolo?'

  I thought about it. 'I've seen men love other people's marriages, believing it was the woman they wanted.'

  'You live a decadent life, I can see. Malacia's rotten. But for her I'd be thankful my regiment is leaving… No, I mean no insult: I'm just out-flanked, ground between slow-turning wheels. Come, let's walk awhile.'

  'You like to walk? As a cavalry officer, you must prefer riding. You must live and breathe horses.'

  As we strolled northwards, he said, 'I love her and I swear she truly wears my colours. Yes, yes, she breaks her heart for my sake, yet she is too loyal to leave this antique satyr of hers.'

  'There are plenty of women to be had without antique satyrs. Yet it's true that all have some other character defect. The lady I love has a domineering father who —'

  I was steering him in the general direction of Kemperer's, but he cut me short by stopping and grasping my arm fiercely.

  'My case is desperate, understand that. I'm no playboy. I'm in charge of the force sent by the dukes of Tuscady to relieve Malacia. Tomorrow I must lead my force across
the mountains northwards, to harry Stefan Tvrtko's rear. I must decamp tomorrow. I've lingered as long as possible on one excuse or the other, sent off my adjutant on so many false errands he must think me mad — which I am. Tomorrow morning at first light, we muster and ride or my career's done. So by tonight it's imperative I have definite pledges from my love. She must come to me tonight or my campaign's lost, and I dread to press her too hard for fear of wounding that gentle heart. You can aid me, de Chirolo, if you will.'

  'A wily attorney could help you more.'

  'No, you're my necessary reinforcement, de Chirolo. I need a scout, and it must be someone not of the regiment. That's sound tactics.' He appraised me with a bold, savage face. The ends of his moustachios vibrated.

  'The crippled magician suggested that we would do each other no good. Find someone else.'

  'I'd best speak out. I know more of you than I have so far revealed. You are not the rank-and-file fop you pretend, de Chirolo. I observed your brave ascent by balloon from the Bucintoro, astride that black stallion with silver hooves. Since then I've had further reconnaissances made. I know that you are intimate with the dear lady who has taken my heart captive.'

  Terrible fears, neglected omens, apprehensions, rushed into my mind. I would have drawn my wooden sword, but for his steel one.

  'Captain… then we are deadly rivals! You are the young gallant of whom my Armida is always talking.'

  He stared at me unblinkingly. 'I have no Armida on my roll-call. The lady to whom I refer visited your quarters only yesterday — I refrain, as a gentleman, from inquiring what transpired there. My adjutant kept her movements under observation from a distance. That lady is the divine Singla, the chaste and beautiful commander of my affections.'

  'Yes, yes, I see…' Through my relief, I thought, beautiful, yes, that La Singla is. The other adjectives are the illusory coinage of a man who has wasted his years among whores. Armida would not desire a man like this; but I see how he might be La Singla's meat.

  'You begin to follow my line of approach?'

  'What have you to say about La Singla?' It was my turn to begin walking. He fell into step beside me.