LUNA RISING (Volume 1: The Circle of Conversation)

Chapter Four: The Play's the Thing

I opened my eyes hoping for a change, but I was still in the Circle.

I turned to see who was singing. It was a dwarf of undefined age, dressed in a shiny yellow-and-red striped suit that exaggerated his paunch. He looked like an Easter egg on spindly legs. Black chalk circled his mocking eyes. His red lips were parted in a sneer. He wore a three-pointed floppy hat with bells that rang every time he swung his head. He was the Joker in a game of cards.

“Ah, dear Antonio, don’t look so worried,” said the priest. “This is Sancho, the court-jester, not someone to be afraid of. Sancho brings much-needed levity in here, but he can be very, very annoying. And treacherous. He’s had a difficult life at the royal court in Palermo, when the French kings dominated Sicily in the 13th century.”

“An awful life. I was kicked around by everybody”, said the dwarf, leering. “I hate the French.”

The priest frowned. “That’s because you were an illegitimate son.In those days, being a bastard meant you led a dastardly life.”

“Still, my father was a Luna,” retorted the dwarf, “and that’s why I’m here.”

“I know, my son. You’ve had a hard life and there was a nasty rumour that you may have had some of the reviled Perollo blood in you...” Turning to me, the priest added, “Perhaps you don’t know this, but the Luna family has had a long-standing feud with the Perollo family, beginning in Don Ugone’s time. A feud that went on for centuries.”

“Who mentioned Perollo?” roared Ugone.

“I’m sorry, I did”, said the priest, looking contrite. “I was just explaining about Sancho.”

“That’s enough about that damn Perollo,” grumbled Ugone. “And you, Sancho, scram! Get lost!”

Sancho scampered away and hid behind a curtain. Ugone watched him disappear and addressed the priest again. “You know the problems I’ve had when my daughter, my own flesh and blood, my beautiful Eloisa, barely fourteen, fell in love with Giulio Perollo.”

He spat and I wondered at the acrimony. It sounded like an early version of Romeo and Juliet. Come to think of it, I began to recall my father had once said something about the Luna and Perollo families, but I couldn’t quite remember what it was.

“She was my pride and joy”, Ugone intoned with a beatific smile. “She was a lovely, innocent wisp of a girl. And to think she had to go for the son of that vile murderer, the despicable Perollo who poisoned my brother. Why a Perollo, I ask you, when there are so many men from decent, respectable families around? Oh, how it hurt! I did everything in my power to stop her. I forbade her to leave our house. I wouldn’t even let her attend mass in church without a chaperone. I wouldn’t…”

The priest stepped in, cutting his flow of reminiscences. “Then she ran away with Giulio Perollo to get married in another town, we all know what happened. We are well aware of how difficult it has been for you. We’ve all seen the play, how the young Perollo and Eloisa were assaulted by the Arabs on their way to Catania. How he was left bleeding on the road and she was brought to the Castle of Judica.” The priest stopped and said for my benefit, “The Castle of Judica was the last Sicilian stronghold in the hands of the Muslims.” Then, he turned back to Ugone.  “But all that happened such a long time ago, back in 1130.  No need to get upset about it. The family, since then, has expanded and married with…”

“The plays!” said Don Ugone, interrupting him. “I’m glad you reminded me. The play’s the thing! We need this young man’s energy to run our shows.”

The play’s the thing – whatever he meant by that hackneyed phrase, it had changed his mood. For the first time he flashed a genuine smile at me. I didn’t like that smile at all.“Ah, my young friend,” he said. “You can help us out. We can put you to good use.”