27.
The masquerade ball was the
fad then in Genoa, as it was all over Europe.
Masquerade balls were a
feature of the commoners, then involved increasingly elaborate settings
with pageants and triumphal processions celebrating marriages and other
dynastic events of late medieval court life. The Carnival traces its origins to
the Carnival of Venice, which began after the military victory of
the Venetian Republic over the patriarch of
Aquileia, Ulrich II, in the year 1162.
In honor of this, the people
started to dance and gather in St. Mark's Square. Carnival typically
involves public celebrations, including events such as parades,
public street parties, and other entertainments, combining some
elements of a circus. Elaborate costumes and masks allow people to set
aside their everyday individuality and experience a heightened sense of social
unity.
The event then moved to the
estates of the elites, where only the invited were allowed to partake. It was
to be done orderly and without any untoward incidents. The memory of the
"Bal des Ardents" ("Burning Men's Ball") was held by Charles
VI of France, or was it unintended as a Bal des sauvages ("Wild
Men's Ball"), a form of costumed ball (morisco)? It took place in
celebration of the marriage of a lady-in-waiting of Charles VI
of France's queen in Paris on January 28, 1393. The king and five courtiers dressed
as wild men of the woods (woodwoses), with costumes
of flax and pitch. If they came too close to a torch, the
dancers caught fire. Four of the dancers were killed in a fire caused by a
torch brought in by Louis I, Duke of Orléans, the king's brother.
Well, there were some
unrecorded ones, which made the Romans’ parties less lively compared to.
“Wow! I did not expect the
turnout to be so large.” Juliet in the devilish red gown; the
fur-trimmed Burgundian gown held a V-neck that displays the
black kirtle and a band of the chemise with the tight slashed sleeves complete
with the red double-horned escot. She had on a dark red face mask with a snout.
“I am sure there are many
handsome men there.” Lady Angeline smiled at the guests. “I spied on the Russo
and Paninni there. I must go over and say hello to them.”
The mother of the lady took
her leave. Juliet looked around and did not see her father; he was probably
busy at his trade’s discussions. She saw many of her peers with and without
their beaus, but she was keen to look for some she knew favorably. She knew
some of the guests were of her mother, to showcase her, or the other family,
their sons.
“Boring…” Juliet sighed.
“And is it?” Juliet turned
to look and saw it was her friend, Rosaline, dressed in the blue gown with
sleeves, worn over a kirtle or under-gown, overlaid with a
linen chemise. The sleeves were made detachable and were heavily
ornamented, with the high-waisted style with fullness over the belly confined
by a belt. The wide, shallow scooped neckline was replaced by a V-neck, often
cut low enough to reveal the decorated front of the kirtle beneath. She had on
the hennin for her headdress with a matching shade.
The face mask was a half
mask with a feline design.
“Rosaline! You made it. And
you look demure.” Juliet smiled.
“And you are … cherry …
ravishing.” Rosaline smiled back. “I must have a change of wardrobe now.”
“No, you do not. You look
beautiful.” Juliet looked once more at her friend. She saw the handsome man
standing by her friend. The man was dressed in red: a shirt, doublet, and hose,
with the long robe worn over the shoulder to the knee and a hood that covered
the head. The mask had a feather over the eye slits.
“Who is your friend?” Juliet
asked.
“I am Ramone. Ramone Algar.
Distant cousin of Rosaline.” The man introduced himself. “May I?”
The man held out his right
hand to offer the cutesy bow. Juliet held out her right hand towards him, and
the man kissed it lightly.
“I am honoured.” The man
asked. “Whom am I addressing?”
“Juliet Montague.” The lady
smiled and then took her excuse to see the others.
“Romeo… you idiot. I do not
have a cousin named Ramone.” Rosaline looked at the man in red.
“You do now.” Romeo, in his
disguise, smiled. “Shall we dance? Tell me more about Juliet. I would like to
talk to her.”
Across the garden, Juliet
met another friend of hers.
“Portia, I am glad you could
make it.” The other lady was dressed similarly in fashion to Rosaline, but her
choice was the green and yellow shades.
“I am glad to make it. My
fiancé, Bassanio. Galuco Bassanio.”
“The one who took the last
casket.” Juliet smiled. “I do not have that many suitors to select even one
casket from me.”
“And you will, my dear. I am
happy that you organized this ball. I can see many prospective Capulets’
choices here.”
“Do not taunt me, Portia. I
am just having some fun here.” Juliet excused herself. Portia noticed Bassanio
looking at the departing lady.
“Are you trying to flirt
with her?” Portia asked.
“Me? No, I was just studying
her choice of dressing.” Bassanio smiled. “I have an interest in the designs.”
“Designs? Why am I not that
observant?” Portia took her walk to the drink table, followed by the man. She
was agitated at herself if she ever knew the man who was to be her husband. It
was said that in the period of courtship, the couples were playacting for each
other. Once they are wedded, the real side of the person will be seen.
“I want to dance,” Bassanio
asked Portia.
“Not now. I have a
headache.” The dance was off, but dancing was the norm of the ball events, and
it was no different from the one held at Wallachia. Vlad III organized his own
celebrations then at his house at Pecs, Wallachia, on his return as the voivode
for the third term. He had sent out invites to the boyars and to King Corvinus,
and the latter declined for the reason of other commitments.
“Drink up!” Vlad greeted his
guests. The reluctance of guests to take the offer was hesitant.
“It is Negru Vârtos wine. It
is rich in the red shade. It is not blood, if many of you feared.” Vlad held up
the glass. He took a sip and smiled.
“When we are at war, we
hardly get to drink this. We drank posca, the water and vinegar mix.” Vlad
smiled and looked at the glass held in his hand. Posca was an ancient
Roman drink made by mixing water and wine vinegar. Bracing but less
nutritious and generally less palatable than wine, it was typically a drink for
soldiers, the lower classes, and slaves.
“And we shall drink Posca
then.” A Hungarian commander called out. It was echoed by the others.
“So, be it. Serve posca
now.” Vlad III called out. He tossed the wine glass with the red wine to the
floor. “We drink like soldiers now.”
The boyars present there
cringed at the new offerings, but they were obliging lest their blood be served
as wine.
“Basarab Laiotă rides with
the Ottoman support approaching our borders. We shall meet them in battle and
rout them good.” Vlad told the gathered there.
“Voivode, can we not discuss
the terms of peace with them?” One of the boyars approached the voivode. “We
have not seen peace for a long time, not since my childhood.”
“Peace, old man?” Vlad
looked at the aging boyar. ‘Have you seen what peace will do for your land, you
people, and your family?”
“Have I seen peace before? I
was the hostage of the Ottomans when my father pledged allegiance to them. I
was imprisoned, tortured, and almost killed more times than I could count. I
have returned here to reclaim the land for us, the Wallachians.”
“I did not mean that,
Voivode.” The old boyar looked to the Wallachian leader. He was selected to
speak to the Voivode, as he was older, and more to it, he was without any
family members. His death will mean the dissolution of his rank, and the land
will be divided by the others.
“All I ask is, can we stop
the fighting? Basarab is one of us, too.” The boyar looked to the others for
support, but all evaded his eyes. “Do you want to continue the war?”
“This is not… our war
anymore, Voivode.” The old boyar looked towards the leader. “It has become a
war of power. Of Hungary and the Ottoman.”
“Are you accusing me of
siding with the Hungarians to enforce my position of power?” Vlad looked at the
accuser.
“Yes, I am.” The old boyar
said defiantly. “You are, Vlad Tepes. Execute me now. Impaled me like what you
did to the others. I do not fear you.”
Vlad was upset and had the
old boyar sent to the dungeons. He then called off the celebrations. He met his
wife, Lady Justina, in the chamber.
“When I am away, you will
live at Castle Poenari, where guards will be there to protect you. I hold many
enemies, and that castle will protect you.” Vlad told the lady. “I am to ride
tomorrow.”
“Arrangements are made for
you.” Vlad looked at his lover.
As with all conflicts of
love and family, prior arrangements were made.
“Jessica, we could elope.”
Lorenzo looked to the lady. They had met below the arch of the bridge.
“I want to, but am
confused.” Jessica looked at the man she loves. “Lorenzo, I cannot just leave
my parents. I loved them.”
“Let me talk to them,”
Lorenzo said. “I can explain things.”
“Like what? You are the
bastard son of Capulet. You are also a Christian, and I am Jewish.” Jessica
shed her tears. “We are… a stream apart like here. We can only meet …below
here.”
“I have regretted meeting
you.” Jessica cried out. “We were never meant to be with each other.”
“No, Jessica. I love you. I
can be ……. Jewish too.” Lorenzo held out his arms towards her. “I……”
“Unhand her, Capulet.” That
voice was Abram from the Montague family. “She is not yours to take.”
“Jessica is mine.” Lorenzo
placed Jessica to the side of him and faced the Montagues’ enforcer. “Who are
you to claim on her?”
“I am Abram of Montague.”
Abram approached the couple. “Jessica, I have come to take you home.”
“Montague? Another servant
of the Montague. Go back to your master and stay out of my affair.” Lorenzo
stepped towards the other. “I am unarmed, but I know how to defend myself.”
“Defend this!” Abram threw a
right arm at Lorenzo, who was unprepared for that. The fist landed on the
younger man’s face, and Lorenzo fell to the side.
“Abram, stop!” Jessica
rushed towards Lorenzo. She crouched next to the fallen man and looked at his
face. It was bruised, but the pain will be there.
“Stop, Abram. Do not hurt
him.” Jessica looked at the older man. “I love him, but I know it will not be
possible. I will go back with him. You can have me as your wife, but not my
love for you.”
“Jessica, I ……” Lorenzo held
out his arms towards Jessica.
“No, Lorenzo. It was foolish
of us to think we could love each other. Our families are different in many
ways. Our ways are different. Our children will be the outcasts of both sides.”
“Jessica Judas, I love you.”
Lorenzo held his grip on the lady’s arms.
“And I do of you, but we
must accept reality.” Jessica pulled away. “I must return to my family.”
No comments:
Post a Comment