Exhausted he almost fainted, he felt dizzy when he finally lay down on the rock. Spreading the leaves like a blanket over him, he would try to get some sleep, no point to search for his sisters tonight. He first needed to gather his strength back. Hours later, Ourday was torn from his troubled sleep and heard voices. The morning dawned, and the sun was rising in a cloudless blue sky. He peered out his rocky hiding place to see who was passing. A group of people was apparently on their way going up-country. They were all dressed in rags, like himself. He quickly got down from his hiding place to join the group. They were all young people like himself and some girls were among the group, but he couldn't see his sisters anywhere. A girl had noticed him, and she looked back at him smiling. Then she turned back again walking. Ourday was thunderstruck by her beauty. He had never seen such a beautiful creature. Her long hair looked like spun gold, and her eyes shone in a bright blue. He couldn’t help but walk behind her, admiring her long slender neck, her white skin, and her graceful figure. Captured by the spell of this heavenly vision, he did not pay attention anymore to where they were heading.
Meanwhile, they had almost reached a dusty village on a hill and a big white church came into sight. Behind him, he heard loud, harsh voices. Although he did not speak the language, he understood that they should move on their way. After a long sweaty walk uphill, the group reached the village located on the cliffs. Traveling a deserted dusty road, they arrived in the village square. From the cliffs, Ourday looked into the distance, and the view was fantastic, just an endless blue ocean. No reminders of the shipwreck and the storm that had been raging in the night. The girl with the golden hair looked over her shoulder, and her deep blue eyes met his almost black eyes. She smiled, and that puzzled Ourday for a moment.
He forgot everything around him until suddenly distracted by the noise of a horse vehicle carrying several men. The men wore clean clothes and looked well-fed. The two men with the harsh voices were walking behind, this time, Ourday understood, even in their foreign language. He clearly knew that the voices were giving orders. He was aware of this authoritarian tone from his father, the chief. They all moved forward in silence to a platform in the middle of the village square. As Ourday looked up, his blood froze in his veins. His two sisters Chiana and Alawa were standing on the platform. Chiana stood defending in front of her younger sister, staring in disgust at the men on the horse-drawn carriage. Her long black hair fell around her face like a dark flame, and her golden eyes were watchful. She had not seen Ourday yet, who climbed the platform together with the other castaways. He wanted to call out for his sisters, but he felt it probably best to act normal without attracting unnecessary attention. He glanced at the men on the carriage and saw that a young dark-haired, tall individual measured his sister with interest. Ourday’s protecting instinct did not make it possible for him to hold back any longer. Nimbly and smooth like a panther he got on the platform, standing up for his sisters, one of the guards followed him ready to knock him down. He got the order to step back from the dark-haired young man, who had been measuring his sister previously. "Giovanni leave him in peace, the three of them belong together." Lively he rose off the cart and came up to Ourday, who immediately stepped back. The young man with an encouraging nod indicated to him with his hand movement that he had nothing to fear.
A grey-haired old man with sharp, hard features stepped up beside him, staring disapprovingly at the young man. "Cesare, son, what are you doing? Since when do you put yourself out for some savages? Remember where you are coming from my son." His voice had taken a sharp tone. The young man turned around to face his father. His bright green eyes met the hard stare of his father’s nearly black relentless eyes. Matteo Maltese was one of the leading Gabellotti in Sicily. The Gabellotti administered the farmland of the aristocrats for horrendous prices, which involved mostly wheeling and dealing. Matteo Maltese was known as one of the cruelest of the Gabellotti, particularly when it came to recruiting new staff for the estates. He provided only the strongest hands and offered the worst pay if the workers were to receive pay at all. Occasionally if some of them tried to revolt against the abuse, their life soon would be over.
His son Cesare, however, had a gentle mind. Violence was appalling and unacceptable to him, and the pretty girl with the long black hair and the defiant look made him wanting to protect her. Matteo stepped forward having a look at both girls and Ourday. "Well, son at the second thought you might be right. The three of them look rather strong. It seems they don’t understand a word we are saying. Which is an advantage, at least they won’t cause difficulties," his roaring laughter sounded mean. "Well, then we will take them with us to Catania, they can help on our property in the house doing some housekeeping. The boy can work in the stable or the vineyard." Then, he barked at the two wardens, “Bring the others to the surrounding courts, and I am counting on you to bring back a decent fee. Finally, they all look healthy," as he glanced at the ragged shapes. Ourday saw that his eyes remained on the girl with the golden hair. He looked at her like Ourday would look at a deer if he were starving, just before he aimed at it with his arrow from a distance.
The look scared him, and he felt torn apart. He had to protect his two sisters, but at the same time, he also felt like he had to protect the girl with the golden hair. The mean looking man said, "Maybe we should take Blondie with us too, one can never have enough maids around, I guess." His laugh had a cruel sound, the loud voice of one of the wardens, ordering them to move. The girl with the golden hair took long steps past Ourday, tilting her head to make him understand that he and his sisters should follow her. He told his sisters to follow him, and together they climbed on to the wooden horse carriage.
The journey took them almost a day and was weary on the rough and rocky streets. The open carriage offered no protection from the hot sun. No one offered them some water. Ourday and his sisters were tough and knew life in wild nature, but the girl with the golden hair was laying weak and half-fainting in the carriage. Ourday had found a few blankets inside the carriage and put them over the girl's body to protect her from the burning heat of the sun. Cesare kept trying to glimpse back from time to time and to catch a look at the black-haired beauty. He was not a warrior or one of the Gabellotti. He was a poet, and he hated violence. In his head, he already began to rhyme poems about the beauty of the girl. But, the beautiful girl gave him a most disturbing look full of anger that had him turn back around disenchanted.
His father carried a canteen of wine from their vineyards of Mount Etna and a bottle of water along, which he brought alternating to his lips. Cesare coughed slightly to get his attention. "Please excuse my rudeness father, but wouldn't it be useful if our future laborers would still be alive when we reach our property? Just think of our vineyards, the young and strong man would certainly be a great help during the grape harvest. "Matteo Maltese looked disgusted at his son." Sometimes I ask myself why your mother, God rest her soul." He quickly made the sign of the cross and continued, "Wasn't able to educate you. Teaching you the way to becoming the man who I wished for. Instead, of such a tender-hearted wimp." He slapped Cesare's shoulder hard making him wince but, brought the horse carriage to a halt with a loud Brrr ... He took a sip from his canteen. "Go on and bring them some water before I change my mind. Would be a shame if we had to bury them before they can show us their thankfulness through hard labor, which we no doubt merit. "He looked back while Cesare hastily followed the invitation and handed Ourday a couple of canteens in the back of the carriage. He heard his father's condescending voice "Son, give some water to Blondie first, with the child-bearing hips, she will certainly bring me much joy if she survives." The savages will somehow survive, though the little one with the tangled black hair could be a wildcat given the right circumstances, no doubt."
He looked with lust at the cloud of blue-black hair, which spread under the blankets on the wooden floor. Cesare hated his father with all his heart. He was a real callous bastard, but he would never have d
ared to stand up against him. He bent down to the blond girl who was no longer accessible. The Indian boy slipped on his knees to Cesare and took a canteen. He rested her head on his knees moistening the lips with water until she began to drink slowly. Her eyes remained closed, but she drank greedily. Ourday stayed with her, and when she finished, he drank some of the delicious water himself. Cesare gave the water bottles to the other two girls. They gratefully accepted the canteens and the golden eyes of the girl were no longer defiant but had taken a friendly even interested expression. The other girl was probably her sister, which explained her shielding attitude. He reached out a hand after he made sure that his father, whom he saw near a tree answering nature's call, couldn’t keep his wary eye on him. He put his other hand on his chest; "I am Cesare", then he pointed at her; "What's your name?" She looked uneasy at him, but he looked friendly, and his bright green eyes resembled two gems. She had never seen such eyes before. There was something magical about these eyes. She was mesmerized and could not have looked away even if her life depended on it.
His lips were half-opened as he continued smiling at her. She hung spellbound at his lips and looked again in these fascinating eyes, her voice barely a whisper; "Chiana." He still held her hand whispering, "Chiana what a beautiful name ..."
Santa Flavia / Castello di Solanto
The big top of the circus was in blue and yellow above it, printed in golden letters "Circo Motta Benedetto". Gregory looked at the letters wondering where he had heard that name before when someone tapped on his shoulder. He heard a voice, and someone spoke to him in English with a strong Mediterranean accent. "You must be Bernard's grandson. It looks as though Nonna Tiziana simply abandoned you. So typical of her." Gregory turned around and froze because Gabe was standing in front of him. He blinked nervously, he had to get his shit together, and after all, it couldn’t be him, simply impossible. Apparently, the shock was written all over his face, because the boy, who looked at first glance like Gabe had a guilty look on his face and his features were anything but threatening. "Did I say something wrong?" He wiped the hair from his face. The long hair was another sign that he couldn’t be Gabe. Gabe wore his hair short, there had not passed enough time to change that fact. Gregory shook his head. "No, I'm probably just a little jumpy after the long journey." The boy smiled, "I know exactly what you mean. After all, it must not have been that relaxing to meet Nonna Tiziana, who has probably been waiting at the airport like an avenging angel for you.
Anyway, I am Antony, one of her many grandchildren. Actually, my name is Antonio, but I guess Antony is somehow cooler. "Gregory nodded understandingly," then you are probably one of the little angels who has the first appearance at the Circus today? "Antony taken aback suddenly looked suspicious. His moss-green eyes that reminded him of Gabe narrowed to thin slits. "Are you making fun of me?" "No of course not!" He had to be damn careful not to get in trouble with this Gabe doppelganger from the start. "Your grandmother said something about two angels having their first Show today. She didn’t want to miss it under any circumstances." Antony's face relaxed. "What can I say, my Nonna sometimes is a bit crazy and slightly embarrassing. I don’t want to become a fool for the local youth. I, finally have a reputation to lose. Unbelievable that she called Valentina and me her little angels. It makes me wanna puke." His outrage made Gregory laugh. The tension of these last days, the long journey - the exertions. Constantly keeping his act together, and the stern lady with the indecent book, all of it collapsed in one incredible burst of laughter. He couldn't stop laughing. He heard a female voice; "Who is this Cretino? Why is he laughing like an idiot?" Gregory looked up, and the laughter got stuck in his throat. "Mila? What is going on here?
What kind of damn freak show is this? "He stepped back, tripping over a rope, lying on the ground. He remained sitting dizzily on the ground, staring at the girl who stood in front of him. "Who the hell is Mila? "She looked puzzled to Antony. "Don’t worry Valentina. Our new friend here seems to be a bit tense. When he first saw me, he looked at me as if the devil in person had appeared in front of him. "He smirked visibly amused. "Probably Nonna Tiziana has brainwashed him on the way here. Did you know that she calls us her little angels?”
“Incredible!” The girl inclined her head in disapproval, "this woman is simply impossible completamente Pazza."
Gregory felt like some background actor in a soap opera. The two of them were talking about their seemingly crazy grandmother as if he were not even there. He cleared his throat "Excuse me. I'm still sitting here on the ground in front of you! Would someone please enlighten me what's going on here’ Have I eventually ended up in the land of Doppelgangers? Or, wait, maybe I'm just dreaming, and none of this is real. "He pinched his arm. "Damn that hurts. Then I guess no dream after all." The Mila doppelganger frowned, clearly irritated and Gregory realized that she didn’t look exactly like Mila on close inspection. Her eyes were different, and she was probably a bit smaller. Otherwise, the resemblance was confusing. "He seems rattled, who is he anyway, Antony?"
"That my dear is Gregory, the grandson of Nonno's friend from Canada. Don’t you remember? The boy had a nervous breakdown. "Gregory tapped against his forehead; "I didn’t have a nervous breakdown, who told you such nonsense. I am here to get my strength back after a serious illness." The two of them looked at each other knowingly; "Well that’s what I'm saying," Antony said calmly, and the girl looked at him understanding. "Oh, yes. Now I remember. But, he doesn’t look that crazy after all."
"Damn, I'm not crazy!" What did they want from him? Antony reached out to help him back on his feet. "We have to get going. Otherwise, we will get in trouble with the show. Valentina and I have to change and get ready. Are you going to see the show, Gregory? " He shrugged; "I guess, what are the two of you doing in the show?" "We are swinging on a trapeze and Valentina wraps herself in and out," Antony laughed. "Come on I'll take you to a loge. You will certainly get a good seat today. In the afternoons, we are rarely sold out and before our tour starts, everything has to work out perfectly. We don’t want to disappoint our crazy Nonna. " He winked at Valentina, and she rolled her eyes back at him. Antony led Gregory to one of the log seats. He was curious about the show. He didn’t particularly like to go to the Circus. He couldn’t even remember when he had been in a Circus the last time. Inside of the tent, it was getting dark. Gregory was mesmerized, as it had nothing in common with the circus he had visited in his childhood. He felt, as if he had suddenly plunged into a parallel universe. A fantasy world he seemed to recognize from the past or another life in a frightening way. Small lights in different colors were lighting up the inside of the big top. The shape of a lava-spewing volcano appeared, no doubt created with laser technology that looked damn impressive. The sound of dramatic music accentuated with drums was in the air.
Suddenly figures appeared out of nowhere, giving Gregory a surrounded feeling, which of course was complete nonsense. The figures moved past him and split up positioning themselves around the big top. All of them wore clothes made of leather. The male performers all stripped to their waist, with painted Indian motifs on their torso. The female performers also wore leather-fringed clothes. On their upper arms, Indian motives had been painted with fluorescent colors glowing in the dark. Some of them wore headbands or headdresses of feathers. Through the crowd they glided like smooth wildcats. Gregory held his breath, as they all magically disappeared at once. The lights went out, surrounded by darkness, then again, the laser volcano appeared, and this time, the lava was purple and yellow. Some fantasy creatures appeared with animal masks matching the colors of the volcano. Dwarves followed them with lanterns moving within the big top forming around the circus ring. The lights went out again, and the sound of an Italian opera aria filled the air. When the light came on again, all the Indian figures had gathered in the center of the circus ring surrounded by the mythical creatures. Four of the artists were standing in four different directions in front of the loges, which represented the four ele
ments without a doubt. The young man standing in front of Gregory was representing fire obviously. Around him, red, yellow flames flickered, looking like real magic.
The lights went out, and the audience burst into thunderous applause, accompanied by bravos. Gregory felt completely exhausted. It had become clear to him that he had somehow landed in the original world of the Onenda-Akando clan. Why else would they involve their Indian roots so obviously in the show? The following performances were simply fantastic. The fear that many animal acts would follow had proved wrong. Gregory didn’t approve of animal dressage. But, this show had nothing in common with the kind of traditional Circus everyone knew. More like a series of fantastic acrobatics, art, and vertiginous sensations. Perfectly tuned and arranged with songs sung in a fantasy language he had never heard before. He felt as if he had traveled to a different time and space and he yearned for more of the performances and the spectacular show. It was a perfect illusion, a magic that kept him glued in awe to the chair. The audience seemed to feel the same way, considering the applause and the bravos after each show act. During the break, he had to get used to the harsh light of reality, which was not that easy. He got himself something to drink, as the Signora with the turban was suddenly standing beside him.
Elementary Virtue: The Prophecy Page 3