Opening Night ~ The stars sparkled above the mist shrouded tents and caravans of the carnival. The night crackled with an odd vibration, as if a veil of peculiarity settled over the company. The Family gathered in the main tent, the surrounding canvas rippled lightly and the smell of old dirt and memories were in the air. Voices murmured in subdued tones, wariness was felt among the assembled. Mother had called. She stood watching them, and absently pushed a white tinged lock of hair from her face, to tuck it back into her mass of upswept grey hair. She seemed a docile older woman with a few of life’s lines etched on her face, but like much with Mother, her appearance hid secrets. “Come into the circle, children.” She spoke with a soft, commanding tone, and beckoned her brood into the band of strange rune stones that existed in lieu of a centre ring. One by one, they obeyed, and the family crowded around her, whispering among themselves until a gesture from her drew silence. “I had a dream last night. A visitor is coming, a new member of the family. We will receive her and welcome her into our fold.” Gasps of joyfulness rose in the air and excited voices chattered in a cacophony of sound. “A new family member!” “How exciting, we haven’t had one for ages.” “Wondrous news.” “New blood, excellent.” “Marvellous, a new member for the family.” “Oh, just stupendous.” Mother smiled, indulgent of her brood’s enthusiasm. She waited until the din subsided before speaking again. “She will be here soon and we must prepare for her arrival. But first I must choose her companion, the one who will complete the rites.” Mother looked over her now silent children. Her practised eye examined each one for the signs and fell at last upon a tall young man with dark hair.
“Byron. You will be the one. You will bring her into the circle and make her one of us.” The young man bowed his head. “Thank you, Mother, for the honour.” “It is your time. I know you will do well.” Mother laughed and clapped her hands. “Away with you all. We have work to do. The Masquerade Carnivale must welcome another apprentice.”
Act 1: The Carnivale ~ Althea shivered under a tree. She huddled in a heap as the rain soaked through her gown and thin shawl, while the dark curls of her hair dripped water. Misery bent her spirit and exhaustion hunched her body. In a state of near mental and physical collapse, she could travel no further. Her stomach rumbled; she had not eaten today. She had consumed the last of her provisions yesterday morning. She tried to quench her thirst on raindrops, but her throat still craved moisture. Her flight to abandon her past and discard her old life only left her alone and lost. “Are you in need of assistance?” The unexpected voice made Althea flinch and she cried out in alarm. She glanced around, to see wet, scuffed shoes and black trouser cuffs. She moved her brown-eyed gaze upward, to view a tall, dark-haired man. He wore no jacket or cravat and the rain had soaked through his shirt. The fabric clung to his muscular chest. “I did not mean to startle you. You just looked so forlorn. I thought you might need aid.” Althea scrambled awkwardly to her feet and backed away. “I-I don’t know you.” “Of course, introductions. I’m Byron.” He stuck out his hand. Wary, she took his hand gingerly and shook it. Keeping her distance, she spoke to this stranger. “I’m Althea and I think I may be lost. Can you tell me where I am?” “By Wanderers Grove, that’s what they call the woods behind us.” He smiled, a lopsided, disarming grin. Althea felt oddly comforted. “Is there a town nearby, sir?” “Not for ten miles.” “Oh, my.” Althea felt her hopes sink; she couldn’t walk another ten miles. She leaned back against the tree. Byron put his hand on her arm. His touch reassured her, and for an odd, uplifting moment she felt safe. All her fear and anxiety bubbled out of her mouth.
“I don’t know what I am to do, I can’t walk another ten miles, and even if I do make the town, I’m still alone. I have no food, no idea where to go and I-I just can’t, can’t go...” Her voice quivered as the words stuck in her throat, and she fought back tears. “Shh, shh, everything will be fine.” Byron whispered to her in soothing tones and stroked her arm; calmness enveloped her. “I don’t know how you came to be here, but why don’t you come with me. I’m with a carnival and we’re camped just over that hill, in a meadow.” He smiled at her again, and she noticed he had lovely green eyes. “I-I would like to, but we’ve just met and-” She faltered in mid-thought, his handsome face a distraction from her concerns, before continuing. “You seem pleasant enough, but you’re a stranger.” “True we’ve only just met, but I can’t in good conscience leave you here alone and unaided. Please come with me. We can get out of this rain and get something to eat.” Althea’s resolve cracked, as the mention of food overrode her trepidation. “Perhaps it would be a wise choice. Yes, thank you, I shall take you up on your very kind suggestion.” Byron offered his hand. Althea picked up her small satchel, slipped her fingers onto his, and let him lead her away. They walked, still holding hands, along a lightly trodden path threading through the trees. The boughs kept some of the rain off them, and Althea covered her head with her rather damp shawl, but they still endured a soggy stroll. By the time they reached the hill the rain had ceased, but Althea felt an icy chill from her skin all the way to her bones and her clothes were thoroughly sodden. “A wet day isn’t it? We can warm up when we reach my camp and you can change into dry clothes. It’s not far now, just up this ridge.” “Dry and warm sounds nice, along with a place to rest.” Althea allowed Byron to assist her in the climb to the top of the rise, her sore and tired feet slipped in the wet grass. At the crest she leaned on him, light-headed from hunger, her breath coming in gasping puffs. She rested with his arm around her and cast her gaze to the scene in the meadow below. A cornucopia of life bustled beneath the hillock, a carnival encampment of animals, wagons, tents, and people sprawled over the quaint pastoral landscape. Fragile sunlight
broke through the clouds and scattered across her vision. The morning fog hung in the clearing, clinging to the pavilions and caravans like a second skin. The mist muted the outlines, but the vibrant colours shone through and burst into a bright palette on a backdrop of green and brown. The rich vista beamed at her in a display of orange, crimson, sapphire, and violet, as the wind carried the sound of cheerful voices and the faint metallic chime of bells to her ears. A warm smile formed on her lips, unbidden. “It’s beautiful.” “It is home.” Byron moved a few steps down the hill before turning, his hand held out to her. “Come, Althea, meet the family.”