Oriana (6)

The banquet

“ Taillefer qui mult bien chantout

Sor un cheval qui tost alout

Devant le duc alout chantant de Karlemaigne e de Rollant

E d’ Oliver e des vassals qui morurent en Rencesvals. “

The songs of the troubadours greeted the guests even before they entered the banquet hall, echoing through the crowded corridors filled with knights and their retinues, all wrapped in colorful tabards. It was a small world where everyone knew each other, proceeding towards the entrance in an orderly line, joking among themselves and with the few present dames.

It felt strange to think that these same people had attempted to raze Podenzana less than two months earlier.

Oriana felt out of place; afraid of getting lost, she stuck close to the servant guiding her. Flavio, on the other hand, just behind her, was excited; they had insisted he bring his instrument, and this made him think they might perform. Playing for an audience of true art connoisseurs was something not even in his dreams.

Standing at the entrance of the hall, the lord of the castle personally welcomed the guests, and Oriana, in her beautiful dress bought at the fair, was thrilled when he kissed her hand. But as soon as she crossed the threshold, her excitement was dissolved by a new sensation.

The magic, which could only belong to Donna Letizia Cordiviola, she had not yet had the chance to meet her in person, but she felt her presence filling the entire space.

The walls were lined with carved and painted wooden panels, a grand fireplace roared, and three long tables were arranged in a U-shape. In the concavity between the tables was placed a single tall, wrought-iron round stool, where the troubadours took turns to sing.

Flavio was led to his place among the squires, while she was indicated a chair closer to the center, and as she approached, she felt as if she was ascending the current of power to its source.

She had never met Donna Letizia before, but she knew she was the lady already seated in front of the assigned place. She had blonde hair held by a golden net and was not as tall as Oriana, with a pointed nose and ample curves. Her cheeks, neck, shoulders, breasts, everything was round and smooth and flourishing. Oriana found her beautiful; what she wouldn’t give to be able to put on some flesh and be like her.

“Donna Oriana, welcome,” Donna Letizia greeted.

“Donna Letizia, I am here as you requested,” Oriana replied.

“You are here because tomorrow we will be pressing the grapes, and I need another mage; there is too much to do for me alone. But I also wanted to see you, after our auras touched in battle, when I witnessed your awakening.”

Oriana was curious about what services they might require from another mage, but the hostess was not in a hurry to discuss it. They politely conversed while the food was brought to the table.

With all their courtly style, there wasn’t much difference from the tables of common folk. There were fried mushrooms, a must in late October, snails gathered from the vines during the grape harvest, bread and cheese, pounded lard with garlic, which Oriana didn’t like, but fortunately, they also had the walnut and wild apple pesto.

Meanwhile, one of the songs had ended, and a discussion arose about who should have precedence among those who had not yet performed. Baron Graziano stood up and addressed the gathering.

“Beaux messieurs, there will be time for everyone, as our banquet has just begun. But we have a guest, Donna Oriana from Podenzana, who I am told is known as a singer as well as a mage. Would you gentlemen not be willing to give up your place for her ?”

Just as she feared. Singing in front of a refined audience was not like being at the tavern; she would not have wanted to, but if she had refused, Flavio would not have forgiven her until the end of life.

At that time, everyone used to maintain a reserved demeanor, so she did not respond, but silently took her place on the stool left empty, after bowing to the castle lord.

Immediately, her musician joined her, they consulted quickly and decided on “L’ Avvelenato,” a tragic piece that allowed for virtuosic displays. They still had a lot of hard bread to eat before reaching the same technical heights as the Trobar Clus, but Oriana had magic on her side and did not hesitate to use it to amplify the sound of her voice and carry its vibrations into the hearts of the listeners.

“ Son stè da me surèla mama la me mama

Son stè da me surèla e or mi sento morire “

Flavio usually did the solo at the end, but that time he inserted himself in the middle of the verses, dividing the song in two, pushing his fingers into the strings to shorten them to the maximum and achieve the high pitch of crying and pain. Then the last verse in chorus without the instrument.

“ Mi avete avvelenato mama la me mama

Mi avete avvelenato e or mi sento morire “

For tavern musicians, they made a good impression, so much so that even after returning to the table, Oriana was approached by one of the Provencals who wanted to compliment her.

Barnaut de Montpellier, not very tall, dark beard and square-cut hair long behind. Spoke his own dialect, which was not very different from that of the Podenzans, so they could understand each other.

“Your voice moved me! It would be an honor to compose for you. To hear my words from your throat.”

The way he looked at her seemed to suggest he had something else in mind besides composing songs, so much so that Donna Letizia, not inclined to be sidelined, had to reclaim his attention loudly. She had Barnaut circle the table to keep him close, and they whispered together for some time before she dismissed him and turned her attention back to Oriana.

“Now we must go. Before the sun sets, I want to show you the vineyards and explain your tasks.”

Even though she was enjoying herself, Oriana followed Donna Letizia out of the hall, away from the festivities, through empty corridors to a small door in the walls, where they stopped to put woolen shawls over their shoulders before stepping outside. They walked among tall chestnut trees, on the right an old wooden fence bordered the edge of a terrace dug lower down, with a small building whose roof seemed within reach, leaning beyond the barrier.

“I felt the magic in your singing. They say it manifests differently in each of us, yours responds to music, I saw you didn’t even have to strain.”

“That’s true. It came naturally to me.”

The rows of vines were spread out on the northern slope of the mountain, the grapes had already been harvested and piled up to dry under tarps, near the large vat, capable of holding four people, where they would end their existence.

“These are Meunier and Meslier grapevines, late-ripening grapes, and we expose them to the north to extend the ripening process even further. That’s why we harvest when it’s almost November.”

“Aren’t there any frosts? We are also in the highlands.”

“That’s what the mages are for. Can’t you see the fine weather around here?”

“But ma’am. My teacher said that influencing the climate is the most difficult thing of all.”

“For us humans. Not for our protector. Have you ever met a nymph?”

“I’ve been told they exist, but I’ve never seen one.”

“Then come along.”