Free A Dancer in Darkness by David Stacton Page A

and the creaking of the triumphal cars excited her.
    It was a diverse spectacle. It had an excitement the world has lost. For in those days people were not passive in their amusements . They did not watch a parade. They paraded themselves. And even those who watched it had sung and paraded once.
    First came the lesser guildsmen, each led by a master, carrying banners and flags. They walked in silence. They were the overture. Next came the senior guilds, with drums, fifes, and even an angel to play the nun’s fiddle on an allegorical cart. And with these came the first floats, each representing the patron saint of its guild. The floats were high and wide, and moved with rheumatic dignity through the narrow streets. A St. Christopher eight feet tall, clad in yellow satin, held an Infant Jesus above the crowd. An allegorical car presented theTemptation of St. Anthony, but all the pretty demons were so tickled by the vibration of the car that they could scarcely help but giggle. St. George pranced by on a white horse. Behind him a blonde peasant girl led the dragon by a silver string. It was a delightful dragon, puffing real fumes. There were many more. St. Michael in silver armour led the Devil in chains. He was a green and scaly devil, like something from the sea.
    There was an interval, and next came a cavalcade of all the previous Dukes of Amalfi, including her late husband, and before them, the Doges of the Republic, smartly dressed, and surrounded by a flurry of standards, as though they were being hustled back into history.
    The centre of the procession had been organized by the Jesuits, who alone had discovered how to make the Passion entertaining. In love, in our daily chores, in the mere act of peeling a peach, we re-enact a passion every day. The Jesuits made faith visible. They also made it fun.
    Drawn by camels, came the cart of the Nativity. On the roof of its stable angels gloriously sang, as on the next car they fiddled the flight into Egypt through the streets. The order of the carts had become mixed. Here was the Annunciation, a scene of great splendour, and what was the Queen of Heaven if she was not earthly too?
    The angel might have been a page in her employ. He was clearly of good family. And over her prayers floated a white dove with outstretched wings, joggling up and down on a silver wire.
    Round these carts capered some players, tricked out as devils, with big faces painted on their behinds, so skilfully contrived that the eyes blinked on their buttocks, and their hairy tongues slid in and out.
    Next came the floats dedicated to the triumph of the Duchess. These she watched like a child, but her life was not like this. She grew tense again. She had thought she was merely watching a procession. But this was not true. She realized now she had been waiting for one special car, and was glad that there was no one but the Bishop to see her face. She was a little scared.
    For the last of the carts devoted to her own apotheosis hadbeen designed by Antonio. It was the cart of King Psapho. King Psapho was a legendary king so eager for fame that he taught parrots how to repeat his name, and then released them to the world. The legend had perhaps become a bit scrambled at the hands of the Court Poet who had suggested it; but the intention and the compliment were clear. The Duchess felt very pale and very weak.
    The cart was square, surrounded on three sides by a simple balustrade. At the four corners stood slim youths dressed in Roman armour made out of feathers, with scarlet feather cloaks, each holding a forked religious banner, and with beaks for helmets and buskins of gold. In the centre of the cart stood an immense cage, surmounted by the popinjay. In the cage a bird man taught some parrots how to speak, and mimics made them seem to shout: Aemilia, Aemilia, as the cart passed by the Duchess.
    At the rear of the cart was a throne, over which a negro held a scarlet parasol. On the throne sat Antonio, dressed as