Petrucchio's Theater, The Palazzo dell' Aquila
Milan, The Feast of Fools, April 1, 1526

In the Palazzo dell' Aquila, under the tiled roof, there is a large attic chamber where the older and newer halves of the house meet. The floor here is at two levels, the north half five feet higher than the south, with only a plain wooden stair to serve as access from one level to the other. In the summer, the room is an oven, where few breezes ever reach; in the winter, the wind whistles through the cracks in the wooden floor and rattles the tiles on the roof. There is but one window, high on the western wall. The view it offers overlooks the courtyard below, and – on a clear day – the distant peaks of the Alps, but it boasts only rough wooden shutters to keep out the rain and the wind.

In any other palazzo this space might have been used for storage or servants' quarters, or left empty altogether. But in this house, this isolated, otherwise useless room has been transformed into a very exclusive miniature theater. The center of the lower floor now hosts a small stage, built up on a raised platform, with a gaily painted proscenium and set with miniature furnishings to resemble a courtly hall.

The rest of the room is mostly dark, lit only by the occasional small stub of a candle, stuck onto an upturned nail. Only the stage area is ringed with light; with a collection of table candleabras set at various heights that provide a soft, flickering illumination for the play about to commence.

All around the rest of the room is the audience, awaiting the performance as patiently as only dolls can wait. Some (who have earned the best seats near the stage, for their participation in the ongoing dramas) are jointed figures of wood, exquisitely carved and painted, with hand-sewn costumes of velvet, silk and leather. Others, mere spectators, are little more than roughly hewn manikins, clad in the simplest of remnants. The poorest of these are woolen socks stuffed with straw and tied with twine to give them shape, their faces drawn on with a piece of charcoal.

The audience sits on the edge of the raised floor, or on rickety benches, or even rough planks balanced across salvaged bricks. Some are balanced carefully on chests or piles of debris covered with faded wall hangings. Some even sit on swings suspended from the rafters above by long ropes. A few lean against their fellows or have fallen flat on their painted faces, knocked awry by some particularly exuberant action on the stage that shook the entire theater some nights or even weeks ago. The playwright has been too busy to notice and set them upright again. The rest of the audience all sit facing the stage, painted eyes glued on the epic story about to unfold its latest chapter by candle light.

All save three....

Two low but well made chairs, with velvet pillows, sit directly in front of the stage. Their occupants are not dolls. One is a woman, a dwarf, short-legged and long-backed, her stocky figure masked by a fine, if old fashioned, gown appropriate for a matron of the lower middle class. Though the chair is low, her feet still do not touch the ground, but dangle nearly half a foot above it. Used to the inconveniences of her height, she doesn't think about it. Her attention, like that of the dolls, is focused on the stage. These stories are what she lives for, and the wonder and anticipation in her eyes is akin to that of a child.

Her companion is apparently not as enthusiastic, for he is bound to the chair he occupies. Wrists and ankles have been secured by strong ropes, and a loop of that rope encircles his throat, set to choke him if he pulls too hard at his bindings. He is gagged as well, to prevent him from disturbing the rest of the audience's enjoyment of the proceedings. He has been a guest here for three nights now, and much of the fight has been drained out of him. He has long since realized that he is a dead man, and this strange theater and its even stranger occupants are his first taste of Purgatory. He hopes, at least, that this is Purgatory — for Purgatory is for only a certain span of time — but Hell goes on forever.

Behind the stage is the master puppeteer. He is also a dwarf, with a short curly beard and a balding head covered with a black cap. All his clothing is black as well, so as to not distract attention away from the dolls who are the participants in his dramas. Those slated for a role in tonight's presentation are carefully positioned for their entrances, their costumes brushed, their lines memorized, and their props close to hand.

All is in readiness, and it is time to start the show.

Petrucchio selects his first two players for the evening, and sets them on the stage...