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Charivari...
After setting his ambition, Ivan has donned a pair of gloves and a large beige cloak with a hood. It is not a perfect disguise, but he knows that as long as he slouches a little, keeps his hood up, and keeps his scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth, he will be fine.
Sneaking out of the cathedral is not as easy as he had hoped though. Even though he is disguised, the clergy and whatever few parishioners there are in the building would not feel comfortable with seeing a such a bulky figure walking around; so Ivan still must slink through the shadows and climb along the edifice.
Shimmy down a column...
Slide down a buttress...
Scale down the statues...
It is of no inconvenience to Ivan. In fact, as he makes his way closer and closer to the ground, he wonders why he never thought to do this before.
Ivan stops for a moment due to the buzzing sounds below. Never before has he heard such hubbub! Not even at weddings! It is wonderful to hear such sounds though; the sounds of happy people and calm celebrations. Yes, calm celebrations; for the Lord of Misrule has yet to appear and the festival will not truly begin without him! Ivan scans the crowd. Indeed there are jugglers and musicians and entertainment of all sorts, but never has he seen them with such detail. It is even more impressive now that he can count how many of what things are being juggled; four batons over here, six pens over there, and that one is juggling five colorful balls with one hand! The music is nice, it is not as beautiful as he thought it would be, but it does have a nice beat and the people dancing do look wonderful. Their steps look so much more complicated than he thought and it is amazing to see them all in sync with the rhythm yet conducting their own steps; only matching the movements of their partner or partners. There are some things he has never even heard of too; people balancing things on their heads and faces, men swallowing swords and eating fire! Those sorts of things are hard to see from his tower.
Ivan also decides to glance at the mystery play. He has always liked those, but it is a little hard to follow along when you cannot hear the dialogue. It would have been nice for Ivan to have finally seen one without such a nuisance ("would have" being the key words here) but that is not the case. For some unknown reason, there is no mystery play! The stage is set and there is a banner sign, "L'un vers L'autre'', but no actors and no audience.
Ivan probably would have thought about that some more, but the drums are rolling and the trumpets are flaring. The crowd claps and cheers as it makes room for the people and carriages parading into the square. Hooded and dressed in black, the chorus walks in single file, waving their furled sails and banners as they chant to the crowd.
Come one, come all!
Leave your loops and milking stools.
Coop the hens and pen the mules.
Ivan takes a deep breath and looks back to the bell tower. "It is only one afternoon," he tells himself. "One afternoon of sunshine and fete is certainly worth the risks." He leaps onto a line of bunting streamers and slides down to the post it is tied to. It so happens though that the next line he grabs is not as secure as it should have been, and Ivan uncontrollably swings over the party goers' heads...
Come one, come all!
Close the churches and the schools.
Tis the day for breaking rules.
...and lands in front of the singing group.
Come and join the feast of...
"Fools! Hahaha!" A stubble-chinned man dressed so vividly and slightly eccentric, radiating an attitude to match slides from the garments betwixt a chorus man's legs. Such an air can only belong to the Lord of Misrule; and as he laughs, the sails unfurl and a thick fog of confetti bursts onto the atmosphere. Though the crowd share a round of laughs and smiles as they drink and dance, all Ivan can think of doing is getting away; getting out of this clearing and into the sea of constantly moving bodies where he could never possibly be noticed.
But the mock lord will have none of that! Francois has a show to put on; an audience to entertain; and nothing shall stand in his way! He grabs the closest person, some guy wearing a hood, and dances around with him.
Once a year, we throw a party here in town.
Once a year, we turn all of Paris upside down.
Ev'ry man's a king, and ev'ry king's a clown.
Once again, tis Topsy Turvy Day!
Francois dances all over the place. There are plenty of creative performers and costumes around, but Francois only features the best of the best. After all, there is a reason he was chosen to head this party; but there is one person who does not seem quite right. A hooded man, the very one he twirled with before, does not seem to be enjoying the fun like everyone else; and Francois cannot help but think, "Well we can't have that now, can we?"
Tis the day the devil in us gets released.
Tis the day we mock the prig and judge the priest.
Ev'rything is topsy turvy at the Feast of Fools!
Could a festival cause stress? According to Ivan, yes. Never before has he been so nervous of someone seeing him! And though the disguise helps, he would still rather not draw any attention to himself. However, that sort of thing happens when the Lord of Misrule chases after you. Ivan hides behind a banner; he is there to tear it away. Ivan runs into a small tent; it turns out to be a puppet theatre, and there he is to make Ivan a part of the show. It also does not help that everywhere he turns, Ivan sees an amusing form a madness: dogs walking men, a horse with two rear ends, a lobster cooking a chef, and of course the beyond bizzare costumes intermingling with the normal folk! It is all such very strange scenery to take in, especially when he is running here and there without a chance to stop.
Ivan tries his luck with another tent. With its small size, there is no possible way multiple people could fit in there; and with everything happening out in the open, who would be hiding away in a tent? (other than himself of course) He only needs a minute or two to himself; the plan was to blend in with the revelers and take in the attractions, not throw himself into the center of chaos!
He runs inside, ready to sit down and take some deep breaths; but no! There he is again, the Lord of Misrule; and this time he has and army of scantily clad women! Somehow he manages to capture and drag Ivan in their chorus line course to a slightly larger tent!
Dross is gold and weeds are a bouquet.
That's the way on Topsy Turvy Day!
It is all too much for Ivan and he needs to get out now! In his panic and need to breathe, along with his desperation to be as unnoticeable as possible (and lose that mock lord), Ivan tries to crawl backwards out of the tent (It is his only option since his arms were siezed by the women).
What he is not expecting though, is to step on his scarf, causing him to slip, trip, and tumble backwards thanks to his angle and momentum.
The world is turned upside down as Ivan falls head-over-heels into yet another tent. Ivan swings his arms, trying to find something to hold onto and gain his balance, but the only thing he can grasp is a bright red curtain. He faceplants onto the floor with the curtain over him and hears a high-pitched shriek; one that he assumes came from a woman that was behind said curtain.
Ivan fumbles around in the curtain. Though he cannot really see anyone, he hears enough noises to know that there is more than one person in the tent with him; and they are probably looking at him oddly. It is embarrassing to know that he has barged in a on a company of strangers, but when he hears a quiet "Put some clothes on!" from one of the mystery people, his face explodes into a plethora of pink.
As Ivan attempts to untangle himself, a wet, black nose pushes its way to his face. After a couple of sniffs, the creature attached to the nose growls and backs away. The little opening left behind allows Ivan to see two pairs of legs and a little animal. From the bare, smaller pair, he hears a childish voice say, "Hey! No free peeks! Pay up!" followed by a thwomping sound and a miserable "Owww..."
"Are you alright?" comes another voice; different than both the quiet one and the childish one. Ivan freezes as a hand reaches into his curtain cocoon. He chews his lip and there is a hitch in his breathing as the digits inch closer; only a hair away from touching him...
"I'm sorry!" Ivan throws the curtain off of him. He tries his best to scramble away, but he is surrounded on every side and there is no place to go. Nervously he tugs on the side of his hood; doing his best to make sure no one sees him. "I-I am so sorry..." he mutters. Ivan feels a pair of kind hands help him up; and, despite his objections, the same hands push down his hood. He waits for the inevitable scream, for someone to faint or get angry, for the torches and pitchforks but nothing happens.
"See, everything is perfect." Ivan looks at the owner of the voice and for the first time since landing in the square, he relaxes. Ivan is amazed to find himself in the presence of what must be God's most wonderful creation; but it is not the sky blue eyes, flawlessly smooth skin, honey coloured hair, or thinly veiled curves that causes a goofy grin to sprout on his face. Rather it is the honest smile and warm approach that puts him in such a disposition. In fact, he is so enamored with the beautiful stranger that he almost does not notice the gypsy ask, "You aren't hurt are you?"
"Uh, n-no. I- um- I..." As Ivan rambles nonsense to who must be the woman that was behind the now fallen curtain, he becomes vaguely aware of the other two occupants: a little boy holding his hand out, demanding payment and a young spectacled man holding the boy back, muttering something along the lines of "this is not a peep show."
"Just try to be a little more careful, okay?" the gypsy says as they lead Ivan out of the tent. Ivan cannot bring himself to say anything, but he is very grateful that no one notices the blush on his scarred face. "By the way, great mask dude!"
As Ivan reenters the loud and crazy "topsy-turvy" festival once again, all he can think about is whether or not he would see that beautiful person again.
Topsy Turvy!
Beat the drums and blow the trumpets!
Topsy Turvy!
Join the bums and thieves and strumpets!
Streaming in from Chartres to Calais
Scurvy knaves are extra scurvy
On the sixth of Januervy
All because it's Topsy Turvy Day!
After the Lord of Misrule's performance, the party tames somewhat; confetti is no longer exploding in everyone's faces, the costumes do not seem so crazy anymore, and Ivan no longer feels as if he is being chased. He spends about an hour or two doing the things he has dreamt of, like playing Dunk the Monk, eating delicious food for once, and he even danced a little (though it was against his will).
Of course he made sure to avoid Arthur's field of vision, which was a very hard thing to do; the both of them are watching the belated mystery play (It was hard to miss Arthur's dark carriage, dark clothes, and dark viewing tent). Well Ivan was trying to watch the play but no one is paying attention; and all of the noise and commotion made it hard to hear. The first character, apparently he has no name, recites a lengthy monologue and invites another character onto the sparsely decorated stage; but before the audience learns of his name, the Lord of Misrule appears and declares the mystery play over.
To be honest, Francois feels awful for cancelling the play. The story is a very good one; one of lovers finding each other and having a perfect night, only to never see each other again. However he did warn the playright, a cute boy that he looks out for every now and then, that it would be a little too high brow for the crowd. Under normal circumstance he might have told everyone to shutup and enjoy the romance but, having a job to do, Francois gathers the peoples' attention and introduces a one-of-a-kind act that is sure to please.
Come one, come all!
Hurry, hurry, here's your chance.
See the myst'ry and romance.
Come one, come all!
See the finest person in all of France
Make an entrance to entrance
Danse le bel Alfred
Danse!
On the last word, Francois disappears in a puff of red smoke, and Alfred appears in his place.
At first the audience is startled from the trick, but one moment later a collection of gasps and wolf whistles ring throughout the crowd. Everyone, even Minister Kirkland, stare in jaw-dropping astonishment at the beauty dancing before them.
Alfred struts and dances around, hitting his tambourine in time to the music.
Though Ivan has been taught that such activity is a sin, he finds himself hopelessly drawn to the twirling wonder; for this is the same person he stumbled upon ealier. Now however, this Alfred (Ivan twiddles with his scarf as he realizes that ''she'' is actually a ''he'') is wearing something much more risque. White fabric sewn with such a clever design; the bodice clings to his chest while the skirt flies as if out of free will, showing as much leg as possible, and a blue sash is wrapped around his hips, acting as a beacon to attract the eyes. But Ivan barely pays any attention to Alfred's shape (or to the crown of festive coloured flowers in his hair), it is the boy's face that captivate him: how he smiles so freely and innocently; how that smile seems to brighten when he turns in Ivan's direction; and is it his imagination, or is the gypsy boy looking at him?
In the shade of his tent, Arthur too finds himself mesmerized by the gypsy boy's hypnotic routine. His jaw drops, his eyes bulge from their sockets, and his eyebrows almost leap from his face! Arthur can feel a heat ignite deep inside his gut as his cheeks and ears redden. He shakes his head and reclines back into his seat. "Disgusting display..." he grumbles to himself, but the blush and the heat refuse to vanish.
Captain Ludwig had been busy posting guards, issuing orders, and surveying the area to pay attention to the provided entertainment; but at the sound of a tambourine, and with the fresh memory of a previously occurred event, Ludwig casts his obligations aside and turns to the sound. To his surprise, it is the same gypsy boy from the street sashaying his hips this way and that. He frowns in jealousy when the teen dances to his boss and cozies onto the Judge's lap.
More wolf whistles are heard when Alfred wraps his blue star-spangled scarf around Judge Kirkland's neck. It is a routine that he was told to use; tease the Judge to please the crowd. For good measure, he even caresses the old man's cheek and kisses his nose. As the tease reaches its climax, he pushes the gaffer away and leaps back to his stage. He sings the rest of the choreography in his head, proud to have come up with it all by himself, "Spin to the center! Stike a pose! Step here, twirl there! Cartwheel! Pose again so they do not know I am dizzy! Aaaaaand glide into a split!" As he throws his head back and smiles to the partying Parisians he notices that the man infront of him is the very same man that had crashed into his tent earlier. Mattie had been pretty mad about that...He winks to the man, knowing that it is him underneathe that hood and giggles when the man nervously turns away and pulls his hood further over the mask. Alfred cannot understand why he is trying to hide it; it is an awesome mask!
Oh well, there is no time to dwell on that anymore; now is time for the showstopper! In a stunt never performed before, Alfred grabs a spear from a solider (it is practically given to him) and plunges it into the wooden planks. "Jump! Aaand twirl!" Round and round he spins as he slides down the shaft. As he gets closer to the spear head, he curls one of his legs around the shaft and kicks the other into the air. He drapes along the stage floor before lifting himself up, arching his back and striking another pose as the music ends.
The performance was a tiring one and he had been nervous the entire time but as Alfred hears the cheers and as he and the stage are literally showered with sols and francs, he believes that the stress had been worth it.
There are a few more acts after Alfred's: a Greek gypsy showcases his trained cats (and then falls asleep on the stage), a girl with pigtails balances two swordfishes on her face, and a Spanish gypsy and a Portuguese gypsy juggle tomatoes before hitting each other with them; just to name a few. However, the only performance that comes close to having the same reaction as the first is a routine performed by a little gypsy boy with the help of his brother and a bear.
The boy divides his time playing a tambourine that signals the bear cub to perform counting tricks and conducting a series of acrobatic tricks. Although the tricks are impressive, the main reason people are paying attention is because the lovely assistant is none other than Alfred, the dancing gypsy. The final trick is a disappearing act; in which a sheet was thrown over a the bear and then lifted to reveal empty space. When it is over, and as the audience claps, the borthers bow and the Lord of Misrule takes the stage once again. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the pièce de résistance..."
Here it is, the moment you've been waiting for.
Here it is, you know exactly what's in store.
Now's the time we laugh until our sides get sore.
Now's the time we crown the King of Fools!
"I assume you all remember last year's King?"
People scream wildly as an Asian boy with an odd, happily looking curl is carried on some men's shoulders. Ivan looks confused about it though; he has never heard the rules in regards of choosing the "King of Fools" so he remains quiet as everyone else snickers, nudges, and winks at one another.
"Who here thinks that could top Yong Soo?"
So make a face that's horrible and frightening.
Make a face as gruesome as a gargoyle's wing.
For the face that's ugliest will be the King of Fools!
As the little boy throws confetti out to the crowd, men wearing masks climb onto the stage...
Topsy Turvy!
Ugly folks, forget your shyness!
...but the only thing Ivan sees, is Alfred smiling as he offers his hand. Ivan is a little shocked and nervous, but he takes the hand anyway. He does not notice the disapproving glare coming from the older brother, or the growl from the reappeared bear cub, all he sees is Alfred giggling sweetly before dancing to the other side of the stage; where the line-up starts.
Topsy Turvy!
You could soon be called "Your Highness!"
Put your foulest features on display.
Be the king of Topsy Turvy Day!
One by one, Alfred and Matthew pull off the contestants' masks...
One by one, the audience is presented with ''ugly'' faces...
One by one, the face is answered with boos and hisses...
...and one by one, Peter and Kumajirou push the losers into a puddle of mud and piss below.
It is the end of the line and Ivan still is not sure exactly what is going on as, for the second time that day, the gypsies surround him. The smallest pulls down Ivan's scarf, the tallest removes Ivan's hood, but it is Alfred who places his hands on Ivan's horrific face. He tugs at the flesh, thinking it to merely be a mask, but when nothing gives, Alfred instenely examines Ivan before gasping and recoiling in shock! Ivan does not know what is worse: the symphony of gasps and screams coming from the Parisians at the sight of his pale and scarred skin, or the shameful feeling that pools in his gut as the tall gypsy drags his brothers (including the beautiful Alfred) away.
One lady delivers an eardrum shattering cry of, "MONSTER!" and promptly faints into her husband's arms.
There are more cries from random people; each adding to the pain and fear in Ivan's heart.
"That's no mask!"
"It's his face!"
"He's hideous!"
"It's the bell-ringer from Notre Dame!"
No one really knows what to do about the situation, even Judge Kirkland is speechless; angry but speechless. As for the guards...well, it is not as if there is an actual crime being commited...
Francois mumbles curses under his breath as he observes the stalemate. If the festival stops, he could lose money and could be blamed for this unexpected occurrence; and neither of those things would do. Realising his only option, Francois gathers everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, do not panic. We asked for the ugliest face in all of Paris, and voila here he is: Ivan, the bell-ringer of Notre Dame!"
Arthur seethes in his seat as those depraved cretins laud that monster. How dare Ivan disobey him?! He would have to punish the insolent brat somehow. Ivan needs to learn such disobedience has consequences; "Spare the rod, spoil the child'' and whatnot.
Even with the change of attitude in the crowd, Ivan still has a confusing mix of emotions brewing inside. On one hand, he wants to run back to his tower and hide, but on the other hand, the hurt he felt makes him want to hurt other people, especially that cocky Lord of Misrule! And then there is that alluring gypsy, Alfred to consider. Did he plan this? Had his kindness been a clever ruse? Is he laughing at Ivan right now? Ivan is pretty sure that he will never know the answers to those questions, and he is also sure that it is not healthy to think about such things. So he smiles a hideous smile and makes the best of the situation. After all, it is hard to glower when you are given a crown, cape, and scepter; when girls are kissing your cheeks; and when people are cheering, singing, and praising you, even if it is something of a joke...
And tis the day we do the things that we deplore
On the other three hundred and sixty-four
Once a year, we love to drop in
Where the beer is never stoppin
For the chance to pop some popinjay
And pick a king who will put the "top" in
Topsy Turvy Day!
Mad and crazy, upsy-daisy, Topsy Turvy Day!
A/N: Once again, this chapter was not beta'd. So if there are any mistakes please let me know, I will fix them. I would like to thank everyone who has read and favourited/reviewed/followed. Seriously, you guys make me smile. So, what do you think of this chapter? What do you think is going to happen next? I hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter and please review.