The Taming (Peregrine 1)

Liana grimaced and hoped he wasn’t going to starve them all day in order to save a few pennies. The fair had been set up on a barren field outside the walls of the village.

“This field will never grow grain again,” Rogan grumbled. “Not after all these feet have trampled it.”

Liana gritted her teeth and wondered if taking Rogan to the fair had been such a good idea after all. If he spent all day looking at what the peasants did wrong, he’d have a lot to punish them for later.

“The play!” Liana said, pointing toward a big wooden stage that had been set up at one end of the field. “Some of the players have come from London, and the whole village has been working on it for the last week. Come on or we won’t get a seat.” She took Rogan’s hand and began pulling him forward, leading him to a place on one of the benches in the middle of the audience. Near her was a woman with a basket of rotten vegetables that she could sling at the performers if she didn’t like what they did.

Liana nudged Rogan to look at the vegetables. “We should have brought some too.”

“A waste of food,” Rogan growled, and Liana wondered again if this had been such a good idea.

There was a patched and dirty curtain across the stage and now a man dressed in harlequin clothes, one leg red, one black, opposite arm red, the other black, with a black and red tunic, came out to announce that the name of the play was The Taming of Lord Buzzard.

For some reason, this announcement made the people around them howl with laughter.

“I guess it’s a comedy,” Liana said, then added, looking at Rogan’s dour face, “I hope it’s a comedy.”

The curtain was pulled aside to reveal a bleak scene: Bare trees in pots stood at the back, and in the foreground was an ugly old man squatting down over a heap of straw that was dyed red to look like a fire. He held a stick out that had three rats on it.

&n

bsp; “Come on, daughter, dinner is almost ready,” the man called.

From behind the curtain to the right came a woman—or what looked to be a woman. She turned toward the audience and she was actually a very ugly man. The audience howled. In her arms was a fat straw doll, and when she bent to put the “baby” down then stood, the audience saw that she had an enormous bosom, so enormous its weight tipped her forward. She looked at the rats. “They look delicious, Father,” she said in a high voice as she squatted down across from him.

Liana smiled up at Rogan and saw that he was barely watching the play. He was looking at the people around them as if he were trying to find enemies.

From the left side of the stage came another actor, a tall man, his shoulders thrown back, his head held high. On his head was a red wool wig and on his nose was a paper beak like a hawk’s.

“What is going on here?” the tall actor demanded. “I am Lord Buzzard and you are eating my livestock.”

“But, my lord,” the father whined, “they are only rats.”

“But they are my rats,” Lord Buzzard said arrogantly.

Liana began to feel a little nervous. This play couldn’t possibly be a parody of Rogan, could it?

On the stage, Lord Buzzard grabbed the old man by the scruff of the neck and pushed him face down into the straw fire.

“No, my lord,” cried the ugly daughter as she stood up, her tattered cloak falling away from her vast bosom.

“Ah-ha!” Lord Buzzard said, leering. “Come here, my beauty.”

The reference to the woman-dressed man as a beauty made the audience laugh.

The daughter took a step backward as Lord Buzzard came toward her. He kicked the straw baby with his foot, sending it flying across the stage.

It was then that Lord Buzzard opened his long cloak. Affixed around his waist, strapped to his legs, was an enormous set of genitals. It was padded straw, eighteen inches long, eight inches around, and below it hung two big round gourds.

Liana’s heart dropped to her feet. “Let’s go,” she said to Rogan, said really loudly, because the audience was screaming with laughter.

Rogan’s eyes were now fixed on the stage. He clamped a hand down on Liana’s shoulder and held her in place. She had no choice but to watch.

Onstage, Lord Buzzard, with his coat held open, went across the stage after the ugly woman until they were out of sight. Instantly, one of Rogan’s red-haired sons came onto the stage and took a bow. He was obviously the product of Lord Buzzard’s union with the woman.

From stage left came an old woman carrying a dark bundle, which she put in the middle of the stage, not far from where the father still lay in the straw fire.

“Now, daughter, we will at last be warm,” she said, and from the right came another very ugly man dressed as a woman. Only this man stuck out behind instead of in front. He had padded buttocks that could have been used as a shelf and an absolutely flat chest.