of rhymers was more like it. Indeed, by all outward appearances Signore Meducci could not have seemed more unfit for the challenge ahead; but like Nonno, the old donkey was tough and shrewd and seemed to share a penchant for survival.
“Cavalieri,” the Good Padre’s voice now boomed as he raised his arms. The crowd looked on anxiously. This was all part of the ritual and they knew well the words to come. “By bless’d Saint and sacred season, gather all for holy reason.” Many voices from the crowd began to join the Good Padre as he led the ancient invocation. “Gather for grape and wine, gather for olive and oil, gather to honor Saint and soil. Gather young men of honor and power; gather to battle for the hour.”
The crowd roared with applause. The Good Padre continued as more voices joined in. “Quadranti and Capitani send forth your knights and hear the rules to race it right.” Five hundred voices now rang like thunder through the piazza. “Twelve laps, twelve goblets drunk, he who’s dropped is he who’s sunk.” Davido felt his hair stand on end. He took a quick, panicked gulp of air. It was happening. “First to finish in twelve laps’ time; first to finish his bottle of wine; first to place a hand upon the shrine; is he who wears the olive and vine. So raise your goblet and Cavalieri set your mark, for the Race of the Drunken Saint does hereby start!”
Attraverso Gli Occhi di un Estraneo, wrote Pozzo Menzogna in his eloquent treatise on drama, Il Trattato Definitivo sul Dramma. The idea being, according to Menzogna, that when faced with a large and compelling scene (an epic battle, or perhaps a donkey race) filled with familiar faces, it is, on occasion, insightful to establish the scene and relay the action through the eyes of a stranger. This need not mean an absolute newcomer to the story, which Menzogna argued would be quite distracting, but a character or player familiar to the tale in general, and yet unfamiliar—or strange, as Menzogna put it—to a particular environment. The introduction of strange eyes to a familiar environment affords the reader a heightened sense of objectivity and increases that all-important quality of verisimilitude. Additionally, witnessing an event through strange eyes eradicates the need to move between numerous perspectives. This intensifies the wonder and immediacy of the action at hand and allows for a more natural compression of linear time, for instance, as may happen here, moving straight from the first lap of the donkey race to the penultimate. Finally, viewing events through the eyes of a stranger makes for a telling juxtaposition when in the climactic moments the perspective shifts back to the familiar and subjective eyes of the story’s hero: Attraverso Gli Occhi dell’ Eroe.
Hence, with Davido and Benito directly involved in the action and Mari, Nonno, the Good Padre, Giuseppe, Bobo the Fool and Cosimo di Pucci de’ Meducci the Third all pressed in among the exuberant throng and overtly or secretly hopeful for one outcome or another, and with Mucca, Signore Coglione, Bertolli, Vincenzo, Augusto Po and the Cheese Maker all present but not significant enough to our story to entrust the retelling of such important events, Menzogna would assuredly recommend that we look through the eyes of Chef Luigi Campoverde to recount the opening lap of the Drunken Saint’s Race, for Luigi, familiar as he may be to the reader, had no idea what in the world he’d just happened upon.
Luigi had arrived in the village just an hour ago, yet he was already disappointed in himself for getting drunk so quickly. Of course, rolling into the village on what happened to be its most raucous and celebratory feast day proved compelling even to a tightly bound elitist adamantly averse to keeping company with lowly rhymers. And yes, the sight of the profoundly pleasant priest, or Good Padre, as he seemed to be called, prompted Luigi to drain his first two goblets with great urgency. Plus, the wine was free and delicious, and the girl who served it a delight to look upon. But what should happen to him if the duke were to find him in such a debauched state? Certainly, he’d be out of a job.
God knows, Luigi’s original intent for visiting the village was harrowing enough. He had not come to the far-off hamlet to shop or barter, as one might expect of a chef so inclined to bargains and petty thievery,