Thousands of people milled about, engaging in a dizzying array of activity. As she ventured tentatively out into the square, strangers approached her from every direction, all trying to sell their wares. They held out small, wooden dolls, brightly colored glass, flasks of wine, and most of all, masks. Everywhere she looked, there were masks. Even stranger, everywhere she looked, she was shocked to see people wearing them. The predominant mask was white, with a long, beaked nose, but there were masks of all shapes and sizes. Even stranger, many people walked about in full costume, some fully cloaked. It was as if she’d arrived in one huge Halloween party. She had no idea what the occasion was. Did people here always dress like this?
As if that were not enough, everyone seemed to be drunk, or quickly getting drunk. People laughed too loud, sang songs to themselves, jostled each other, and openly drank from jugs of wine.
There was music everywhere, every few feet another guitarist, or violinist, sitting on a crate or stool, playing away with an open hat and asking for tips.
Completing the scene were jugglers, comics, clowns, and performers of all sorts. Before her, one man juggled brightly colored balls, while another man juggled torches of fire. Caitlin stopped, in awe, watching.
She was soon jostled roughly, and turned to see a large man, dressed in a cloak and mask, drunk, stumbling, his arm around an elaborately dressed courtesan. As Caitlin watched, he reached down and grabbed her rear roughly, and she screamed with laughter.
This city was like a circus. It was the rowdiest, most chaotic place she had ever seen. She marveled that all this licentiousness could be taking place right here, in front of these churches. It was the strangest dichotomy she had ever seen. Was the city just one, endless party? Or had she arrived at some special time?
Caitlin spotted a small group of finely dressed woman cutting their way through the crowd. They were each dressed in elaborate gowns, ruffling their way, and held a small pouch to their noses as they went.
Caitlin wondered what they were holding, and at just that moment, it hit her. The stench. She had been too stunned to notice it at first, but now, as she walked, she was overwhelmed by the horrible smell of everyone and everything around her. It smelled like no one here had bathed. Ever.
And then she remembered: of course, no one had. It was 1790, after all. Plumbing hadn’t been invented yet. As the sun grew higher, and the temperature grew warmer, the stench grew even worse. Caitlin held her nose, but no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t get away from it.
That’s why those women were holding those pouches to their noses: to block out the smell.
Caitlin suddenly felt claustrophobic, and spotted what looked like a side street; she cut her way through a group of jugglers and guitar players, and as she crossed the square, she saw that there were many side streets leading in and out of the square. They were more like narrow alleyways, underneath arched buildings, and she ducked into the nearest one.
Finally, she could breathe; Rose looked relieved, too. They headed down the narrow side street, and it weaved its way left and right. The streets were so narrow, and the buildings blocked out most of the light, and she began to feel confined in this city. She stood there, debating which way to go.
She had barely ventured a few blocks, and already she felt disoriented, turned around. She had no idea where she was going, or where to look for Caleb—if he was even here. She wished she had a map—but then again, she had no money—or, at least, no real money—to pay for one.
Worse, she felt the hunger gnawing away at her again, and felt herself growing more irritable.
Rose, as if reading her mind, whined. The poor thing was hungry, too. Caitlin was determined to find a way to get them both food.
She suddenly heard a wooden shutter opening up above, followed by a loud splashing. She jumped back, as a bucket of water hit the ground, close to her, startling her. She looked up and saw an old woman, missing teeth, looking down as she finished emptying a bucket, and then slammed closed the shutters.
Caitlin smelled a horrible stench, and didn’t need anyone to explain to her what the woman had just done: thrown a bucket of urine out the window. She was revolted. She heard another shutter opening, in the distance, and looked over and watched someone else do the same. She looked down and realized that the streets were lined with urine and feces. She also noticed several rats scurrying to and fro. She nearly wretched. It made her, for the first time, really appreciate the inventions and comforts of her time that she had always taken for granted. Plumbing. Sewage systems. She longed for cleanliness, and felt more homesick than ever. If this was a sneak preview of urban life in 1790, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
Caitlin hurried along, before any more shutters opened, and finally saw what looked like an opening up ahead. She reached the end of the alleyway, and it indeed opened up onto another square, this one less crowded. She was relieved to be out of the side streets and back out into the open light and air again.
She crossed the square, and sat on the edge of the large, circular fountain, in one of the few empty seats amidst the crowd. Rose jumped up beside her, and sat looking up at her, whining.
As Caitlin sat there, trying to collect her thoughts, a person approached, holding out a canvas and pointing at it with a paintbrush. She looked up at him, puzzled, and he kept pointing. “I draw your picture,” he said. “Very pretty. Very nice. You pay me.”
Caitlin shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t have any money.”
The man quickly hurried off. Caitlin looked around the square, and noticed street artists everywhere, all trying to get people to pay them. And then she noticed something which alarmed her: packs of wild dogs. They combed along the sides of the square, rifling through trash, and she saw one dog stop and look her way. It seemed to focus on Rose—and soon, it was trotting in their direction.
Rose must have sensed it, too, because she turned slowly and faced the oncoming animal. Caitlin could feel Rose tense up, and she tensed, too. The large, mangy dog looked somewhat like a German Shepherd, and it came up to Rose, and sniffed her. Rose sniffed back, her hair standing up on her back; as the dog tried to walk behind Rose, Rose suddenly snapped, snarling with an unearthly noise, baring her teeth, and biting the dog’s neck—hard.
The dog yelped. Although it was bigger, Rose was clearly more powerful and she did not let go.
Finally, the dog took off.
Rose, worked up, sat there, snarling, a vicious, unearthly sound, and several people backed away, giving them space.
Caitlin was shocked. She had never seen Rose like that before. It made her realize Rose was not the small, innocent pup she remembered; she was growing up, and would soon be a full-bred wolf, and a force to be reckoned with.
Caitlin felt the unwelcome stares in their direction, and decided to move on, before someone realized that Rose was not just another dog. The last thing she wanted was to call more attention to them.
Caitlin got up and led Rose to the opposite side of the square. She looked at all the side streets and alleyways leading into and out of the square, and felt overwhelmed. Had she been foolish to come here? How could she ever possibly find Caleb amidst these masses, in this maze of a city?
Maybe she should have followed the Priest’s advice, and gone to Florence instead. Had she been foolish to follow her heart?
Before she could finish the thought, something caught her attention. On the far side of the square, she noticed a girl get dragged down an alleyway, and heard her muffled cry, before a hand was clasped over her mouth. Clearly, she was in trouble.