Before I came to the town of Arona in northwest Italy, I had no idea what it was like, or why it might be of interest. And I had never heard of the brothers de Lantins, so bumping into them, almost literally, outside a lively tavern on a May evening was a very happy accident.
I had managed to secure a temporary job as pot-girl during the festivities and was carrying a large jug of wine out to some thirsty patrons when a boisterous circle-dance broke up, scattering revellers in all directions, two of them being the aforementioned brothers, identical twins, differentiated only by their dress; one wearing a more sombre traveller's outfit, the other in a rich-looking tunic with the livery of some great house embroidered on the breast. They were good enough to apologize hastily for jogging my arm, and one of the pair asked if they might buy a couple of measures of cool wine after their exertions in the dance?
When I returned a few minutes later to find them seated and waiting they were already engaged in discussion:
"Can you not see how the pattern of the tune might be overlaid perhaps two or three times, at different intervals?"
"I can see that it might be possible, but surely, it would be cacophanous! What patron would want such music?"
"In Paris, already, this new art is being practised in the service of the divine, and surely what is good enough for God in France, will soon be good enough for the noble houses of Italy?"
"You will not convince me, Hugo, no matter how you try. Did you not learn from the holy brothers that 'God is not the author of confusion'?"
"No, no! You do not understand. Let me demonstrate..."
Drawing back a little on the bench, Hugo dips his finger in the red wine and starts drawing lines:
"A hop and a skip, I shall write it in imperfect time, perfect
prolation, like so..."
He draws a broken circle, the symbol of imperfection, indicating two main phrases, with a small complete circle inside it, meaning that there will be three main beats in each phrase, then a sequence of squares indicating the notes.
"Now, after ... five steps, let us say with the beginning of the second three, another voice begins..."
Watching with fascination, I see how he repeats the same pattern of notes, at a lower pitch, harmonizing as the beginning of the second voice joins with the middle of the first! And suddenly, I am brought back to earth by a sound slap to my behind.
"Giovanna! this
patient family is waiting for honey cakes. NOW!"
Perhaps it was the bang on the behind, but by the time I get home, I can barely remember the melody that Hugo wrote down. And as nearly as I can tell, it was the traditional carol "I saw three ships come sailing in". Considering the lyrics, I find myself wondering if this is another of the riddle songs that were once so popular:
Why three ships, for two people? and what does the song mean by "Our Savior Christ and His Lady"? Normally we use the term so-and-so and his lady to indicate a girlfriend or wife. Most people would probably have no trouble in identifying the virgin Mary as Christ's lady, but what about the Bride of Christ? His church? And why are they sailing to landlocked Bethlehem? riddle-me riddle-me ree!
It occurs to me too, that it might be more than coincidence that I met the twins in a town governed by the Borromea family, whose arms are three interlinked rings. Twos and threes every which way!
