Birkin lived with his parents in a house with a beautiful garden. It was in a quiet area of the city, far from the traffic. Through the tall railing he could see a stretch of the road in front, a road of a brilliant shade of pink.
Birkin was a smart child, with blond unruly locks which were always getting into his big, azure eyes, which looked at the world with a lot of curiosity.
Everyday, unless the weather was bad, he used to go out in the garden to play.
Birkin was in fact a child all alone, and perhaps that was the reason why he used to spend a lot of time looking at the squirrels which had chosen to take up their residence in the old elm, which in summer shaded a great part of the garden.
The meadow looked like one of the carpets at home - Birkin used to think - but much more beautyful, since flowers came in hundreds of tones. Furthermore, in the garden he could lie down and watch dragonflies, with their iridescent wings. How could they - he wondered - keep still in the air, while butterflies had to move all the time?
When it was time for him to go to sleep, and the garden was silent and quiet, Birkin would get up, move the curtains away, and look for the star.
It was not just a common star, it was a magnificent star, big, extremely beautyful. Her light was so bright, different from the soft twinkle of other stars.
If Birkin opened the window, the star rays would enter his room to keep him company, and Birkin had the impression that all his room was lit-up, although the beams light was faint.
Sometimes he would wonder whether the star ever slept, and what was she doing during the day, when she disappeared. He made several attempts to ask it of her, but he received no answer. However, he said to himself, that was obvious, since the star must have been so far away.
One evening, when he stayed up late, and the star was brighter than usual, it seemed to him quite natural to tell her about the marbles he had received as a present. “A wonderful present” he had told her.
And he was quite sure that the star had understood well, when he explained her how to play marbles.
Sigizia was situated in the middle of a vast valley. And in summer the mountains around seemed even further, when the field dew, flooded by the first sun, turned into a thin mist.
From afar, the city came into sight as a sapphire and topaz tiara, with its walls light-blue as lapislazuli and its towers, with their big doors which opened towards the cardinal points and the roads coming out of the doors reaching the borders of the Kingdom.
The road going east was light fucsia, the colour of some kind of magnolias which bloome late in the season. However, coming into the city, one immediately realized that the colour of every road was different, depending on the direction.
In Sigizia, anyhow, not just roads were coloured, but also street lamps and chimneypots, houses and avenues, bridges, balconies and roofs. Travellers, arriving for the first time in the city, looked around surprised, wondering who had ever thought to paint, in hundreds and hundreds of different shades, every object, everything.
Nails were sold in dozens of colours. Vermilion were kiosks and fountains in gardens. Emerald green skylights, straw-colour verandas and terraces, geranium-red balconies and walkways, aquamarina rung-ladders and sidewalks.
Between east and north-east, nearby the Hanging Gardens, flamingos, with their long stilt-birds legs, turned pink the blue of the lagoon. In Spring, flowers which stood out from the green of trees and grass, barely waved, resembling blobs of colour.
And everywhere flags, banners and pennons created the impression of a city celebrating all the time.
Sigizia was a joyful city indeed, since the colour - which pervaded everything - ended up by shaping the way of thinking of its inhabitants, their wishes, their dreams. Their minds had got rid of the worries which quite often torment men withou a reason. And as a consequence their thoughts had become light, their wishes simple, in harmony with what stars had reserved them.
Was it a happy city? Maybe. But Sigizia was not aware of it.
Nobody knew when the city had been founded. It existed from time immemorial, along with its colours, which surprised visitors as the waving of hundreds and hundreds of flags.
Anyhow, whoever built it, did so observing carefully the stars position.
Astronomers, in fact, had established that the firmament axis, around which the great constellations rotate, where situated precisely above the place where Sigizia had been built. And every night, just where the axis crossed, the bigger and brightest star would appear.
Nothing, neither the city nor its inhabitants, could escape from its influence, but people living in Sigizia did not know it.
The Prince of Sigizia was very keen on astrology.
Next to him, however, the Prince had not wanted a member of the Council of Astrologers, but rather the old astrologer Abissar, who was the only one who knew how to read the sky maps, how to foresee eclipses but, above all, the only one who seemed to know the secrets of the star.
Abissar had a long white beard, perhaps to make up for his lack of hair. His eyes were hollow, but nothing escaped his piercing glance. He was old, sure, but his bearing was upright and proud, as when he was young. However, being a smart man, he realized he had not got long to live. And since he was a vain person, he used to wonder how he could be appointed Court Great Astrologer, which, to tell the truth, he was not entitled to, since he was not born in Sigizia.
He consequently considered how he could win the Prince over, in addition to give him, at times, precious hints based on his divinations and on his consulting oracles.
He thought that if he could get a ray of the star and take it to the Prince, the Prince would definitely be greatly impressed and out-and-out convinced of his exceptional powers, which were by far above those of any astrologer, not to mention astronomers whom, in his heart of hearts, Abissar regarded of very low standing. Overwhelmed by their calculations - Abissar thought - astronomers could not even understand the sky harmony.
He leafed through the books of his large library, scrutinized the twelwe signs of the zodiac, revised in his mind the course of the stars.
And when he had given up all hopes, and he had resigned to the impossibility of catching a ray of the star, he found the solution, by chance, as it often happens in life.
It was already dark outside, and from the wide open balcony, besides the silence and the night scent, the star rays were coming in.
Hitting the mirror hanging on a wall, they lit up the corner where Abissar kept its astrolabe. He held it as the most valuable among his collection of astrolabes, being in polished brass, with silver notches, but especially since he had received it as a gift from the Prince of Mudam when, many years ago, Abissar used to live in that city.
Abissar thought that, if he would succeed, using a mirror, to imprison a ray - as at times one confines at the bottom of his heart those secrets which one would not like to admit not even to himself - then he could present it to the Prince. And the title he longed for would certainly be awarded to him.
He picked up the box, took out the astrolabe, and instead of the red velvet which lined the interior, he put some mirrors.
And when, at last, a crystal clear night arrived, a night in which star rays were even brighter, he opened the box, placed it on the windowsill, and waited.
Suddenly a ray hit the inside, bounced among the mirrors, and got imprisoned.
Abissar was quick to close the lid, and he felt a boundless pride rising out of all proportion.
The first one to realize it was Birkin.
That night, as usual, Birkin got up from his bed, stood on the tip of his toes, and opened the window to glance at the star.
He had the impression that its rays were less bright, its light rather faint. And yet there was no cloud, the sky was clear and serene, with the stars winking in the dark.
The following night, however, Birkin had no more doubts: the star light was not the same, was definitely pale.
But how surprised he was when he realized that the pink of the front road had faded, and that the grass in the garden was less green, so much so that even the squirrels had not come to play.
After a few days all the residents of Sigizia started to make comments on what had happened: the star light was not the same. Not only: the colours of Sigizia were not as clear as they used to be.
At the beginning they thought it could be due to the weather: it had never rained so much as in that year’s spring. But afterwards some of the inhabitants realized that the colours brightness had started to decrease just when the star - the pride of the city - had started to get pale.
The College of Astrologers was summoned and, after erudite dissertations, the oldest Councelor informed the inhabitants that the phenomenon derived from the constellation which was passing through. Everybody, as a consequence, had not to worry, since everything would soon go back to normality.
But in the meanwhile Sigizia - whatever the reason - was losing its colours.
The roofs were becoming as gray as blackboards, and only a few flamingos, over there in the lagoon, still kept some pink feathers.
Even in Akim workshop - Akim since some years had moved to Sigizia - less people would enter to ask for his kites, while once, due to the plenty of models, to the ingeniousness of some solutions, but also due to the skilful matching of colours, his kites were selling like hot cakes.
But what was particularly changing - and for sure this was by far the most worrying aspect - was something that at the beginning was not easy to notice.
The thoughts of the inhabitants of Sigizia were changing.
Now they were walking pensive, frowning. Worries which in the past were unknown to them had taken possession of their hearts. Their wishes were increasing, and the impossibility to satisfy all of them made them discontented. Dreams went to visit them less frequently.
And yet it was difficult for them to become aware of such changes: they felt ill at ease, but they could not understand the reason why.
That day, coming home through the Hanging Gardens, Birkin heard a voice - rather, a mumbling - and he got the impression that it was coming from the big oak which covered, with its branches, an entire meadow.
When he got near he saw a group of squirrels, sitting on the grass, still, looking up. They were listening to what, from afar, he thought was a mumbling, as we already told you, but now he recognized the voice of the old barn owl, who used to live on the tree. He was certainly telling a story, Birkin thought, and therefore he too sat on the meadow, a bit apart, not to disturb the squirrels.
The barn owl was quite old, but he was very wise . Since long he had not left that tree: and yet it appeared that he knew everything: not for nothing he was named the Professor.
All birds respected him, but his greatest friends were the eagle-owls, who always visited him and told him everything which happened in Sigizia. Which in turn they were told by blackbirds and magpies.
Birkin waited for the barn owl to finish his story and, after greeting him with great respect, asked for his permission to explain what had happened to the star.
But whenever Birkin paused, the owl gave him the nod and repeated: “I know, I know”.
“When I asked her why her rays were less bright, she did not even listen to me - Birkin was saying -
she must have been really angry, since she usually listen to me”.
“She was not angry - the barn owl answered back - she was just annoyed. Somebody played a nasty trick on her”.
“A trick? On her? But who could do such a thing?” Said Birkin, amazed.
“Well, I know, but I cannot tell you. But I can tell you how you could fix it .”
And to Birkin,who was looking incredulous at him, as saying: who? Me? Really me? The owl said: “You will write a letter. Come back to-morrow at this time and I will dictate it to you”.
We will write to the Court Astrologer, said the owl.
“Most Illustrious Court Astrloger”, Birkin started.
“No, no” reproached him the owl. “You must call him Great Astrologer, since recently the Prince gave him this title. Let us start again”.
“Most Illustrious Court Great Astrologer” wrote Birkin, at the same time trying to understand what the owl was dictating, among his mumblings. “I know you are the Greatest Astrologer – with a G and a A in capital letters, don’t forget – put in the owl . “The Greatest Astrologer of this Kingdom, and for sure of all other Kingdoms too.
I am therefore addressing to you, since I am convinced that you are the only person who could do me the favour which I am going to ask of you.
You certainly noticed, long before anybody else, that the star is not as bright as formerly and for this reason, most probably, our city is losing its colours and its inhabitants are no longer as carefree as before.
I am just a child, and the star was my only friend. Now she does not even listen to me, when I talk to her.
I am sure that you will be able to make the star look as before and all Sigizia inhabitants will be eternally grateful to you, but I more than anybody else.
Most sincerely,
Birkin”.
When Abissar received the letter was in a very bad mood.
Actually, since the colours had just about disappeared, he too could not dream, and in addition thoughts and worries which once he had not even imagined, crowded his mind.
Perhaps this child is right , he thought.
However, how could he tell it to the Prince, who was so proud to own - he, the only one, as Abissar had assured him - a box with a star ray inside?
The plain outside Sigizia, as far as the eye could see, was burning in the sun. Just rare shrubs and dwarf trees, scattered around.
In the morning light one could make out, from afar, the three rectangular banners, so tall that they disappeared in the sky with the Prince insigna in the center.
To keep the banners upright, while the retinue advanced, three dozens of cavalrymen were necessary.
The lancers on horseback followed - perhaps more than a hundred - in a double line. At the top of each lance waved a green and amaranthine flag with golden fringes.
The horsemen white cloaks stood out from the dark silhouette of the horses, their tails gathered together by braided leather ribbons, and their inlaid saddles studded with silver bosses.
The Prince was the only one to ride a white horse, and he had to rein in in order to restrain Aziz, a powerful and frisky stallion, still wild, born to race.
Dignitaries escorted the Prince, along with some of his most trustworthy councelors, among them Abissar, who always travelled with a chest full of books and with his precious astrolabe.
The Prince of Sigizia had started his trip two days before, to visit the Prince of Mudam, a friend of his, who had invited him for the inauguration of the Crystal Pavilion. To build it the best architects had been employed, including the celebrated Zaroud, considered the greatest.
The city of Mudam laid beyond the mountains, and to get there at least five days were necessary, even in summer. This was the reason why the group also included twelve wagons, each one drawn by four she-mules carrying all kind of goods which the Prince and his retinue could need.
First of all the tents to spend the night.
The Prince’s tent was white, hexagonal, and on its roof there was a banner with his insignia. It was propped up by tall golden posts, while the ropes and the pegs were black as a sign of mourning for the death of the Prince’s father, many years ago. On the ground carpets and pillows.
Dignitaries’ and Councelors’ tents were hexagonal too, but smaller and light blue in colour.
Big, square, black tents, each one containing twelve men, were used for the cavalrymen.
On the wagons, besides the dismantled tents, all things which could be useful during the journey were transported.
Copper utensils, oil lamps, sacks of rice and lentils, salt meat, oil jars, baskets full of grapes, figs and pomegranates, eucalyptus honey, basketfuls of dates, loaves made of wheat and rye, which could last fresh for many days.
And furthermore baked clay pots, tall, with green handles, full of mint water.
It was already dark and the procession was hastening to get out of the wood and find a clearing where to camp.
It was just then that the Prince caught a glimpse of a big white deer disappearing in the foliage. In a moment the Prince put the spurs to Aziz, bent down, gave a shout and dashed in pursuit. As everybody knows, in fact, white deer are quite rare.
Aziz was glad that he could finally go for a gallop, his mane in the wind, as the Prince had pushed him. It jumped to go over a ditch: when it fell down, one of the saddle pockets opened and Abissar box got out. Actually the Prince never parted from it, even during his journeys.
The box banged on the ground and the lid opened, although for an instant only, and then immediately closed with a click. But that instant was sufficent for the ray to get out. It at once recognized its star and, in a flash, it reunited with her.
The Prince noticed the box on the ground and picked it up rightaway, thinking to himself that he had been really lucky not to lose it. He however minded not to open it, since he did not want to take the risk - as Abissar had told him - that the ray could escape, and then it would be almost impossible to catch it again.
That night Birkin could not fall asleep, which rarely happened.
By then it was night. The silence and the darkness out there intimidated him.
He got up and, barefooted, trying not to make any noise, he opened the window, and from force of habit looked for the star. And he stood there gaping, astounded, incredulous. He rubbed his eyes, and then he looked again at the star: she really was his old star. Her rays were as bright as ever, her light was as brilliant as had always been.
Birkin felt he was bursting with joy: perhaps because the star rays were caressing him gently. Perhaps the star was trying to tell him something, but he could not hear: his heart was pounding so fast.
Right then, men were indulging in their sleep, unaware, but dreams were already milling around them, dancing.
Sigizia inhabitants could not imagine that, when they would awake, their thoughts would be lighter, their worries would have vanished.
Paolo Altamura