He winked and covered it again.
The leg makes them feel sorry for me.
He boasted.
The eye patch scares the scat out of them.
Then he laughed louder than a squirrel should be able to. The fox laughed as well as Manny reached for a mug on another table. He tossed its leftover liquid content to the floor and filled it with fresh malt beer from his own mug.
I say we drink to your battle scars.
The fox said as he raised his cup.
I say we drink to your impending demise.
Manny added as the two toasted and drank.
I like your style, fox.
That’s good.
The fox replied.
Why’s that?
Because I have a proposal for you,
Manny was immediately intrigued
What do you do?
I wear masks.
The squirrel pointed to his patch.
Don’t we all?
I’m an actor and storyteller.
Manny pointed to the sack the fox had with him.
What’s that you got there?
My bag of masks.
What’s your name?
The fox slid the Jack of hearts across the table.
My name is in the cards.
He said with a wink and a smile.
Jack was a name the fox had adopted for himself. It was in fact his third name. Archibald had been his second. It had been to him by a great teacher. Either name was fine with the fox, but neither one was truly his because for the first four years of his life Jack and Archie had another name. It was a name they would never know because it had never been spoken.
Everyone knows that the fox is wily, perceptive, and very adaptable. They have overly keen senses and sharp observational minds. The fox is also a master of camouflage. Other creatures can hide but none have this unique ability quite like the fox.
In their hidden state they are excellent observers of others. By observing, the fox gathers information and notes patterns and probabilities in nature. In this way the fox becomes attuned to the obvious and sensitive to the peculiar. Using their surroundings and circumstances a fox can become invisible at will and learn much but this gift comes with a price. A fox can lie to itself if it hides too often. Proving that the fox can be both cunning and foolish.
Four years after Benjamin Nightthorn was born, a four year old male fox stood at a crossroads in the woods. The child fox had been born into a large boisterous family. He had an adoring mother, a doting father, and twelve brothers and sisters of which he was the youngest of his clan.
The little fox seemed unfocused as he grew up and never spoke a word or made a sound. But his eyes told another story. They were the deepest black. He was the only one in his family to have them. His mother Dorothea always thought that the depth of truth in his eyes made up for all the temporary silence.
Unlike tradition dictated, his mother never named him. She never had the chance. A fox’s name comes from who they really are. How they behave. What they say. A fox’s name is a marker of personality. Dorothea waited for the silence to break to name her son. She thought if it didn’t, then she would choose one befitting him, but she wanted to give him just a bit more time. Through no fault of her own she waited too long.
Since birth the child was an observer of the highest order. He took in information everywhere he went, which came easily because his family was constantly on the move. His father Theodore was always seeking ways to improve the family’s lot in life. There were always new jobs and new opportunities to explore. Since birth his memories had become a catalog of images and moments, names and faces, of all the places they had been. It was on one of those expeditions that he was left behind.
The family had stopped by the side of the road when their load of belongings shifted in their already overburdened wagon. The shift caused a wagon wheel to turn and drop off the edge of the road. The little fox, his family, and everything they owned were soon scattered everywhere. A family of badgers piled high on their own wagon stopped to help and soon their large boisterous family joined together with his large boisterous family in a cacophony of familial bliss.
It was there at the crossroads that the little fox became invisible for the first time in his life. He watched both families interacting as if they had known each other for years. The fathers lifted the wagon from the road edge and fixed the wheel. He observed the mothers exchanging pleasantries as their combined packs of children played and laughed together. Then he watched as both families loaded the fox cart once more, bid each other a fond farewell, and set off in two different directions.
The nameless little fox didn’t know why he did what he did. He just felt it was right. He felt that his life was obviously meant to be without them. He observed in his hidden state that a peculiar fox such as himself was meant for a peculiar life. The silent little fox chose none of the four directions at the crossroads for himself. Instead he decided to blaze his own trail through the woods.
On his first night alone the fox barely slept at all. He had no idea how far he had traveled that day. He began walking and as he went, his senses drank in everything around him. Not all the animals had evolved so dramatically after the Great Evolution. Deep in the woods every creatures ancestry could still be found and traced back to its animal beginnings. It was there that the little fox began to find his place in the grand scheme of things.
On his second night alone, the fox slept deeply. He had spent the day running and jumping and crawling his way through the woods. He explored every nook and cranny he could find throughout the forest. He dug several holes for no reason at all other than to see what was there. He found two small caves and explored them thoroughly and to great satisfaction. It was also the day he first heard his own laugh.
On his third night alone he went to sleep crying quietly. He had continued wandering the forest that day, but nothing interested him. Nothing caught his attention. Nothing seemed right because of the overwhelming loneliness he felt at losing his family, but when he woke the next morning to the sounds of singing his spirits began to lift.
The little fox thought invisible thoughts and deftly made his way to the edge of a clearing. From this vantage point he could remain unseen and observe the proceedings playing out before him. There at the center of the clearing was a wagon, a makeshift stage, and a few tents. There was a flurry of activity as a mixed bag of creatures sang as they worked. This was a family of some sort and they were packing to move on.
The fox felt a need to join them.
Hello boy.
The little fox jumped.
Did I surprise you?
There was a ram sitting casually between two trees on a rock face above him.
Apologies.
He was chewing on a stalk of wheat.
It wasn’t my intention to startle you.
The little fox didn’t move.
Are you lost in the woods?
The little fox nodded yes.
First off you are safe.
The ram said as he tossed the wheat away.
No harm will come to you while you are in my company.
He deftly moved down the rock face.
You must trust me little one.
He moved from ledge to ledge with ease.
I give you my word as a new found friend, a teacher and student of the performing crafts, and a gentle creature with the honest soul of an artist.
The ram landed before the little fox with a flourish. A moment of silence stood between them.
Nothing?
The ram asked with a hint of disappointment.
That was a very good entrance.
The fox just looked up him.
You’re rather quiet for one s
o young.
The little fox looked down at his feet.
I see.
The ram tapped the child on the top of his head.
You have yet to find your voice.
The fox nodded in agreement.
Well, my silent friend, you have stumbled upon the Jacques Burdick Traveling Repertory Dell’arte.
He announced.
I am Jacques Burdick.
The ram bowed and continued as he rose.
Our little group presents theatricals with plots of love, jealousy, betrayal, lust and passion, interpreted through the follies of youth and the foibles of old age.
Jacques reached into his pocket and produced a large green apple.
The subjects of our plays come from legendary stories, news from the places we tour, and current events from around the Empire that we hear along the way.
The hungry little fox couldn’t take his eyes off of the apple as Jacques polished it against his sleeve.
Some are comedies and some are tragedies. There are times we sing and dance and many times we must improvise in the moment.
The ram held the apple in front of his face
And we do it all while wearing masks.
Jacques tossed the apple at the fox who caught it in his mouth.
Until you find your parents you can join our company.
His tummy began grumbling.
But what shall we call you?
The fox bit down on the apple.
Your mother can name you when you see her next, but you will need a stage name.
The apple was gone in a moment.
I will name you after the greatest actor I have ever seen.
Jacques reached into his pocket and produced a pear.
He was suave, debonair, and oh so very talented.
Without polishing it he handed it to the child fox.
His comedies were sublime and his dramas were electrifying.
The young fox grabbed it quickly.
He went off to the new world. So I’m sure he won’t mind you borrowing it.
In a moment the pear suffered the same fate as the apple.
With a name like Archibald Leach you’ll inherit a dynasty, my boy.
A stage name and a full belly were more than the little fox expected when he woke to face that day.
Not all who wander are lost, Archie.
Archie smiled as he heard the sound of his name.
One day you will find your voice.
Jacques reached his hand out to the boy.
And these words will help you find your way.
Archie in turn took his and they began to stroll towards the camp.
We say them as we begin every day, every performance, and as we drift off to sleep every night.
He explained.
First I honor life.
He began to recite.
And with it
He emphasized.
My life
And then he stopped.
Your new life.
Jacques looked at Archie.
Yes.
He said with a warm chuckle.
Your new life in the theater.
He grabbed Archie by the hand, pulled him up over his shoulders, and shouted out loud.
First I honor life, and with it, my life in the theater.
In the distance the company echoed the calling back. They all applauded, cheered, and began bowing to the newest member of their odd, but talented troupe.
It’s an actor’s life, Archie.
Jacques said quietly
You’re going to love it.
Archie Leach thought he just might.
The little fox had found a new family and without having touched one yet, he had donned his first mask. The entire company raised him and helped him find his voice. He started by using his new vocal skills to announce actors to the stage. He studied all the various arts of his new craft, dance and movement, combat and swordplay, makeup and costume design. He learned how to unload the wagons and set up the stage and all the props. Eventually he was made a stage manager and everyone looked to the adolescent fox to guide them.
Archie learned all the great plays of the past by reciting lines with all the actors. Working with them through the years taught him that acting was a legitimate and respectable profession. Where others saw wandering ne’er do wells and vagabonds ragamuffins who lied and deceived for a living, Archie understood that acting was not duplicitous at all. Acting was truth.
The company toured the Empire, and everywhere the revelers went they searched for Archie’s family, but never found them. Better troupes were sponsored by nobility or by the various towns and cities in which they played. For the Jacques Burdick Traveling Repertory Dell’arte donations were given by passing the hat. They performed for free because Jacques believed in theater for everyone and the troupe took that belief with them everywhere they played.
Thirteen years after Benjamin Nightthorn was born, and on the same day the crow made his flying debut in the family concern, a thirteen year old fox stood on a vast stage in a remarkable theatre.
The company had traveled to Venance, the opulent city on the sea and the birthplace of the mask as craft and art. Since its founding, the city took the mask as its symbol and put it at the center of its cultural heart. The city and the mask were celebrated with festivals, spectacles, and parades throughout the year. The Carnival of the Mask was the largest of all these. Thirteen days of festivities and frivolity glorifying the most elusive of the theatre crafts.
Ah Venance!
The jubilant crowds would shout.
Ah the Mask!
They would call to the actors who wore them.
Jacques had taken Archie to the stage at the Theatre Artigiani in Venance. This was the place where a creature first wore a mask. Jacques slipped a hard earned gold coin into the palm of the armadillo at the stage door and he opened the gateway to this palace of profound theatrical history.
Theatre Artigiani was originally an amphitheater cut into the side of a hill. After the Great Evolution animals found themselves gathering in groups and beginning to enunciate the new vocal patterns Mother Nature had given them. As they continued to gather and evolve their newly found languages, they began to bicker amongst themselves for lack of understanding. No one animal trusted another animal to speak for them. They couldn’t share their common experience.
A marmot by the name of Mariella Artigiani recognized the problem. Using twigs, mud, and leaves she created a mask for herself. She stood masked and anonymous at the bottom of the hill and called out to the animals gathered on that day. She began to tell her story in a strong voice and with conviction. She spoke of her journeys since the Great Evolution and how it had changed her. She told stories of her fellow marmot’s and how they had been scattered to the winds. She sang the songs of her ancestors that spoke of longing and family.
Not every creature understood her that day, but they were all moved by the emotion of what they saw. In the days that followed others followed her lead. They created and wore masks to tell their stories. In that way they all became a common group of one. For the first time intelligent creatures could share their fears, hopes, and dreams. A process that began with the first animals that discovered fire, the ones that gathered around the warm light and shared only howls, grunts, and whistles, found its way to the heart of a marmot and she in turn created theater.
The moment was marked by a set of five square stones that were embedded into the ground where Mariella stood. Wooden planks were added later to create a flat surface so that storytellers could stand together to tell epic tales. The marker remained at the center of the stage floor. More and more creatures arrived to view these per
formances and so seating was cut into the sloped hillside. Weather conditions lead to an open-air roof structure and with time brick and mortar was built around the frame to forever enshrine the Theatre Artigiani.
There.
Jacques reverently whispered, as he pointed to the five stones embedded in the stage floor.
That is where Mariella Artigiani stood when she spoke her truth and gave birth to all us players and revelers.
Archie gingerly walked across the floor. The five gray stones were arranged with one at the center and the four others adjacent to each side of the center stone.
X marks the spot, Archie.
The fox moved closer.
Have no fear there.
Jacques reassured him.
Stand on your mark.
He instructed him.
Archie took the last two steps that put him standing directly over the stones.
The rules are simple.
He could feel the energy there.
Listen.
He closed his eyes and listened to his mentor speak.
Say your lines. Speak your truth. Own that place.
Standing there Archie understood completely.
The mark is not always visible, my son, but you can always feel it.
He understood he carried his center with him
It’s in your heart.
He understood it would always be with him.
That’s where you’re the bravest.
Jacques reached into the cloth bag he brought with him.
A creature is least himself when he speaks.
He pulled a mask from it and handed it to the fox.
Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth.
The mask was simple in its construction and had no filigree or elaborate additions. It was plain and black with a hint of a shine and Archie thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.
The Demise of Foxy Jack (Adventures of the X Pirates Book 1) Page 4