Once they reached the troupe’s encampment, Bran was surprised at the size of the crowd. It appeared as if most of three counties were gathered, with people from all classes, young and old. The air was as festive as a village fair, with even the Widow Smethers selling pies.
Since Bran had last been to the clearing, a stage had been built, which butted against the tent to provide an entrance and exit for the actors. To his surprise, Fullerton and Sir Lionel had claimed a spot right next to the stage, where they’d set themselves up with chairs, a small table to hold their bottles, and a manservant to see to their whims.
“I had expected them at the lecture,” Ned muttered.
“A provocative dress always wins out, especially with old roués like them.”
Benches were provided for the rest of the audience and they were full. Those lucky enough to have nabbed a seat were not moving. Amongst them was Lucy.
She sat majestically in her black-and-purple next to Mrs. Warbler, who remarkably appeared more sanctimonious than ever. The other Maidenshop matrons were with their families or friends, but they didn’t appear angry.
Still, there were a good number of them.
For a coin, two boys said they would walk Orion and the other horses.
The Irish actor, a jester’s cap on his head, approached them. “Ten pence, sirs. Ten pence.”
Bran paid for himself, Ned, and Mars. “We need to speak to Miss Addison.”
“She’s a bit busy right now.” With a knowing look, he added, “You gentlemen can speak to herafterthe performance.”
“No, we need to talk to her now—”
“Uncle,” Christopher’s glad voice boomed out, interrupting them. He came out of the tent where he had obviously been with Kate. “Youdiddecide to come,” the duke said. He nodded to Ned and Mars. “What? Is the lecture over? Lucky you. I trust you will be well pleased with what you will see on that stage. London couldn’t boast finer.”
He acted as if he was the manager of this company... and Bran remembered a time when he’d felt somewhat that way. He’d watched so many of Kate’s performances, he could have mouthed her lines. He had taken an interest in all of it.
Seeing his behavior mirrored in his nephew, he realized he’d been an arrogant sod.
He also had a stab of jealousy that was crippling.
“Come, the performance is about to start,” Christopher said. “We will have to stand over to the side. We will see better. Can you believe my mother is here? Maybe this is what she needs to move past Father’s death—”
“Christopher, we must talk to Miss Addison. It is imperative—” Bran started.
Anything else he could have said was overridden by the banging of a drum. An old man came out in a cloak with strips of material. He wore sandals on his feet and a half circle of myrtle leaves upon his head.
The crowd instantly silenced.
“Here we are, poor players,” the actor began. “Gathered for your enjoyment. Do not believe our tales have no meaning. As you shall soon see, what we share is as old as mankind. I am your guide. The humble Aesop.”
The mention of the name commanded Bran’s full attention. The actor began talking about his life as a lowly servant with the gift of story.
Winderton moved closer toward the stage.
He was not the only one. Child and adult alike jostled their way for a better view.
But Bran was stunned by what he was hearing. These are the stories he had told to Kate. She had taken them and cleverly woven them into a delightful play of vignettes strung together.
The first was that of a greedy fox who wanted all the grapes. That story quickly rolled into another where Mr. Crow had a piece of cheese. The fox tricked the bird by playing on his own greed so it could be stolen.
Each vignette had a recognizable message that the good folks watching easily embraced. There were even changes of costume as different cloaks turned the actors into a cast of animals.
The audience laughed knowingly as the hare thought too much of himself and napped, giving the race over to the slow, steady tortoise. A child shouted from the crowd for the tortoise to hurry and everyone started cheering on their favorite, knowing full well the outcome.
After the race was won, Aesop came to the front of the stage. “The best stories are of the gods and goddesses. To tell them, may I present the lovely Juno.”
The flap of the tent was dramatically pulled back by animal/actors to reveal Kate standing there—and shewasa goddess.
