Chapter Seven The Tale of How Two Became Six
Chapter Seven
The Tale of How Two Became Six
Once upon a time, when the world was younger and the leaves were a little greener, there lived a fellow we shall call Jack. Jack was not his name, precisely, but it was close enough as makes no never mind, so Jack is what we shall call him.
Jack had been disappointed in love, for his betrothed had spurned him for another. But Jack was not the sort who would collapse in despair and let fate toy with him however it wished. So he conceived of a brilliant plan.
“As step one of this brilliant plan, I shall search every hill and vale in the country of Ecossia,” he pledged, “until I find eleven others who appear exactly identical to me in face, figure, and size.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “He did what? Eleven people exactly identical to—What possible purpose could that serve? What was he trying to do? Discredit his rival? Win back his love? How were eleven other Jacks supposed to help with that?”
“I’ve barely begun,” Sam said. “Perhaps your questions will be answered later on.”
I gestured for him to proceed.
“I shall search every hill and vale,” he pledged, “until I find eleven others who are identical to me in face, figure, and size.”
With that in mind, the first person he approached, sensibly enough, was his twin brother.
Jack found his brother in the forest, where that mighty fellow had just finished plucking up six trees as easily as if they were blades of grass.
“What in the world are you doing?” Jack questioned his twin.
His brother tied one of the trees in a pretty bow around the other five. “I’m gathering some of these twigs for our dear old dad. The winter will be cold and damp, and he might need the wood for his fire.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re such a fucking show-off, Sam.”
“Oh, you’re Jack’s brother?”
“I am, aye. And it isn’t the first time I’ve been dragged into a ridiculous scheme like this one because of it. You’re yawning. Should I let you sleep?”
“No, no. I’m not going to be able to sleep in the middle of a forest, anyway. What exactly, by the way, is the ridiculous scheme you’ve been dragged into?”
He ignored my question and went on.
“Sam, I need your help,” Jack entreated. “As you know, my heart has been sliced into pieces like a bruised, mealy apple, its very core ripped out and the remnants laid upon a crust of misery, to be baked into a pie of sadness after being sprinkled with the cinnamon of despair.”
“Now I’m hungry,” Sam complained.
“I have conceived of a bizarre plan whose first requirement is that I seek out eleven others who are identical to me in face, figure, and size. I believe this is my one and only chance, for I am far too weak, useless, and pathetic to succeed without help. And you are the person most like me in all the world, except stronger and handsomer and overall better in—”
“You really are his brother, aren’t you?”
“—every way. What do you say, Sam? Will you help me?”
“Aye, of course,” Sam agreed graciously, as was his wont. “I can never refuse you. Let me drop these wee sticks off first, and then we shall be on our way.”
And so the two of them set off.
“Do you always go along with every wild idea he dreams up?” I asked.
“I’m fine with following his lead. Jack enjoys being the romantic hero. I’m content with a supporting role.”
“Really?” Thanks to my family, I had some experience feeling like a secondary character in my own story. I can’t say I enjoyed it.
“It’s all for the best,” Sam said. “Jack’s never steered me wrong.”
“If you say so.” His wounds seemed to argue otherwise, but I refrained from pointing this out.
They decided the next person they should recruit to their cause was their cousin Clem, the famed hunter, as Clem’s resemblance to the pair was so strong that as children they had oft been called by the wrong names at family gatherings.
Or at least, they had been until Clem opened his mouth, for he had been raised in the high hills and spoke in their manner.
When they approached Clem’s land, they found the man in question standing atop a ridge with his bow, peering into the distance with an arrow nocked and drawn.
“Hello, Clem—” Jack began, stopping when his cousin shot a sharp glare in his direction.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Ye’ll friten it aff.”
Jack lowered his voice. “What are you hunting?”
“Twa miles awa’, a flea is sittin’ oan an oak tree branch. Ah’m wantin’ tae shoot tis left yak oot.”
Clem loosed his shot, and a minute later, they heard the faint but unmistakable cry of a flea being half blinded by an arrow hitting its left eye.
“You did not.”
“I may be embroidering the tale somewhat,” Sam acknowledged.
“Any more embroidery and it’ll have more stitches than you do.”
He chuckled and flashed a rather charming grin before continuing.
Jack and Sam put their case to Clem, and he immediately agreed to join their cause.
Now, while the three of them had other close relatives, none fit the bill; they were all too short, too tall, too slender, too stout, or otherwise unsuitable. So the three of them set out across the land in search of additional companions.
After many miles of walking, they came upon a curious sight—seven windmills whose sails were racing around at tremendous speeds, in spite of the calm weather.
“That’s strange,” Jack commented, approaching the windmills. “I wonder if—”
But we are never to know what he wondered, for as soon as he came within a few feet of a windmill, a mighty wind picked him up and sent him tumbling arse over teakettle down the hill.
Unable to account for this narrowly focused gale, the three travelers moved on. Two miles from the windmills, however, they came across a man sitting in a tree who, as it happened, appeared identical to Jack, Sam, and Clem in face, figure, and size.
“That’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Well, perhaps not completely identical in face.” Sam tapped his mask. “He only needed to be close enough for this to finish the job.”
“It still seems unlikely. He had the same eye color? Jawline? Complexion? Ear shape?”
“Ecossia is an island. Most of us are related. Before a couple starts courting, they have to consult a special chart to make sure they aren’t each other’s grandparents.”
“Is that possible?”
“It’s not even unlikely. My second cousin made a mistake with the chart and ended up accidentally marrying himself.”
“I see.” I tried to nod, and my head drooped until my chin touched my chest. I wrenched my head back up, my eyes snapping open.
“Are you sure you’re not too tired for this?”
“I’m fine.”
The man in the tree was holding one nostril shut and blowing through the other. Bewildered, the three travelers asked what he was doing.
“Two miles away, there are seven windmills,” the man explained, “and I’m blowing on them so they spin around.”
Jack remained perplexed. “Your breath is so mighty you can turn seven windmills at once, and you are only using it to…turn seven windmills at once?”
The man shrugged. “Everybody needs a hobby.”
The man introduced himself as Kit.
“Jack, Sam, Clem, and Kit? I’m having trouble telling you apart. Do any of you have a two-syllable name?”
“That’s why we took them. Makes it even trickier to tell who’s who. Just remember that I’m the handsome one.”
“The handsome identical duplicate?”
“I have a very handsome bearing. My posture is unmatched.”
“It was the first thing I noticed about you. What excellent posture, I thought as the spider wolf was attempting to bite your head off.”
When Jack and Sam and Clem let the windmill blower know what they were about—
“Wait…. If those are all assumed names, then what’s your real one?”
“Sam,” said Sam.
When Jack and Sam and Clem let him know what they were about, Kit agreed to join them.
The search continued without luck for several days.
While they ran into many travelers, all of them were too burly, too delicate, too dark haired, too blond, or otherwise unsuitable.
But then they came across a man in a field standing on one leg.
He had taken his other leg off and set it on the ground.
Except for that single small oddity, he was identical to Jack, Sam, Clem, and Kit in face, figure, and size—or at least, as close enough in face for it to make no difference.
Jack glanced from the attached leg to the unattached one and back again. “I suppose that’s convenient for scratching your foot.”
“This is the only way I can stand still,” the man elucidated. “When I use both legs, I run so quickly that the fastest bird cannot keep up.”
As soon as the others explained their plan, this man, named Harry, agreed to join their ranks.
“Two syllables! At last.”
“The rest of us thought it was too fancy, but he couldn’t be dissuaded.”
“I will also note you still have not explained this mysterious plan to me.”
“Oh, haven’t I?” His expression was a picture of blameless innocence.
The five of them resumed the quest. They had traveled together for perhaps a week when the weather turned.
Although summer had not yet ended, an unseasonable chill pervaded the air, and snow started to whirl down from the sky.
It fell thicker and faster and soon became a blizzard.
They began to worry for their very lives, for none of them were dressed for winter, and they were out on the road and far from shelter.
While they were debating what to do, they stumbled across a man sleeping outdoors, dusted with snow, and snoring loudly.
In his slumber, his hat had fallen from his head and lay half-embedded in a nearby snowdrift.
Fearing the stranger would freeze to death before nightfall, the five companions shook him awake.
“Oh, my goodness!” he cried out. “I fell asleep with my hat off. I guess there’s no bed like a snow bed!” Harry slapped his one attached leg and chuckled with delight at the jest, but the others remained silent, for they did not see the humor in it or, indeed, realize any joke had been attempted.
The odd fellow stuck the hat skew-whiff on his head so that it covered his left ear. The snow ceased falling, and the temperature began to rise.
“Let me guess—he was identical to Jack, Sam, Clem, Kit, and Harry in face, figure, and size?”
“Got it in one. Should I stop now?”
“What? No. Why?”
“You just slid right off the rock.”
I had. When had that happened? And for that matter, how was I comfortable enough to start dozing off on the bare ground? His voice was so soothing, though.
He offered me a hand, and I drew myself up, brushing dirt and leaves off my cloak. “Please continue. I want to hear how it ends.”
Max—for that was his name, or at least we will choose to pretend so—became a member of the group as soon as he heard what was afoot.
The six of them journeyed for weeks together and had many adventures.
However, at this point Jack’s plan had run into a snag, for even in Ecossia, it had become difficult to find others who were like enough to them in looks.
A month passed, but every single person they came across was too scaly, too feathered, too fetal, too dead, or otherwise unsuitable.
“Too what?”
“We were really scraping the bottom of the barrel by that point.”
But just when Jack had nearly lost hope, in a town at the southern edge of the island, he saw six men passing through a market. They were as indistinguishable from each other as six pips in a pear and likewise similar to Jack and his fellows.
Jack grabbed the arm of a nearby costermonger. “Who are those six men? For it is urgent that they join my cause, and follow me about, and dress in green, and wear masks, all for reasons I have no intention of revealing in the present narrative.”
“You were never planning on telling me? You’re mean.”
Sam gave a remorseful sigh. “I wish I could tell you, really. But I promised Jack I’d keep his secrets.”
“Mean,” I murmured, swaying where I sat. I put down a hand to steady myself so that I wouldn’t fall off the rock again.
“Begone with you, for I have costers to mong,” the costermonger sneered, “and I do not have the time to answer foolish questions.” But once Jack had purchased a few costers, the peddler became more amenable.
“Those are the six siblings of our duchess,” our hero was informed.
“As odd a family as ever you’ll find. When the eldest brother speaks, frogs and toads leap out of his mouth. And where the next eldest walks—”
“Yes, yes,” Jack cut him off. “I’m sure they’re all extraordinary. But where do they live?”
“Why, up in the castle that sits upon yonder hill.”
And he pointed to a great, dark edifice that squatted on the hillside. In shape, it resembled a malevolent toad, its gate a gaping maw that made our heroes feel uncomfortably like flies.
Undaunted, Jack and his friends soon presented themselves at the castle, where they were greeted by none other than the duchess herself.
“My brothers shall not go with you,” she advised them, “for they are dear to me, and I wish to keep them by my side. But I will make you this offer instead—if one of you can beat me in a footrace, you shall leave with as great a reward as the strongest among you can carry. If you fail, however, then you shall all be beheaded instead.”
Jack was puzzled. “Do you make this same offer to every group of strangers that drops by?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Why?”
The duchess shrugged. “Everybody needs a hobby.”
“We agree to your terms!” Jack declared, for during that short conversation, he had already conceived of yet another ridiculous plan.
And there shall the tale be paused, for the sun has long since set, and we must travel when morning arrives.
“No, wait. You shouldn’t…” I was having trouble finding words. “You can’t end it there.”
“Your eyes have been closed for the last five minutes. I’ll tell you the rest another time. Listen, we’ve not got any blankets or pillows. Perhaps you might—”
“Mm,” I said. Or something equally coherent. I leaned my head against Sam’s shoulder and fell asleep.