Begin with a Bear Boy
There once was a Bear Boy whose job it was to keep a Dancing Bear and make money from her antics. His father had been a bear trainer, a brutish man, for whom no tears were shed the day he died. They say the man’s own bears mauled and ate him.
Now, Bear Boy traveled with a troupe of Players who sometimes put his bear into their comedies. A day came when the band arrived at a Harvest Festival known far and wide in that country. The celebration filled up a broad, trampled meadow. On the near side stood a provincial town and on the far side, the long collapsed ruins of a Giantess’ castle.
Immediately Bear Boy commenced to work.
He beat his drum and tugged the chain by which he led his beast. Dancing Bear rose up and shimmied so her necklace of bells rang. Children laughed and hopped in imitation. Country folk and townspeople alike roared to see her funny, mincing step-step-step.
Bear Boy commanded in a grand voice: “Lady-Bear, Lady-Bear, show how the bride kisses her mother-in-law’s hand.” This he said because the Harvest Festival was to be enlivened at week’s end by a Noble Wedding.
On back legs, Dancing Bear waddled toward the shrieking people and approached a peasant — a robust woman, wind-burned and toothless. She stood her ground. Dancing Bear matched her weathered appearance, for the bear looked to be a tattered thing — burn scarred paws and broken teeth, one ear notched, matted fur — but also, like the woman, a creature built to endure.
Bear Boy told the woman, “You play the part of the Noble Mother. Put forth your Noble Hand to be kissed.”
She did so, with some shyness, even as others backed away. Dancing Bear always knew what person to choose. Still on her back legs, she bowed slightly, for she was taller than the woman, then took with one gritty paw the human hand and put her bear nose to it.
“Dear Mother, such nobility of heart!” announced Bear Boy.
The peasant erupted into gleeful cackles and threw up her arms. Dancing Bear retreated.
