Tim Boucher

The Barnum effect, also called the Forer effect, or less commonly the Barnum-Forer effect, is a common psychological phenomenon whereby individuals give high accuracy ratings to descriptions of their personality that supposedly are tailored specifically to them, that are in fact vague and general enough to apply to a wide range of people.[1] This effect can provide a partial explanation for the widespread acceptance of some paranormal beliefs and practices, such as astrology, fortune telling, aura reading, and some types of personality tests.[1][2]

Source: Barnum effect – Wikipedia

The subject of music within the quadrivium was originally the classical subject of harmonics, in particular the study of the proportions between the musical intervals created by the division of a monochord. A relationship to music as actually practised was not part of this study, but the framework of classical harmonics would substantially influence the content and structure of music theory as practised in both European and Islamic cultures.

Source: Quadrivium – Wikipedia

The trivium is the lower division of the seven liberal arts and comprises grammar, logic, and rhetoric.[1]

The trivium is implicit in De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii (“On the Marriage of Philology and Mercury”) by Martianus Capella, but the term was not used until the Carolingian Renaissance, when it was coined in imitation of the earlier quadrivium.[2] Grammar, logic, and rhetoric were essential to a classical education, as explained in Plato’s dialogues. The three subjects together were denoted by the word trivium during the Middle Ages, but the tradition of first learning those three subjects was established in ancient Greece.

Source: Trivium – Wikipedia

In the theatre of Ancient Greece and classical drama, the skene was the structure at the back of a stage. The word skene means “tent” or “hut”, and it is thought that the original structure for these purposes was a tent or light building of wood and was a temporary structure.[1] It was initially a very light structure or just cloth hanging from a rope, but over the course of time the skene underwent fundamental changes. First it became a permanent building, whose roof could sometimes be used to make speeches, and as time passed it was raised up from the level of the orchestra, creating a proskenion, or “space in front of the skene”. The facade of the proskenion was behind the orchestra and provided a space for supporting stage scenery. During the Roman Period the skene had become a large and complex, elaborately decorated, stone building on several levels. Actors emerged from the skene and could use its steps and balconies to speak from. It was also where costumes were stored and to which the periaktoi (painted panels serving as the background) were connected.[2]

Source: Skene (theatre) – Wikipedia

An ekkyklêma (/ˌɛksɪˈkliːmə/; Greek: εκκύκλημα; “roll-out machine”) was a wheeled platform rolled out through a skênê in ancient Greek theatre. It was used to bring interior scenes out into the sight of the audience.[1] Some ancient sources suggest that it may have been revolved or turned.[2]

It is mainly used in tragedies for revealing dead bodies, such as Hippolytus’ dying body in the final scene of Euripides’ play of the same name, or the corpse of Eurydice draped over the household altar in Sophocles’ Antigone.[3] Other uses include the revelation in Sophocles’ Ajax of Ajax surrounded by the sheep he killed whilst under the delusion that they were Greeks.[4]

Source: Ekkyklema – Wikipedia

Greeks were the earliest recorded practitioners of stagecraft. “Skene” is Greek, translating roughly into “scene” or “scenery”, and refers to a large scenic house, about one story tall, with three doors. On the audience-side of the Skene, what are now known as “flats” could be hung. Flats developed to two-sided painted flats which would be mounted, centered, on a rotating pin, with rope running around each consecutive pin, so the flats could be turned for a scene-change. The double-sided-flat eventually evolved into the periaktos (pl. periaktoi).

As well as flats, the Greeks also used such machines as the ekkyklema, essentially a platform on wheels, and the deus ex machina, a hand-cranked lift to be used to lift a character/scenery over the skene. Over 20 such scenic inventions can be traced back to the Greeks. No light but that of the sun was used; plays started at sun-rise and continued until sun-down.

Plays of Medieval times were held in different places such as the streets of towns and cities, performed by traveling, secular troupes. Some were also held in monasteries, performed by church-controlled groups, often portraying religious scenes.

Source: Stagecraft – Wikipedia

Lualla and Tob were granted a special audience with King Mergolech after she showed the castle guards the dolphin ring he had given her as a sign of his vow of protection over their family. As he and his retinue were themselves setting out at once for the Citadel of Kremel across the mountains to the east, it was granted that Lualla, Sol, and Tob would ride along amongst the wagons carrying the provisions for that troop.

Further, Tob informed Mergolech that upon his person, Benda carried objects of priceless value, the thunderstone knife, and never-ending goblet which Banarat had given to Eradus in High Dock Castle, and which Eradus had given to Benda in the Place Below. Mergolech was thereafter able to negotiate with the Knights of the Citadel, as king of this land, and rightful lord of Benda, that these objects be entrusted to his safe-keeping until a determination could be made at the High Council. Thus these items were retrieved, and placed under the care of Lualla, as they were much too large for Tob to carry.

The caravan set out at once, with an advance guard of the Knights of the Citadel riding ahead. They were followed by the special guard, amongst which Benda was allowed to ride without rope or shackle, but not afforded the liberties of a free man. Behind them rode Mergolech’s retinue and supply wagons.

Thanks to the mercies of Mergolech, who was a wise, honest, and just king, Lualla and Sol were allowed to visit Benda – under guard – on several occasions, though only for a few minutes at a time. She introduced Sol to him, and there was a tearful reunion. Benda realized immediately that this was indeed the boy he’d seen in the village, in whom it seemed a spark of recognition had somehow then been kindled too.

Tob, meanwhile, was all too happy to while away the hours on the back of the creaky wagon where he, Lualla, and young Sol rode and bedded. Tob was able, at last, to entertain them with his full suite of tales, which ranged from myths and legends of far off lands, to trumped-up tales of his own bravery and magical prowess, to all the tales Benda had related to him about his own journey to Quatria and back. It served well to pass the time, and Lualla, but especially Sol, listened intently. It reminded Tob of the happy times he spent living with Lam’s family, far, far away. And thus the days passed without incident, and without too much heartache.

They crossed the mountains over the southern pass, and within just under a week the caravan broke out into the open plains to the west of the Citadel of Kremel. The Citadel was a natural fortress, built upon a large circular deposit of some of the hardest stone of that continent, which had been planted there aeons ago when the world began in fire and smoke. From the west, north, and some of the south, it was impassable, as a natural wall of sheer rock rose up protectively. This natural barrier was fortified in turn by successive rings built within by the hands of men, and the main gates faced the sea not far off to the east, with another second gate facing towards the south, and the desert of Ner. Long ago, however, the overland passage to the desert had been sealed against barbarian raiders with a long stout wall at the narrowest part where the continent connected to Ner and the lands beyond. It was by this southern gate, the Ner Gate, that the caravan entered the Citadel itself. Tob gazed in wonder at this marvelous stone city, the likes of which he had never seen in his many travels.

Upon their arrival, they were greeted without fanfare, as preparations were already underway for the convening of the High Council out of season, a most irregular occurrence. Tob, Lualla and Sol were lodged together in adequate accommodations with other members of her king’s retinue. And Lualla, to stave off her own anxiety, and though she were not duty-bound to do so, took to helping the others with whatever chores and tasks came up, and quickly became a valued member of that troop. Tob and Sol, meanwhile, became fast friends and explored as thoroughly as they were allowed the grounds and area where they were lodged while Lualla busied herself with the preparations.

They spent several days thus, waiting for the other kings to arrive. Though they had not seen him, it was known that Murta, the Third King and King of Holmat, had arrived well before them. In the form of an eagle, he traveled swiftly and without retinue. And it was he, Tob suspected, who had informed the King of the Citadel, Consciolus Greppo, in the first place of Benda and his marvelous secret, setting the present events into motion.

Martis Ovnis, the Fourth King of Edebia arrived not long after Mergolech and his retinue. And this left only one king unaccounted for, Eradus, the Fifth King, King of Devera, and close friend and traveling companion of Benda. On the fifth day, however, Eradus rode out of the west, via the same southern passage through the mountains. Having sent his own goleks, Dema and Selef, to find their way home by the northern way, he sat astride the sable golek, Machef, who, though it was not widely known amongst humans, was considered too a king amongst his people. And strapped to the back of Eradus was the harp Eril, which was left behind in Murta’s attack on the Xenarths, and the capture of Benda. Eradus had not long after discovered it in the market stall of an anonymous trader at the tribal settlements of Lake Squamat. He bought it back from the unsuspecting vendor (who had no idea of its provenance or true value), as he would later brag to Benda, for a song.

With this final arrival, the High Council of the Kings of Kremel was ready to commence.

As Benda’s unconscious body was hauled out of the thatched hut his family inhabited in Stennax, no one noticed when a small bit of tuberous vegetation fell out of the folds of his cloak, and rolled onto the floor. To the uncareful eye, it might have appeared only as perhaps part of Benda’s lunch having fallen out of the food pouch he carried. But to those with eyes to see, they would notice that this tuber wore a small purple hat, had a sack of his own slung across his shoulder, and carried a tiny magical flute cut from a reed in the Great River.

It was not the first time Tob had needed to feign being a simple ordinary boring vegetable. But the tales of Tob are long and circuitous, and best left for another time. Tob had business to attend to – for, once again, his friend was in trouble.

After the knights of the Citadel had departed with her husband, Lualla sat down by the fire and cried. It had been three long years since she saw her husband after he’d been lost at sea. Most people in the village thought him long since dead, and urged her to re-marry to be able to better care for her young son, Sol. But she had refused, steadfast, always holding out hope that Benda would return to her. And now that he finally had, it was under such strange and horrible circumstances.

The Knights of the Citadel had ridden into town a few days earlier, brandishing a proclamation from the First King of Kremel, the King of the Citadel and King Over the Mountains to the east. It said that anyone caught harboring a certain fugitive expected to arrive in this village within the coming days would be severely punished. It caused quite a stir in the village, and as details began to emerge, Lualla found out the wanted man was none other than her long lost husband, Benda. The other villagers, filled with fear, began to treat Lualla very strangely and avoided her. And to her horror, the Knights of the Citadel rode to her house, dismounted, and seized control of the family hut under the highest royal authority.

Since that time, two knights were stationed at the hut to set a trap for Benda when he arrived, while the others fanned out and hid themselves amongst the villagers elsewhere. Lualla had no choice but to comply, and despite this horrid unwelcome intrusion had to pretend calmly to go about her business until the love of her life returned, only to be captured by these brutish men acting under orders from a king who wasn’t even her own.

In actual fact, the same afternoon as the arrival of the knights, a special envoy came to her from the King of Cannaxus – her king, and Benda’s king – Mergolech, King Upon the Sea and King of the Fishers. When the envoy arrived under royal guard, the Knights of the Citadel were put out of the hut, and a messenger was sent in to speak with Lualla. It was Mergolech himself, in the disguise of a messenger.

“Fear not,” he told Lualla, whose face was lined with tears upon learning that her husband was still alive, and that he would again soon be taken from her, and that she herself was to play a hand in this treachery. “I take it solemnly upon my office and upon my very person to guarantee the safety of your husband, your self, and your son. No harm will come to him or to you all. This is a matter which must be settled, however, at the High Council of the Kings, as your husband’s whereabouts these past few years gravely concerns all the peoples of Kremel.” He gave to her then a silver ring with the royal seal of the dolphin as promise, and departed. And the Knights of the Citadel returned to the hut forthwith.

So it was that loyal Lualla was doubly commanded by the king of her land, and the king of the entire realm to betray her long lost husband, who she had pined for lo these many years. And she executed her duty, as in all things, faithfully, though it pained her to the core of her being.

To Sol, meanwhile, who was still a young child, too young to fully understand why these armored men were suddenly guests in their home, she simply said, “These men are here to help find your father. He’s coming home to us at last!” She knew, however, that as the other villagers had begun to ostracize her, that he too must have heard from the other children any number of rumors about what was happening and why, including stories which sprung up spontaneously in the streets and alleys that Benda was some kind of criminal, or maybe even a murderer. There was nothing to be done, however, and she comforted Sol as best she could, who bravely did not cry or complain at the presence of these strange men in their home.

Tob, of course, had seen the Knights of the Citadel, bearing their red banners and surcoats in his original vision of Benda’s capture, struggle, and escape from the eagle Murta. He had wisely advised Benda to hide him in the folds of his cloak as they entered the village, and as far as he knew, no one there knew of his very existence.

He straightened his hat on his head, and addressing Lualla there crying by the fire after Benda’s latest capture called out, “Hail lady, hail Madame Lualla. It is I, Tob Gobble, at your service.”

She stopped sobbing suddenly, and looked about for the small voice. Fixing finally on Tob, he took off his hat and bowed with his typical flourish. She could not help but laugh at this little ridiculous figure.

“I am a loyal friend and companion of your husband with whom I have shared many exciting adventures. I bid you be of good cheer, for he is a most remarkable man, and with my help, no harm will come to him.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry to doubt… one such as yourself, but people keep saying that to me,” said Lualla. “And yet here we are, after his unconscious body was just dragged from this very place, and after I myself aided in his capture.” She told him then of Mergolech’s visit by stealth, and showed him the silver ring bearing the royal seal of the dolphin given to her in promise. “I don’t suppose you know what any of this is even about?”

Tob bowed again, “I do indeed, Madame. I do indeed. Do you have time for a short tale – or three?” Tob said eagerly, for the telling of tales was far and away his most favorite activity.

Lualla brushed the question aside, “Where are they taking him? To what end? And why?”

“Well, they are taking him, no doubt,” said Tob disappointed at not being invited to launch into his many tales, “to the Citadel of Kremel and to the First King, because your husband knows the way back to the lost land of Quatria, where he was washed ashore and survived these many years after a storm-at-sea.”

“Then we must follow him at once, wherever he goes,” said Lualla, gathering up her things. “I won’t be parted from him again, not for a moment longer.”

“Where are you going?” inquired Tob, surprised at her haste, and still in the mood for the telling of tales.

“First to find my son, for neither will I leave him here alone an orphan.”

“Allow me,” said Tob, confidently. He pulled out his little reed flute from his sack, and began to blow upon it in awkward notes.

“There’s no time for a song,” said Lualla impatiently.

But Tob continued playing his most peculiar little tune, and within mere moments, Sol came running in through the door, shouting, “Mama! Mama!” Lualla ran to him and took him up in her arms, weeping.

Sol pointed then to Tob, who was proudly polishing his little flute with one of his rootlets. “Funny little man!” said Sol.

“Tob Gobble,” he said bowing low and removing his hat to the boy, “at your service. Now, as I was saying, we must follow after Benda wherever he goes.”

“It was I who said it,” corrected Lualla, laughingly.

“Precisely,” said Tob. “But we won’t make it far ourselves on foot and rootlet. We must make good on the promise of your king, Mergolech. We must get him to take us with him to the High Council in Kremel. There’s no time to waste!”

In a necropolis at the site of Cumae, near Naples in southern Italy, archaeologists have uncovered a painted tomb dating to the second century B.C. Cumae is the oldest Greek settlement in Italy, founded sometime in the eighth century B.C. It is also the home of the Cumaean sibyl, a prophetess who, like her counterpart at Delphi in Greece, presided over a sanctuary of Apollo. Like the sibyl, Cumae maintained its importance for centuries. It was the home of a large community of non-Latin-speaking local Italic people called Oscans who settled there in the fifth century B.C., and remained influential into the second and first centuries B.C., explains archaeologist Priscilla Munzi of the French National Center for Scientific Research.

Source: Inner Beauty – Archaeology Magazine