Crossed Swords: A Tale of Maid Cordelia

Ch 11: Reunion

Wander tugged at the reins which bridled Vechya, Cordelia mounted him firmly and with a sense of resolution, and as the sun rose, the three friends began the brief journey to the forest. Cordelia had told herself even while Mlava dressed her, that she would pass this trial with the same level of success she had shown in the gauntlet and the joust: of this she was sure. And yet a strong surge underlay her certainty; a question, a fear, gnawed at her. How could she put it in words? Did she feel a healthy self-confidence, which it is good to feel before a challenge we must face; or was this just her usual arrogance, which she made use of to blind her to any real suffering she might have to endure? Was she pretending to be fearless in the face of something unknown – like the old proverb about whistling in the dark – or did she know she could do well, and therefore would do well, regardless of the outcome? Courage must be made of such pretending, because if we were sure of a positive outcome – if we could foresee that no snags or snares would tumble us out of control – we would never have to fear a result; but then there would be no challenge. Our lives would be completely planned and we would never fail at anything we do – which means we would never learn from our mistakes, and never know the joy of overcoming odds.

What did Cordelia feel, then, as she rode the three leagues or so that separated the cool marble palace of Dame Esa from the edge of the green sunlit forest? It was not easy to say: her heart was beating rapidly, this she knew; her muscles were tensed and ready to spring into action; she could feel them burning under her skin. But her cold-bloodedness was a façade; she was simply stifling her fear and uncertainty, so as not to tremble and fail. She considered: I know the forest well. I grew up here with my father and sisters at its very rim. Every day I drew water from a well fed by the lake that whispers softly as its waves wash the borders of our fields. Every day I spoke to the animals of this forest, from the smallest toad to the great towering eagle. Here, my mother trained me to become a knight; here, my father gave me lessons in the hunt and in the art of battle; here, my bravery and resourcefulness were tested. I have known joys and sorrows in this forest, and I have endured failure and success. I know every trail and every path, every tree and stream. What have I to fear? What doubts should I feel, what worries? Soon I will join the Cordon of Knights in the Great Estates; I will be the equal of Dame Calyx and Lord Pascal. There is nothing I should fear –

                                                When the wind blows wild and free                                                                                        Then, will you return to me?

It was Wander, half-whistling and half-singing an old tune, a habit he had had from when he was a child; now, grown up, he still found comfort in singing some old song when his mind was troubled or weary. Cordelia braved a smile. "My friend," she said, "you are more melancholy than I. Think with hope, and you will be blessed with hope." Now it was Wander's turn to smile, which he did, slyly, just as Vechya slowed down and clopped two or three times with his heavy iron shoes before stopping. They had come to the tree-line that marked the boundary between the woods and the dusty and muddy byways of the Great Estates.

"I must leave you here, Maid Cordelia," said Wander. "I must tether Vechya to this tree. He will be waiting for you when you return. As for me – " he bowed his head. "I, too, will be waiting, in the clearing over there, near your father's fields, for that moment when you will emerge from this forest a new woman, a Knight of the Cordon. And I will welcome you into the world." Vechya whinnied and stomped his left foot. Cordelia slid down from her saddle. Wander was gone. A cool wind blew from the lake. Cordelia was alone. She had entered the forest.

She was not yet hungry. She would pace herself as she walked. She knew the restrictions upon her, and she had planned how to spend each day. In her head she made an outline of the forest, and she would start at the western border, which was just now on her left, and trek through the woods in a zig-zag pattern, first at the edge, then inwards a mile to the center of the forest, then back to the western edge, then inwards again; and at this second circuit, she would pause and drink, for she knew a stream that ran through the middle of the forest that spurted fresh and clear out of a leafy ravine. By sunset, she would have finished this criss-cross pattern, and be very near the mossy hillocks that bordered the whole of the northern edge of the forest. There on the grass, sheltered by the moonlight, she would rest in the quiet of the stars, and greet the dawn of her second day; for on her right, the sun would rise and shatter the darkness, and her second day of trial would begin.