Crossed Swords: A Tale of Maid Cordelia

Ch 13: Stand-off

That night, the wolf tribes met in council. Aphel and Bayh bayed to the moon, calling the animals out of the forest. Over the damp earth they crept, silent in the waning starlight. Scampering up the hillock, they assembled in the glade on the other side of Snow's White Breath. The final tally numbered a hundred wolves, while twelve foxes and five coyotes, who had come down from the mountain and brought their pups, joined them. We trespass on foreign ground, Aphel told them, but for good reason. Right now, we await the Maid Cordelia. She ministers to Ocost, a brother who shares our dark fur. He pointed with his muzzle to his companion, who lay quiet, his head at rest upon a mound of soft moss. Soon Maid Cordelia will come, and we will formulate a plan, because our lives and our welfare have been gravely threatened by those amongst the Wretched Tribes who have rebelled. These renegade warriors are poorly armed, but vicious, angry and cruel. They call themselves The League, and they number in the thousands, though only a few hundred are assembled here, outside this wood; the rest will arrive when dawn paints the sky in ribbons of red.

At these words, the animals growled and yapped with menace, for they had not expected such a large force, nor such a hostile one. Their voices joined in the chorus: How will we overcome them? They will set fire to the forest if we do nothing to stop them. And how will we arm ourselves? We have only teeth and claws; we have no arrows or spears, and we cannot handle swords.

Do not fear, said Aphel; Maid Cordelia will advise us.

We have seen her, but where has she gone? asked a fox, who was new to the forest.

She will return soon with a poultice for Ocost's wound, Bayh said; and as they gazed upon the blood that still oozed from Ocost's shoulder, the wolves moaned.

Cordelia had lain Ocost in a comfortable bed of grass, the moment she knew they were safe from the tribesmen. Then, with the speed of a hunted hare, she had crossed over into the forest, to gather blood-root – known as dittany by those who dwell in the forest – and instructed one of the foxes, whom they called Seneca, to fetch a clay pot and spoon from the tribesmen's camp. While Seneca was gone, the other foxes gathered dry tinder for a fire.

Cordelia returned and worked quickly. With the flat of her knife, she separated the fuzzy leaves of the herb from the burnt-red flowers, that looked like spikes on a branch, and crushed them. She placed the leaves in the clay pot, thanking Seneca with a wink when she saw it. It was nothing, the vixen said, blushing. I found it tossed aside at the enemy camp, so what is their loss is our gain. Cordelia set the pot on the fire, ladling in fresh water from the creek. The wolves watched and marveled as she stirred the bitter-smelling paste until it thickened. With her knife, she trimmed away a section of her doublet, and drained the herbal liquid, still warm and steaming, into its soft padded lining. I can think of no better use for my quilted doublet, she thought to herself, than to nurse one of my companions back to health. Gently, she placed the soothing paste on Ocost's wound, overlaying it with the dampened cloth. The wolves looked at each other, and in their language they growled, spreading words amongst the animals. Cordelia willingly sacrificed herself, they said, not just for one of our own species, but for that sharp hunting knife that glints in the starlight, with which she gouged the arrow out of Ocost's flesh, and which she now uses to fix the poultice for him. In our opinion, therefore, Cordelia has passed the test. She is already a knight-at-arms. They agreed: Cordelia was their leader.

He will be up and about by daylight, she told the wolves silently, but we cannot spare any more lives. We must formulate a plan.

The wolves concurred. We will listen to you, they said, but the foxes and coyotes must swear loyalty to you and to us. Cordelia nodded. We must be able to trust each other, she said in her silent way, and to depend on each other to come to our aid and stay with us in the fight, even if the odds seem against us. She stood and gazed upon the animals. Do I have your word? she asked them. Almost at once, the wolves, foxes and coyotes howled with one voice, a howling so loud, the tribesmen heard it from the other side of the glade, and muttered bitterly, as they buried their dead, these wolves will bring us to ruin.