Happy 90th birthday, Pat!

 Here's my father-in-law doing pushups on his 90th birthday.

The Wolf

WARNING: SPOILERS!

 

30 years after Return of the Volon

Cricket hid on the edge of the woods, listening. The crunch of wagon wheels on the dusty road made her heart quicken. The wagon was early. Usually it passed this way after nightfall. This would make things tricky. Twilight wasn’t dark enough to hide her.

The roll of the wheels grew louder, as did the beating of her heart. She fingered the tip of her black braid nervously. A lot was riding on this. She hadn’t eaten in days, nor had her little sisters. She could only hope her stomach wouldn’t growl loud enough for the driver to hear.

Closer it came. She gripped her ragged linen bag tightly and peered out from behind a tree. Just the one wagon. None behind it. Good. Two men sat up front. One goaded two oxen with a whip. They seemed rather sleepy and kept their eyes on the road ahead. Perfect.

After the wagon passed, she darted out from the woods and ran to catch up with it. She stretched an arm forward as she ran. With a grunt, she lunged forward and grabbed a wooden slat. She pulled herself up, keeping low so the drivers couldn’t see her.

Between the slats lay her treasure. Coal. A whole wagonload! She’d heard people say a lump of coal was worth more than a lump of gold these days. She didn’t doubt it. Winters in Calandria were pretty cold, and gold didn’t heat people’s homes. If she could sell just one small bagful, she could buy food for her sisters for a month.

Coal was hard to come by. Everything was hard to come by these days. It’d been this way for thirty years, her father had told her, ever since every prefect lost a great deal of men and ships in Salamis’ war on the other side of the world.

Everything had gone wrong back then. The war on the western continent left Calandria in chaos. They no longer had a king, and even some of the provincial prefects had died. On top of that, the slaves in Shacor had revolted, so there was no seafire. That factor alone had practically shut down commerce between the two eastern continents.

No trade shipments had come from the western continent either, not since Xulon was now populated by another race. Not since Rhakos was now under a Temanite king. That’s what her father had told her, anyway. But that was a year ago, before he died and left her to care for her three sisters on her own.

Most people in Calandria shared her misery. Without a king, every prefect in Calandria vied for absolute power, bringing three decades of war and laying waste to their lands. Meanwhile, the common people went hungry and cold.

Without her father to tell her what was going on in the world, she could only catch snippets of conversation among the cityfolk. Most of those snippets were nothing but rumors. She heard stories of a faction of rebels up in the northern regions. Supposedly they were led by someone called Taj, the wolf.

Many tales were told of the wolf, but apparently no one had ever seen him. She’d seen his name painted on signs along with a reward for his capture, but there was never any picture of his face. According to the signs, he was wanted for thievery, but Cricket’s father said that everyone these days blamed every stolen item on the wolf.

Still, Cricket admired a thief that had never been caught. She’d had to resort to thievery herself, and she’d been caught twice. Once she escaped right off. The second time, she was sold but managed to escape before being delivered to the buyer. Both times, she’d been lucky.

If only she had someone to teach her. She’d heard that Calandria had a Thieves’ Guild and wondered if the wolf was in charge of it. Perhaps they were the rebels up north. She’d love the chance to join up with a Thieves’ Guild and learn the trade. Perhaps she’d eventually get good enough to give her sisters a better life.

As she reached between the slats and pulled out a piece of coal, she wondered why the wolf had to steal. Was he hungry too? If he really was leading a faction of rebels, were they all hungry? What kinds of things did they steal?

Again and again she reached through the slats and pulled out pieces of black gold. She had to select smaller pieces because she couldn’t fit the big ones through. When her raggedly bag was full, she jumped off the wagon. Her bare foot hit a stone. She bit her lip to keep from yelping in pain. Carefully but quickly, she limped back to the woods.

“Hey!” One of the men jumped down and chased her.

She tried to quicken her pace, but the brush was thick and grabbed at her threadbare skirt. Sharp stems jabbed her feet. She heard his heavy footsteps getting closer. She tripped and fell. A large hand grabbed her by the shoulder and hefted her up.

“Steal from me, will ya?”

She looked up into the charcoal eyes of a very large man just before everything went black.

When she awoke, she found herself in a small, dark room with stone walls and a dirt floor. Others were there, crowded together tightly. Voices from the other side of an open doorway spoke quietly, but she was near enough to hear them.

“One hundred pieces for the lot of them.”

“I’ll give ya fifty.”
The second man’s words were brusque, his voice low and deep. Cricket leaned around the doorpost to have a look. A thin, clean-shaven man sat behind a table. A burly, bearded man stood before him. Both had black hair. Peering more closely at the thin man behind the table, she held in a gasp. She recognized him. He was the one who had tried to sell her a few months ago.

The thin man sniggered through his nose. “I got other buyers. Take your fifty and leave.”

The bearded man let his breath out heavily. “I can go as high as seventy, but that’s it.”

“Like I said, I got other buyers. Slaves are hard to come by these days. Seems they keep disappearing. I hear the wolf’s behind it.”

“Who, Taj? He ain’t real. People just use that name to get away with stuff. Make people afraid of ‘em. Everyone’s pretending to be something these days.”

“I dunno,” the thin, nasally man said. “I heard things.”

The standing man scratched his beard. “Ever seen him?”

“No, no one’s ever seen him.”

“That’s cuz he don’t exist. Just last week I was in a tavern in Bizzayon, and people were talking. One said he saw him in Veil on the solstice. Another said it couldn’ta been him cuz he had seen him in Icaria that same solstice. Those cities are a continent apart!”

The thin man made a scoffing noise. “Just people talking, that’s all. Musta had their dates mixed up.

The bearded one said, “I’m telling ya, the wolf ain’t real. Ain’t nuthin but a name that thieves hide behind to scare people. Now take my seventy and be grateful.”

The thin one laughed. “There’s one girl in there I could sell for seventy all on her own. Got eighty-five for her once before.”

Cricket’s heart quickened.

“That so?” the bearded one said. “How come she’s worth so much? How old is she?”

“I dunno, about seventeen, maybe. But that ain’t what makes her so valuable.”

“What then?”

“She’s got three sisters, all younger than her. She’d tell you where they are if you, er… treat her right, if you know what I mean. You’ll get four girls for the price of one.”

Cricket had to bite her lip to keep quiet. They were talking about her, about torturing her to find out where her family was. Just to have more slaves to sell.

The bearded one said, “All right, how ‘bout you take my seventy just for that one?”

The thin one looked as though he was considering it. But finally he said, “Nope, I’m selling ‘em as a lot. Take the whole batch or none. Gotta move ‘em outta here so I got room for the next batch.” He leaned over the table and jabbed a bony finger on the wood. “No less than a hundred.”

The bearded one sighed. “Fustilugs. Guess I gotta come back tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself.” The thin one leaned back in his chair. “But I can’t guarantee they’d still be here. Like I said… I got other buyers.”

Before the bearded man could leave, a woman stepped into the room. She was petite, well dressed, and wore several golden chains around her neck. Her black hair was tucked into a gem-studded netting. As she entered, she flipped back one side of her light-green cloak, revealing wide sleeves on her dark-green gown. Golden bands around her upper arms held the sleeves in place, and from there they swept open and almost brushed the floor.

She ran a finger along the standing man's beard. “What’s going on here, my love?”

“Our seventy ain’t enough.”

“How can it not be enough?” She stepped close to where Cricket was and peered into the tiny room stuffed with boys and girls. With a delicate hand she fanned the air in front of her face. “Such an odor. These aren’t worth half seventy.”

“Says he’s got one in there that’s worth seventy all by herself.”

The woman leaned over the table and gazed into the thin one’s eyes, which went straight toward her low-cut neckline. “Why’s she worth so much, hmm? Is she pretty? Prettier than me?”

“Uh…”

She drew a ring-studded finger along his clean-shaven chinline, then cupped his chin in her hand. “You didn’t answer me. Don’t you find me pretty?”

His gaze took in her expensive clothing before lighting on her face, which was very close to his. “Yer real pretty, lady.”

“That’s what my husband tells me.”

“Yer husband?”

“That’s him right over there.”

The man quickly leaned back in his seat, away from her.

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. “Don’t be afraid. Go ahead. Kiss me.”

“Uh…”

Still holding his shirt, she pressed her lips against his.

The bearded one cleared his throat, and the thin one pushed away.

She straightened herself, put a hand on the bearded one’s face, and said, “You’re jealous, how sweet. Now as for you…” She strode around the table and sat down in the thin one’s lap. “Kiss me again.” With both hands on his head, she kissed him, long and hard.

Slowly she released him, but she kept her face close to his and caressed his cheek. “Now tell me again how much for those slaves in there.”

“Um… uh…” He cleared his throat. “One hundred.”

She clucked her tongue. “That’s really too bad.” From under one wide sleeve she produced a dagger, thrust it into his side, and pushed him off the chair. His head hit the ground, and he was out cold.

Cricket gasped and ducked behind the doorpost, hand over mouth.

She heard the bearded man say, “That’ll leave a mess.”

The woman said, “Well, I’m not cleaning it up.”

“You went a little far this time, Azelyn.”

“He forced me.”

“Fopdoodle.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll live. Now kiss me and tell me how clever I am.”

“Not with his slibber-sauce on your lips.”

The woman peered into the small, dark room. “You children are free. Do you have homes to go to?”

No one answered.

“If you don’t have homes, you can come with us.”

“Who are you?” Cricket asked.

“Some people call me a thief,” the woman said. “Others call me the wolf. Sometimes they call him the wolf.” She pointed back toward the bearded man.

“You’re the wolf?”

“Maybe.” She leaned down toward Cricket and whispered, “Wolves travel in packs, you know.” She straightened herself. “But you can call me Azelyn. You look older than the rest. Are you the one he was talking about? Worth seventy all by yourself?”

Cricket didn’t answer.

The bearded man stood beside the woman in the doorway. “He said you have sisters. If you tell us where they are, we can help them too.”

Slowly, cautiously, Cricket said, “What do you mean, help them?”

The woman said, “We can give you a safe place to live. All of you.” She swept a hand to indicate all the children. “Now, who’s coming? He’s got biscuits.”

All the others leapt up and clambered over their rescuers.

“Whoa, whoa!” the man said. “Slow down, I only got two hands.” He pulled biscuits from pockets inside his cloak and passed them out.

“What about you?” Azelyn asked.

Cricket shrunk into a dark corner.

“I understand,” Azelyn said. “Why should you trust us? You don’t know us. I just stabbed a man, he’s giving out biscuits, I called myself the wolf…”

“I’m not scared of the wolf.”

The woman’s narrow eyebrows raised on her petite face. “You aren’t? Why not?”

“Cuz he’s a thief, like me.”

“Is that why you’re in here? You stole something and got caught?”

Cricket nodded.

“What did you steal?”

“Coal.”

“Ah. You’re cold, you and your family.”

“No we’re not. We’re hungry.”

“Aha! So you do have a family!”

Cricket bit her lip.

“Any parents?” When no answer came, the woman looked to her husband and giggled. Children were clinging to him, munching biscuits, reaching for more. He held the smallest one in one arm and tried to push away another.

“Hey, get your hands outta there. I said one each, you scobberlotchers. I ain’t got no more.”

The sight reminded Cricket of her own father whenever he came home with treats. Her father even had some gray in his beard, like this man. Slowly she rose and approached the man.

“Hungry? I saved one for you.” He pulled the last biscuit from his pocket. “My name’s Vik. What’s yours?”

“Cricket.”

“Really? That’s your name?”

“No, it’s Kateeka. But my sisters couldn’t pronounce it so they called me Cricket.” She bit into the biscuit. It was dry and stale, as though it had been in his pocket several days. But she was starving and hurriedly ate it all.

When she finished, she peered up into his eyes, which had a hint of brown in the charcoal gray. She’d never seen that before. “Are you the wolf?”

“Depends. What do you know about the wolf.”

“I know they call him Taj. Isn’t that a word that means wolf?”

His eyebrows went up. “You know his name?”

She shrugged. “Is he real?”

“Oh, he’s real, all right.”

“Can I join your guild?”

“My what?”

“The Thieves Guild. You’re part of a guild, aren’t you?”

He scratched his head. “Well… sort of.”

“It’s all right, I won’t tell anyone. I’m a thief too.”

“So I hear. Well, Cricket, you are welcome to join us. We live pretty far away, though. You’ll want to bring your family, I imagine.”

Despite her hesitation and desire to protect her sisters, she decided to trust this stranger, this friend of the wolf. Maybe it was a stupid decision, but something about him and his wife was different from anyone else she’d met. They were the only ones she’d ever seen to offer food and a home to desperate children.

And he reminded her of her father.

Two hours later, Cricket sat in the corner of a wagon, her three sisters huddled in her arms. The other children from the dark room were there as well, sleeping soundly despite the creaking of the wagon and the jolts of the bumpy road.

From the driver’s seat, Vik turned to peer at her. “Sorry about the bumps. We need to keep off the main roads.”

“How far?” Cricket asked.

“’Bout a day and a half. Should be there by tomorrow night.”

Before sundown the next day, they reached their destination—the city of Orella in the northwest corner of the realm. Great walls stretched around it, and directly in front of her, two great gates, the height of seven men. The gates had been painted blue with the image of white wings on them—white wings edged in gold.

“I thought the wolf and his people lived in hiding.”

“I know what yer thinking. Kinda hard to hide when your gates look like that, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, we’re not exactly hiding. I mean, we’re not hiding that we’re here. We’re just hiding who we are and what we’re doing.”

“What are you doing?”

“The rest of the realm think this city belongs to me and that I’m a winemaker.”

“You’re a city governor? And you didn’t have more than seventy coins on you?”

He laughed. “Course I had more. I just don’t give it to lubberworts like that guy back there, that’s all. But no, I ain’t the city governor.”

“Who is? Is it Taj?”

“You’ll see.”

The gates opened almost as if by themselves. It wasn’t until the wagon passed through that Cricket could see tall aqueducts running toward each half of the gate. “It uses the power of water?”

“Yup. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Amazing. How’d you learn to do that?”

“We got friends in high places.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look up.”

Behind the city of Orella stood a tall, gray cliff. She followed it with her eyes, all the way to the top. “Up there? You have friends up there?”

“Sure.”

“What do they do up there?”

“They live there. They farm and raise animals and build machines that use the power of water.”

“Who are they?”

“Just more of us wolves.”

“Is that where Taj lives?”

“No, he lives down in the city with the rest of us. But we go up there sometimes.”

The wagon rolled to a stop, and Azelyn and Vik came down to help the children out. Azelyn said, “There’s food in the longhouse over there.”

Cricket’s sisters ran off with the other children. “Wait!” Cricket called, but they didn’t stop. “Will they be all right? Is it safe?”

“Everything about Orella is safe,” Azelyn said. “Your sisters can go anywhere they wish inside these walls. Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want to join them?”

Cricket shook her head, for she’d rather take in the wondrous sights of the city. “Can I leave them in there without me?”

“Sure. There’s people in there who’ll look out for them. If you don’t want to eat, what would you like to do?”

“I’d like to meet the wolf.”

“Very well. Vik, will you take her? I’ll see to the children.”

Vik put an arm around Cricket’s shoulders. “Come with me. He’s probably in the center of the city. That’s where you’ll usually find him.”

As they walked a cobbled street, Cricket noticed how most buildings looked very old but with parts that seemed newer, as though they’d been repaired. “How long have you been living here?”

“About five years now.” He must have seen her gaping at the buildings, for he said, “Yeah, we did a lot of rebuilding the first two years. First we extended the walls. Then we had to make the city livable. Same with the high places.” He waved a hand upward, toward the cliff.

They turned a corner, and the scene changed. Here, people were busy working at blacksmith shops, carpenter shops, leather shops, and more. To Cricket’s surprise, not all the people had black hair and white skin. Many had walnut brown hair and tan complexions. Some had very dark brown hair.

“Who are these people?”

“Friends. You’ll get to know them.”

“Why are they making weapons? You look like you’re preparing for war.”

“We’re engaged in a different sort of war. For the most part, we don’t like to kill.”

“Then why arm for battle?”

He looked into her eyes. “Because the enemy does.”

A woman with sable hair—black with brown highlights—came up to them. “Vik! You’re back!” She hugged him. “Everything go all right? Where’s Azelyn?”

“In the longhouse with the children. Yeah, went fine. No trouble.”

“Who is this?”

“This here is Cricket.

The woman stuck out a hand. “Welcome, Cricket, My name’s Zoë.”

Cricket took the hand and couldn’t help but smile.

“She wants to meet Taj,” Vik said.

Zoë pointed to a two-story stone building. “He’s in there. Go on in.”

They stepped through the open doorway, and Cricket froze. A very large room stretched before her, full of tables and benches and lots of people. Most of the people had black hair, but again there were some with brown hair.

Cricket tugged on Vik’s sleeve. “Who are those people? The ones with the brown hair.”

“Some are Petrosians. Some are Temanites.”

“From the eastern continent?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Hey, you’re pretty smart.”

“My father used to tell me all the news he’d hear in the market or on the streets. He once told me a Temanite was now king of Rhakos. Is that what Temanites look like?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And the king of Rhakos… he’s a friend of mine, Baruch.”

“You’re friend to a king?”

“Sure, actually lots of kings. Now Taj… he could be a king too, if he wanted. Got the royal blood, anyway. Maybe one day he will be king. Maybe of this realm—Calandria.”

“What royal blood does he have?”

Vik smiled down at her. “All of them.”

That caught her off guard. She had so many more questions, but the one she asked was, “Which one is Taj?”

Vik pointed to a man whose back was to them. He wore a black cloak, and other than that, all she could see of him was his black, shoulder-length hair.

“Taj!” Vik called.

“Be right with you.” Taj was in the midst of talking with others, and their business seemed important.

Cricket began to feel like an idiot. Who did she think she was, asking to meet someone like that, someone with royal blood. Why would he take time for her?

“I, um… maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

“What’s the matter?” Vik asked.

“He seems busy. I should… I should go.”

Cricket turned to leave, but suddenly a commotion was happening just outside the door. A crowd had gathered, or had just arrived, or something, and their voices sounded urgent. Vik pulled her aside as a man with a silver angel on his black tunic came through the door.

The woman named Zoë threw her arms around him. “Angelus! You’re safe!”

“Yes, we’re all safe. Good to see you, sister.” He lifted his voice and called, “Taj!”

The one called Taj hurried to him and grabbed his forearm. “Glad you made it back, Angel. What’s your report?”

“We got her.”

“You… you got her? Where is she? Is she all right?”

“She will be. Her brothers are bringing her in.”

Two men in dark, hooded cloaks carried a pallet into the room and laid it on a bench. On the pallet was a slender figure, also wearing a dark, hooded cloak.

Taj dropped to his knees at her side and took her hand. “Vanya! Speak to me!”

Her voice was quiet and weak. “Taj.”

When Taj wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, the hood fell away. Long locks of white-gold hair slipped out and tumbled down her shoulders.

Cricket gasped. “Who is she?”

“His wife.”

“Is she Rygian?” Cricket had heard of Rygians and their golden hair, but she’d never seen one.

Vik whispered into her ear, “She’s a Volon princess, daughter of King Falcor and Queen Vala.”

Cricket gasped. “Are you friends with them too?”

“Sure am.”

Zoë went to the woman’s side. “Are you wounded, Vanya? Let me look at you.”

“Not now.” Vanya’s bright blue eyes never left Taj’s. She stroked his cheek. “I thought I’d never see this face again.”

As Cricket watched Taj gently kiss his wife, she felt out of place, as though she was intruding on a personal moment. But many others were there as well, all watching just like she was.

“Are you hurt?” Taj asked her.

“I’ll be all right.”

The two men who had carried her in brushed the hoods from their heads, and Cricket gasped to see the same white-gold hair on both of them. She remembered that Angelus referred to them as Vanya’s brothers, but she still hadn’t expected that.

She stood on tiptoe to whisper in Vik’s ear. “My father told me there was a big reward for every dead Volon brought in.”

“That’s right.”

“How can they live here without being seen and caught?”

“Mostly they live up in Addir,” Vik said. “And they never travel without a Kaion with them.” He pointed to Angelus.

Angelus had just put a hand on Taj’s shoulder and said quietly, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem.”

Taj didn’t take his eyes off Vanya. His fingers caressed her cheek as he said, “What is it, Angel?”

“We were followed.”

Finally Taj tore his gaze from his wife and rose. “By whom?”

“The army of Varg.”

“The whole army? Of the whole province?”

“Seemed like it,” Angel said.

“Was Enfield with them?”

“I think so.”

Slowly a smile crept across Taj’s face. “Then it’s time we released our secret weapon.”

“I’ll get him.” Angelus went to the back of the building.

As Taj rose, he laid eyes on Cricket, and for the first time, she saw his eyes. Again she gasped. Bright blue eyes shone out from under a forelock of thick black hair. She had never seen such a thing before, nor even heard of it.

“Who’s this?” Taj asked.

Vik said, “New rescue. Her name’s Cricket. She’s got three younger sisters. They’re in the longhouse eating.”

“Cricket? Nice name.” Taj stretched out a hand. “I’m Trillian. But you can call me Taj.”

Cricket was so busy staring at his eyes that when she reached for his hand, she missed.

He chuckled and grasped her hand. “I’m glad you could join us.”

Vik said, “She was caught for thieving just so she could feed her sisters. Been caught before but managed to escape.”

“Really? Sounds like you have some skills we could make use of. I look forward to training you. Uh… you do want to join us, don’t you? Cause you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I do!” Cricket said quickly. “But, um… What do you do? What kinds of things do you steal?”

“Mostly the desperate, the hopeless, the outcast, and the abused.”

That was not what she had expected. “What do you do with them?”

He shrugged as though it should be obvious. “Rescue them.”

Vik said, “You know… like we did with you and your sisters.”

“Oh,” she said, beginning to understand. When Taj turned back to his wife, Cricket asked Vik, “Why is he called the wolf?”

“It comes from his name, Trillian Alexander Justus Corden. Taj for short. The word means wolf, so that’s what he’s called.”

A new commotion arose as men emerged from a back room armed with bows and quivers, swords and daggers, axes and spears. Cricket would have stood there gaping if Vik hadn’t pulled her off to the side.

Then another man emerged and came forward. His head was covered by a black hood. Candlelight fell across his eyes—his deep, dark, penetrating eyes that bore the most intense gaze Cricket had ever seen. At his sides were two other men, both older than him. All were armed heavily with swords, daggers, knives, throwing stars, and crossbows.

The hooded man stopped before Trillian, but then his eyes landed on Cricket. He pulled his hood back and grinned. “Someone new?”

She gasped. Three parallel scars ran down the man’s left cheek, as though he’d been scratched by a three-clawed beast.

Trillian said, “Cricket, meet Torin Enfield.”

“Enfield? Like the city in Varg?”

“Yes, he’s from the same family stock. Those two,” Trillian motioned to the men at Torin’s sides, “are his adopted brothers, Brandon and Elek.”

Torin must have noticed that Cricket hadn’t taken her eyes from his facial scar, for he showed her his right hand. What looked like a set of brass knuckles encompassed his fingers, but when he opened his hand, she saw three claws on the inner side.
The corner of his mouth curled upward in a wry smile. “I took this off the guy who gave me that scar.”

Trillian called, “Torin!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Angel said they’d been followed.”

“By who?”

“The army of Varg. He thinks Enfield was with them.”

Torin nodded and a wide grin spread across his face. “Take care of your wife, Taj. I’ll handle my cousin.”

“You won’t go alone. I’ll bring reinforcements.”

Cricket made to say something but quickly stopped, feeling as though she had no right.

But Trillian smiled down at her. “Yes, Cricket?”

“How can you go out there? Wouldn’t everyone notice you?” She pointed to her own eyes and then to his.

“Not necessarily.” He pulled up the hood of his dark cloak. From inside the hood, at the top, he pulled down an attached piece of black mesh fabric that completely covered his face, hiding the color of this eyes.

Cricket said, “People see that mask, they’ll know you’re hiding your eyes. They’ll know it’s you.”

“Will they?” As Trillian said those words, every last man pulled the same type of black mesh down across their faces. “Taj the wolf is everywhere.”

Vik said, “Taj, I don’t think you should go out there. Looks like Vanya’s been through the wringer. Stay with her.”

Trillian brushed his hood back and shook his head. “We’ve been working here for five years, Vik. I think it’s time to show this realm who we are and why we’re here.”

He removed his cloak, and Cricket gasped. His tunic was divided into four quarters diagonally both ways, like an X. The top was blue and held three interlocking golden rings, each ring made of three strands. The bottom was black and held a white oroborous dragon encircling one golden ring of three strands. The right side was red with a golden lion. The left side was gold, and it bore a three-petalled white flower.

As Trillian pointed them out to Cricket, he said, “These are for my grandfathers, Corden, Eliada, and Drahkôn. This one,” he pointed to the white flower on gold, “is my personal insignia. It’s a flower called a trillian.” He pulled his sword from its sheath. “Look here.”

Cricket gasped. In the hilt of the sword were three gems—diamond, ruby, and sapphire. All along the blade was etched an ivy, beginning as a seed at the point and leafing out all the way up to the hilt, where it became a three-petaled flower just like the flower on his emblem.

Vik said, “Hold on, Trill, this might not be the best time to reveal yourself. Your wife was just rescued from Varg. She needs you right now.”

“I disagree, Vik. I’ve held off only because they had her imprisoned. Now that she’s back and safe, it’s time we taught those people a lesson.”

A woman’s voice said, “I agree with Trillian.”

Everyone looked to see that Vanya was sitting up on the bench.

She said, “Don’t forget, Vik, they’re on their way here. Of all the provinces in Calandria, Tavien Enfield has the biggest army. If we don’t stop him now, he could take over the entire realm. Then his power will be limitless.”

“In that case, count me in,” Vik said.

Trillian smiled, pulled a horn from his belt, and stepped outside.

“What’s he doing?” Cricket asked.

“Oh, this is something you’ll want to see. I’ll have to leave you now, but Zoë and Azelyn will watch over you and your sisters. Meanwhile, go on outside and have a look.”

Zoë took Cricket’s hand and led her out into the sun just in time to see Trillian put the horn to his lips and blow out a series of notes, some long, some short.

“What happens now?” Cricket asked.

Zoë said, “You’ll see. It might take a few minutes, so let’s head down to the longhouse and see how your sisters are doing.”

Cricket followed Zoë back the way she had come, but before they reached the longhouse, she heard someone shout, “Here they come!”

Following Zoë’s gaze, she looked up, all the way to the top of the cliff. A hundred or more blonde-headed men lined up, all with something large and black attached to them. She couldn’t make it out from where she stood, but the next moment, she gasped.

All one hundred leapt off the cliff. Great black wings held them aloft, and they soared overhead. One by one, they swooped down, out toward the southwest.

Zoë said, “Take a good look, Cricket, and know this… When we win this land back for the Volon, it’ll be because of men like that.”

“And Trillian,” Cricket said.

Zoë nodded. “Of course. And Trillian.”

Finding Christ in "The Hunt of the Unicorn"

Among the most beautiful of all medieval tapestries are those that belong to the "Hunt of the Unicorn" series. Created around the 15th century in France, today they hang in the Cloisters Museum, part of the Metropolitan Museum in New York.

The seven tapestries depict typical medieval hunting scenes, patterned after the popular stag hunt. Yet these scenes go much deeper than a mere sporting activity. Hidden within the plant, animal, and human images are spiritual undertones. To the educated eye, one might more properly call them over-tones. In this blog, I’d like to take a very brief look at each of the tapestries and show how the story of Christ is revealed. Due to space concerns, I’ll only touch on a few of the more significant symbolisms in each.

Tapestry 1: The Start of the Hunt



The tale begins with the lord of the hunt and his companions as they set forth on their quest for the unicorn. A scout in a tree (upper right) motions to the hunters. He has sighted the quarry and calls for his companions to follow.

The main spiritual message in this scene is that of man’s state of sin and need for salvation. Immediately underneath the central hunter is a white campion flower, also known as snake flower or death flower. This flower and its position depict the sinful state of man, which has brought death into the world. The hunters gathering to quest for the unicorn show mankind’s search for someone to rescue them from their sinful state.

Also central to this scene is the theme of birth, specifically the birth of a divine, eternal king. In the upper right corner we find several significant trees. Two of the trees signify birth—the cherry tree, since it is the first to bear fruit in the spring, and the birch tree, since it is the first to bring forth new leaves. The walnut tree represents Christ due to the threefold nature of its fruit. Both the ash tree and the oak tree signify the birth of a divine king.

Tapestry 2: The Unicorn at the Fountain


In this scene, the hunters gather around the unicorn and watch in awe as it dips its horn into the water. Hunters would not try to capture or kill their quarry while it is at rest. They will wait until it is "unharbored," or begins to flee. Then the chase is on!

Spiritual icons in this scene are abundant. Here we can see the entire drama of the fall of man, the restorative power of Christ, the existence of good and evil, and Christ’s battle against Satan.

The twelve hunters, symbolic of the twelve disciples, gather around a fountain from which flows a river. The fountain is surmounted by a pomegranate, a symbol of abundant life due to its abundance of seeds. Thus the fountain and the river signify the river of life.

We see the presence of evil and of sin in several forms. Once again the white campion flower is present, behind the foot of the hunter who is pointing at the unicorn. We also see a hyena (a symbol of the devil) under the orange tree in the lower right corner. The presence of the stag and the genet (weasel-like animal to the left of the hyena) tell that a serpent had been to the water, since both these animals are known to kill serpents. Thus we can deduce that the water had been poisoned by a serpent, or that the sins of mankind have polluted the waters of life and brought death into the world.

Yet the waters are being restored by the unicorn, who comes with healing in his horn. This is a beautiful image of how the sacrifice of Christ brings cleansing to mankind and restoration to the entire world.

Tapestry 3: The Unicorn Crosses the Stream


Now the hunt begins in earnest, as the hunters attempt to capture the unicorn. The unicorn has taken refuge in a stream in the same way that a hart (a type of deer) would attempt to escape its pursuers. In this scene, the hunters with spears represent the enemies of Christ who seek to kill Him.

Central to this scene is the image of baptism. In the foreground, on the near side of the stream, are many images of the Underworld, such as partridges (who steal other birds’ eggs), the hazel tree (from which divining rods were made), and the yellow iris (a symbol of the journey from one world to another). The bridge crossing the stream is a symbol of baptism since it shows the passing from one world to the next, in this case, from the world of sin to the realm of Christ.

Tapestry 4: The Unicorn Defends Himself


The unicorn was known to be a fierce and powerful beast that could never be captured by force. The fierceness of the unicorn alludes to the fact that no powers, principalities, or thrones can defeat Christ.

If you look closely, you will see that the unicorn in this scene has no ears. Figures without ears came to represent imminent betrayal. There are two reasons for this: First, they bring to mind the silence in the Garden of Gethsemane just before Christ was betrayed (referring to the sleeping disciples). Second, we are reminded of Peter’s cutting off the ear of a soldier at the time Christ was betrayed.

The pierced dog is a foretelling of the wound Christ will suffer. Upon closer examination you will see that underneath the dog, its blood is turning a violet into a rose. This tells of the power of the blood of Christ to make all things new and beautiful. Violets were symbols of humility, roses of Christ.

One other interesting detail in this scene is a felled beech tree (next to the hunter holding an axe, in the upper left corner). This signifies the impending death of a king.

Tapestry 5: The Unicorn is Captured


Only two small fragments of this tapestry remain, since they had been badly damaged during the time of the French revolution and the years afterward. (In fact, when the tapestries were found many years later, they were in a barn being used to cover vegetable bins.) If you will look closely under the unicorn's head, you will see an arm embracing it. This belongs to the maiden who should be the central figure.

It was said that a unicorn could never be captured by force, but if you put a virgin maid in an enclosed garden, he would leap into her lap. This is a beautiful rendering of the virgin birth, for Christ was not forced to come to earth, but He came willingly into Mary’s womb.

An enclosed garden was a symbol of purity. "A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed" (Song of Songs 4:12). The roses that grow along the fence are also symbols of the virgin Mary—white for her virginity, red for her charity. A hunter blowing a horn is often used as an image of the angel Gabriel making his annunciation to Mary, that she would bear the Son of God.

The maiden sits in the shadow of an apple tree, which represents the Holy Spirit and also the lover in Song of Songs (2:3): "As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste."

The entire scene brings to mind the words spoken to Mary by the angel Gabriel: "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you" (Luke 1:35).

Tapestry 6: The Unicorn is Killed and Brought to the Castle


In this scene the unicorn is pictured twice: once as he is killed (upper left), and again as he is brought to the lord and lady of the castle.

As the unicorn is killed, he is pierced in the side, bringing to mind the piercing of Christ, when blood and water flowed from His side. The unicorn’s blood is caught in a hunter’s horn, referring to the medieval belief that the blood of Christ was captured in the chalice from the Last Supper.

As the dead unicorn is being carried across the river, his horn has been removed and is tied to his neck by a garland of oak and prickly holly, symbolizing his godhood and manhood, respectively, and also symbolizing the crown of thorns.

Underneath the unicorn’s head grows a triad of flowers that represent crucifixion, eternal life, and the hope of heaven. These are the carnation (whose seeds resemble nails), the Chinese lantern (whose bright color doesn’t fade in winter), and the yellow cowslip (known as St. Peter’s Keys).

The horse that is carrying the dead unicorn is crossing a stream, which represents the River Styx, the river that flows into Hades. This is attested to by the many plant and animal icons of the Underworld found on the near side. Among the Underworld icons are a squirrel, a hazel tree, a blackberry bramble, a white campion, thistles, a yellow iris, and three dogs leashed together (representing the three-headed dog Ceres who guards the gates of hell). Additionally, the presence of a pair of swans on the moat in the far distance tells of the afterlife, for it was believed that swans accompanied the souls of the dead to the next world.

All of this is a telling of the death of Christ and His descent into hell.

Tapestry 7: The Unicorn in Captivity



Once again we see the unicorn, but now he is alive and chained to a tree within an enclosed garden. Resurrection icons in this scene are abundant. The chain that holds the unicorn to the tree is known as a love chain. Here it is shown quite loose, indicating that the unicorn can leave if he wants, but he stays willingly. This represents the love of Christ for mankind that kept Him on the cross.

The tree is a combination of pomegranate and palm, symbols of abundant life and eternal life, respectively. The pomegranate fruit is so ripe, in fact, that some have burst open and are spilling onto the unicorn’s side. (The red on the unicorn here is not blood.)

As with tapestry 5, the enclosed garden represents purity. In this case, it is a symbol of heaven, where there will be no sin or sickness. All of the plant icons in this tapestry point to healing from illness, to repelling snakes and evil, and to purity. A cluster of bluebells is silhouetted in front of the unicorn—this flower was thought to repel all forms of evil. Additionally, there are three tiny animals in this scene: a butterfly, a dragonfly, and a frog. Each of these is a symbol of new life that comes after death.

Best of all, the gate to the enclosed garden is a cross, the only way to enter heaven. In front of the cross is a blue flag iris, said to repel serpents, thus neither the devil nor any kind of evil can enter here.

Conclusion

While the seven tapestries of "The Hunt of the Unicorn" depict thrilling hunt scenes, their main purpose is to tell the Christ story, and they do so quite beautifully.

There are way too many images in all of these tapestries to do a full analysis here. If anyone has questions about any images that I have not mentioned, or if you would like to know even deeper meanings behind anything I have mentioned here, I would love to hear from you. You can respond in the form of a comment to this blog.

If you enjoyed this article, you might enjoy the novel "The Hunt of the Unicorn," available from Amazon.com. The novel is inspired by the tapestries, telling the story of the fall and redemption of mankind in a way that perhaps the tapestries had intended. Read more about it here.

Christ the Unicorn

Many people know the unicorn as a symbol of the New Age and New Age philosophies. To say that the unicorn is Christ seems almost sacrilegious. Yet in ages past it was not this way.

Medieval people loved symbolism. They were taught to look for symbolism in everything around them. It was only natural for them to equate spiritual truths with the things they saw in nature—plants and animals alike. Granted, the chances that any ever saw an actual unicorn are pretty small, but they did believe that unicorns existed. "Proof" of their existence came in the form of narwhal horns, which would wash up on beaches. Thus a unicorn's horn was most often pictured as spiral, emulating the narwhal horn.

We find the symbolism of the unicorn as Christ in many medieval writings, and even in writings from long before the medieval age. As early as the fourth century A.D., saints had been known to refer to Christ as a unicorn. Saint Ambrose, bishop of Milan (c. 340-397) said, "Who then is this unicorn but the only-begotten Son of God?" (Patrologia Latina). Saint Basil (c. 330-379) said, "[Christ] will be called the Son of unicorns, for as we have learned in Job, the unicorn is irresistible in might and unsubjected to man.... Christ is the power of God, therefore he is called the unicorn on the ground that He has one horn, that is, one common power with the Father." (Exegetic Homilies).

Here are but a few of the scriptural references these men allude to:

Numbers 23:22__God brought them out of Egypt; he hath as it were the strength of a unicorn.

Job 39:9-11__Will the unicorn be willing to serve thee, or abide by thy crib? Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the furrow? Or will he harrow the valleys after thee? Wilt thou trust him, because his strength is great? Or wilt though leave thy labour to him?

Psalm 92:10__But my horn shalt thou exalt like the horn of a unicorn.

This word "unicorn" in the KJV was an animal called a re'em in Hebrew. The writers of the Septuagint did not know what a re'em was, so they translated the word to be "monocerous," meaning "one-horned." Thus the KJV called it a unicorn.

Many examples in medieval art represent Christ as this unicorn of strength, this unicorn with a "horn of salvation" (2 Samuel 22:2,3; Luke 1:69). One of the best examples is a Swiss tapestry (shown above) that shows a spotted unicorn coming to the Virgin Mary, who is holding its horn. In front of the unicorn is Adam, who is piercing the unicorn with a spear and saying, "He was wounded for our transgressions." Underneath the unicorn is Eve, who is catching the unicorn's blood in a chalice and saying, "And by His wounds we are healed." (All quotes are in Latin on the tapestry.)

In my next posting, I will talk about the most beautiful and spiritually significant of all the unicorn tapestries: "The Hunt of the Unicorn." These seven tapestries tell the entirety of the Christ story, from His birth to his death and resurrection.