The Beggar King was beloved by the common folk, for he was a generous and loving man. Wherever he went, he shared whatever he had: a loaf of bread, a happy song, a kind word. Even the rich treated him with respect. The people of Stonebriar, especially the poor, loved visits from this holy man.
The Beggar King was a friend to all creatures. Most animals of the forest feared humans, but when the Beggar King walked through the forest, birds would land on his shoulder and offer a joyful song. Rabbits and squirrels would run near his feet in hopes of getting a scrap of bread.
The Beggar King heard rumors about the Blood Wolf that threatened the peace of Stonebriar. He felt compassion for the people.
Appearing before the council of village leaders, the Beggar King offered to help save Stonebriar from the savage jaws of the Blood Wolf.
“If you look for that evil wolf, you won’t come back!” they proclaimed.
The Beggar King wouldn’t change his mind, no matter how loudly the village council argued. He simply said: “If you leave out any of God’s creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will treat one another the same way.”
The council gave in. They knew in their hearts that the Beggar King would become wolf food.
The Beggar King made his way to the cave where the Blood Wolf was rumored to live.
Suddenly, the wolf rushed out of the cave, snarling. A low growl rumbled in her throat. The Beggar King offered up a simple prayer, thinking he might die. At that moment, the wolf stopped short, baring its teeth.
The Beggar King stood, motionless, as he looked the red wolf in the eyes. This surprised the wolf, who was used to humans running away or falling to the ground in fear. Occasionally, bolder humans—like hunters or soldiers—would lunge at her with a cry of rage. This man, however, stood still.
There was something else strange about this man: the way he smelled. Every creature had its own smell. Rabbits smelled of thistle and burdock and soil. Deer smelled of coneflower and rye. Humans had the strangest smell. They rubbed their hands in all manner of strange things. No two humans smelled the same, but they had smells in common: iron, wheat, fire, and, underneath it all, the sickly sweet tang of fear.
This man smelled of wheat and fire, but there was no smell of iron or fear. In its place were the scents of the forest: willow and pine, raven and stone.
The snarl fell from the red wolf’s mouth. She tilted her head to the side and stared into the eyes of the strange man who didn’t smell like a man.
They stood looking into each other’s eyes for several moments before the man spoke. “Sister Wolf,” he said, with a voice quivering more from sadness than fear, “you have made enemies of the people of Stonebriar, who curse you for your murderous hunger.”
As she stared into the man’s eyes, the wolf noticed another strange thing. She saw in his eyes the same look her mother had given her when she, as a young pup, had done something wrong (like taking food that didn’t belong to her).
The Beggar King’s eyes shone with the same mix of sadness and love. Here stood her ancient enemy, and this enemy was looking at her with her mother’s eyes.
There was yet another strange thing about this man. When sneaking near the dens where the humans slept, the wolf had heard them speak. To the red wolf’s ears, human speech sounded like the whimpering of newborn wolf pups … meaningless and clumsy. This man, however, spoke slowly in a language she could understand.
Slowly, he said to her, “Sister Wolf, you are a creature of the forest, but have become like a human. You kill out of rage. You eat when your belly is already full. You are violent and greedy, like those you hate.”
The red wolf hung her head in shame. The strange man was right: she was no longer acting like a wolf, but a human.
The man continued: “I will make peace between you and Stonebriar, Sister Wolf. Stop hurting these people and their animals and you will be forgiven.”
At this, the red wolf walked up to the Beggar King, and sat at his feet. The Beggar King bent low and extended his hand. The wolf had once seen two humans in the village greet each other by grasping each other’s hands, so she carefully placed her paw into the Beggar King’s outstretched hand.
The wolf no longer felt lonely; she now had a friend.
The Beggar King smiled. “Since you are willing to make peace, I promise you that you will be fed every day by the people of Stonebriar as long as you remain at peace with them. You will no longer be hungry, since it was hunger that drove you to such violence. And you must never harm them … do you agree?”
The red wolf yipped in agreement. The Beggar King smiled.
Growing serious, he said, “The people of Stonebriar are afraid. They need a friend like you, Sister Wolf. They have forgotten how to enjoy the sunshine and the rain, the wildflowers of the fields and birds of the air. Will you watch over these good people as a mother or father watches over their babies?”
The red wolf yelped in affirmation.
The Beggar King laughed, “The people of Stonebriar are your pack now! Come with me, Sister Wolf.”
The red wolf followed the Beggar King as he walked back to Stonebriar.
4
Sister Wolf
Two guards stood watch at the city gate.
In the distance, they saw the Blood Wolf approach. They didn’t see the Beggar King at first for he was dressed all in brown and blended into the color of the dusty road.
Their eyes opened wide in fear. One guard’s hand shook so violently that he dropped his bow and screamed like a scared child.
The other guard remained calm. He had been a guard for many, many years. His beard was grey, and his hands were steady. Still, his heart raced as he bellowed: “There’s a wolf at the gate!”
As the grey-bearded guard nocked his arrow, he spotted the Beggar King.
“Hold your arrows!” shouted the Beggar King. “This wolf comes in peace!”
The other guard (who had since stopped screaming) ran all the way to the far side of the village to tell the council of the Blood Wolf’s arrival.
By the time all of the members of the council had reached the city gate, a crowd of townsfolk had gathered, bubbling with chatter. A dozen guards accompanied the council.
Calling the city guards to ready their spears, the mayor, who was the leader of the council, commanded: “Open the gate!”
The grey-bearded guard silently obeyed. Slowly, he raised the gate.
The red wolf ambled through the gate, the Beggar King at her side. She stopped a few paces from the mayor. The Beggar King rested his hand upon her head and stroked her soft, furry ears.
Upon seeing the Blood Wolf behaving more like a pet dog than a wild wolf, the people fell silent.
The Beggar King broke the silence: “This wolf has promised never to harm you again—neither you, nor any of your livestock.”
At this, the people of Stonebriar stood silent. They were confused, yet filled with hope for the first time in many days.
“However,” the Beggar King continued, “I have promised that you, the people of Stonebriar, will feed her when she is hungry. For it is hunger that drove her to violence. Will you honor my promise?”
Huddling together, the council discussed the matter. After whispering for a few minutes, the mayor declared: “As the leader of Stonebriar, I promise that we will feed the Blood Wolf so long as she remains a peaceful wolf.”
Smiling, the Beggar King said, “Then you must call her ‘Blood Wolf’ no longer.” Patting the red wolf on the head, he declared: “From now on, we must call her ‘Sister Wolf!’”
The people cheered.
Sister Wolf walked up to the mayor, sat upright at his feet, and extended a paw. Confused, the mayor reached out his trembling hand and took her paw. The deal was struck!
The Beggar King stayed in Stonebriar for several weeks to help Sister Wolf settle into her new way of life.
Sister Wolf felt uncomfortable going door to door for food like a stray dog. And the peo
ple of the town were still afraid of welcoming a wolf to their doorstep.
And so, at daybreak, the Beggar King would meet Sister Wolf at the mouth of her cave. The two friends would walk into town, knock on a villager’s door, and ask for breakfast. After breakfast, the Beggar King and Sister Wolf would go for a walk along the countryside until the afternoon.
Then they would visit the next house in Stonebriar and ask for supper.
During their countryside walks, Sister Wolf taught the Beggar King wolf-speech and the Beggar King taught Sister Wolf about humankind.
Sister Wolf asked, “Beggar King, why do some families live in big houses while others live in small houses? Some even make houses for chickens and dogs. Yet many beg and have no homes at all?”
The Beggar King wasn’t sure how to answer. They walked together silently for a time. He looked up at the turtledoves, resting up in the trees, their cozy nests looked the same. Among the birds, there weren’t beggars and lords.
Eventually, he said, “Some people have big houses because they want to impress the people with smaller houses. And some folks have no houses because nobody will share their house with them.”
Stunned, Sister Wolf yowled: “That makes no sense!”
The Beggar King agreed.
Sister Wolf asked, “Beggar King, why do some people eat big meals while others eat small meals … and still others rarely eat anything at all? The cows and pigs eat far better than many of the beggars on the street!”
Again, the Beggar King didn’t know how to answer. He walked alongside his four-legged friend in silence for quite some time. He looked at some frogs jumping and splashing at the pond nearby. There weren’t fat frogs and starving frogs. They all ate what they needed and no more; there was plenty for all.
A while later, he said, “Some people eat big meals because their hearts are empty. Some people eat humble meals because their hearts are content. And some others eat too little because nobody will share their food with them.”
Shocked, Sister Wolf growled, “That’s horrible!”
The Beggar King agreed.
In time, the Beggar King bade Sister Wolf farewell so that he could visit friends and strangers in another town. By then, the townsfolk had grown comfortable with the sight of Sister Wolf.
When villagers heard scratching at their door, followed by a happy bark, they knew that Sister Wolf had come to ask for food. Some were generous, others less so. But Sister Wolf never took more than she needed, though sometimes she took extra to share with those who had too little to eat.
Many grew to love Sister Wolf. Some parents let their children play with her. When she was in a good mood, she’d let smaller children ride upon her back. Some of the naughtiest children would pull her fur too hard. Even then, Sister Wolf wouldn’t growl but simply remember the scent of that child and never let them ride on her back again.
So great was the change in Sister Wolf that she went to the farm animals and promised to never harm them again. They were much slower to trust Sister Wolf than the humans had been. At first, one sight of Sister Wolf terrified them. But in time, they too learned to love her.
Well, that’s not entirely true. There was one rooster named Grumpus who never trusted Sister Wolf. After all, she had eaten some of his cousins during one of her nighttime chicken raids. Whenever the wolf came near his farm, he’d flap to the top of the chicken coop and crow loudly: “Kiki-riki … flee, flee, flee!”
None of the other farm animals paid any attention to Grumpus, but Sister Wolf felt sad. She did her best to apologize; she’d leave scraps of bread by the chicken coop. But Grumpus never forgave her.
For months, the villagers knew when Sister Wolf was visiting the farm near the west end of the village; they could hear the loud piercing crow of Grumpus: “Kikiriki … flee, flee, flee!”
5
The Outlaws Attack
Sister Wolf missed her old pack but was content with her new pack: the village of Stonebriar.
She loved many of the villagers like family. Especially the children. Whenever Sister Wolf felt lonely, the bright laughter of children would drive away the fog in her heart.
Nevertheless, there were things about Stonebriar that troubled Sister Wolf.
The nobility and some of the wealthier merchants— especially those who were members of the council— dressed in bright frilly clothes and wore gold around their necks and fingers. They were plump and always smelled of roast duck and venison.
While the wealthy lived fat lives, some men, women, and children lived on the streets. Daily they begged for bread and scraps. And a great many lived in homes that were so shabby that they offered little extra protection from the rain and cold than if they too lived on the streets.
Sister Wolf loved rich and poor alike but knew that she too was a beggar. She made sure to beg more often from the wealthy so that she could share with her poor brothers and sisters who struggled to survive.
As winter approached, the poor suffered. They didn’t have thick, warm fur like Sister Wolf. Nor were they given as much food; Sister Wolf was treated as an honored guest, while the poor were ignored.
That winter was especially cold. The ground was frosty and the air chilly and damp. It was the sort of chill that cut through blankets and coats. It was a thick cold that soaked deep into bone.
The oldest person in the village, a wrinkly woman who smelled like onions, couldn’t remember a winter so cruel.
“This is the worst winter of my life,” she’d say. All agreed.
It was in that cruelest of winters that a band of outlaws began to attack nobles and merchants on the road from Stonebriar to nearby Brookhaven.
Many who left with gold rings around their fingers and gold chains around their necks returned with bare fingers and naked necks.
When these thefts happened, Sister Wolf didn’t care. She didn’t see much use for gold and jewels.
But then, one day, the outlaws killed a merchant on the road.
Sadness filled Sister Wolf. This merchant was a good man. He had a wife and three children. Sister Wolf let the youngest of the children, a gentle little girl with curly black hair who always giggled, ride on her back. When Sister Wolf came to the merchant’s door, he didn’t give scraps, but generous portions of whatever the merchant himself was eating.
Soon that sadness turned to anger. The anger turned to rage. Someone had murdered a member of her pack for meaningless pieces of shiny yellow rock.
During the night, instead of resting in her cave, Sister Wolf prowled the road to Brookhaven. She wanted to find the outlaws and kill them.
A man or woman would never have found them, but a wolf can find almost anything by scent. Before leaving Stonebriar, Sister Wolf had caught the scent of the outlaws from the clothes of the murdered merchant. The outlaws smelled the same as other humans, but they also smelled of cabbages.
They weren’t hard for Sister Wolf to find. They were hidden far from the road, deep in the forest, in the ruins of a long forgotten chapel. There were five outlaws. They sat around a campfire. One was fat, one was thin, one was bald, one had long blond hair, and one wore an oddly pointy hat.
Sister Wolf waited in the shadows, listening. She had learned much of human speech from her time with the Beggar King. She was waiting for the best moment to attack.
As she waited, she overheard their conversation.
“I’m getting tired of cabbages,” said the bald outlaw.
The skinny outlaw responded: “Then we shouldn’t have robbed the cabbage merchant.”
“Fair enough,” replied the bald one.
The outlaw with the pointy hat took a bite out of a cabbage and said, “We can’t keep living this way. We rob the nobles and the merchants, but what can we do with their gold? We can’t enter a single village in the region for fear of arrest. It is getting cold and harder to hunt. And these ruins offer precious little protection from the cold and the rain!”
“We could turn ourselves in,” said t
he very fat outlaw.
The skinny outlaw scowled. “That may have been an option when we were only guilty of poaching deer from the mayor’s lands. We hunted to feed our families. But then we ran from the mayor’s guards, which was an even greater crime. But now we’re guilty of robbery … and murder,” he grumbled.
The bald one agreed: “Even if we turned ourselves in, we’d surely hang.”
The five outlaws quietly ate their cabbages. The one with long blond hair sniffled.
Feeling pity, Sister Wolf crept away.
That night, while the outlaws slept, she sneaked into to the camp and left a loaf of bread near the campfire. She did that night after night. Usually, she’d leave bread. Sometimes she would leave meat. It wasn’t much; wolves can only carry with their mouths, but she hoped it would keep the men from attacking wealthy travelers on the road.
6
The School in the Forest
As winter set in, Stonebriar celebrated the twelve days of Christmas. Outside it was grey and cold, but the insides of homes and churches were brightly decorated and warm. During these days, the people of Stonebriar were especially generous, for Christmas was a time of sharing and love.
Sister Wolf and her fellow beggars received more food than usual. And not just bread and scraps! Sister Wolf ate smoked trout, candied pears, dried figs, and fresh baked bread. Sister Wolf was able to eat well during those days of abundance but still have plenty to share with the outlaws at night. She went to their camp each of the twelve nights of Christmas. Not once did the outlaws see her.
The outlaws had no idea who was bringing them food. The fat one thought it was a fairy or other forest spirit showing them kindness. The others all agreed that it was more likely to be a hermit. In those days, there were many hermits committed to simple lives of prayer throughout the countryside.
After Christmas came the worst of winter. The harsh bluster of January fell upon Stonebriar. Villagers gave Sister Wolf and the beggars less food. Rarely was there enough to share with the outlaws. And so, the outlaws once again started to attack travelers on the road to Brookhaven.
Wolf at the Gate Page 2