Page 6 of The Bear's Heart

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He smiled, and I reflected not for the first time that it was hard to put a finger on his age. Certainly, when he smiled he looked only a few years older than Arthur and me, but sometimes, when he was pensive, I looked into his eyes and saw an old man looking back. By his own admission he’d lived through the reigns of three High Kings. That alone made him the oldest man I’d met so far, even if he didn’t look it.

“Do they hunt in your time?” he asked, as we reached the foot of the hill and took the cobbled road westwards between the farmsteads and small fields.

I shook my head. “Not like this. We did have fox hunting, but that was outlawed. And I think some people do something called deer stalking in the highlands. Rich people like the Queen.”

His eyes lit up with interest. “Your Queen hunts– what about the king?”

“We don’t have a king…our queen’s father only had daughters so the oldest became queen when he died. She’s really old now– in her nineties, I think.”

His eyebrows rose. “And she hunts still, at so great an age?” He was obviously impressed with her physical prowess.

This made me laugh. However, we were getting into the realms of the ridiculous. Besides which, I didn’t want to talk to Merlin about where I was from. I didn’t want him to know anything about it. Even though I’d made the decision to stay here with Arthur, I was still annoyed that Merlin had engineered it without even asking me. “Yes, she does,” I snapped. “People in my time can live to be a hundred, easily.”

He didn’t look surprised by this revelation; maybe he was heading in that direction himself. Beneath me, Alezan curvetted with annoyance at my suddenly harsh hand on her reins, refusing to walk properly and insisting on a bouncy jog-trot. I relaxed my hold and ran my hand over her already sweaty neck trying to calm her, but it made no difference.

In the small stubble fields, enclosed by earth banks and straggly thorn bushes, the hounds milled about, with Bowyn cracking his whip at them and having great difficulty keeping them under control. We riders spread out from the cobbled road, all the horses full of the joys of being out after three weeks confined in the stables. My mare gave an excited buck, kicking out her back legs and pinging me forward onto her neck. I righted myself and shortened my reins so she couldn’t get her head again. It wouldn’t do to show myself up by landing in the mud.

With Cei’s help, Arthur organized who was to ride in which party. I found myself with him, along with Cei, Merlin and Drustans, and a number of others. The rest split off from us, each party taking one of Bowyn’s youthful helpers and a batch of over-excited hounds. We were left with Bowyn himself, the most experienced huntsman.

Bowyn’s hounds leapt and bounded and had to be driven back from running after the chickens who’d been scratching on the midden of a nearby farm. We followed the hounds at a trot westwards toward the dark line of the forest edge, scattering a small flock of sheep across the open ground in front of us. Bowyn had his work cut out preventing the hounds from pursuing them, as well. The teenage boy who’d been in charge of the sheep watched us pass with a hard-done-by expression on his grubby face, or it might only have been the cold that had pinched his features.

Underfoot, the ground remained half frozen. Snow clung on in icy drifts up against the walls of houses and the palisade fences around the farms. Overhead, the sky was a promising blue, but the cold wind bit our noses and fingers.

We rode across the bleak plain for some time behind the questing hounds, leaving the farms behind us. A few clouds scudded across the sky, chased by the wind, and I wished I had a hat to keep my ears warm.

Arthur brought his big, grey mare, Llamrei, in beside Alezan. Although well-schooled, even she was on her toes in the cold morning air. Alezan turned her head toward Llamrei and the two sniffed in greeting, then laid their ears back, squealed and sprang apart.

Arthur tightened his reins. “Steady, Llamrei.”

I brought Alezan back under control with some difficulty, her ears flat back in bad-temper at his grey. “I don’t think they like each other overmuch.”

Arthur laughed. “Women.” Then he changed the subject. “We’re going to draw the forest with the hounds and see what they put up. Could be deer, could be a wild boar. Bowyn knows these woods like the back of his hand. If there’s game, which there should be, he’ll find it.”

I looked ahead at Bowyn, astride his small garron, expertly driving the hounds forward as they rushed about, noses to the ground and tails waving in the air. With their brindled, wiry coats and long legs, they didn’t look anything like modern foxhounds.

“What do I do?” I asked, more than a little nervous, although that was mixed with the excitement of the hunt.

“Stay with Merlin and just do what he tells you.” Arthur gave me a grin and urged his horse forward as the hounds lifted their heads and suddenly set off at a run, baying as they went, with Bowyn in hot pursuit.

Alezan needed no encouragement. As the body of the hunt charged after the pack of hounds, she snatched at her bit and broke into a gallop, fighting to get her head. I somehow managed to keep her behind Arthur and Cei as we plunged into the forest, hard on the heels of the hounds.

A cart track stretched in front of us, just wide enough for three horses to gallop abreast. As I ducked beneath overhanging branches at breakneck speed, I became aware of Merlin and Drustans galloping beside me. The thunder of hooves behind us made me fervently hope that Alezan would do nothing to unseat me. If she did, I’d be trampled underfoot.

Leaning forward over her neck to avoid the branches didn’t encourage her to slow down, though the gallop was exhilarating. If anything, she increased her speed as up ahead the hounds leapt into the denser forest to the left of the track. Bowyn was on their tails, his smaller pony surefooted and agile.

“Forward,” Arthur shouted to his men, pointing down the track ahead of us. “Head them off.”

The mass of riders reacted as one– one being, with one mind. We took a left fork, clods of mud flying from our horses’ hooves. The thrill of the chase zinged through my blood. It must be there lurking in all of us, a remnant from primeval times– the lust for the kill, the thirst for blood.

The path twisted through the trees like a roller-coaster. Unseen to our left the hounds raised a howl of triumph. Fifty yards ahead, a huge stag with a magnificent set of antlers burst out of the undergrowth. Hounds bayed right behind him. For a fraction of a second, the stag turned his head toward us. In that second, I took in his soft brown winter coat, his wide, dark eyes, his frantic breath making clouds in the cold air.

I hauled on my reins with all my strength.

Arthur swung back his arm and launched his spear. His aim was good; the spear struck the beast in the chest. The animal staggered to the edge of the track, his legs crumpled, and the heavy body fell. Blood pulsed from the wound to the rhythm of his dying heartbeat. The creature’s hooves kicked a few times in the mud and his head twitched. He couldn’t still be alive. Not with a spear in his heart.

I fought Alezan to an untidy halt in the track amongst my fellow huntsmen. Steam rose in a cloud from our horses’ hot flanks, and their breathing rasped in the cold air. I, too, was panting hard.

Bowyn emerged from the wood behind his hounds, who circled the dead stag with interest, occasionally lapping at the blood still oozing from the wound, while he cracked his long whip to get them to stand off the carcass. Arthur jumped down from his horse, his long dagger flashing in his hand.