Jack Whyte - Uther

The scout had nothing to report. He and his companions had seen no signs of life within a clear hour's ride, ahead or on their Hanks. About a mile below, he reported, the meadow Uther and his men were crossing ended suddenly at the edge of a ridge, concealed from view now by a fringe of scrub. Beyond that the ground fell more precipitously, and from the bottom of the scree slope there was a narrow path to follow, little more than an animal track winding among and between low hills. Here and there it was almost choked with bush and thorn, and so might present difficulty for the horses. Apart from that, the scout reported, there was nothing: no human presence, no danger, no signs of life.

Uther thanked the man and raised his hand in the signal that the decurion behind him had been waiting for, and he heard, without looking, the sound of the relief troop of ten scouts separating from the remainder of the group. They would ride back now with the man who had brought the report and would relieve the men who had been scouting the land ahead since before daybreak, leaving the weary scouts either to return to the following troop or to rest for a while until the troop came up to them. Uther waved the remainder of his squadron back into motion before the departing group had ridden a hundred paces, and he beckoned to Garreth to ride with him.

As they paused at the crest of the ridge that fell away beneath them, Uther became conscious of the heat of the early-afternoon sun against his armour, and he hitched his shoulders uselessly against the itchy trickle of a bead of sweat that suddenly broke free and made its way down between his shoulder blades. He reached up and loosened his chin strap, pulling his heavy helmet off and blotting sweat from his face with the sleeves of his tunic. Uther kicked his horse's flanks, and he and Garreth began to ride down the treacherous slope, leaning backwards so that at several points their animals' rumps almost touched the earth.

By the time they reached level ground, the two men found themselves alone again, because the first bend in the narrow path before them had already taken the others out of sight and hearing. They loosened their reins and spurred their mounts to a canter to catch up, but they were surprised at how long it took to overtake them, for the tightly twisting path on which they now rode was narrow and constrictive, offering no room for the horses to extend themselves, and frequently doubled back upon itself so that at times they seemed to be riding back the way they had already come. When they did catch up, they were constrained to ride behind the others for what Uther estimated to be a mile, breathing in the dust stirred up by everyone who had preceded them along the stone-strewn, dusty trail that led them, in some places, between high walls of solid rock. It was slow going, but eventually they passed through the last of these rocky defiles, and the pathway opened up sufficiently for them to pass on up to the head of the column, and thereafter they rode in relative comfort.

It was Garreth who detected the noise first, and he called, "Uther! Did you hear that?"

Uther pulled his horse to a halt and turned back. "No. What was it?"

Garreth cocked his head, listening intently. Behind him, the men following came to a halt, suddenly tense, aware of Garreth's attitude.

"Bear," Garreth said then, and Uther realized that he had been watching the other man's mouth, waiting to read his lips, because his own hearing was muffled by the protective earflaps of his heavy helmet. He tugged it off as quickly as he could and heard the sound immediately, far off and muffled by distance, yet unmistakably the enraged roaring of the largest animal in the forests and mountains of Britain.

"Sounds like a big one."

"Aye, big and very unhappy. I wonder what has him so stirred up?"

"It's probably a sow with cubs. Something must have threatened her."

Garreth looked sideways at him. "You think so? What kind of something?"

Uther shrugged. "Another bear?"

"Then why can we hear only one? If there were two of them, they'd both be roaring, trying to frighten each other off."

Uther glanced at the men behind Garreth, all of whom sat listening intently, staring off in the direction of the distant noise. "What, then?" he asked. "It's lasting a long time."

"Only one thing other than another bear could cause a bear that much fury, and that's a wound."

"Inflicted by a man, you mean—but there's no one around here, according to our scouts."

"It could be one of them, one of our scouts. Do you want to come and look?"

Come, not go, Uther noted. He nodded, not even pausing to think. "I think we'd better, although whoever wounded it will be dead by the time we get there."

"I think not. The roaring would have died down. He may be up in a tree. I think the thing can see him, but it can't reach him, and that's why it's making so much noise."

Uther nodded and glanced to where the decurion sat watching them. "Nemo, keep the others here. Garreth and I are going to see what that's all about."

Nemo Hard-Nose nodded, raising her right hand to her cuirass in an acknowledging salute, but Uther and Garreth were already moving off the trail. Both men pulled their long Pendragon bow staves from the leather sheaths that kept them close to hand hanging on the left front of their saddles. They paused before entering the trees to string the weapons, and then they moved forward again, and the leafy boughs quickly screened them from view.

They rode several hundred paces into the forest before abandoning their mounts among bushes too dense to penetrate on horseback. Now they were moving forward on foot, covering perhaps the same distance again.

"Can you see anything? The whoreson sounds as though he's right in front of us."

The bellowing of the bear was deafening. The growth here, as it had been all the way downward from the path, was almost solid: rioting thickets of bramble, elder and hawthorn and chest-high grasses among which sapling beech, elm and birch struggled for survival. Uther held up a hand to forestall any more questions as he peered all around. They were in the beast's element. It lived here among this choking growth where they were blind and hampered, their ability to use their weapons critically impaired.

"Can't see a damned thing and I don't like the feeling," he said eventually, turning back to Garreth. As he spoke, his eyes were moving, looking upwards for a tall tree nearby, and he saw one immediately, perhaps forty or fifty paces from where they stood. It was a large oak, the closest of several he could see now. "Over there," Uther said, indicating the direction with a nod of his head. "If we can get up there into one of those, we'll be able to see more than we're going to see from here."

"Aye, and we'll be safer, too. This is madness. Let's go."

They moved as quickly as the undergrowth would permit, leaving the enraged roaring behind them on their right, and even before they reached the first tree, they saw that they would be able to scale it, although Garreth grunted that it looked easy enough for the bear to climb it, too. Uther made for the lowest limb, but Garreth caught at his cloak.

"Wait, let me go up first. I'm not wearing armour. You stay here until I see what's to be seen."

Moments later, he was leaning forward, shouting to Uther below his perch to tell him that there was a clearing ahead of them and that he could see the bear. Uther reached for a low branch and hauled himself upward until he was standing beside Garreth, only slightly out of breath from the effort of climbing in full armour.

"Ancient gods! Will you look at that thing!"

Uther ignored the comment. He had taken in the giant beast in one glance. What he needed to see most was the reason for its rage.