‘What in the devil’s name is going on?’ he roared. Llaw stood and faced the shorter man.
‘There are beasts loose in the forest. I have never seen their like. I found this man crawling in the undergrowth about a mile away to the east; he said his family had been slaughtered. I carried him half-way here, then I saw one of them — eight to ten feet tall, with the head of a wolf and a body like a bear. It was feeding on a slaughtered bull and ignored me. In the distance I saw a second creature; I would swear it had two heads.’
Noise erupted all around them, for many of the men at the hall had homes in the woods and valleys beyond and had travelled in to hear Nuada.
‘Silence!’ bellowed Groundsel, kneeling by the wounded man and ripping the blood-drenched shirt from him. Four jagged tears had gouged his chest and it was obvious from the lines that it had been a single slash. That made the paw a prodigious size. No bear could match it, not even the towering black grizzly of the high mountains. ‘Carry him to the witch woman,’ ordered Groundsel, ‘or he’ll bleed to death.’
As the man was carried out, Groundsel turned to Llaw. ‘You saw two of them. How do you know there are more?’
The tall warrior scratched at his red-gold beard. ‘The howling,’ he said simply. ‘The beast by the bull let out a howl, and it was answered from many points.’
‘Aye, I heard the strange howling,’ said a man. ‘It was from the north. I thought it a trick of the wind.’
‘And I saw a track,’ put in another. ‘On the way here, Groundsel. Big, twice the size of a lion’s.’
Other men began to shout and the clamour grew.
‘What a night for heroes!’ came a voice and the crowd swung to see the poet standing on his table once more. ‘If there are two beasts savaging the countryside, are there not heroes enough here to hunt them down? We have Groundsel, the Lord of the Fire, and Llaw Gyffes, who freed the prisoners. And as I look around me I see other men — strong men, proud men. There is a saga waiting out there — and I shall sing it. We will place the carcasses at the far end of the hall and build a fire, and dance. And your bravery will become immortal.’
Those in the crowd screamed their approval and moved to the walls to gather their bows and knives.
‘Wait!’ yelled Groundsel. ‘It will be dawn soon and I’ll have no wild men rushing around in the darkness sending shafts after everything that moves. We’ll kill more of each other than any beast.’
Llaw nodded. ‘We’ll need to lure them into a trap. I have no wish to walk into a darkened lair hunting the things.’
‘Get some rest,’ Groundsel told the men, then stalked back to his seat.
Arian rose as Llaw approached. ‘I did not expect to see you this far west,’ she said. ‘Are you lost?’
‘I had intended to leave for Cithaeron, but the howling disturbed me,’ he told her. ‘I tried to skirt it, but I sensed the beasts had my scent so I cut west. What do you make of it, poet?’
Nuada shrugged. ‘There are many songs in legend about werebeasts, but I have never seen one. It is said that, far to the east, there is a rich land where the mines are dug by giant ants with the heads of men.’
Groundsel swore. ‘It is always far to the east, or the west, or the north. It seems to me that legends always originate far from where men can study them. However, that hardly matters. I too have heard the howling, but I doubt not that the size of the creatures is exaggerated. We are dealing with a rogue bear — large, but still a bear.’
Llaw reddened. ‘It is not wise to call a man a liar — especially a man you do not know.’
‘You have it right, Stronghand. I do not know you — therefore I have no reason to trust either you or your judgement. I say it is a bear. The dawn will tell.’
‘Indeed it will,’ agreed Llaw. ‘Until then, I will sleep.’
‘I’ll show you to my hut,’ said Arian swiftly and now it was Groundsel whose colour darkened.
‘Is this your man?’ he demanded, his eyes bright.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘He is a friend of my family.’
‘Good,’ said Groundsel. ‘I look forward to the hunt with your "friend of the family".’
Llaw tensed, but Arian seized his arm and the two of them left the hall and wandered out into the night. The gates of the stockade were once more shut, and guards patrolled the wall.
‘Why did you come here?’ Llaw asked. ‘You want to be bedded by that son of a sow?’
‘How dare you? I go where I will. I am not your daughter; you have no right to question me.’
‘True enough,’ he admitted. Just then a piercing scream echoed from the woods and Llaw ran to the stockade wall and mounted the rough-cut ladder to the palisade. ‘Can you see anything?’ he asked the sentry.
‘No,’ replied the man, ‘but Daric slipped out about ten minutes ago. He was trying to get back to his family. What is the beast?’
‘I do not know,’ replied Llaw, ‘but it’s no damn bear.’ A black shadow moved from the trees, halted in the moonlight and looked up at the stockade. The sentry stared in horror at the grisly remains it was dragging.
‘Daric did not make it,’ stated Llaw.
‘I want no part in hunting that thing,’ said the sentry.
Llaw watched until the beast moved back into the trees, then he slapped the sentry on the shoulder. ‘Think of the saga,’ he said.
The man’s reply was short, foul and to the point, and Llaw chuckled.
Arian still stood staring into the blackness of the forest. ‘Can such a beast be killed by arrows?’ she asked.
‘It lives and breathes,’ said Llaw. ‘Therefore it can die. Now show me this hut.’
Llaw Gyffes could not sleep as he lay on the narrow cot bed in the small hut. He could hear Arian breathing beside him and yearned to reach out and touch her, to draw her to him. Guilt washed over him. Lydia had been the love of his life and their few years together had filled him with a happiness he could never have known without her. As a young apprentice he had courted her for four years, and had worked hard to save the money for his own smithy. Lydia’s father had always maintained that he was not the man for her, and had dreamed of marrying her to a young nobleman. He had disdained their wedding, and had not spoken to Llaw again; he died three years after the marriage. Lydia’s mother had moved north to be with her family, but she at least had always treated Llaw with courtesy, if not with love.
Through it all Llaw had been filled with a burning desire to make Lydia happy. But at the end her father had been right. Lydia died a terrible death — one that would have been avoided had she not married the giant smith. He would never forget the sight of her lying on the bed, her dead eyes staring up at the ceiling.
Yet now he lay with another woman, and his thoughts were not innocent of desire.
He rolled to his side, facing away from Arian. He could smell the perfume of her body and see, without seeing, the oval beauty of her face, the sparkling challenge of her eyes and her mocking smile.
‘Are you awake?’ she whispered, and he heard her body move on the bed. He did not reply; there was nothing to say. He was being betrayed by his body, which yearned for her, and even his mind was at war. It is natural, he told himself, for a man to desire a mate. Tragedy could not change that. And yet… and yet… If he found peace and love with another woman, would not that make him forget Lydia? And then she would be truly dead — lost and forgotten, as if she had never been. He could not stomach that thought. She had not deserved her fate and did not deserve this treachery now.
Llaw lay silently until the dawn, then rose and watched the rising sun. Beside him Arian lay sleeping, her arms tight against her body, her long legs curled up like a child. Llaw looked down at her; his fingers brushed the hair back from her cheek and he felt the softness of her skin.