"Are you all right? How badly are you hurt?"
The man looked at his hand covered in blood and shrugged. "I'll live. Slashed my hand and banged my face when I fell. It's not as bad as it looks." He covered his bleeding left hand with his right, squeezing together the edges of the wound on the side of his palm. Uther could see now that the cut on his face was no more than a gash on his left cheek below the cheekbone.
"Who are you?"
It was Garreth who answered, before the other had a chance. "Owain's his name. They call him Owain of the Caves."
Surprised at the tone he heard in his friend's voice, Uther turned to look at Garreth, then switched his gaze back immediately to the stranger, who drew himself up until he was standing stiffly erect. Garreth spoke again, this time directly to the stranger. "That is your name, is it not?" The fellow nodded. "I thought so. I've seen you several times, although you never seem to come to our part of the world. You're one of Meradoc's men, one of his . . . captains, no? The newest of them all, if what I heard is true. You are . . . a Northerner, not even a Pendragon, am I right?"
Owain of the Caves inclined his head slightly for a second time in what might have been dismissal or agreement, but Garreth paid no attention.
"Came south with Meradoc last year, when he met last time with King Uric, but you kept yourself well removed from all that was going on. I noticed you, though, and wondered why you would be so unwilling to be seen. So I asked about you. Huw Strongarm said you were a newcomer, but already one of Meradoc's most trusted men . . . and he thought you might prefer to keep your face hidden, to keep you free for Meradoc's most important work, which demands faces that are not known . . ."
"What was this all about?" Uther nodded towards the dead animal close by his feet, choosing, for the moment, to ignore what Garreth was saying.
Owain of the Caves gazed back at him steadily for the space of several heartbeats and then shifted his gaze to the bear, shrugging slightly.
"I don't know. I only know it happened too quickly for me to do anything except what I did. I must have surprised it. It might have been asleep. I don't even know where it came from. One moment I was alone, crossing this clearing, and the next, this thing came roaring at me. I managed to get an arrow out, but it was too close for me to get a clear shot—it was coming at me too quickly." He looked about him, examining the ground. "I was right about here, I think. Yes, right by that tree there." He indicated a large, solitary conifer about live paces from where he stood. "I ran behind the tree, trying to break the line of the thing's charge, and it swerved to catch me as I went around, but I doubled back and gained about ten paces on it. Then I turned to take my shot, and my foot must have landed on something unsteady. I almost fell, and I loosed too soon and hit the whoreson in the ribs. That was the only chance I got, and I didn't know how much damage I had done, but I couldn't wait to see. I might have had time to get off another shot before it recovered from the first—it was up on its hind legs, screaming and smashing at the arrow—but I didn't want to have to wager on that. So I ran for the cliff face and managed to haul myself up out of reach just before it hit the wall beneath me. One pace slower, and I'd have been its dinner then and there." He looked up now at the sky, glancing at the afternoon sun. "That was about an hour ago."
"At least that long," Uther answered, mildly. "It's been an hour since we heard the roaring. We were about half a mile from here, I'd guess, up on the trail from the ridge behind us. Lucky for you Garreth doesn't wear a helmet."
"What?" It was clear Owain had not understood the comment.
Uther tapped his finger against the heavy metal helmet he wore. "I would never have heard the noise through this. Garreth was the only one among us riding bareheaded."
"Oh." Owain of the Caves looked at Garreth. "I owe you my hide then."
"No," Garreth Whistler responded, shaking his head slightly, his face empty of expression. "You don't. Up to me, I'd have left you here to die the moment I saw you were a stranger. Had I known who you were, in fact, I would have done the same, because I would have judged you no friend of ours." He reached into his scrip and pulled out a ragged piece of clean white cloth. "Here, wrap that around the cut on your hand." As he did so, Garreth continued. "Why risk my arse against a crazed beast like that for someone I don't know? Only a fool would do anything that stupid." He nodded towards Uther. "He's the fool, although I'd not say that to his face normally. He decided he wouldn't leave you here to die, and so we came running, and he almost ended up dead. You owe him your hide. Here, hold your hand still. I'll tie that."
Uther watched in silence as Garreth used the cloth to bind up Owain's injured hand, ripping off narrow strips from the edges with his teeth to use as bindings for the makeshift bandage. As the final knots were being tied, Owain looked over Garreth's shoulder to his rescuer and nodded a wordless acknowledgment.
Uther stood up, picking up his bow as he did so, and slipped the unused arrow back into his quiver. "What were you doing here in the first place?"
Owain drew a deep breath, pursing his lips tightly. He looked once more at the dead bear and then up towards the spot where he had been trapped on the cliff face. When he spoke, his words were more of a question than an answer.
"Uther Pendragon."
Uther kept his face expressionless. "What about him?"
"That's you. You're him."
"What makes you think that?"
Something that might have been the barest hint of a smile flickered briefly at one corner of the stranger's wide-lipped mouth. "Garreth Whistler went away more than a month ago to bring Uther Pendragon back for the Chiefs' Gathering. Garreth Whistler has come back. You came with him."
Garreth spoke before Uther could respond. "Pity it would be to have saved your life only to discover a need to spill your blood myself, Cave Man."
The other man nodded, unperturbed. "Aye, I can see that, but you'll find no need. Owain of the Caves is a man who pays his debts." His eyes flicked back to Uther. "This time, the debt is a life. It is paid."
Uther tilted his head to one side, a tiny smile of incredulity appearing on his face. "What? I'm not sure I understood you there. Are you saying you are now saving my life in return for your own?"
"Aye." A plain, bald statement of fact.
Uther's smile grew to a broad grin, and he looked to Garreth for a reaction. Garreth Whistler, however, was staring hard at Owain of the Caves.
"You were sent here to kill him?"
"I was sent here to make sure that Uther Pendragon would come late, if he came at all, to the Chiefs' Gathering. I'd have done it, too, if it hadn't been for the bear."
"How? You're a long way from where we crossed the ridge."
"Aye, but I was there when you approached it, and I watched you coming. Your scouts missed me completely, because they were looking for people and movement. I was one man, hiding until they passed me by. I picked out the one who must be Uther Pendragon and then fell back towards the place I had picked for my attack. The bear interrupted me. Had it not done so, you would have reached the spot by now, and I would have completed my task."
"And you yourself would be dead."
The tall man shrugged. "Mayhap, but I doubt it. I chose the place with care—and not for its beauty. It was a trap for you, not for me. Four ways out for me, all of them safe." Owain looked at Uther now for the first time since he had started speaking. "But you would have been dead with my first arrow."