Arthur, King. William Speir
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begin to drink. Then the first arrow flew, and one of the deer fell. The hunters fired at the rest of the deer. Several fell, but three bolted and ran off into the woods. The hunters ran after them.
“Why are they chasing the deer?” Cai whispered.
“Because they’re wounded,” Bedwyr answered. “They won’t get far.”
Arthur looked around and saw the guards at the base of the ridge. He was about to suggest that they go down and get a closer look at the deer that were killed, when he heard something above him at the top or the ridge.
“What’s that?” Bedwyr asked.
“Shhhhh!” Arthur hissed.
A moment later, a bear cub appeared. It looked at the three princes and stopped.
Arthur had never seen a live bear before. He and the cub stared at each other.
“What do we do?” Cai whispered.
“Run!” Bedwyr answered. “That cub’s mother is close by, and she’ll attack if she thinks her cub is in danger.”
At that moment, the mother bear appeared next to the cub. It looked down at the three princes for a moment and then growled loudly.
One of the guards saw the bear and shouted, “My lords! Get away from there!”
The princes jumped to their feet and grabbed their spears just as the mother bear bounded down the ridge toward them. Bedwyr and Cai raced for the guards. Arthur tried to follow, but his foot caught the edge of a rock, and he fell.
He heard the bear charging at him. He glanced back and knew that he’d never outrun it. The guards below headed up the ridge toward him, but the bear was going to reach Arthur first.
Not knowing what else to do, Arthur grabbed his spear and stood up. He braced the butt end of the spear against the base of a large rock and pointed the other end toward the bear. Then he crouched down, holding the spear with both hands. The spear was eight feet long, and Arthur hoped that it was long enough to keep the bear away.
As the bear got closer, it raised up on its hind legs. Arthur was stunned at how big it was. The bear raised its front paws in the air and moved quickly toward the frightened prince.
Arrows began flying. The hunters, seeing what was happening above them, tried to shoot the bear. But it moved too fast.
Arthur was frozen with fear. He couldn’t run even if he had enough time to escape from the bear. He gripped the spear tighter and waited for the attack that he knew was coming.
The hunters continued shooting arrows at the bear. One of the arrows whizzed past its ear, and in that moment, it got distracted. It ran straight into Arthur’s spear. The bear roared in pain as it impaled itself. Arthur felt the spear shake, but it didn’t snap, and the rock held it in place. The bear pawed desperately at him and the spear, but its arms seemed to have no strength. Blood gushed from the wound, and the bear’s roars became whimpers. Arthur released the spear. The bear teetered, and then it fell over. Arthur heard it gasp, and then the bear lay still.
Arthur looked up the ridge, but the bear cub had run away. A moment later, the guards arrived and pulled Arthur to his feet.
“Are you all right, my Prince?” one of the guards asked breathlessly. “Are you hurt?”
Arthur shook his head, still staring at the bear. “I’m fine.”
Several of the hunters arrived a moment later.
“You killed a full-grown bear, my Prince,” one of the hunters said with admiration. “I’d never attempt that.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Arthur said. “I tripped on a rock trying to get away. I couldn’t outrun it, so I did what Galerius taught me to do when being attacked by cavalry. I stuck the butt of the spear in the ground and held the point toward the bear. It ran into the spear all on its own.”
One of the hunters reached for the bear and put his finger in the blood around the spear. Then he smeared the blood on Arthur’s forehead and cheeks.
“Your first kill, my Prince. You are the Bear Hunter, and you will be our Bear King when you come of age.”
The hunters and the guards knelt in honor of Arthur’s achievement. As more of the hunters arrived to see what was going on, the hunter who bloodied Arthur shouted, “All Hail Prince Arthur, the Bear of the North!”
The men cheered.
Arthur looked at Bedwyr and Cai, who eyed at him with expressions of relief and wonder. They cheered along with the men.
Arthur looked down at the bear. He reached for his spear, and, pulling with all of his might, he drew it out and held it up over his head. The men cheered again and started chanting.
“All Hail the Bear of the North!”
Chapter 13
“King Ambrosius, the Saxons are attacking Londinium!”
“Are you certain?” Ambrosius demanded.
“Yes, my King.” Lucius held out the dispatch.
Ambrosius snatched the dispatch from Lucius and read it. A large force under Horsa was attacking the walled city to the northwest of the Saxon frontier.
“I’ll get the army ready to march,” Lucius stated.
“Wait.” Ambrosius commanded. “How many soldiers does General Marcus have at Londinium?”
“Five thousand,” Lucius replied.
Ambrosius strode to the great wooden table in the center of his war council chamber. He found the map of the Saxon territory and searched for Londinium and his fortress of Venta Belgarum.
“Northwest?” Ambrosius asked. Why are they attacking northwest? Why aren’t they attacking to the west to secure more shoreline for their boats?”
“Perhaps they’re trying to reach farmlands to get food,” Lucius suggested.
“And perhaps this isn’t their main force,” Ambrosius countered, holding up the dispatch.
“My King?” Lucius sounded confused.
“We’ve known that Hengist is planning something ever since Colgrin attacked Gododdin. Now he sends Horsa to attack Londinium with only a couple of thousand warriors? Where is Hengist? Where are the rest of the Saxon forces?”
“So we’re not moving the army to Londinium?”
Ambrosius shook his head. “Marcus has more than enough men to defeat Horsa.”
Pointing to the map, he added. “We’re moving the army here.”
Lucius looked at the map and saw where Ambrosius pointed. “The western edge of the Saxon frontier?”
“Yes. If I were Hengist, that’s where I’d send my main force. The more shoreline he has, the more Saxons he can land and the more warriors he can add to his ranks. We must deny him any more shoreline along our southern coast.”
“Yes, my King. When do we leave?”
“At once,” Ambrosius replied. “Alert your captains, Lucius. We leave within the hour!”
King Mor of Ebrauc stood on the ridge overlooking the part of his kingdom that was now the Anglian territory. His son, Prince Arthwys, and the captains from Ebrauc, Rheged, and Bryneich stood with him. They watched a dust cloud growing in the distance.
“They’re on the move,” Mor commented.
“Just as Ambrosius feared,” Arthwys said. “Does this mean that the Anglians are invading, or is this a diversion for the Saxons in the south?”
“I don’t know,” Mor replied. “But whatever this is, we can’t