‘The bear is going to come back,’ he said.
‘If it does I’ll kill it,’ said Kaelin. ‘I’ll let no bear come close to my friend Feargol.’
‘Did the bear eat Basson?’
‘No.’
‘But it ate my daddy,’ said the child, beginning to tremble. Tears spilled to his face.
‘You and I are going to Ironlatch Farm tomorrow,’ said Kaelin. ‘It will be an adventure. You’ll come and live with me and Chara and little Jaim. We’ll be glad to have you. You know why? Look at me, Feargol. You know why?’
The little boy turned his gaze away from the torn wall. ‘Why?’
‘Because I like you. I think you are a fine boy. You are brave and you are bright. You are just like Bane. Come and sit by the fire. We’ll eat, and we’ll rest, and tomorrow we’ll go home.’
Feargol walked across to where Kaelin waited. Then he sat on his lap. Kaelin put his arms round him and stroked his shoulder. ‘Are you frightened of the bear?’ the little boy asked.
‘I was, Feargol. But not now. Trust me, boy. I’ll not let it harm a hair of your head.’
‘It has a horrible face, all scaly.’
After a while Feargol ate a little of the ham and cheese, following them with some sweet plum preserve. Then Kaelin took him back into the bedroom and found some clothes for him. The boy was very pale, his eyes wide and fearful. Kaelin dressed him in a warm shirt and leggings, chatting to him all the while. Then they returned to the main room, and Kaelin found a container of lantern oil. Filling an old jug with it, he placed it on the floor.
Feargol stayed close to him, watching him. Kaelin walked to the bedroom and cut a strip from a blanket. This he wrapped round a section of wood from a broken chair leg, and doused it with lantern oil. ‘What are you doing?’ asked Feargol.
‘It’s a surprise,’ said Kaelin. ‘Now I think you should rest. We have a long walk tomorrow, and you’ll need to be strong.’ Gathering blankets he laid them on the floor by the fire. ‘You just lie down. I’ll keep watch.’
Feargol did as he was told, but he didn’t sleep. He lay very still, watching Kaelin.
‘Am I really like Bane?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Very brave.’
‘I don’t feel brave. I feel very frightened.’
‘Trust me, my friend. I know you are brave. I can tell. My uncle Jaim gave me a magic eye. I can always see the truth.’
‘Where did he get it?’
Kaelin smiled, remembering the day Jaim told him the same story. ‘He found it in a secret well, that could only be seen when the moon was new. It was left there by a mighty wizard.’
‘Where do you keep it?’ asked Feargol, suddenly yawning.
‘Keep it?’
‘The magic eye.’
‘Ah! I keep it here,’ said Kaelin, tapping the centre of his forehead.
‘I can’t see it.’
‘That’s because it’s magical. You can only see it when the moon is new, and when a white owl flies overhead.’
Feargol yawned again. ‘I have a magic eye,’ he said. ‘Daddy told me not to tell anyone.’ The room was warm now, and dancing fire shadows flickered on the walls. Kaelin sat quietly as the boy fell asleep.
Kaelin Ring had no magical powers. He did not dream of future events, nor did he see ghosts. And yet he knew with grim certainty that the bear would return. It was not fear which filled him with this sense of foreboding. He knew that for sure. All his own fears had vanished the moment he had found little Feargol alive.
The bear would simply come back to feed. In doing so he would scent Kaelin and the boy. Like all the local highlanders Kaelin knew the bears which roamed his territory. In this area there was only one huge grizzly. The locals called him Hang-lip. At some point in his young life he had been in a fight, and his lower lip had been half cut away. It hung now from his jaw, flapping as he walked. Kaelin had seen him often. He was big. On his hind legs he would reach almost eight feet – ten if he stretched his paws high. He lived alone. Finbarr had told Kaelin that Hang-lip had killed another bear in his territory – old Shabba. The news had saddened Kaelin, for Shabba had held a place in his heart. The old bear had once ransacked a camp of Kaelin’s, and this had caused much merriment to Chara Jace, who, safe in a tree, had watched the whole scene. It was the first time Kaelin and Chara had been alone together. Old Shabba had ambled over to where Kaelin lay and sniffed his face before wandering off. And Hang-lip had killed him. ‘I should have hunted him down then,’ thought Kaelin. Bears would fight, but generally when one ran the other would let it go. Not Hang-lip. He was a killer. Now he had killed humans, and dined on their bodies. Jaim had once told Kaelin that in such circumstances bears developed a rare taste for human flesh, and would continue to hunt people. Kaelin had no idea if this were true. Jaim was a wonderful storyteller, and, like all storytellers, had a curious disregard for truth. What Kaelin did know, however, was that a musket ball was unlikely to kill such a beast instantly. The bear’s ribs were immensely powerful, and any ball that struck one would bounce away. It would be a rare shot that found a way to a bear’s heart.