Merlin

'What is the use, Uther? Where is your gain?'

He had no answer, and made none. Neither did he give in.

'Very well,' I sighed. 'I had hoped to persuade you, but you leave me no choice.'

'What will you do?'

'I claim the promise you gave me, Uther. And I bind you with your honour to grant it.'

'What promise?' he asked warily.

'On the night I brought Ygerna out of the fortress, you promised me anything I desired. "Even to the half of my kingdom," you said, if I would deliver her to you. I fulfilled my half of the bargain, and asked nothing for myself at the time. Well, I make my claim now.'

'The child?' Uther was incredulous. Until this moment he had forgotten that promise. He remembered it full well now.

'The child, yes. I claim the child as my reward.' Uther was beaten and he knew it. But he was not about to give up so easily. 'You are a cunning hound,' he faced me squarely. 'What if I refuse?'

'Refuse me now and lose all honour and self-respect. Your name will become a curse. You will never command a man with authority again. Consider, Uther, and answer: is killing a helpless babe worth that?'

'All right!' He fairly burst with exasperation. 'Take it! Take the child and let there be an end to it!'

Presently, Pelleas returned with a jar of mead, cups, bread and cheese. He put these on the table and began pouring the cups. 'I could find no meat,' he said. The kitchens were empty.'

This is enough, Pelleas, thank you.' I turned to Uther and handed him a cup. 'I accept my reward, Uther,' I said lightly. 'Let us part as friends.'

The High King said nothing, but accepted the cup in one hand and a bit of bread in the other. We drank and ate together, and Uther calmed somewhat. But as his guilt and anger seeped away, he was left with the shame. He slumped in his chair and became despondent.

To shift his attention to something else, I said, 'What has become of that bear, I wonder? Perhaps we should go and see.'

We walked back through the empty hall and outside. The dogs had stopped barking and I thought by this that the bear must be killed. But no; it lived. The men had it cornered by the fortress wall, where, surrounded by torches and spears, the beast stood reared on its hind legs, its forepaws outspread, pelt bristling, claws extended, fangs bared. The yard was strangely quiet.

A magnificent beast, its dark eyes glinting in the ruddy torchlight. It was cornered but unconquered.

Uther looked upon the bear, and his aspect changed. He stopped and stared. What he saw, I cannot say. But when he moved again, it was as one in a dream: walking lightly, languidly, he made his way to the ring of men, stepping among them on his way to the animal.

'Lord King! No! Stay back!' shouted one of his chieftains. He threw down his spear and made to lay hold of the High King and pull him back.

'Silence!' I hissed. 'Let him go!'

My senses prickled to the presence of the Otherworld. I saw everything in sharp relief: the risen moon, the bear, the men holding the torches, Uther, the glinting points of the spears, the stars, Pelleas, the dark hardness of the wall, the stones at my feet, the silent dogs…

It was a dream, and more than a dream. The dream had become real – or reality had become a dream. These times are rare; who is to say where the truth lies? Afterwards, men shake their heads in wonder and endure the scoffing of those who were not present. For it cannot be explained, only experienced. But this is what happened:

Uther boldly approached the bear and the animal lowered its head and dropped onto its forefeet. The High King held out his hand to the beast, and the bear, like a hound recognizing its master, pushed his muzzle into the High King's palm. With his other hand, Uther stroked the bear's huge head.

Men stared in astonishment: their lord and a wild bear, greeting one another as old friends. Perhaps, in some inexplicable way, they were.

I will never know what Uther thought he was doing, for he could never remember it clearly. But the two stood this way for the space of a few heartbeats, then Uther lowered his hand and turned away. One of the dogs growled and lunged forward, pulling its leash free from the slack hand of its holder. The bear reared as the dog leaped, and gave a sideways swipe with its great paw. The dog tumbled away, howling with pain, its back broken.

The dream ended then in the yelps of a dying dog. The other dogs were at the bear in an instant. The chieftain grabbed Uther by the arm and pulled him back to safety. Then the warriors loosed their spears.

The bear snarled and clawed the air, breaking spearshafts as if they were reeds; but the wounds were made and the blood was already flowing. Roaring with pain and rage, the great beast fell and the dogs tore out its throat.

Take them off!' shouted Uther. 'Put the dogs away!'

The dogs were pulled away and all was silent once more. The bear was dead, its blood pooling black and thick on the stones beneath the immense body. This worlds-realm had reasserted itself – as it always will – in stark, unforgiving brutality.

Ah, but for a moment – if only for the briefest moment, those standing in the courtyard knew something of Otherworldly grace and peace.

There are those who say that it was Gorlas come to pay homage to the birth of his grandson that night. Or that the spirit of that great bear, poured out onto the stones in sacrifice at the moment of the babe's birth, found its way into the child that was born that night.

For it is true that when we reached the door of the hall once more, we heard the babe, squawling lustily at the top of its lungs. A hearty cry at the moment of birth is a good sign. Uther shook himself like one awakening, and turned to me. 'It is -' he paused, 'a boy.'

'A son,' he had been about to say.

'Wait here, I will have the babe brought out. It is best if Ygerna does not see you.'

'As you wish, Uther.' I signalled to Pelleas to go back to the wood and fetch our horses.

He hurried off down the track to the gate and I waited at the door. People, roused by the noise in the courtyard, passed by on their way to see the bear, which the men were already skinning where it lay. Indeed, it was a giant among bears.

Pelleas came with the horses. We had planned to take the babe without being seen. But the bear had changed that. People knew we were there now, and would know that we had taken the child. There was nothing to be done about that any more; we would have to trust the Guiding Hand and proceed boldly.

We waited and watched the men work over the bear. When the skin was free, they quartered the animal and fed the heart and liver to the dogs. The rest of the meat would be roasted, or made into stew for the feast.

Yes, I had forgotten: the Christ Mass. I turned and looked to the east and saw that dawn stood not far off. Already the sky lightened at the horizon; grey going to pink and rust. I heard footsteps behind me and Uther approached, carrying a fur-wrapped bundle, his face impassive. A woman walked behind him.

'Here,' he said curtly. 'Take it.' Then softly – possibly the only softness I had ever witnessed in Uther Pendragon – he lifted the edge of the fur and brushed the tiny head with his lips. 'Farewell, nephew,' he said, then looked up at me. I thought he would ask me where I took the child – surely it was in his mind – but he merely tucked the wrap and said, 'Go now.'

'He will be well cared for, Uther. Never fear.'

'Ygerna is asleep,' he said. 'I am going to wait with her.' He turned, saw the woman standing there, and remembered. 'I am sending this woman with you; she will suckle the child. A horse will be made ready for her.' He made to leave, but something held him. He hesitated, his eyes resting on the bundle in my arms. 'Is there anything else you require?'

The men came towards us, carrying the skin of the bear into the hall. 'Yes, Uther,' I answered, 'the bearskin.'