There's a Bear in Verre part I

The wizened old Highlander hummed merrily to himself as he laboured by the oven of his croft. The tune he hummed had bubbled up from his distant memories and was one of those strange haunting lilts of the northwestern Montaigne shepherds' songs. At first he thought no more upon it, intent as he was on preparing one of his favourite dishes, the much feared Highland blood pudding [a dish almost inedible to all those who do not hail from the Triple kingdom!]. But old hands are not as dextrous as the young, nor are limbs that hang heavy with age so limber, and with a curse he dropped the bowl filled with the fresh blood with which he was to make his macabre meal.

The blood splashed everywhere. On the table, the beaten earthen floor and even on his worn leather buskins.

Blood wet and red. Blood with its all too familiar acrid iron smell of life and death...

For a moment the old man was transported back into the past and in his recollection he was once again a young bold warrior standing with his friends in a not dissimilar farmhouse which was also stained with blood.

Mordred, Dandelion, Avon, Antonio, Borstennskoldmund and Markus Blanck had travelled to Verre to investigate the stories of a mysterious bearlike beast which had been ravaging the province. Some of the tales portrayed it as an agent of Legion, others as a crazed escapee from a twisted Porté gate and others as a survivor of the age of the Syrneth, but one thing was certain, it was deadly and had a thirst for human life.

Over the previous couple of days they had passed a number of small villages and farms outside of which grisly tokens had been placed. The severed heads of bears impaled on ash stakes from which dangled the Prophet's Cross. At these places, all of the doors were locked and the windows barred and the people proved most hesitant to speak to such obviously foreign strangers. So it had been hard to glean any information from the locals so far. But that morning they had seen near the road an isolated farm with no such monument, its doors and windows shattered.

They reacted quickly. Most drawing their swords, Avon stringing his deadly longbow whilst Dandelion commenced to scan around for tracks. Apart from the odd print from a wooden clog in the hard ground, the ever keen eyes of Dandelion discerned little. That was odd. In the yard they discovered the scattered remains of a large farm dog, its limbs literally torn from it, its head lying at an obscene angle in a corner of the farm yard. Here too the ground seemed unusually free from tracks.

Gritting their courage, they entered the cottage. There they found the broken remains of a farmer and his family on whom similar indignities had been inflicted as those upon the faithful dog outside. Avon examined the broken doors and windows, noting that the shards of wooden shutters and doors were all littering the inside of the cottage. Curiously a number of torn books lay amongst the debris, their pages shredded and coated in the life blood of the dead peasants. It was a sickening sight.

Outside in the yard Ambrose, Dandelion's ever faithful manservant, gave a shout.

"Monsieurs, someone comes."

As one they rushed outside, weapons again at the ready. There they saw heading from the west a group of a dozen or so men preceded by a number of large hunting hounds. Upon seeing them, the hounds began to bay as they rushed upon them.

"Stop, my children!"

Yelled a hard faced Montaigne amongst the newcomers, just as the hounds seemed about to launch themselves upon Markus and Dandelion. And as one the hounds came to heel. Dandelion winced slightly as the saliva from the gaping jaws of one particularly huge and ugly beast dripped upon his best riding boots whilst Markus muttered something about needing to acquire a pair of brown corduroy trousers.

The man who commanded the hounds was dressed in weather beaten brown leathers, a brace of pistols draping his chest, a wicked looking spiked axe thrust into his belt and a long musket with an odd tube strapped to its barrel nestling gently in his crossed arms. He introduced himself as Humphri du Bohun, the greatest hunter in Montaigne. Then with suspicion in his voice he inquired of Dandelion and his friends their name and business. As he spoke, he darted a barely concealed scornful glance at Dandelion's freshly dyed hands.

With the help of Mordred's translation, Borstennskoldmund explained that he and his friends had come to Verre to help in stopping the beast, saying that apparently it had very recently struck at this farm. With a cry a number of du Bohun's companions scrambled into the farmhouse, the youngest of whom emerged a moment later only to be noisily sick in the yard.

Du Bohun and his men then similarly investigated the scene whilst Mordred, Dandelion, Avon, Antonio, Borstenskoldmund and Markus watched on. It seemed odd that du Bohun's hounds were as docile as they were. When Dandelion asked du Bohun why his hounds were not excited by the scent of the bear, du Bohun shook his head sadly and said that apparently this bear of Legion left no scent. After an hour or so, and having buried the remains of the farmer's family, du Bohun suggested that Dandelion and his companions accompany him to Arisent.

As they travelled the last leagues to Arisent, du Bohun told them what he knew of the beast. He explained that this bear of Legion was like no other bear he had ever hunted. It sometimes attacked by day, sometimes at night and did not seem to be dismayed by fire. It had only ever left one eyewitness, one Madelaine De Selarre. She had described it as a huge bear, at least 12' tall dripping with blood.

At the gates of Arisent, Dandelion and company presented their papers for inspection and explained that they wished to see the commander of the garrison, Colonel Geoffrei le Torrain, on urgent business. A corpulent Corporal of the guard agreed to their request all too readily, a sly grin on his features, and with an "honour guard" of a half dozen or so soldiers, the Corporal led them into Arisent.

Their stroll through the streets revealed that many of Arisent's larger buildings looked to have been deserted since the peace with Castille. Hotels which had once accommodated dozens of officers were now almost unoccupied, many apparent houses of pleasure now only housed rodents and the feel of the town as a whole was one of oppression and fear.

As they entered the Citadel, the Corporal spoke to another NCO who nodded and added another half dozen troopers to the party's "honour guard". Once inside the main building the Corporal called upon Mordred, Dandelion, Avon, Antonio, Borstenskoldmund and Markus,

"Nobody move, drop your weapons and come quietly."

Dandelion was about to ask how they could both drop their weapons and be quiet all at the same time as not moving when Borstennskoldmund solved the conundrum by smashing a large fist into the Corporal's face. The fat scoundrel immediately crumpled but Borstennskoldmund's cry of triumph was cut short by the sinister click-click noise of a dozen muskets being cocked. At point blank range (sorry Markus no pun) in such close quarters even Montaigne soldiers could not miss...

With reluctant grimaces, one by one Dandelion and the others let fall their weapons. Borstennskoldmund threatened that a dreadful death would befall any Montaigne who dishonoured his fearsome Dracheneisen zweihander. They then allowed themselves to be frog marched deeper into the headquarters where at last they came into the Commandant's office.

Colonel le Torrain was a tired looking man in his fifties, in front of him was a document headed with the words "Warrant of Execution" underneath which several names were noted. Without looking up from his desk, a pen poised in his hands to sign the document, he said, "I am told that most of you have forged papers and some amongst you are known enemies of Montaigne. Please explain yourselves."

Almost together Dandelion, Avon and Borstenskoldmund explained that their presence in Verre was to help in hunting the beast, expanding upon certain unfortunate misunderstandings which had occurred in Charouse, and concluding with a discourse on how they had arrived in Montaigne somewhat unusually and without passing through the usual border protocols. But it was only when Borstennskoldmund made reference to his involvement with Montegue and the rescue of the Army from Ussura that le Torrain looked up and showed any interest or sympathy. After a few moments thought, le Torrain stated that it may be that reports from the capitol were confused and extenuating circumstances may exist to justify the problems with the various papers presented at the gates. In the present situation, le Torrain continued, he would be content if the group were to base itself at the inn, Le Coup de Vent, and to report daily to the sergeant of the watch until such time as he made a final decision.

It was with some relief therefore that they left the Colonel's office to retrieve their weapons. As Borstennskoldmund checked his zweihander for any nicks or tampering, he looked significantly up and down at the bilious and officious Corporal who had brought them to the Citadel. Seeing the angry Vesten, the Corporal gulped and excused himself...

Le Coup de Vent proved to be a pleasant if less than opulent inn. Humphri du Bohun was seated by the fire in the main bar and waived a tankard at them as they entered. Once settled they asked the innkeeper how they could contact Madelaine De Selarre?

"Ah, you must mean Monsieur Armande's daughter. Certainly she is most likely to be found at the Hotel de Selarre near the Square of the Cathedral of the Prophets."

It was only a short walk to the Square of the Cathedral of the Prophets. There they saw a soup kitchen dispensing soup to the poor of Arisent. As Markus joined the queue awaiting a steaming cup of the hearty broth, the others walked up to the nearest mansion and knocked on the door. Sure enough, it proved to be the Hotel de Selarre. Avon explained to the butler that he and his friends were interested in assisting the good works of Monsieur de Selarre and wished to meet and discuss such with him. The butler apologised and explained that they must first see Mademoiselle de Selarre, she being her father's private secretary. As the butler led them into the Hotel, Avon and Borstennskoldmund could not help but share a smug glance.

In a small library deep into the house they came across one of the loveliest young women that any of them could recall. Mademoiselle Madelaine was still in her late teens, the ruddy first bloom of beautiful youth almost bursting out of her fashionable if modest (for a Montaigne) dress. Her clear blue eyes gazed upon them from underneath the gilded halo of her luxuriant coiffure as she introduced herself and inquired of their business? But when the subject of the beast came up, the storm clouds of troubled memory dulled the crystal gaze of her opalescent eyes and her sweetly tinkling voice could barely conceal the occasional sob.

Madelaine related how on that dreadful day she had been in the company of three young maidens, her school fellows, who had gone off to the edge of the woods to further their nature studies with Frere Poul, their tutor. They broke up separately to locate the specimens of any wildflowers which they could discover to compare with the descriptions contained in ancient Thean work, De Naturem Est, that they were then studying. After a little while a hideous roar could be heard from the woods which terminated in a shriek of terror from Frere Poul. Then an enormous bear emerged from the woods, the torn head of Frere Poul still clutched between its massive forepaws. The beast was already dripping with blood as it commenced to maul each of Madelaine's school companions. Indeed, it was only a mixture of luck and the blind panic of each of the four girls who set off in four different directions which enabled Madelaine to survive when she ran into the midst of du Bohun's nearby hunting party. Sadly, her three friends proved to be less lucky...

After surviving an experience which would have broken the spirit, if not the mind, of most people, Madelaine explained how she had been able to return to her sense and achieve some solace from the comforting words of the Book of the Prophets and the cleansing balm of the Vaticine faith. As the following day was Feast Day, she expressed the hope that all would come to hear the holy words of Monseigneur Bernard Ambeur at the Cathedral.

Mordred, Dandelion, Avon, Antonio and Borstenskoldmund thereafter rejoined Markus (who was just finishing off his fifth mug of soup) outside. Deciding that a common feature of the attacks seemed to include books and some level of scholarship, they went off in search of a book seller. At length they found a cluttered bookshop called "Goldblatt's Scriptorium" just near the docks. Trade appeared to be extremely slow and a layer of dust overlay most of the books, other than that section reserved solely for devotional works. Whilst Antonio was able to acquire, at considerable expense, a beautiful leather bound copy of De Naturem Est, Borstenskoldmund found himself engrossed in a copy of the Vendel work, "Moby Sven". For his part Dandelion acquired a few volumes on Verre's local history and fauna.

Pleased with their afternoon's work, they returned to Le Coup de Vent from whence the unmistakeable voice of Pistol could be heard raised in rude Innish song. There he sat in all his ale stained glory at a table with Humphri du Bohun and a young man in slightly ill fitting scarlet travelling clothes. The young man introduced himself as Gui du Graves, a swordsman from the South, here to assist in the hunt for the beast. Dandelion, who as usual was to buy the first round, noted the price tag still dangling from Gui's newly bought sword and mismatch scabbard, thought to himself, "Oui, but who is going to help the helper?"

...

The memory of fine ale brought the old man back to himself. Laughing under his breath at his clumsiness, he thought to himself that the world had always looked better after a cool ale. So he stepped over the upturned bowl of blood pudding mix to draw out a butt of ale from the cool dark storage pit. After all, the cleanup could wait for a while yet!