Heartha had already scouted out the area agreed upon, when the others arrived. She had found very few signs of boar, even there. The hilly woodlands to the east of Bancross were usually teeming with wild boar. Why was there such a shortage this year? The hunting party may yet have to rely on the results of fishing, or possibly a moose or two, to fill the mouths of their folk, she mused.
The next to arrive, and that only a short time later, was Duncadda. He had the two guards from the garrison, and their wagon with him. All three knew exactly what to do. It wasn’t long before a small camp was set up near the river’s edge, in a dip among some trees. The men started by stomping down the snow a little, then raised a largish tent over the spot to give some shelter. They were also gathering what wood they could to get a fire started.
Heartha rode Lyftsped at a trot, to greet them, and to give assistance.
“Have you sighted any boar yet?” asked Duncadda pointedly, as he set out his knives.
“Three sows, some distance into the woods. I will make a wider circle as soon as everyone is here and accounted for.”
The man nodded curtly, but not impolitely. Heartha had not had a chance to speak much with Duncadda. She knew him of course, but he was rarely in Bancross, so it was hard for her to assess his mood or thoughts. He came with good recommendations, and with Waelden’s approval. That would do her for the moment. To her eye, Duncadda certainly appeared like one with experience of the wilds.
So she helped with the fire, carrying some larger stones over to act as windbreaks around the flames, and to collect and retain heat even when the fire died down. Heartha was used to building and containing fires.
It wasn’t long before she could hear the next arrivals approaching.
The snow-muffled sound of horses and wagons broke the stillness of the air, but there was also a familiar female voice talking nigh incessantly. Yllfa appeared, just ahead of a second wagon driven by Hild. From the expression on her face, the healer had not enjoyed the journey overmuch. Heartha gave the woman a wave, well almost a salute of acknowledging bravery, but chuckled silently to herself, glad she was not in Yllfa’s place.
Yet for all her talking, Hild was a good cook, and a willing and competent helper. She had brought her own smaller tent with her, and a couple of thick bearskins for sleeping. And she had enough supplies for a few days on her wagon.
Yllfa dismounted, letting Ealdhors find nearby shelter and a little grass under a tree. The two women began uploading the wagon between them, with the well wrapped Hild raising her cloak hood and still talking of what the Boar Hunt with the Thane was usually like.
Heartha had been on two of Averel’s winter hunts herself, so she knew they were as much a celebration and strengthening of community ties as anything else. It was the one time of the year he usually put on more approachable manners, and mixed and mingled with the others, listening to their concerns and receiving their praise.
“It hasn’t been the same since Ancenned passed.” Hild was saying. “Now that man knew how to look out for his people. There would be eight or ten large tents, and music and sports and wrestling..”
Heartha saw Yllfa discreetly roll her eyes as she took down a large cooking cauldron. But at least she could move away. Mounting up again, the smith rode back a little to meet the rest of the party.
Waelden and Ethel were next to arrive, father and daughter at ease in each other’s company, and looking as if they were sharing a joke. Ethel’s face was bright and glowing, as she waved greeting to her mentor. The young girl was obviously excited about the forthcoming adventure. Gamferth’s wagon followed close behind, with Wigelm and a father and son from the northern farms. Heartha hailed all, but it was Ethel and her papa she wanted to speak with now.
“Waleden!” she hailed the greying haired rider, “With your permission, and if it is her wish, I would like to continue Ethel’s lessons?”
“Smithing, out here?” Waelden dismounted and led his horse to the almost finished camp, hailing those there.
“Boar tracking.” Heartha rode up to him “ Ethel has told me the name Elfmar gave her at Faldham. ‘Ethel Boarslayer’. I do not doubt her courage, but a bit more experience in tracking will not go amiss.”
Waelden paused for a moment, his eyes wandering to Yllfa who was now preparing vegetables for the pot. She looked up as she felt his gaze, and sighed good humouredly.
“My poor Yllfa,”
Then he turned to look up at his daughter, still mounted on her horse, Roan.
“You may go if you want, pumpkin. Though I had it in mind you would ride with me.”
“Aww papa. I love riding with you, but you may be awhile yet, and Heartha will make sure I don’t get into trouble.”
Ethel was growing up, and Waelden knew it, even if he still struggled with the thought, Heartha increasingly realised.
“I will keep her safe, Waelden. It will only be a short ride.”
“And I can take Herne, papa?” the girl asked.
“If he follows your command and stays when you tell him.” Heartha replied. “He has the form for a bay dog, if you train him.”
Waelden paused a moment more, looking searchingly at Ethel. “He is a good dog, Heartha,” he finally said. “And Ethel can go. But make sure you look after my girl.” With a wink, and nod of pride in his daughter, he went to see how the preparations for butchering the caught animals was progressing.
Ethel looked after him a moment and wound a strand of hair round a finger. Then she whistled for Herne, and turned in the saddle to face Heartha. “Let’s get going then?”
There wasn’t much more to be found that ride either. A few winter hares were about, and while not difficult to catch they were too small to bother with unless the hunters were desperate. Ethel pointed out several moose from a distance, standing mostly solitary in the shade of the trees, to which Heartha gave her due praise. But neither saw any boar at all. The snow started dripping a little from the trees, it being just past midday and what warmth there was in the sun having a little effect. In some places it was slippery underfoot for the horses. They took care.
Heartha asked Ethel what she already knew, reminding her again that boar hunting gave precious little room for a mistake. “Try to make your first strike a killing blow, or at least one that brings the prey down. An injured boar will be a desperate fighter.”
“I know about that. ”Ethel nodded firmly. “I had to save papa and…”
Heartha raised a hand for silence. She has spotted movement some distance away, low down in the undergrowth around a grove of birch trees.
“Slow and careful.” she mouthed silently.
Ethel made a gesture to Herne, to wait and be silent as she had taught him. Then her hand moved to her bow.
And without further warning a boar came rushing out, grunting and squealing with all it’s rage.
“Turn aside,” Heartha called, and Ethel, who had almost nocked an arrow did as she was told. Then she saw why.
Behind the sow ran five rather small whining piglets.
“Turn aside, Ethel,” Heartha repeated. “We need to get a distance from her as she will likely charge again.”
Ethel did not need further instruction, she rode at a good pace alongside Heartha’s mount, downhill, out of the trees.
“That’s very early to have young, isn’t it?” Ethel asked, as soon as they were out of any danger. “I wouldn’t want to kill the piglets or their mama.”
“Early indeed. Though it can happen. And we try not to kill the sows with their young, or there will be even less boar next year. There is likely a sounder nearby, so we need to look further afield to find some solitary males.” the smith explained. “And the idea is to lead or drive a boar to those at the camp, not kill one out here and have to carry it back. But let’s return to the camp and report to Duncadda what we have found. Who knows, the others may have caught a boar or a moose already, eh?”
So they rode back, to find the camp fully set, and a large moose already on the ground not far from the tents. Most of the men were working on butchering it already, though Gamferth seemed more interested in getting his fishing rods set up. The cold weather was a help, but even so, meat could start to rot quite swiftly, particularly boar meat.
Despite the sight and smell of the moose, something else assaulted Heartha’s senses first.
“Is that mutton stew?” asked Ethel, pulling Roan to a halt. “Don’t say Hild brought some of that with her!”
Heartha chuckled at the thought. “Well it will take some time for her to heat it properly, but it looks like we will all have full stomachs tonight.”
“Boars?” Duncadda called over from his task.
“A sow with young,” Heartha replied.
“Pah… then go back out and find the one who did the deed.”
There was a small chuckle from the guards, who also looked up from their work and one called, “Bring another moose to us first, Master Smith? We have almost finished with this one.”
So she rode out again, with Ethel, Wigelm and one of the guards. Twice they headed into the lower hills finding the nearest animals to draw back near the camp, and onto the spears and arrows of Duncadda, Waelden and the other men.
“I see it will be Moose and Mead evenings in the Roaring Dragon for the next few months.” Hild announced, as she stomped through the snow to see what was happening.
“Well we are not out here hunting sheep,” Heartha retorted.
“Aye,” Hild placed balled fists on her hips. “But some actual boar from a boar hunt would be nice!”
With a nod at the tavern keep, and a look to the busy Waelden now regarding Ethel, the smith turned her horse’s head west again.
“We will see what we can do. Ethel, lets track something for Hild.”
Still there was a scarcity of boar.
“There should be several sounders in this area, though we have only seen signs of one. But it’s the lone boars we are after. Preferably not one too old and tough… but we will take what we can find.”
“But why this year?” Ethel asked, wanting to understand. “I know some years more animals survive than others, but it sounds like most of the boars have disappeared? There are still bears and wolves about. Have the wolves taken them all?”
“No sign of carcasses, so I just don’t know. Let’s focus on the task in hand. Time for questions later.”
They rode on in silence, the horses treading lightly in the snow, the dog continuing to trail at the side of Ethel’s mount, until in a sheltered glade of birch trees their persistence was rewarded.
A massively built boar with a mane running down his back, turned from rummaging lichen to face them in menacing silence.
Heartha’s first concern was for Ethel. She gestured that they should move apart. “Do not attack,” she mouthed.
Her apprentice was brave and bold, the smith knew that, but she would not risk her suffering injury. She had to get the boar to charge after herself.
Drawing her own bow, Heartha made two swift shots, deliberately just avoiding the animal, and that was all it took. He pawed at the ground, then made a run at her, his bulk moving at speed on comparatively short, spindly legs.
“Ride for the camp,” she shouted at Ethel, and keep your distance.”Lets see how far we can lead him.”
Turning Lyftsped, she made to keep just far enough ahead of the pursuing prey, that it didn’t lose interest. Not that that was likely for the sheer rage of it’s cries.
Horses, hound and boar crashed through the undergrowth, heading downhill. Herne turned a few times to bait the boar further with his barks, only to have Ethel gesture him to move on.
The camp was in sight. All of the men seemed to be working on the slain moose. They looked up as Ethel bore down on them, turning in her saddle to nock an arrow.
“Boar!” she cried loudly.
Then it seemed almost chaotic.
Heartha drew up the opposite side of the animal, her own arrow nocked, but Duncadda took up a spear and moved forward, standing his ground. Ethel loosed her arrow, and Herne ran forward, even as the boar turned direction from the spear waving Duncadda to try and gore the side of Ethel’s mount, Roan.
“Move girl!” Waelden’s call of alarm stirred everyone into action. He took up his own spear planted in the snow and threw it, seeing it lodge fast in the boar’s shoulder. The animal missed it’s footing momentarily and resumed its charge.
“Woah!” Ethel was turning an agitated Roan who wanted to kick out, while trying to shoot a second arrow.
“Get away!” Waelden ran forward with his sword drawn, as Duncadda and Gamferth advanced. The other men had made for their spears also. Yllfa came racing from the camp with her staff, and Hild was close behind with her frying pan.
Heartha shot her arrow, but it simply stuck out of the boar's shoulder, a little less prominently than Waelden’s spear. She immediately had a second arrow in place, but at that moment Duncadda raced ahead, eyes blazing, and the animal lunged towards him. Then he turned and ran with it in close pursuit.
Hild threw the frying pan with considerable force, knocking the creature on the side of it’s head and causing it to halt for just long enough to allow Duncadda to climb the nearest tree.
Duncadda ran? Heartha halted a moment. Was he up the tree to jump down upon the boar’s back, and plunge his sword into its thick neck?
Yllfa was there, swinging her staff at the spindly back legs, one of which gave way, but still the boar was focused on Duncadda, head raised and leaning it’s weight against the tree.
Waelden and the guards had closed in with spears again. Ethel loosed arrows in quick succession, and now Heartha did the same, but it was Gamferth whose axe dealt the final blow.
And everyone stood back a moment or two, regaining their breath and thankful for no serious injuries.
“My frying pan better not be dented.” said Hild.
A little later, after the boar had also been butchered, and they had washed themselves as needed in the chill water, the whole group sat down to eat the much appreciated mutton stew. True to her word, Hild did see to all the supplies, and there were loaves of bread, and dried apples and a large bag of nuts to pass round. She had a bag of oats that was spread for the horses. It may not have been Thane Averel’s celebrations, but it was fine enough for the weary hunters. Hild have even seen that a small cask of mead was among the supplies.
Ethel reveled in telling of her adventures to the others. Yllfa cleaned a few scratches and applied a little of her precious arnica cream to the worst bruises. Some of the men took out their pipes to relax and smoke awhile.
Heartha was not quite ready to relax.
She was annoyed with herself for letting the boar get so close to Ethel, annoyed that Duncadda’s life had been in danger. It wasn’t good enough. She had eaten frugally of the meal provided, so as not to feel sleepy, and had told the others she would keep first watch, as the darkness fell. Time to consider all the Hunt had revealed.
They had more than enough meat to see the whole village through until late spring now. Denholm would get his share, the Thane would get what they deemed he warranted. And the rest of the village… well, she suspected there would be a feast soon enough.
But even after such a successful day, the Smith couldn’t help but feel something was wrong. She watched as Waelden and his family drew close, exchanging supportive words and hugs; as Hild sat back and muttered something about having a little talk with her husband, Paegea, when she got home, and then as some of them followed Gamferth’s lead, and took up fishing rods, to stand hopefully on the river bank. Fishing under the stars! What a fitting end to the day. Well that would likely result in breakfast at the least. The following morning they would only have a quick meal, and then be on the road home with their treasure.
(This story takes place prior to ‘The Dark Road and ‘Winter Hunting: The Burned Caravan and Battle with the Troll )
