Bearskin

When Jacob Smith discharged from the army, he took with him only a foreign sidearm he had claimed as a war prize, a gold ring presented to him when he has passed out and many memories of his valour. There was nothing else in his life; not a wife nor a girlfriend, no job or home. With his parents already dead, the only family that remained was his estranged brother, Milo.

Milo lived on the wrong side of the tracks. The broken suburbia – with its dilapidated shop fronts, constant sounds of yelling and sirens and the underlying threat of violence that hung in the air like a poison cloud – reminded Jacob of many of the war-torn villages he had visited during his tours of duty.

When Milo answered the door, his dilated pupils took a moment to register his brother.

‘’Sup, bro?’ he drawled.

‘I’m out,’ Jacob announced. He’d never been one to mince words. ‘Need a place to stay. Can you put me up for a while?’

‘Got cash?’

‘Not yet,’ Jacob answered.

‘Nah, dude,’ Milo said. ‘Gots to pay your way in this world.’ And with that, he closed the door in his only brother’s face.

Stifling his frustration, Jacob left and began to wander the neighbourhood. He doubted there was a hotel in the area, or at least a reputable one. Anyway, he did not have any money to pay for his lodging. After a while he found himself in the local park. Chains of the broken swings groaned in the twilight. Half a seesaw sat abandoned and useless. The roundabout lay rusted and unmovable.

‘You look troubled, friend.’

Jacob turned to the elderly man hobbling toward him. He was wiry and bent over, a charcoal cloak over his shoulders protected him from the chill in the air. Old as he appeared, his sapphire eyes glistened with life.

‘In need of some help, are ya?’ the old man asked.

‘What is it you offer, sir?’

The old man shook his hand dismissively.

‘No “sir”, if you please,’ he said. ‘My name is Theo and you can address me so.’

Jacob smiled, despite the strange air the man exuded.

‘Of course, Theo. And what aid can you offer, I wonder?’

Theo grinned devilishly. His eyes shone in the gathering gloom.

‘Riches beyond counting.’

Jacob fought to keep his laughter in. What riches could this man, a homeless man if ever he had seen one, give to Jacob? Rather than providing an honest source of income, he was more likely to enrol Jacob as a peddler of drugs or inform him when the local shop was most vulnerable to being robbed.

But Jacob decided to engage the man. If nothing else, he was entertaining.

‘And what would I need to do to earn such reward?’

‘Just two things,’ Theo said, stepping closer. ‘The first is to prove your courage.’

Here we go, Jacob thought. Would pillaging the store be proof enough for you, old man?

Theo continued. ‘I want you to kill...’

Jacob bristled. This had turned dark fast.

‘…that bear.’

Jacob spun in the direction Theo was pointing. Looming from the darkness was a large grizzly. Not stopping to wonder how such an animal had found its way to the outskirts of the city, Jacob raised his stolen gun, aimed with practised ease and shot the bear square through the forehead.

‘Yes,’ Theo chuckled. ‘Yes, you are the one. Bravery comes easily to you, as natural as taking a breath.’ He shambled over to the fallen creature. From under his cloak he pulled a hunting knife and a bumbag. He threw the bag at Jacob then set to work on the bear with the knife.

Jacob caught the bag with one hand. It was heavy and sang with the chime of metal on metal.

‘What’s the next thing?’ he asked.

‘Hmm?’ Preoccupied with skinning the bear, Theo seemed to have not heard.

‘Two things, you said,’ Jacob reminded the old man. ‘Two things to earn these riches beyond counting.’

Finishing his task, Theo ripped the hide from the bear and dragged it over to Jacob.

’Yes. Two things, yes. Next, you must see about yourself. For the next seven years you must not wash yourself, nor comb your hair or beard, neither must you cut your nails nor say one paternoster. If you die within that time you are mine, but if you live you are rich and free all your life long.

‘The sack you carry is filled with coin and will not deplete. It will pay your way over the years, but more is available should you succeed.’

Jacob zipped open the bumbag and pulled out a handful of coins. There was all manner of money, different sizes and denomination and nationalities. He dropped the coins to the ground and scooped out another fistful, and another and another. Sure enough, the bumbag was not emptying; for every penny, doubloon and yen he retrieved, another took its place.

Reaching up, Theo draped the still-warm bear hide over Jacob’s shoulders.

‘This will keep you warm. Wear it at all times ’cepting at night when you must sleep upon it and no other bed. Do so, and you shall be named Bearskin.’

‘Seven years?’ Jacob asked. Despite the scent of bear which now engulfed him, he still wasn’t certain this was actually happening. He expected laughter to come from the darkness as men with cameras revealed how he’d been punked.

‘Aye, seven years,’ Theo said quietly. ‘Meet me here in seven years and the riches will be yours.’

*

Bearskin found a place to stay for the night, a rundown hotel which charged by the hour. It took him a while to pull out only sterling coins from the bumbag to pay for his room. He soon realised though that the more he was successful, the more pound coins were in the bad. Soon it contained nothing but English currency.

Disregarding the bed with its stained and faded quilt, he threw the bear hide on the floor and lay down upon it. It was warm and soft and offered the most comfortable night’s sleep he’d had in years.

Bearskin spent the next year shuffling around the neighbourhood. The homeless population was high here, perhaps the greatest concentration in the city, and he helped out where he could, overflowing their begging cups with coins. It did not take long for him to became a welcome and praised sight, and the street people would offer prayer for this kindness and wish him eternal health.

During the fourth year, with his hair long and matted, his beard covering much of his face and nails sharp enough to slice steel, he chanced upon a skirmish in an alley. A middle-aged man was being accosted by three men, all bigger and younger than him.

‘I can get the money,’ the victim stammered.

‘Too late,’ spat the hoodlum wearing a brown jacket. ‘Shoulda thoughta that ’fore you borrowed from Sharkey.’

‘B-but my b-business needed a b-boost.’

‘Buh-buh-buh,’ mocked the second, his trainers a gleaming white. ‘Nobody wants to buy your tatty furniture any way, old man.’

‘I have daughters to feed.’

The last assailant, dressed all in black, stepped forward. ‘Maybe we need to meet these daughters,’ he snorted menacingly.

Bearskin had heard enough. He marched forward, a deep rumbling growl sounding in his throat.

The three youths turned and paled at the size of Bearskin. As one, they fled quickly, squealing like scared little pigs.

The recused man looked up at Bearskin, fear all over his face.

‘Do not fret,’ Bearskin said. ‘I am not here to harm you. Now, take me to this Sharkey.’

Despite Bearskin’s assurances, the man still looked afraid and, unwilling to anger his saviour, led the way to the loan shark. He took Bearskin to a small laundrette, the façade withered and peeling.

‘He works out of the back,’ the man explained.

‘Wait for me,’ Bearskin commanded, then disappeared inside. He returned a few moments later, a great smile on his face. ‘Sharkey will bother you no more.’

Blood drained from the man’s face. ‘What did you-’ he began.

Bearskin laughed as he realised the man’s fear.

‘No, I did not hurt him,’ he said. ‘I have simply paid your debt and released you from his clutch.’

‘Thank you, sir, bless you, sir,’ the man muttered.

‘And now, to your place of business.’

‘Yes, sir, of course, sir,’ the man replied, and took Bearskin to his shop: Wilhelm’s Wo derful Wor d of icker.

Bearskin looked at the place – the crack in the door panel, the dust on the display shelves. ‘Are you Wilhelm?’ he asked.

The man nodded silently.

‘Then the first thing you need to do is replace that missing lettering.’ He took Wilhelm inside and poured out enough money onto the counter for the shopkeeper to completely refurbish the place.

*

Over the next few months, Wilhelm’s trade began to boom. He was so grateful for Bearskin’s help, he invited him to tea.

‘Though I can offer nothing material as my thanks,’ he said, ‘my daughters are all wonders of beauty, so choose one of them for a wife. When they hear what you have done for me they will not refuse you.’

Bearskin thought it odd that, in this day and age, a father would pimp put his kin so, but he had grown fond of Wilhelm’s company and accepted for the chance to sample a homecooked meal. When they reached Wilhelm’s home, the man called out to his daughters:

‘Amalia. Bettina. Christiane. Come and meet the man who has saved this wretched family from ruin. Come and decide which of you should wed him.’

Amalia entered the room and looked at Bearskin. His monstrous hair and unruly beard; the hide that covered him, now reeking and worn; the talons at the ends of each of his fingers. With a shriek loud enough to break crystal, she turned and ran away.

The next girl to enter was Bettina. She glared at him, the revulsion clear on her face.

‘How can I take a husband who has not a bit of human countenance?’ she scoffed. ‘I would rather marry the rat that infests our kitchen cupboards, for at least it seems used to living inside.’ And she promptly left.

Christiane came in last. Looking on Bearskin, she shuddered involuntarily and gulped a few times before speaking.

‘Dear father, this must be a good man who has assisted you out of your troubles; if you have promised him a bride for the service your word must be kept.’

Bearskin felt his heart break for this angel of a woman. To put her pride aside and place her loyalty to her father above all else, he knew she would make him a kind wife. And, once his deal with Theo was completed and he was able to hack and wash away the years of hair and filth, he knew he would make her a fine husband. For the first time in his life, Bearskin could envisage a happily ever after.

‘Fair Christiane, I would not presume to wed you in this state,’ he said as he slipped the golden ring from his finger. He snapped the ring in two and used his nails to carve his name on one half, her name of the other. Tossing Christiane the half which bore his name, he said, ‘In a few years I will be free of my pledge. At that time, I will resemble a man again and then we can marry.’

*

For the remainder the seven years, Bearskin continued to stalk around the neighbourhood, aiding the unfortunate where he could. He watched Christiane from a distance, sad that she wore nothing but black since their parting yet glad that she was keeping her promise to her father. The day he could return to her was drawing ever nearer.

And so, seven years after first meeting Theo, Bearskin made his way back to the park. He was aching to be rid of the bear hide which was now almost one with his own skin. He longed to bathe and to shave and to lie on a soft mattress.

As he neared the playground – now bright and sparkling thanks to his own generosity – Bearskin heard the old man’s voice.

‘My name is Theo and you can address me so.’

Theo was obviously talking to someone else. That didn’t concern Bearskin. He had no shame in interrupting their conversation to demand Theo make good on his promise of riches.

‘Of course, Theo,’ the stranger said.’ And what aid can you offer, I wonder?’

‘Riches beyond counting.’

The familiar words echoed in Bearskin’s ears.

‘And what would I need to do to earn such reward?’

Fear prickled Bearskin’s spine. He began to run forward.

‘Just two things. The first is to prove your courage. I want you to kill...’

With professional reflexes, the young man tuned from Theo, lifted his weapon and put a bullet right between Bearskin’s eyes.