And the thanes stood silent about their dead lord, enduring the lash of Wiglaf's scorn, for there was nothing that they could say.
Presently a scout sent out by the following war-host came riding over the wooded ridge and looked down into the valley. One long look was enough, and then wheeling his horse he galloped back to tell what he had seen. âThe fight is over, and our King lies dead among the rocks with the fire-drake dead beside him. Now the joy and honour that he gave us are fled from the land, and the War Chieftains will come against us as they have not dared to do for fifty years, and Beowulf who should have led us against them is dead.'
A groan ran through the host at his words, and at an increased pace they pressed on towards the dragon's lair.
When they came down into the blackened valley they found all as the messenger had told them, the grey-headed King lying dead with his broken sword beside him, and the carcass of the fire-drake outstretched on the burned and blood-soaked turf nearby; the shamed thanes standing at a distance, and Wiglaf sitting bowed with grief at his lord's shoulder; the golden gleam of the dragon's hoard among the rocks and, upreared over all, the great gold-wrought banner curving to the sea wind like the curved sail of a ship.
Sadly the warriors gathered about their King, and then at last Wiglaf stirred and rose to his feet, stiffly as though he too were an old man. He took up the golden collar of the Kingship, stained as it was with the dead hero's blood, and standing there before the sorrowing war-host he fastened it about his own neck. And with it he put on the King's authority. âBeowulf is dead, and plainly you may see how he met his end. Gladly he paid away his life to save his people from the Terror-that-flew-by-Night, and in his dying he bade me greet you and pray you, after the bale-fire is burned out, to build him a worthy barrow for his resting-placeâa great barrow high on the Whale's Ness, to be a guiding-mark hereafter for all who sail the sea. Now make ready the funeral pyre, and bring something to serve as a bier, that we may carry our old King to his chosen place. And meanwhile let seven of you come with me into the cave and bring out into the daylight all that yet remains there of the fire-drake's hoard.'
So while Wiglaf and the seven toiled to and fro, bringing out from the dark the treasure that had not seen the sun for a thousand years, others set themselves to gather wood and build a pyre high on the Whale's Ness and hang it round with war helms and fine weapons and ring-mail sarks, as befitted a King's funeral pyre. And yet others dragged the carcass of the fire-drake to the cliff's edge and heaved it over into the surf that creamed below. They brought a farm wain drawn by oxen and hung it round with shields as though its sides were the bulwarks of a war-boat, and when all was ready they laid the dead King in it, and piled about him the wrought gold and wondrous weapons of the dragon's hoardâfor Wiglaf said, âAs Beowulf alone won all these things, so let them go back with him into the dark from which they came,' and in all the war-host no man lifted a voice against him.
Then they set the four slow yoke of oxen straining up the steep slope to the headland, where the pyre stood waiting against the sky. They laid the body of Beowulf on the stacked brushwood and thrust in the torches, and presently all men far and wide saw the red fire on the Whale's Ness, and knew that Beowulf had gone to join his kindred.
All night long the fire burned, and when it sank at dawn they piled about the ashes the precious things of the dragon's hoard, and upreared the golden banner over all. Then they set themselves to raise the barrow as the old King had bidden them. For ten days they laboured, building it high and strong for the love that they had borne him, and on the tenth day the great howe of piled stones stood finished, knotching the sky for all time on the uttermost height of the Whale's Ness, where the cliffs plunged sheer to the sea.
Then twelve chieftains of his bodyguard rode sunwise about it, singing the death song that the harpers had made for him. And when the song was sung, all men went away, and left Beowulf's barrow alone with the sea wind and the wheeling gulls and the distant ships that passed on the Sail-Road.
About the Author
Rosemary Sutcliff was born in 1920 in West Clanden, Surrey.
With over 40 books to her credit, Rosemary Sutcliff is now universally considered one of the finest writers of historical novels for children. Her first novel,
The Queen Elizabeth Story
was published in 1950. In 1972 her book
Tristan and Iseult
was runner-up for the Carnegie Medal. In 1974 she was highly commended for the Hans Christian Andersen Award and in 1978 her book,
Song for a Dark Queen
was commended for the Other Award.
Also available in
Red Fox Classics
Swallows and Amazons
by Arthur Ransome
The Wolves of Willoughby Chase
by Joan Aiken
Sword Song
by Rosemary Sutcliff
The High Deeds of Finn MacCool
by Rosemary Sutcliff
Emil and the Detectives
by Erich Kästner
BEOWULF: DRAGONSLAYER
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 446 40461 4
Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,
an imprint of Random House Children's Publishers UK
A Random House Group Company
This ebook edition published 2013
Copyright © Anthony Lawton 1961
Illustrations © The Bodley Head 1961
First Published in Great Britain
The right of Rosemary Sutcliff to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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