Beowulf (6 page)

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Authors: Frederick Rebsamen

BOOK: Beowulf
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each twilight in Heorot tortures us all

 

with nightblack murders. My men are fewer

 

some carried away—wyrd has swept them

 

into Grendel's grasp. God could easily

 

stem this heart-sickness sweep it away.

  480

Often my hall-thanes hearts strong with beer

 

bold in their ale-cups boasted in firelight

 

that they would linger lie here in waiting

 

for Grendel's ravaging ready with swordswings.

 

Then was this meadhall at morning's raven-call

 

dark with their doom as the day shoved forth,

 

benches and bolsters black with battle-gore

 

hall-rafters trembling. Heorot grew cold then

 

stronghearted warriors were snatched into night.

 

But sit now to banquet bear us good news

  490

tell us good tidings in time as you wish.”

 

Benches were bared the beer-hall made roomy

 

Geats were gathered together with all.

 

There the stern-hearted settled by the fire

 

welcome and ready. The warden of ale-cups

 

brought to their hands the bright hall-drink

 

taught them greetings. At times the minstrel

 

touched his harpstrings. They were happy together

 

a great band of them Geats with the Danes.

U
NFERTH
(meaning “discord” or “nonsense”) is a complex character who is twice called a
thyle
(“orator” or “jester”) and sits at Hrothgar's feet, a position of counselors or jesters or poets. Here he is the traditional “court challenger,” enabling Beowulf to establish his credentials as a monster killer and giving him license to insult both Unferth and the Danes with impunity. Beowulf calls him a fratricide who will suffer either “in hell” or “in the hall,” depending on how the manuscript is interpreted, and it is later said that he was “not honorable towards his kin in swordplay.” This may mean that he found himself serving one lord and his brothers another, or he may have refused to support his brothers in battle. In any case, Unferth is well tolerated by the Danes and lends his respected sword to a grateful Beowulf.

Before and after the killing of Grendel, Hrothgar leaves Heorot to sleep in his “bower,” an outbuilding within the palisade compound characteristic of many Anglo-Saxon “burgs.”

 

Then up spoke Unferth Ecglaf's swordson

  500

held to his station at Hrothgar's feet

 

unbound battle-runes. Beowulf's errand

 

boasting of sea-strength burned in his heart—

 

never would he grant greater adventures

 

on land or sea to sailors or hall-thanes

 

than he had survived, hale sword-champion:

 

“Are you that Beowulf who with Breca swam

 

on the broad sea-swell struggling together

 

proud wave-wrestlers wagering your lives

 

with reckless boasting risking for praise

  510

deep water-death? Not one counselor

 

friend or enemy could force you to cancel

 

that sorrowful swim—shipless wanderers

 

rowing with your hands reaching for salt-swells

 

measuring the sea-road with stroking arms

 

embracing the ocean broad water-fields

 

wintry with waves. You worked at your folly

 

for seven nightfalls—he outswam you there

 

stronger than you. The sea at dawning

 

heaved him ashore on Heatho-Raemas' ground.

  520

He found his way then fared to his home

 

beloved country land of the Brondingas

 

proud timber-hall where his people waited.

 

That son of Beanstan beat you at swimming

 

bettered your boasting brave sea-warrior.

 

Now I expect, proud though you swagger,

 

brave at battle-rush bragging as you go,

 

a grimmer contest with Grendel here

 

if you dare sleep now in this darkened hall.”

 

Beowulf spoke then son of Ecgtheow:

  530

“Unferth my friend you find much to say

 

eased with beer-cups all about Breca

 

his seafaring ways. I say to you now

 

I was greater in swim-strength gliding through waves

 

longer with arm-strokes than my lagging friend.

 

We boasted together—boys eagering

 

young in judgment yearning for renown

 

game for water-wolves—that we would gamble

 

lives against the sea loud ocean winds.

 

With naked swords we slashed through the waves

  540

ready with warblades for wandering whales

 

dark sea-monsters. No swifter than me

 

could Breca swim there—I stayed beside him

 

unwilling to leave him alone against all.

 

Through five nightfalls we floated and swam

 

on the ice-hard waves till an angry sea-flood

 

broke out above us—blackening sky

 

and freezing northwinds forced us apart

 

towering salt-swells struck between us.

 

Strange sea-creatures surfaced around me—

  550

the mailcoat I wore woven with gold

 

hard and hand-locked held me from death

 

laced by wonder-smiths linked against carnage.

 

To the deep sea-floor something pulled me

 

hard gripfingers hauled me to sand

 

with grappling-tight claws—it was granted to me

 

to reach this devil rush him to sleep

 

with sharp sword-point—swift blade-slashing

 

strong in my hand haled him deathwards.

 

Then more came at me many a water-sprite

  560

seagoing demons—I served them all

 

with quick sword-thrusts sent them to hell.

 

They missed their supper sea-bottom banquet

 

squatting on the sand serving their hunger

 

with my tasty corpse cold ocean-feast.

 

By gray dawnlight lapped with salt-foam

 

rolled by tidewaves they rested on land

 

sleepened by swordswings—the sailpath was cleared

 

sun-bright waterways washed of their blood.

 

Light from the East lifted the storm-clouds

  570

God's bright beacon burnished the sea—

 

looming headlands leaned high above,

 

wind-scoured cliffwalls. Wyrd often spares

 

an undoomed man when his mind-strength prevails.

 

With sword's edges I sent into death

 

nine sea-monsters. I have not yet heard

 

of a harder struggle under heaven's archway

 

a riskier night in narrow ocean-streams.

 

From dark water-death waves bore me up

 

weary of swimming—the sea lifted me

  580

led me to shore in the land of Finns.

 

I have never heard tell tales of yourself

 

strong with swordplay swimming through nightwaves

 

with gnashing sea-demons. Never has Breca

 

fought through darkness in deep waterways—

 

and you were never known for such deeds

 

nothing to brag of renowned as you are

 

for killing your brothers bringing them down,

 

your own blood-kin. You'll answer for that

 

wandering in hell though your wit be strong.

  590

I'll say one thing son of Ecglaf—

 

never would Grendel grieve all of you

 

mangle your hearts with murder in Heorot

 

torture your lord in this tame meadhall

 

if your courage held strong as you claim it does.

 

Grendel has learned through long winters—

 

no need to bother with brave Shield-Danes

 

no interruptions of his nightly visits.

 

He takes what he needs no one stopping him

 

finds no contest with cowering Danes

  600

snares and slashes safe in Heorot

 

owning you all. But I'll show him

 

sooner than he knows a new kind of battle

 

with men of the Geats. On the morning after

 

when southern sunlight shines on this hall

 

we will lift our meadcups to merciful peace

 

bright bench-laughter banishing your grief.”

 

Grief-heavy Hrothgar murder-stunned king

 

heard in those words hard promises

 

news of deliverance from long heartbreak

  610

found in Beowulf fair morning-thoughts.

 

Laughter and song leapt to the rafters

 

warm welcome-words. Then Wealhtheow came forth

 

folk-queen of the Danes daughter of Helmingas

 

Hrothgar's bedmate. She hailed all of them

 

spoke her peace-words stepped to the gift-throne

 

fetched to her king the first ale-cup

 

warmed his mind-chill wished darkness away

 

from the tall high-seat—he took from her hands

 

the gleaming cupful gave her his thanks.

  620

Through the high meadhall went Hrothgar's queen

 

offering hall-joy to old and to young

 

with rich treasure-cups till time brought her

 

where Beowulf sat. She bore him a cup

 

with gold-gleaming hands held it before him

 

graciously greeted the Geats' warleader

 

gave thanks to God for granting her will

 

sending her mercy a man to believe in

 

hope from abroad. He held the meadcup

 

high in his hands hailed the queen there

  630

brought to Wealhtheow battle-strong words.

 

Beowulf spoke son of Ecgtheow:

 

“I swore to myself when I sailed from home

 

mounted my ship with my men around me

 

that I alone would ease your heartgrief

 

settle this feud here or fall deathwards

 

in Grendel's grasp. I'll give you his lifeblood

 

deliver his fiend-soul or finish my days

 

here in Heorot high treasure-hall.”

 

His words were welcome to Wealhtheow's heart

  640

that bountiful boast—then back with her lord

 

the proud folk-queen found her station.

 

Cheers from the benches chased night-shadows

 

strong warrior-songs soared through the hall

 

rose to the rafters till ready for sleep

 

Healfdene's son heavy with thane-grief

 

yearned for evening-rest. Years had taught him

 

that Grendel roamed raging with envy

 

Heorot on his mind from the moment that sunrise

 

flushed towards the sky till final nightshades

  650

dark with shadow-shapes shoved across the meadows

 

wound around Heorot. Hall-feasters rose.

 

Their weary war-king wished for Beowulf

 

luck in the night left him the gift-throne

 

that great meadhall gave him farewell:

 

“Never have I offered to any other man,

 

from the first moment I found shield-strength,

 

this hall of the Danes house of our nation.

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