by C. R. May
Beowulf breathed deeply as he sought to compose himself.
“I did not come here to ask your permission to return home, lord. I owe a duty of honour to avenge the death of a kinsman, a man dear to me, my king.”
Theudobert's expression hardened as he replied.
“You are in a Christian kingdom now Beowulf, your heathen feuding has no place here. The Lord of Hosts rules matters spiritual, he will dispense his wisdom to the slayer of Hygelac on the day of judgement as he will us all. I advise you to leave now whilst you are still able.”
The change in tone had not gone unnoticed and Cola and Hrafn moved forward to flank their lord. Immediately the Francish warriors moved in and raised their spears threateningly at the Geats.
Suddenly another voice broke in, a voice dripping with undisguised menace.
“Then it is fortunate that I still honour Woden, lord. I killed the pirate king and I relish the chance to send another Swerting journeying across the rainbow bridge!”
Beowulf tensed as a powerful warrior pushed through the ranks of spear men flanked by two of his own hearth warriors. Scarcely shorter than Beowulf, the man looked imposing in highly polished mail and greaves. A helm of polished steel was quartered by a magnificent gilt rendering of a raven in flight and from the very apex of the helm, lifting and falling gently in the late evening breeze, there hung a pair of the dark splayed wings of Woden's bird. A curtain of mail hung suspended from the lower edge of the helm, its metallic swish adding greatly to the feeling of power and menace which the warrior projected. He nodded to Beowulf and continued.
“I am Dayraven of the Hugas, A Frisian folk. Your king and his people thought us weak but he was mistaken. Now he sups with the others of your foul clan in Woden's hall. Soon you will join them, Beowulf. Save me a place at the benches for when I follow on.”
Beowulf answered.
“The time for idle boasts is past, Dayraven of the Hugas, killer of old men. Will you fight me within the hazel or will you wait until your Christian overlords rush to save you again? A summer spent hiding in your marshes seems to have addled your mind. I have no desire for compensation, it is a blood price which I demand!”
Dayraven stiffened at the insult and indicated to one of his men with a flick of his head.
“Get down to the river and bring the hazel. Let us finish this.”
The light was fading quickly as Dayraven's hearth warrior returned with the hazel rods. Cola helped the man to mark out the holm gang, the island way, on which the duel would take place. It was the custom in the North that ritual challenges be fought to the death on an island, well away from any sources of aid or easy escape, but often the fighting area was marked out as a space nine paces square, each corner marked by a hazel withy. Nine represented the number of nights which the Allfather had hung on the world tree as he had sought to gain the knowledge of the runes and the fight would be dedicated to Woden and fought in his honour.
A ring of torches were placed around the square and Theudobert and the senior Francs took up their places as the lesser warriors of Francland and Frisia jostled for the best positions at the remaining three sides.
Beowulf cast off his thick leather battle shirt and discarded his heavy mail byrnie. A dew was beginning to form on the surface of the grass as it cooled after the heat of the day and he knew that the surface of the holm gang would quickly become treacherous. A great cheer rent the air and Beowulf glanced across to see that his opponent had crossed the line which marked the holm gang. Once Beowulf crossed that line only one of them could emerge alive.
To his surprise Beowulf saw that Dayraven had remained in his full armour complete with the heavy helm which he had worn earlier. His heart leapt at the stupidity of his opponent and he had to force himself to remain calm and not allow himself to underestimate his foe as he hurriedly changed his tactics. The holm gang was no place for heavy armour and full faced grim helm. A warrior needed steel and weight and power in the shield wall, strength to push and harry as men grappled as close as lovers. In the confined space of the holm gang, Beowulf knew, you need to be sharp and swift in mind and body and he found himself wondering if this Dayraven had ever taken the island way.
He glanced back at the Frisian who stood at the opposite end of the square, beating his sword against his shield rim and urging his supporters into a frenzy. Beowulf turned back to his companions and laughed at their pinched expressions. They looked at him questioningly and he winked as he slipped off his under shirt and heft his shield. Drawing Neagling with a satisfying swish he handed the scabbard to Hrafn. Cola stepped forward and ensured that his helm was secure and then, with a final nod, Beowulf turned and crossed the line.
The Geat and the Frisian stood and regarded one another for a moment and, although he had instinctively checked on their first meeting, Beowulf found that he was searching the decorative plates which made up the dome of his opponents helm. To his satisfaction he was reassured that the dancing warrior design of the wolf warrior brotherhood was absent and he rolled his shoulders and neck muscles as he prepared for the contest. The ritual dance which formed part of the initiation ceremony for new members of the brotherhood was far more than a meaningless series of gyrations he knew. The body movements which were incorporated within the dance consisted of a series of attacks and feints which would be invaluable in a contest such as the one he was about enter.
Suddenly Dayraven let out a tremendous roar and tore across the grass. Already expecting such an opening move from the big Frisian Beowulf skipped adroitly to one side as he thundered past. The watching warriors of the combined army screamed and gestured at the apparent timidity of the Geat, their faces thrown into grotesque masks of hate by the light from the flickering torches.
Dayraven recovered and moved forward, his heavy broadsword arcing through the warm summer air as he tried to corner his lightly armoured opponent. Beowulf skipped nimbly backwards, being careful to keep just ahead of the onslaught. All around him the taunts and cries of the allied warriors rose to a crescendo as Beowulf skilfully denied them the slogging match which they had obviously come to see.
The big Frisian hesitated and Beowulf knew that he must attack and force the man to keep moving. If he slowed down and started to think about his tactics it could ruin everything. With the suddenness of an adder strike Neagling flicked out. Taken unawares Dayraven was caught unbalanced and Beowulf's blade shot forward to slide between the man's shield rim and inner thigh. Beowulf saw his opponents eyes widen in shock and pain as the razor sharp edge sliced deeply into the muscle and tissue of his leg. Staggering backwards, Dayraven glanced down and Beowulf caught the look of surprise and horror as he saw that the legs of his trews were already dark with blood. They both knew that he had taken a bad wound and that he would quickly weaken. The weight of his armour would quickly begin to sap at his strength and Beowulf stepped back and awaited the inevitable onslaught as his opponent tried to end the contest as quickly as possible.
Something red and white began to dance in his peripheral vision and the crowd screamed with laughter and pointed at him to look. Beowulf glanced back at Dayraven and saw to his surprise that the Frisian appeared to look downcast as he prepared to attack again. Unable to look away Beowulf concentrated on the imminent attack. The nightmare that it could have been the bodies of Cola and Hrafn flashed into his mind and he frantically pushed the thought aside as Dayraven came on, screaming his war cry.
Beowulf was moving freely now as the sword-peace of an experienced warrior returned to him. Tired and now badly injured, Dayraven appeared to move at an almost serene pace. Unbalanced by the wound the Frisian's swing was poor and Beowulf easily danced inside the wild stroke. With a backward flick which was almost casual in its execution Beowulf sliced Neagling across and through the tendons at the back of Dayraven's knee. The big Frisian collapsed to the grass, his shield and sword spinning across into the line of flaring brands.
Safe from attack Beowulf could look across beyond the
line of torches to the dancing thing and a cry caught in his throat as he realised that it was the disembowelled torso of his king. Hygelac's legs and arms had been hacked off above the knees and elbows and the hollow cavity of his body glistened with pale bone and bloody gore in the flickering lights of the torches. In a final moment of horror he saw that the Frisians had emasculated his kinsman and his genitals had been stuffed roughly into his mouth. Beowulf found that he was walking forward, towards the macabre sight, his sword raised and ready to strike, until Cola's cry from his right brought his attention crashing back to the duel.
Dayraven had struggled to his feet and was within a whisker of bringing his sword within range. The Geat danced back as his mind snapped back to the contest. Hygelac's killer was here and at his mercy and a primeval roar escaped from Beowulf as he parried the lame sword thrust of his opponent with ease. Moving forward he drove the sole of his boot forward into the man's undamaged knee. With a crack which reverberated around the meadow the knee joint burst asunder as Dayraven was sent flying backwards with a scream of pain.
Beowulf looked back across to the body of Hygelac but found to his disappointment that both it and his tormentor had gone. Walking across to Cola he handed his hearth warrior his sword and turned back to the prone figure of the Frisian champion.
Dayraven lay panting with pain as Beowulf crouched beside him. Reaching forward he brutally snapped the fastening of the grim helm and tore it from him. Hurling it contemptuously aside, Beowulf stared down with hate filled eyes and slowly and deliberately asked him the question.
“Were you the man who gutted my kinsman?”
The Frisian wanted to deny that he would do such a thing but his code of honour forbade him. The men who served him were his responsibility and acted in his name. He would have to accept the consequences of their actions and he lowered his gaze in shame.
With a grunt of rage Beowulf tore at Dayraven's mail shirt. One of the first things that Hygelac had worked on when he had taken Beowulf home to foster had been to strengthen the boy's grip and it was said that he now had the strength of thirty men in his grasp. Unequal to the attack, the links of Dayraven's mail burst open under the strain as Beowulf's fist beat on the man's breast with all of his might. Dayraven's ribcage broke with a sickening crack and Beowulf reached inside and tore the still beating heart from the Frisian's body. To the mounting horror of the watching Theudobert and his men, the heart-less thing which Dayraven had now become managed to drag itself across to the place where its sword lay. With a final, superhuman effort, the hand of the Frisian warrior reached out and grasped the hilt one last time as it finally slumped down and grew still.
As a shocked silence descended over the field Beowulf stood and tossed the gory organ of his foe contemptuously aside.
He looked across the mutilated corpse of Dayraven and called to his hearth warriors.
“Cola…Hrafn; Now we can go.”
FIRE AND STEEL
Afterword
This novella was a result of my research into the great Anglo Saxon epic which is 'Beowulf' for my 'Sword of Woden' trilogy of novels. Although my novels ended with Beowulf's victories over Grendel and his mother, the descriptions of the event which is commonly referred to as 'Hygelac's Raid' seemed to cry out for a short story from amongst the seemingly interminable accounts of the wars between the Geats and Swedes for the control of what is now southern Sweden.
Amidst the shadowy conflicts which are alluded to in the poem the only historically identifiable event which occurred was the raid by the army of King Hygelac on the region we now know as the low countries. The raid was obviously a major event which was recorded in four independent sources, two Frankish and two Anglo Saxon, one of which was of course the Beowulf poem.
Of the existing sources the Frankish are naturally the most detailed and, although they call the invaders Danes in much the same way as the later Anglo Saxon Chronicle tended to refer to all later raiders in the same manner whatever their origins, there is no doubt that it is the same raid mentioned in Beowulf. Both the 'Historiarum Libri X' of Gregory of Tours and the slightly later 'Liber Historiae Franconum' describe how the raiders, after a successful summer spent looting the lands of the Frisians and their southern neighbours the Hetware, were overtaken by a Frankish army under the king's son Theudobert after they had divided their army, presumably as a prelude to sailing home. King Hygelac was trapped and killed and the Geat forces which remained with him onshore annihilated. The Frankish chronicles then go on to tell that the fleet was intercepted, probably at the mouth of the River Lek or the old, more northern, mouth of the River Rhine, and thoroughly defeated in a sea battle.
The raid is mentioned four times in the Beowulf story which describe the death of Hygelac with a large part of the Geat army and Beowulf's boast how he '...killed Dayraven the Frank in front of the two armies..' As to the manner of Beowulf's final victory I based the holm gang fight on the passage in the poem, 'It was not my sword that broke his bone cage and the beatings of his heart but my warlike hand grasp.' In addition to the four passages in Beowulf another East Anglian source, the 'Book of Monsters of Various Kinds' written around the year 800 mentions the fact that the giant bones of King Hygelac can still be seen on an island in the Rhine.
Although there is no agreement as to the exact year in which the raid occurred the general consensus seems to narrow it down to the period between 521 and 523 and I have chosen the summer months of the latter as it would tie in to the dating in the earlier books.
Rather than describe one long account of rape and pillage I decided to reintroduce the character of the Danish warloca Unferth from the previous books. It allowed me to broaden the geographical scope to include the lands of the Saxons but also added another layer to the tale.
Cliff May
East Anglia
February 2014
Characters
ALBRUNA – A Saxon volur, a holy woman.
ALDWULF – Saxon Ealdorling of Honovere.
BEBBA – Saxon boatmaster.
BEOWULF – Geatish hero.
BJORN – Geat warrior at Dorestada.
BRAND – Saxon guide at the Osning.
COLA – Beowulf's English hearth warrior.
DAYRAVEN – Frisian hero.
EADRED – Saxon thegn near Theotmalli.
EALHSTAN – Hygelac's hearth warrior.
EINAR HAROLDSON – Geat scout.
FLOSI – Geat cook at Dorestada.
GEWIS – Saxon Ealdorling of Biranum.
GODWIN – Saxon hall steward at Honovere.
GUNNAR – Beowulf's hearth warrior.
HEARDRED – Son of Hygelac, Beowulf's cousin.
HJALTI – Geat guard at Dorestada.
HRAFN – Beowulf's Swedish hearth warrior.
HROMUND – Ealdorman of Geatwic.
HYGELAC – King of Geatland.
IDA – King of Frisland.
ING – A god.
KARI – Geat scout.
OFFA – An English scout.
OSLAF – An English scout.
SÆFUGOL – Sea Bird, Saxon thegn at Feddersen.
SAXNOT – Chief god the the Saxons.
SEAXWINE – Young Saxon guard at Feddersen.
THEUDOBERT – Son of Theodoric, leads the Francish army at Dorestada.
THEODORIC – King of Francs.
THUNOR – Son of Woden. A god.
THURGAR – Hygelac's hearth warrior.
TIWAZ – A god.
TOFI – Hygelac's hearth warrior.
ULF – Geat warrior at Dorestada.
UNFERTH – Danish warloca.
WALDHERE – A Saxon thegn.
WILFRID – Saxon reeve at Biranum.
WODEN – The Allfather. A god.
WULF – Hygelac's hearth warrior.
Places/Locations
RIVER AELDU – River Alde, Suffolk, England.
THE AELMERE – The Ijsselmeer, Netherlands.
RIVER ALBIA – River Elbe, G
ermany.
RIVER ALERA – River Aller, Germany.
ARNHEIM – Eagle Home, Arnhem, Gelderland, Netherlands.
BIRANUM – Bremen, Niedersachsen, Germany.
DOMBURG – Walcheren, Netherlands.
DORESTADA – Near Wijk bij Duurstede, Utrecht, Netherlands.
RIVER EMESA – River Ems, Germany.
FEDDERSEN – Feddersen Wierde archaeological site, Niedersachsen, Germany.
FRANCLAND – France.