Beowulf's Return (Tales of Beowulf)

by Tim Hodkinson

  "I hear you defeated a monster," the Queen said as a trencher of steaming meat was put down on the table before them. "And it's mother?"

  "Two devourers of men from the marshes," Beowulf said. "I never believed such creatures existed until I saw them with my own eyes."

  "Well I am glad you are back," Hygelac said. "Strange things are happening here too. In these dark times my bravest warriors dare not venture outside at night."

  "That is perhaps why these mysterious raiders can get away with what they do," Beowulf chided gently.

  Ingeld shook his head. "It is not that simple. The raiders are uncanny."

  "Uncanny?" Beowulf echoed, without realising it rubbing his arm that where it had earlier been gripped by the strange pain. "You mean there is witchcraft involved?"

  "Evil magic is at the heart of it," the King said. "The few people who have seen the raiders and survived swear they are people they know: Warriors who have died. Men who should be in their graves are running around at night causing havoc."

  Beowulf frowned. "What nonsense is this? Dead men walking? The dreag belong to legends, not real life. Who leads them? Hel herself?"

  He noticed that all the other three exchanged glances but could not quite fathom what it meant.

  "A great black devil dog, like the Black Shuc, runs before them and they are led by a great champion, a man head and shoulders bigger than a normal man and twice as strong," Hygelac said. "They call him the Dead Lord. Several people testify to who they believe this man is-or rather was-but I refuse to believe it. I will not repeat their mistaken reports as it slanders a great hero of our people. This troop of the dead leave their grave mounds at the darkest hour of the night and create mayhem. When the sun rises they are gone like the morning mist."

  "They started attacking isolated villages on the coast but moved inland, getting closer and closer to here," the Queen said, her eyes filled with dread. "Who knows when they will finally attack us?"

  Hygelac laid a comforting hand on his much younger wife's shoulder. "Now my dear, do not fret. We have warriors, ramparts and gates to protect us here if they come."

  "But how can you kill men who are already dead?" the Queen breathed.

  "When the land is beset by enchantments," Ingeld pronounced. "Only the Lord can help us. We must put our faith in Him."

  Beowulf frowned. Dead warriors attacking the living at night and supernatural dogs were the stuff of midwinter stories, not real life. It seemed like nonsense or trickery. Then again he had seen with his own eyes the ettin, Grendel and ventured into the horrible underwater cave his troll of a mother dwelt in. Such things could exist. He recalled the strange pain that had gripped him on the ship earlier and with a sigh related the story to the others.

  "That is the Elf-shot, or witch-shot," Ingeld said. "A magic working like the shooting of an invisible arrow. A creature of malice directed a spell at you."

  "It vanished when I fell into the sea."

  "No spell can work in running water, either a river or the tide of the sea," Ingeld said. "Falling in saved you."

  "I want to help, Hygelac," Beowulf addressed the King. "My men and I are at your disposal. We have fought otherworldly creatures overseas and now we must do the same in our homeland."

  "Thank you, Beowulf," Hygelac grinned. "I would have expected nothing less from the son of Ecgtheow. But you all have had a long journey and tired men are not much use in a fight. For tonight, at least, all of you get some rest and tomorrow we will form a plan of action."

  Beowulf nodded and took another swig of ale, looking sideways at the Queen as he did so and thinking to himself that there would be no rest for him that night. He would take his own action later.

  Part 3

  A bright full moon hung in the sky over the royal burgh, illuminating everything in a silver light that was strong enough to cast faint shadows on the earth. Beowulf slipped out of the door of his chamber, careful to keep himself deep in the shadow thrown by the building while he assessed the situation outside.

  The royal burgh was an enormous complex of buildings and walls. The shape of an enormous upturned ship, the great feasting hall was at the centre, ringed by a tall rampart surmounted by a palisade. The one entrance in the rampart was protected by a large, guarded gate. Outside the rampart were gathered many low-roofed thatched buildings, the homes, workshops and store houses of the many people it took to run the palace: administrators, soldiers, craftsmen servants and slaves. Inside the rampart to one side of the feasting hall was a building the same shape but half its size, the Hof or temple of Frey. Behind the hall were several small buildings, private bed chambers for the King, the Queen and any visiting nobility. Beowulf's men slept with the rest of the King's thanes on beds inside the hall but as their leader (and a nephew of the King) he had been assigned a private bed chamber for the night.

  He had lain down but not gone to sleep. Instead he waited as night drew on, listening as the sounds outside got quieter and quieter until he was sure that everyone except warriors on guard duty had gone to bed. Then he had slipped out from under the fur covers, still fully clothed. He took his mail shirt from his pack and pulled it on over his head then tightened his sword belt around his waist. He put his iron helmet with the boar crest on, the visor coming down over his eyes and nose and covering half his face. He tied the leather thong of the helmet straps under his chin and then he was ready.

  The big warrior carefully exited through the door, trying his best to make as little sound as possible. Outside all was quiet except for the grunts and snores that came from the other sleeping chambers. No one moved except a few figures he could see guarding the gate and walking along the ramparts. The moonlight glinted on their helmets and weapons and he knew they were warriors on watch duty. He needed to make sure they did not spot him but their attention was focused towards the outside of the ramparts so that gave him an advantage.

  Keeping to the shadows, Beowulf slunk across the enclosure until he came to the chamber of the Queen. As was common the King and the Queen slept in separate chambers. As the perimeter of the enclosure within the ramparts was guarded there was no need for warriors outside the doors of the royal chambers so Beowulf got there without challenge.

  Despite what he had told the King, Beowulf's suspicions about the Queen remained. His father, Ecgtheow, had taught him never to trust a Wulfing. It was one of the cautionary tales his father had told him many years before that made him convinced that the Queen was not as innocent as she protested.

  "Some of the Wulfings, Beowulf"-his father had said-"The ones adept at magic, can send their spirit out of their body in the form of a wolf or a huge dog. Their human body lies suspended as if in sleep while their animal spirit goes about creating mischief. Some can even change their physical skin and become the animal itself. Odinn, their deceitful God, gives them the power to do this."

  Beowulf wondered if there was more to the Queen's nightmares than a worried heart.

  He froze. The door of the Queen's chamber-not ten paces from him-opened, every bit as carefully and quietly as he had opened his own.

  Beowulf flattened himself against the outside wall of the building, making sure he was completely in the shadows. His heart raced but he forced himself to breath steadily and quietly as he watched a figure emerge from the door and look around. Whoever is was wore a heavy, dark cloak against the night's chill and had the hood pulled up so it was impossible to make out their identity. One thing was for sure, it was not the King. The figure was too small. It could be a lover, Beowulf mused, the Queen was a young woman and Hygelac was getting on in years.

  Whoever it was, he had to find out. Beowulf strode forwards but before he could reach the other person he was briefly aware of a crash to his left and a flurry of movement.

  As he was still reacting something broad and flat struck him with tremendous force, knocking him sideways and onto the ground. After a second of confusion Beowulf realised that what had struck him was the door of the Queen's c
hamber. It had been smashed clean off its hinges and he now lay under it. An enormous weight was on top of the door, pinning him down beneath it. He heard the scrabbling of claws on wood and a heavy panting sound as whatever it was tried to regain its balance on top of the now prostrate door. The pressure on him was great and he surmised that the creature above him must be of considerable size. Beowulf gasped, hardly able to breathe in as he was crushed beneath the door. Then with a surge the thing leapt off the door and the pressure on him disappeared. Looking up from where he lay on the ground, he made out the shaggy hindquarters of an enormous black dog loping off towards the gate of the enclosure.

  Beowulf threw the shattered door off him and clambered to his feet. The hooded figure had disappeared. After a quick check that he had sustained no injuries, he tore into the Queen's chamber and quickly looked around.

  The room was empty. The bed had been slept on but now the covers were thrown back and all that remained of the occupant was the impression of her body on the horsehair mattress. This was enough to convince Beowulf he was right: She was not there, but must be more than a witch who sent spirit animals abroad in her sleep. There were witches and cursed men who could change their skin into that of a wild creature like a wolf. The Queen must be a shape shifter.

  A bell was ringing. Beowulf looked up to the gate tower above the entrance to the ramparts and saw that a beacon fire had been lit there. Horns blared out alarm signals.

  "We're under attack!" a voice called from the ramparts. Beowulf could hear a quivering note in the man's voice that would not normally have been expected from a seasoned warrior of the King confronted with earthly foes and surmised that the attackers were the undead raiders.

  The huge black dog was nowhere to be seen. Beowulf drew his sword, the great ring word he had won in fighting the ettin Grendal's mother. Its blade made no noise as it slid out over the greased lambswool that lined its scabbard. He ran across the enclosure and clambered up the ladder that brought him to the walkway on the rampart.

  "What's going on?" Beowulf demanded of the nearest warrior.

  The man simply pointed out over the palisade. Outside the rampart some buildings, set afire, blazed orange flames into the sky. Figures rushed through the streets of the settlement: Panicking burgh dwellers in their night clothes ran for the safety of the ramparts and the inner fortifications, stalked by warriors whose mail and weapons glinted in the moonlight and the flames from the fires. Where they were visible, the faces of those warriors seemed inordinately pale and they lurched rather than walked.

  "The dreag," the warrior breathed, his voice filled with apprehension. "The undead."

  "Have we any warriors out there?" Beowulf asked.

  The warrior nodded and pointed down to the darkened streets. Helmeted men could be seen running through the darkened streets out towards the encroaching enemy. The clash of weapons rose from the darkness with the cries and screams of injured men.

  Hygelac appeared on the rampart, still pulling his chainmail on.

  "What's going on?" he demanded.

  They quickly filled him in. Hygelac's face set in a grim expression.

  "I did not think they would be so bold as to attack my palace," the King said.

  As they watched they could see the warriors outside struggling to contain the advance of the attackers who relentlessly pushed forwards towards the rampart and the gate.

  "They aren't holding them."

  At the sound of a new voice Beowulf turned to see that Weohstan had now joined them on the rampart.

  "We need to make preparations to defend the hall if they get past the rampart," he said.

  "They will never get in," Hygelac stated. "The ramparts are too high and the gate too strong. But they won't even get that far. Finn will stop them."

  The King pointed down at a group of warriors who were advancing purposefully away from the gate towards the leading attackers. At the point of them stalked a tall warrior in shining bright armour, his blond hair trailing behind him like a standard.

  "Finn is my greatest warrior, the captain of my thanes" Hygelac said with evident pride. "He will drive them back."

  Beowulf did not agree, but said nothing. From what he could see, the attackers were advancing remorselessly towards the ramparts, regardless of any opposition against them. Hygelac's warriors were fighting them, there was no doubt about that, but the strange horde just seemed to keep coming, seemingly heedless of wounds.

  "They must have exceptional armour," Weohstan commented.

  Beowulf shook his head. As the enemy got closer to the burgh wall the men on the ramparts could get a better look at them. Their armour was far from exceptional. It was old fashioned, rusted and in places falling apart. The men themselves were thin, unnaturally pale and covered in dirt. Finn's troop advanced into their opponents, hewing down men left and right with strokes that should have killed them, yet they were getting up again and returning to the fight. Before they had gone too far Finn and his men were surrounded by the enemies before them and the men behind them who should have been dead but were now back on their feet.

  Finn noticed this and shouted new orders. The troop divided into two and half the men formed a defensive shield wall to the rear. Finn took a swipe at another enemy, this time cutting low instead of overhead, taking the legs from beneath his attacker, severing one at the knee and breaking the other.

  "Good man," Beowulf commented, noting the warrior's change of tactic with approval. "If they've no legs they can't get up again. I'm glad we didn't meet Finn on the beach yesterday."

  "Good Lord!" Weohstan gasped. Despite the horrific injury, the felled enemy was still moving on the ground, trying to swing his sword. The man's severed thigh that should have been spraying blood everywhere, was completely dry.

  "This is more witchcraft," Beowulf said. "Weohstan: I think we should prepare for the worst. If they get inside the rampart we must fall back and defend the hall. Get some men in there preparing barricades for the doors."

  "Don't give up on Finn yet," Hygelac said. "He will break the attack."

  Beowulf and Weohstan stood for a few moments longer. Below the battle continued but despite fighting valiantly Finn's men were getting less and less in the face of the relentless assault of an enemy who refused to lie down and die. Finn was holding his own though, hewing down opponents on all sides. However his situation looked increasingly desperate.

  A grim expression settled on Hygelac's face. "Perhaps we should make preparations to defend the burgh," he said with a tone of resignation. "I need to ensure the safety of my Queen."

  Beowulf stiffened. It was time he told the King about what he had seen earlier. "Hygelac, King, the Queen-" he began.

  "Beowulf!" Weohstan cut him off. He was pointing down into the streets below, a look of astonishment on his face.

  They all looked where he was indicating and saw that a new figure was approaching. He was huge, towering above the other men in the crowded street before the gate of the burgh. The man strode purposefully towards Finn, a sword grasped in one mighty hand. The weapon was huge but seemed almost toy like when gripped by the big warrior. He wore a chainmail shirt and a boar-crested, visored helmet, the gold ornamentation on it glinting in the firelight of the burning buildings. Like the other attackers he was covered in earth and his once bright mail was clogged and stained dark with rust.

  "It is their champion," Hygelac breathed. "The Dead Lord."

  Finn saw the warrior coming and prepared to face him. The Dead Lord brought his weapon down overhead. Finn countered with his round shield. He stopped the blow but the shield shattered under the impact, falling away into many pieces. Finn swung his sword but the big warrior blocked the blow, swung the sword around and counterattacked. His sword smashed the rings of Finn's chainmail and bit deep into his shoulder, separating bone from bone. Hygelac gasped as he saw Finn fall forwards. The giant Dead Lord struck him again, this blow smashing his helmet and shattering the skull beneath. The Dead Lord the
n emphasised his triumph by stalking forwards, stomping over Finn's body as he went.

  "Beowulf," Weohstan breathed, staring open mouthed at the big warrior now approaching the rampart gate. "You know who that is, don't you?"

  Beowulf nodded, his face set in a bleak expression. "Of course I do. He still wears the armour we buried him in. It's Ecgtheow. That is my father."

  Part 4

  At that moment Beowulf was briefly aware of movement below, inside the rampart. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something big and dark streaking towards the gate.

  "The dog! Blast it!" he cried to Weohstan. "Get the men and prepare to defend the hall. I'll see if I can stop it."

  Sheathing his sword, Beowulf grabbed both sides of the ladder and slid down from the rampart. Once on the ground he drew his sword again and ran as fast as he could towards the gate.

  The massive black creature had come from the shadows beyond the hall and already reached the gate. It tore straight into the warrior who stood guard behind it, throwing huge paws up onto the man's shoulders and engulfing his face and neck in its massive maw. The man's brief, muffled scream ended in a wet crunch as the beast bit down. As the man fell the dog dropped him and reared up behind the gate. With uncanny dexterity that convinced Beowulf finally that this was the transformed Queen, the creature shoved the large wooden bar out of the metal rungs so that it no longer held the gate closed.

  At that point Beowulf reached it. He raised his sword to strike. At the same time the attackers outside surged against the gate and it burst open. The gate swept the dog sideways and Beowulf's blow landed askew, the flat of the blade smashing the beast across the skull. He saw its legs buckle and knew that at least his blow had some effect. Beowulf had to jump back himself to avoid being squashed with the dog behind the gate. A wave of warriors came stumbling through the open gate and chaos erupted. The defenders came rushing forwards to stop the unexpected incursion and fighting broke out all around. Beowulf found himself surrounded by enemies who had piled through the gate.