Wræcca

by C. R. May

  “Many of you are from Geatwic so you will recognise the man who is about to come amongst you. He is an honest man who now has the courage to admit that he made an error of judgement when he joined Hythcyn and the Brondings when they imposed their ‘new order’ on the Geats.”

  Ecgtheow called to the figure standing amidst the shadows near the doorway.

  “Alfhelm, my old friend, will you tell the men what you told me?”

  “That pig looks like it's seen better days!” Heardred indicated the carcass of the boar which now lay, stripped of meat in the centre of the hall.

  “That’s what we would all look like now if Alfhelm had followed his orders.”

  Beowulf nodded and crunched another mouthful of crackling. He had always enjoyed the crisp, roasted skin of the boar, ever since he had been a boy.

  “It was a good plan though. Sail forty warriors to the heart of Swede Land and charge their army. It could have worked!” Heardred teased him.

  The cousins had been as shocked when the Ealdorman of Geatwic had walked into the hall as any of the men, probably more so. The last that they had heard of him he had been sent by Hythcyn to see if the Bronding king, Hrothulf, still lived after the sack of his capital by the Swedes.

  However that had been another ruse on Hythcyn’s part. He had in fact been sent forward to intercept Ecgtheow’s small party which had been tasked by Hythcyn with shadowing the retreating Swedes. When they overtook them they had been ordered to kill Beowulf’s father and the members of his comitatus.

  Once evidence linking the slayings to the Swedes had been planted amongst the corpses they were to travel on to the court of King Ongentheow, and inform him that renegade Geat forces had disobeyed his orders and set sail to attack the Swedish homeland.

  With no Geat army of retribution burning their way through the western provinces of his kingdom, Ongentheow would have been free to crush the Geat invasion force led by Beowulf and Heardred.

  Unburdened by a sense of honour himself, it had not occurred to Hythcyn that he was asking too much of his ealdorman. He had caught up with Ecgtheow and fought alongside him against his erstwhile allies, the Bronding ætheling Wigmund and his men. Luckily Alfhelm’s defection had helped to turn the fight in Ecgtheow’s favour. They had seen off the attack, but at the cost of all of the ealdorman’s hearth warriors save Bjalki and Orme.

  Together, the four men had completed the journey to Uppsala and asked for sanctuary for themselves and those members of the approaching Geat fleet which encroached on Swedish territory and wished to join them once the situation had been explained, which, unsurprisingly, had been all of them.

  Ecgtheow approached them accompanied by a sheepish looking Alfhelm. Beowulf stepped forward and embraced him. He had first met Alfhelm when he had broken the journey to Miklaborg many years ago, on his way to fostering with Hygelac. They had met many times in the years which followed at both Miklaborg and at Alfhelm’s own hall in Geatwic. He had been in the company of Alfhelm when he had first met his man Cola.

  “You have nothing to apologise for Alfhelm, you have saved all of our lives. I am overjoyed that we can once again be friends.”

  Beowulf searched inside the small bag which always hung at his side. He retrieved a large gold brooch and handed it to Alfhelm.

  “Here, help me replace my brooch will you. I think that I would like to wear my old, favourite, one again.”

  Alfhelm looked down at the brooch and smiled.

  “Are you sure that it still fits you, Beowulf? You have grown a bit since I last pinned this on you!”

  The brooch depicted Woden accompanied by his two ravens. Alfhelm had attached it to Beowulf’s cloak as a parting gift after that first visit to his hall. Beowulf had been seven winters old then and many things had changed. He was glad though that Alfhelm’s friendship had not.

  The morning passed riotously as the Geat warriors began to relax after their lucky escape and celebrated being alive. Beowulf noticed that the men of his comitatus, Gunnar, Cola and Finn, although at ease amongst the larger group of warriors, were seldom far from one another. He was pleased. They needed to become as tightly knit as any family if they were to develop the bond necessary for them to trust their lives unreservedly to each other.

  “What is to become of us now father? The Swedes have not let us all live to drink their ale and eat their food.”

  Ecgtheow snorted.

  “No, they will turn all this to their own advantage, and sooner rather than later. If we are fortunate we can all benefit from Hythcyn’s blunderings. We are free from his clutches and have gained a powerful ally. King Ongentheow will send for you and Heardred tonight Ohthere tells me, so make sure that you both drink sensibly today. At the moment Ongentheow has the Geats by the balls. Try to make sure that he does not squeeze too hard!”

  Soon after midday Beowulf had left the men carousing in the hall. He had gone in search of Heardred who seemed to have disappeared long ago, and found him to the rear of the hall with one of the serving women.

  “I’ll carry on with this then!” he had called cheerfully over his shoulder as Beowulf had warned him to limit his drinking. “These Swedish women are great kinsman. You should try a few!”

  Beowulf's men had instantly left their ale and joined him as he left the hall by the main door. He was pleased to see no sign of Swedish warriors at the doors. It seems that they really were being treated as trusted guests of the king. After the plots and distrust of Miklaborg it was a breath of fresh air to once again be in a free and well ordered kingdom.

  “Where are we going, lord?” Gunnar asked as they strolled across the courtyard.

  “You may be meeting King Ongentheow tonight so we need to keep our heads clear. This could all still go badly wrong so we need to be on our best behaviour.”

  They turned south, back towards the temple. Now that the sun was high in the sky it was even more impressive. Unlike the halls of the Danish king, Hrothgar, which were elevated above the surrounding area, those of the Swedes sat in a shallow bowl. The light from the sun reflected from the golden chain which encircled the tower and cast a warm glow over the entire area.

  “Let’s climb up to the ridge and see what we can see from there. If no guards follow us up to the royal burial site we can be sure that we are being left entirely alone.”

  The path wound its way past the royal hall and stables before emerging onto a wide grassy ridge. Ahead of them the burial mounds of the Shylfings stood silhouetted against the deep blue sky. They had noticed the warriors flanking the doors to the royal hall pass a few comments as they had passed but none had tried to stop them or follow them. It seemed that they really were completely free to come and go as they pleased.

  They gained the top of the ridge and sat down on the bank, gazing across the town. Beyond the roofs they could see the road which they had taken that morning from Sigtun. Had it really been only that morning? So much had happened.

  Gunnar sighed as they took in the busy town, laid out before them.

  “We should have been desperately rowing across Lake Malaren now with swarms of incensed Swedes after our blood. Instead we are lazing on the grass next to their kings burial mounds with bellies full of their food and ale. It’s a strange world, lord.”

  “And growing stranger all the time,” Cola added with a frown.

  They followed his gaze along the line of the old mounds. Stood to the side of one of the smaller mounds was a tall, dishevelled figure. Although his face was hidden from them by a hood he was clearly having an animated conversation with the burial mound. They watched as he laughed and turned to come their way, waving his staff in the direction of the mound as if in farewell.

  Now that they could clearly see him they were surprised to find that he had the face of an older man despite the fact that he moved with all the vigour of youth.

  Their hearts sank as he left the path and made his way towards them. All they needed was an introduction to the local madman after the d
ay they had been through. Gunnar started to rise.

  “I’ll chase him off, lord. He probably stinks looking at the state of him.”

  Beowulf watched over his shoulder as the man raised his staff and mumbled a few words. To his surprise Gunnar sat back down and stared back across the town.

  “Beowulf!” the man called. “I can’t tell you how much I have wanted to meet you since I discovered that you were coming!”

  “How could you know?” Beowulf asked, puzzled.

  “Odin, Woden,” he corrected himself, “knows many things.”

  “Woden…Odin, told you I was coming?”

  The older man chuckled happily. “He watched your arrival this morning from his barrow and then took the form of an owl and watched you from the wood.”

  Beowulf looked at his men in alarm. He had spoken of his relationship with Woden to no other excepting the volva Kaija, not even Heardred, his most trusted friend.

  “Oh, don’t worry about them. They can’t hear us. Do you mind if I sit down?”

  Beowulf moved to one side to make a space for him.

  “You must be Ohthere’s wizard, the one who was with him at Sorrow Hill.”

  “Sometimes,” he nodded mysteriously. “Forgive me I have not introduced myself, I am used to everyone knowing who I am. The people here call me Asgrim and I have a message for you. The Allfather wants you to know that he forgives you for trying to plough one of his women. He said that it is a weakness which he shares and she is rather lovely. He does want to make certain that you realise that she belongs to him alone, as she tried to tell you. I wouldn’t try anything again with her if I were you. It would cost you more than your life.” Asgrim smiled but his gaze remained cold. Seemingly satisfied that he had made his point, the wizard suddenly brightened and looked over to the food which lay beside them. "You don't have any cheese with you by any chance, do you?”

  “That was close. I thought that he was going to join us for a moment.” They had all looked at Beowulf in confusion when he had laughed aloud at Gunnar's words as Asgrim had walked away.

  It was late in the afternoon when they finally descended the ridge overlooking Uppsala. Beowulf had sat talking to Asgrim for a long time. He had asked him why the amulet which he wore around his neck no longer felt hot against his skin when he was in danger. He had been in dangerous situations many times recently and he had felt nothing.

  “The Allfather feels that you are big enough to look after yourself now!” Asgrim had laughed, before adding cryptically. “There are only three occasions in the future when you will need its protection, and on no occasion will the danger come from men.”

  Finally he had asked him what the strange warning he had received from Ohthere at Sorrow Hill had referred to.

  “About the creature which can’t be killed or harmed by metal blades, you mean? You will find out the answer to that very soon.” Asgrim had answered grimly. "It will be your sternest test.”

  Re-entering the hall Beowulf was pleased to see that his father and Alfhelm had restored a sense of order and discipline to the men. It was one thing to celebrate a near miraculous escape from certain death, but quite another to appear to their hosts to be nothing more than a drunken rabble. It would be the first time that most of the Swedes had met Geat fighting men and they were all aware that these were amongst their best. The time for celebration was over. They needed to act like warriors again.

  “We need to prepare ourselves for the evening if we are to be on display.”

  Beowulf turned at the sound of his cousin’s voice.

  “I think that you have been on display enough already kinsman. I hope that you still have the strength for an evening’s entertainment!”

  Heardred smiled and handed Beowulf a horn of ale.

  “You should try it yourself, little cousin. It’s no good saving yourself for holy women.”

  Beowulf smiled thinly. No, he definitely would not be doing that!

  To Beowulf’s surprise Ohthere himself arrived soon after to escort them to the royal hall. Only Beowulf and Heardred would be required, he informed them, much to the relief of their hearth warriors who could now relax with their friends.

  The evening air was cool after the heat of the day. A cloud of starlings washed to and fro above them as they approached Ongentheow's hall. They watched them with mixed feelings. Whilst they were as amazed as ever that so many birds could roost together it was one of the first signs of autumn. Soon the first frosts would paint the land, heralding the return of the savage northern winter. Beowulf decided that it was the right time to bring up the subject of the dead fishermen.

  “Lord, I need to declare two killings if we are not at war.”

  Ohthere asked Beowulf to explain further. It was the custom throughout the North to announce a killing and agree compensation with the victim’s family. If this was not done or the body was hidden it was regarded as an act of murder and heavily punished. Beowulf described the killings of the two fishermen and indicated where their bodies could be found. Ohthere nodded.

  “I will see that the bodies are returned to their families and arrange compensation on your behalf. You were acting under the assumption that we were at war. It was regrettable but understandable.”

  The warriors guarding the great doors smiled and inclined their head towards their ætheling as they approached, pulling them open as they did so. Beowulf and Heardred exchanged a glance as they were swallowed by the cavernous building. They knew each other well enough by now to be almost able to read one another’s thoughts. Clearly, they both agreed, if the gods had marked them for death this day they had had many more obvious situations in which to inflict it upon them but the gods were fickle and anything could still happen.

  The hall steward stepped forward and took their weapons from them. Bracing themselves they moved onward and entered the hall of the king who, that very morning, they had thought of as 'the hoary old battle swine', their greatest fiend.

  Following in the wake of Ohthere, Beowulf fixed his eyes on the dais at the far end of the hall. There, dressed in splendour and guarded by two of the finest looking warriors he had ever seen, sat the Shylfing king. Several iron grey wolfhounds circled at his feet while to his rear an enormous hanging covered the entire width of the hall. It depicted the golden boar, the emblem of the chief god of the Swedes, Frey, on a grey background. It was so like his own man and boar image which adorned his shield that he regretted for a moment that he had not thought to bring it with him from the hall.

  As they approached the seat of the king they were aware of the number of warriors which were carefully studying them. A hall this large could hold an enormous number of warriors and tonight it seemed to be full to capacity. After his conversation with Asgrim that afternoon Beowulf could be confident that they were not there to witness their execution. He was amused to see that Heardred was not so sure.

  As befitted his rank as the son of a Geat ætheling, Heardred was a pace ahead of Beowulf as they approached the king, despite Beowulf’s leading role in the events of the day and appointment as leader of the expedition.

  Ohthere halted in front of his father and inclined his head. Before withdrawing to one side he announced.

  “Lord, the Geats, Heardred and Beowulf.”

  King Ongentheow regarded them, expressionless, for a moment before bellowing.

  “So these are the young men who wish to invade our kingdom and put our people to the sword!”

  There was a long, uncomfortable, pause. Beowulf could feel the hostility of those in the hall begin to envelope them. He would not meekly submit to any humiliation he decided. He stepped forward.

  “We had no desire to travel to your land at all lord, until you attacked us and put our people to the sword!”

  King Ongentheow’s eyes widened at the reply. Beowulf could see Heardred wince slightly out of the corner of his eye. He continued anyway.

  “Now that I have travelled to your land I have learned that many beliefs w
hich I have held throughout my life were quite false. The Swedes do not all live in swine sheds they live in some of the finest halls to be found in the North. The temple which they have erected for the glory of our gods is so magnificent that I wonder that men could have built such a thing at all. But most of all I have learnt today that the Swedes are a fine and honourable people, qualities which they have obviously been gifted from their king and his ancestors.”

  Ongentheow looked to his son, Ohthere, and burst into laughter. Rising, he stepped forward and approached the startled pair.

  “You must be Beowulf!” he boomed. “My sons told me all about you earlier this summer.”

  The king glanced across the Heardred.

  “And another Swerting! You are welcome here Heardred.”

  The king beckoned two retainers forward.

  “Here, accept these gifts as a token of my admiration.”

  Matching purses were laid at their feet. The identical lids featured the design of a bird of prey swooping on another, smaller bird. Made from gold with garnet inlay, they were magnificent pieces.

  Ongentheow turned to the hall and cried out to his seated warriors.

  “Well, what shall we do with two young men who think that they can overthrow our kingdom with a single shipload of warriors?”

  A call came from the back of the hall, accompanied by much good natured cheering. “Hang them, lord?”

  “I have not got a rope strong enough to hold this one!” the king laughed, placing a hand on Beowulf’s shoulders.

  “Cut their balls off, lord!” another cry carried across from the benches.

  “I was going to do that and use them as door stops until Heardred here decided to spend the afternoon ploughing every serving girl in Uppsala. The doors would pass straight over his balls at the moment!”

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