by Will Shand
He was about to run from the room, when he remembered his authority and, as a result added,
'Remain in prayer, until I return!'
The Queen watched as he left the room. The workmen watched the Queen carefully, but they could not tell what she was thinking. After a minute, she turned away.
Steelstrom had gone to the counting house to seek out Bjorn the Banker. He was not at all surprised to find him seated at the counting table and working on the Royal accounts.
'The good servant, ha!' he observed, taking a seat next to the younger man. 'And a very important task it is too, managing the Royal finances. Are they in good order?'
Bjorn, who in many ways was not a fool (although one could be forgiven for reaching this conclusion, based upon his speech and actions) wondered what Steelstrom wanted and, more importantly, was there something he could gain from an alliance with the industrialist.
'The regulation of the Royal Revenues respectfully cannot concern commercial interests, such as your own, you know. They are the private privilege and prerogative of the princes of the principality and can endure scant scrutiny from scriveners such as you.'
Bjorn felt he had established his loyalty to the crown and could now unbend in a 'generous and genial' manner.
'But you are very welcome. You are their Majesty's most munificent magnate! I know how they esteem and value your support.'
Steelstrom's face was never an easy read. Despite his profession, he looked and sounded like a nice old man. He looked gravely concerned.
'Bjorn, my friend and colleague, I believe that, if you spoke from your heart, you would say that these are dark, desperate and dangerous days. Monsters manifest themselves while the state stutters. I believe it is time that loyal confederates of the monarchy, such as ourselves, put their cards on the table, see which way the wind is blowing and understand that what needs to be done, needs to be done; and that we are the ones to do the doing. I will take you into my confidence and I hope that you will reciprocate.'
Bjorn was surprised by Steelstrom's frankness, although he suspected the old man might be mocking his speech. He decided to be artful.
'And what would that involve?'
He waited, not really expecting Steelstrom to say anything of any importance and so he was very surprised by the directness of what came next.
'You are playing hanky-panky with the Queen, contrary to the laws of God and man, and if I were to take this matter to the King then you would be a head shorter before dusk!'
Bjorn was unable to retain an indifferent look. He struggled not to let his anxiety show; however, his quick brain had already noted that Steelstrom had not gone to the King and was talking to him. He was unsure what it meant, but knew it meant something, and that this something was the thing that would save his life. He controlled himself.
'If this were so, then what would it be to you?'
Steelstrom laughed.
'It is so, and it could mean any number of things to me. At the moment it means that there is a crisis which the King is not able to overcome. This has empowered the Queen to enlist a dangerous and unpredictable ally, who, if he is loyal to anyone at all, is more loyal to the Queen than the King. This means to me that it is possible, and I mention this only as a possibility, that there could be an imminent change in the ruler in our kingdom. If this were to occur, then a wise man would know which side of his bread was buttered and when to embrace change.'
Bjorn thought this through, approved it and then saw the catch.
'And if this did not occur?'
'Then a loyal citizen and a god-fearing man would have little choice but to do his civic duty. He would be unable to stand idly by while an unlawful and unholy dalliance tarnished the very gold of the crown. I fear, my friend, that in that case you would......lose stature?'
Steelstrom stood up, his right hand gently scraping across his throat.
'Time is short and opportunity knocks but once. I am afraid I cannot speak more plainly. I will take my leave.'
As he departed Bjorn said, almost to himself,
'That was plain enough for me. We must hope that Beowulf is all she hopes him to be.'
'I think that should be your hope,’ replied Steelstrom at the door, ‘Perhaps your only hope? I hope not! Fare well!'
Bjorn returned to the accounts, but for the rest of the afternoon nothing would quite add up.
Moonshine had come to the King.
The King was in the armoury sharpening his daggers. As Moonshine entered he looked up.
'What do you want?'
'Your Highness, I come from the Queen. She is anxious to be reconciled with you.'
Lars thought about this. It seemed unlikely. He said so.
'Your Majesty, I believe she was inspired by her religious faith to set a fair example for the people of the kingdom. She recognises her fault and is willing to make amends to your Grace.'
'Are you sure? That would be the first time that the Queen has ever apologised for anything. Sometimes, she looks as if she might, but it is generally a trick to get you to lower your guard. Then she resumes her original position and you look foolish.'
The King spoke from bitter experience. Moonshine considered; he was quite definite that the Queen had said she would apologise, could he have been mistaken?
'The Queen,' continued King Lars 'is an evil, manipulative, calculating bitch. You can trust her as far as you can throw her; and only then if you are watching her all the time. I've known Barbarian warriors who are more kindly and vipers that are less venomous. If she is offering to apologise then I want to know what's in it for her.'
Moonshine put on his solemn face. He had worked at this expression for several years and he believed it communicated great sympathy and compassion.
'Her Majesty has properly repented of her error in acting beyond the remit of the King's Royal Word. It is my belief, as a humble servant of the Gods and the State, that she wishes to be formally reconciled as is proper and appropriate (and in accordance with the will of he Gods) and I am endeavouring to bring this about. Is it your royal wish that this should I should go on with this undertaking?'
Lars was not keen on being spoken to bluntly and replied,
'Don't get uppity with me Shaman. If the Queen does want to apologise we can do this in the Beer Hall tonight. But if there is any funny business, then it's your head that's going on the block. Got it? So you had better be sure, because we don't have any messing with our Royal Person, right? Undertaking is the right word; if you’re wrong you’ll need the undertaker.'
Lars laughed heartily at what he thought of as his sublime wit, giving Moonshine cause to consider, but the prestige of orchestrating a royal apology was intoxicating. He beamed with what he assumed was spiritual joy,
'It shall be so, Highness, it shall be so.'
He almost skipped out of the armoury, leaving the King to sharpen his knives.
If Gareth had been a reflective dog, he would have noticed a change in his new master. Unsurprisingly, he had not.
Grendel had taken to spending the mornings searching the area around the lake and village for his mother and the evenings sneaking into the Beer Hall to spy on the humans, hopeful of either finding information about the whereabouts of his mother, or of finding an opportunity to kill Lars. He slept uneasily in the early mornings and afternoons, but seemed to gain no benefit from this. Gareth had originally found him an exciting new master, ready to play and run and wrestle; now he found him a dour and taciturn creature, whose thoughts were clearly in another place. Had Gareth had the capacity to be concerned he surely would have worried about his new master, however, as he had not, he remained a hopeful soul and each morning was ready to run and search through the deep undergrowth that was found in the woodlands around the village. This at least was far superior to the life he had led in the Beer Hall.
Grendel was increasingly concerned about his mother. Trolls do often wander for considerable distances and they are hardy creatures
, who are quite comfortable to sleep out of doors; but it was unlike his mother to go missing without telling him. As each day passed he became more anxious. An additional source of worry was the rumoured approach of Beowulf. Grendel was unsure who or what Beowulf was, but it was clear that the humans held it in awe. They were worried about the arrival of Beowulf, but also seemed to think thy Beowulf would destroy the 'monster.' Grendel could not understand whether the humans wanted Beowulf to come or not. When Grendel imagined Beowulf he thought of something like Lars only bigger, stronger and more awful. This was alarming.
His other concern was his developing conscience. For a while he had been entirely happy to wage his guerrilla war on the Kingdom of Lars and to feast on the flesh of his enemies. By rights the betrayal of his trust by the creature Thwurp should have hardened his instincts against the humans, as should the disappearance of his mother; but the perception that they were essentially creatures like him that had been led astray by King Lars, seemed to him to be an inescapable conclusion. Although he was sure that he could defend himself if threatened, he felt he could no longer continue to hunt and eat his fellow creatures. This did make him wonder if he was somehow weak and he longed to discuss this with his mother.
Each day he searched and each day he returned home, disappointed.
Early in the evening all were gathered in the Beer Hall to see the reconciliation of the King and Queen; all that is apart from the King and Queen, who had not yet arrived. Moonshine had been explaining to the gathered throng the correct relationship of man and wife, King and Queen and the way that this mirrored the love of the Gods for the people on the Earth. The most discerning of the throng had already gone to refill their drinks.
'When there is disharmony in a marriage it is an offence against nature, an offence against heaven,' intoned Moonshine, 'The King and Queen are our mirrors of heaven, they are the embodiment of the spirit of the Gods on Earth and their love is therefore like unto that mirror and when that mirror is, as it were, cracked, then our very image of the Gods is distorted.'
Thankfully at that point the Queen arrived, shortly followed by the King. From the back of the Beer Hall it appeared that the King and Queen embraced, Moonshine blessed them and they left together to the Royal Chamber (complete with its new lock). Moonshine then returned and blessed the assembled congregation who then got down to the serious business of drinking themselves insensible. What actually happened was far more interesting.
The Queen looked fiercely at Lars and whispered,
'I am here for show. If you ever touch me again my father will hear and you will be gutted like a stuck pig!'
'You'll do as your damn well told and if I hear a threat concerning your father one more time I'll raise an army and burn his palace to the ground.'
Moonshine (who had not been attending, so pleased was he to have drawn such a crowd) said.
'Noble Queen, do you beg the forgiveness of your Lord?'
'Certainly,' replied the Queen and then in an undertone, 'but if he thinks he can slap me around like some third rate fishwife he had better have a care where he leaves his dagger at night.'
'And do you Mighty Lars our beloved King, accept and reconcile to your Queen?'
'I do,' pronounced Lars firmly, and then more quietly, 'but if you think you can threaten me with your Beowulf and your Duke of Jutland, you don't know who you are dealing with. It wouldn't be too tragic if you were to have a riding accident one day.'
Finally Moonshine awoke to what was happening in front of him; at that moment the Queen sprang at the King, clawing at his face in an effort to gouge his eyes. With a shriek of horror Moonshine wrapped his arms around the couple locked in combat and pushed them out of the main body of the Beer Hall and through the door to the Royal Chambers. With an extra effort he was able to shove the Royal couple firmly through the doorway. He quickly slammed the door on them and returned to the crowd.
'Where there is harmony in the Royal marriage, there will be joy in the kingdom!' he declared, before having to stop to catch his breath.
Thwurp, who was guarding the Royal Chamber, noticed that shortly afterwards the Queen came storming out. She went down the corridor that led out to the stables, where it appeared that she exchanged a note with a shabbily dressed fellow who seemed to Thwurp to be disturbingly familiar. She then went away to another part of the Beer Hall. He had the feeling that this may have been important and that he should report it, but then he noticed an unattended flagon of ale and forgot all about it.
Chapter Fourteen
In which Beowulf finally arrives and all are impressed.
The King was at the docks, the Queen was at his side. They were both slightly scarred from their reconciliation of several nights ago, but neither was willing to miss the arrival of the long awaited Beowulf. Steelstrom, Bjorn, Gnosser and Moonshine were also in attendance, while Thwurp was in charge of security, which was serious. Thwurp had hired extra crossbow men and pike men to provide an extended bodyguard for the King who was suspicious of the intentions of the newcomer. These burly, heavily-armoured men were drawn up in ranks before him, providing a human shield against any assault. Their armour gleamed in the morning sunlight. There was also an extraordinarily large gathering of common people who clearly expected to see anything between a messiah and a monster. They were very excited and were already clearly enjoying the day.
At a prearranged signal a gangplank was lowered from the ship to the dockside and the first of Beowulf's guards began to march across and onto the land. These guards were all tall, fully armoured and carrying large axes and shields on which Beowulf’s fire-breathing wolf sigils were boldly emblazoned. As these guards came across the gangplank the crowd burst into spontaneous applause due to the fine appearance of the troops and their armour. A front rank of twenty guards fell in directly, facing the King, and more guards continued to file across the gangplank. The crowd were clearly enjoying the stately pace of the martial procession; however Lars and his advisors were beginning to worry.
‘Very well equipped!’ observed Steelstrom, with professional pride.
‘I thought I recognised the brand.’ Replied Bjorn, and then more quietly, ‘They had best not turn out to be enemies.’
‘They look like someone’s enemies,’ observed Gnosser, who had overheard and then rather injudiciously continued, ‘This is the fabled Wolf Guard of Beowulf- I do hope we get to see all three hundred at once!’
‘Did you know there would be three hundred?’ asked Thwurp angrily. Thwurp had only bought three hundred of his own men, which he had considered perfectly adequate to meet a “distinguished guest and his small retinue.” He was comparing the quality of the men, armour and equipment, without finding any of these in his favour.
King Lars was thinking similar thoughts and nudged Thwurp to push his troops to a higher state of alert. The crossbowmen trained their crossbows on the troops who were now three ranks deep on the docks. The pike men fingered their pikes nervously, however, at sixty men the troops stopped coming; the crowd stopped cheering and all waited. King Lars noticed the Queen was smiling a particular smile; it made him uncomfortable.
From onboard the ship a drum began to beat causing the crowd to anticipate the coming of the hero; and as they stared at the ship, from one of the aft cabins an enormous armoured figure appeared. The crowd gasped as the armoured man appeared to stand close to seven feet tall. He was clad in sparkling silver armour with a red crested helm and across his back was slung the largest sword any of the crowd had ever seen.
‘Triple forged, best quality steel, honed to perfection. A masterpiece!’ sighed Steelstrom, awed by his own creative genius.
‘Beowulf! Beowulf!’ the crowd began to chant as the huge figure ambled across the gangplank. To increasing applause he marched around the back of the troops, worked his way around the left hand side and came to a halt in front of the King, who was safely protected by Thwurp’s crossbowmen and pike men. As he stopped, he pulled off his fine plumed
helmet, revealing a mane of dark brown hair and a fine, square-jawed face. The crowd cheered even more enthusiastically.
The giant put up his hand and immediately the crowd fell silent. The giant had a loud voice with a thick foreign accent.
‘Zank you!’ he growled at the crowd, ‘Zank you for zis mighty velcomen. But I am afraid that you must be disappointment in me.’
The crowd, the King and all who were not ‘in the know’ wondered how this could be. The giant was magnificent. He looked as if he ate Trolls for breakfast on a daily basis. He continued,
‘Yes, yes. Disappointment you must, be for I am not the great Beovulf!’
The crowd gasped. The King looked shocked. The Queen suppressed a snort of laughter and Steelstrom smiled discreetly.
‘No, No! I am not the Beovulf, I am the captain of his guardian.’
At this there was a tremendous outbreak of cheering as the crowd reasoned that a hero who had this man-monster as a Captain must truly be something to behold. It took some time to become quiet enough for the giant, or Captain of the guard, to continue.
‘Zank you again and again. You are a great and velcoming people!’
This caused further cheering which the giant again silenced this by raising his hand.
‘I am Roscow and I serve zhe great Beovulf. He is here on the ship and is anxious to be greeted by Zhe Great King Lars, zhe Lord of Zhe Biggest Beer Hall Zhere Has Ever Been. Is Zhe King Lars here?’
This was a strange question, as Roscow was clearly speaking directly to the King, who was stood on a raised platform protected by four ranks of troops.
‘Careful, sir’ growled Thwurp quietly. He did not like the look of Roscow and the hairs on the back of his neck were bristling. There was a few moments silence and then Roscow spoke again.
‘Is zhe famous King Lars here? My master zhe great Beovulf vishes to meet him and share together zhe embrace of friendship.’
The crowd began to look at Lars, who hurriedly decided to respond.
‘I am he! I am King Lars the mighty, victor of many battles, conqueror of many lands and peoples and builder of The Biggest Beer Hall There Has Ever Been! I am here! Let your master present himself and I will greet him warmly to my realm.’