by Will Shand
‘What is the end of this power? You may gain a kingdom but what will it be for? I am not suggesting some romantic, “happy ever after” kind of solution, but seriously, after all the scheming and plotting, the tricks and the murders; what is it all worth if there is no sharing of it? Who but someone like me can appreciate you and see you as you really are?’
‘Together we have defeated the Troll, the banker and the King. We have gained a kingdom and this is just a start. We could bring our father’s house down around his ears and laugh as we did so; this should not be the end of our work, but the beginning.’
Beowulf grabbed her by the shoulders and she thought that the end had come, but instead he threw her back onto the bed and climbed on top of her. They began to kiss, but he sat up, realising his armour was not going to be easily removed. He laughed,
‘You truly are a woman after my heart!’
Klug had lit a fire. At the moment it was only a small fire, but it would grow. When it grew it would eventually reach the oil casks and then it would be a big fire. Grendel’s Mother asked what he was doing,
‘It’s like this,’ he said, ‘I don’t think that if we go up there that we will be coming back and they need to be stopped. So I’ve started this fire. In half an hour it will burn through to the oil and that might be enough to burn this place down. If we can get into the hall, kill the King and Beowulf and get out, we could put it out, or at least tell someone, but if not, if we both die, it still gives us another chance to get them.’
Grendel’s mother nodded,
‘Let’s go then.’
Klug looked around the cellar. He felt guilty about his drinking companions. If he had time he would have dragged them out. He started up the ladder to the kitchens.
‘That was perfect!’ said the Queen, ‘but we shouldn’t take much longer to get to the coronation, Moonshine will be waiting. We may be royalty, but we want it all signed and sealed.’
‘You should be the Queen,’ agreed Beowulf, ‘you are able to make a most persuasive argument.’ He managed to find his trousers and put them on, while the Rosamunde went to her wardrobe, where earlier Bjorn had hidden. Her eyes were drawn to the bloodstains that still covered the floor in part of the room.
It was in her mirror that she saw him coming. Her shoulders dropped.
‘I thought that you had changed your mind,’ she said.
‘I was merely aroused, not infatuated, nor convinced,’ he replied.
‘A shame,’ she said, noticing his hands coming up to grab her neck. At the last minute she rolled off the bed and scuttled across the floor looking for Bjorn’s knife.
‘I moved it,’ Beowulf confessed, ‘I knew that when it came down to it you’d fight.’
Rosamunde backed away, looking for a weapon of any kind, or an opportunity to slip out of the door.
‘You are a monster! Does nothing move you?’
With a quick acceleration he had crossed the floor and she was caught.
‘Yes,’ he said, as he tightened his grip, ‘the thought of power. That moves me. What I want most of all is that everything should be mine.’
When it was over he wandered across to the mirror. He smiled at himself.
‘I have a coronation to prepare for,’ he said.
There was no one in the kitchen. At first this puzzled Thwurp and then he remembered that when the King had left the feast, the kitchen would have closed. It was quite dark, as only a single lamp had been left. The kitchen workers were very concerned about the possibility of fire.
‘Quite right too,’ he thought, ‘if you live in a wooden house, however big, you should think of these things.’
He was just about to go and report his failure when he heard a noise that sounded like a door opening. Thwurp did not know the layout of the kitchen but he remembered that there was a trap door to the cellar. Perhaps it was a cook. He started to move towards the sound when he heard whispered voices. He checked his belt for a weapon, but found that Roscow had disarmed him while he was unconscious. He could not find a knife in the semi darkness, so he picked up a pan and crept nearer.
Klug was pleased to find the kitchen empty. He assumed that it must be getting on towards dawn and so he had a sense of urgency to help Grendel’s mother penetrate the Beer Hall before the people began the day.
‘It is clear!’ he whispered.
‘I’m coming’ she replied.
As he pulled himself up into the kitchen he was suddenly aware of someone behind him.
‘Look out!’ he shouted, trying to dodge as something swung past his ear and connected painfully with his shoulder, ‘a guard!’
Having only partially connected with the burglar on his first attack Klug pushed with his considerable bulk against the intruder and was satisfied as the intruder lost his balance and fell backwards through the trap door. He moved over the trap door entrance and looked down, expecting to see worried and fearful men. What he saw was Grendel’s Mother climbing the ladder as fast as she could.
‘Troll!’ he shouted and turned to run.
Chapter Twenty Two
The Coronation.
Roscow was tired. It had been a very long trying day. Somehow he had managed to restore order in the main hall. He had threatened and blustered enough to bring the drunken guards to order ready for the coronation. He had arranged some of them to clear away the top table and drag the Throne into a central position to make the main hall suitable. He had been about to go and investigate what had happened to Thwurp when Moonstone and Steelstrom had arrived with a fresh set of problems. Moonshine wanted music and Steelstrom wanted to make sure that there was a suitable crown; and that he had a place of honour on the platform.
There would be no music. Steelstrom and Roscow exchanged a look that told Roscow that Moonshine did not yet know who would be being crowned at the coronation. Roscow shrugged. They would cross that bridge when they came to it. Moonstone was bleating on about it being some kind of ‘spiritual experience that refreshed and rejuvenated the nation.’ Roscow was looking for problems and Steelstrom was thinking of future profit. Everything was ready, they were waiting for Beowulf.
‘What do you think the Queen will be wearing?’ asked Moonshine displaying the train of his plum coloured robes, ‘will these be concordant?’
It was at that moment Roscow was sure that he could hear shouting.
Beowulf was ready. He admired himself in the mirror again. He was momentarily irritated that he had not thought to bring coronation robes. It should have been an obvious contingency. As it was, he had taken what of Lars would fit him best and although it was not perfect he felt content that he looked sufficiently regal.
‘What do you think?’ he asked the body of the late Queen Rosamunde, ‘But then you no longer have a view, do you? It is what I think that matters. It will always be what I think that matters and,’ he paused to contemplate himself one more time, ‘it is my royal opinion that I look quite...Kingly!’
He laughed happily, content in his triumph.
‘I have beaten them all,’ he thought, ‘friends and enemies, monsters and kings. I, Beowulf by my might and skill and cunning have taken all this and this is just the start. How many more things shall come my way?’
He laughed again. This was good.
He really was ready.
There was a smell of smoke and a sharp pain in his leg. Something was burning. What was it? Klug opened his eyes. He was on the floor, at the bottom of a ladder. There was smoke, a lot of smoke.
Then he remembered.
He was in the cellar. He had been pushed through the trap door. He tried to move, but when he tried nothing happened. Things were broken. He found he could just turn his head, but there was nothing much to see; just the cellar floor and the smoke. Then he remembered the fire. The wave of panic that went through him was surprisingly brief. There was a fire, he couldn’t run. He didn’t want to run. He had done what he could. He laughed. Let the fire come!
He was sorry he
had killed the boy, but glad that he had helped the troll. He didn’t suppose the two balanced out, but then he had never been likely to end his life in credit. He was tired. He could hear noise from far away, but it seemed to be nothing to do with him. He closed his eyes.
Thwurp nearly crashed into Roscow as he ran out of the kitchen. They looked at each other.
‘There’s a troll!’ said Thwurp, ‘another one, a bigger one. We should run.’
Roscow put a hand on his shoulder to detain him.
‘We can’t. It’s the coronation.’
‘Well I’m not fighting it.’
Roscow looked around and made a quick decision.
‘Barricade it in!’
Thwurp and Roscow began to clear the drunken guards from their benches and tables and then to jam these up against the kitchen door. The guards appeared not to mind, it was a strange feast but there was still drink. Some joined in pushing benches against the door in a haphazard and careless way.
‘What are you doing?’ shouted Steelstrom from the podium, ‘The new king is nearly here!’
‘What new King?’ asked Moonshine, ‘You mean the Queen?’
‘No.’ said Steelstrom, realising the moment had come, ‘There will be a new king. The new king will be Beowulf.’
Moonshine struggled with what to say, as more guards joined in barricading the door.
‘Can you smell something burning?’ one of the guards asked.
‘How can that be?’ asked Moonshine, ‘the King could be succeeded by his wife or his child, but Beowulf is none of these!’
Steelstrom felt that a graphic illustration was needed. He produced something from his belt.
‘Do you know what this is?’ he asked politely.
‘It’s a dagger,’ replied Moonshine with his a nervous tremor in his voice.
‘Actually, it is a Steelstrom finest ‘man gutter’ mark two, a particularly useful concealed weapon suitable for combat in confined spaces, but I think your identification will suffice on this occasion. Do you know where an item similar to this will end up if you fail to co-operate in King Beowulf’s plans?’
Moonshine gulped,
‘I can imagine.’
Steelstrom smiled. Then he wiped his brow. It was getting quite hot.
Grendel’s mother had called to Klug, but got no answer. She would go back for him afterwards, if she survived. She followed the route taken by the fat guard. She came to a door. She was sure this was the door to the hall. Behind this door were her enemies. She felt strong and alive; this was what her dream had told her to do. Hunt her enemies and destroy them. She tried the door. It seemed locked, but then she realised that there were things piled on the other side to stop it opening. She shoved hard and felt a small response. She tried harder and felt the door rock. She could hear shouting from the other side.
She would not be stopped now.
She stepped back and then ran and threw herself at the door as hard as she could manage. She would do this until the door broke.
Beowulf nodded to the guard, who threw the door into the main hall open with a flourish. He was prepared for a regal and stately entrance, but before he could step into the room he saw that things were wrong.
The Throne was in place on the dais at the far end of the hall and there, waiting for him were both Steelstrom and Moonshine; and Moonshine was holding a crown in his hands. On the left hand side of the hall there was an audience of guards that had been got into some kind of order and they, at least had the appearance of being ready to attend a coronation. But on the right hand side Roscow, Thwurp and a number of guards were piling furniture against a door that was obviously being assaulted from the other side with something like a battering ram.
Roscow ran up,
‘There’s another troll. In the kitchen. What do we do?’
Beowulf considered. Postponement could be fatal. There were other potential claimants. The Duke of Jutland had a sizeable army. Possession was important. The possessor of the crown was the King and then was in a much better position to fix the fight that may follow.
‘Carry on,’ he ordered.
Roscow returned to the barricade that was now beginning to shake. Thwurp and the guards were straining to hold the barricade in place against the furious assault on the door, which had begun to split in the centre.
Beowulf ignored this. He walked at a royal pace down the central aisle, with his eyes fixed on the crown and the throne. When he reached the raised area he stopped and Moonshine approached.
‘It is my honour to crown this man as King Beowulf the First. Let him be a good and strong King, a father to his people, a steward of the land. Let him exemplify the values of goodness that come from the Gods! Let him be fair and just, honest and generous; grant him the gifts of wisdom, judgement and morality. Let him reign for a hundred years!’
Moonshine held the crown.
‘You should kneel,’ he whispered.
‘I will not,’ replied Beowulf.
At that moment, part of the floor in the corner of the room that was directly above the beer cellar exploded into flames and black smoke began to belch out into the hall. There was a cracking sound as the upper part of the kitchen door shattered and a strong scaly hand appeared, tearing the wood aside.
‘I can see time is of the essence,’ agreed Moonshine hurriedly, ‘I crown the mighty King Beowulf!’
Having said this he placed the crown on Beowulf’s head and having done his spiritual duty, he fled for the far door.
Beowulf smiled and walked to the throne to the accompaniment of shouting men and splintering wood. As fire blazed up in the corner, he seated himself, comfortably upon the throne.
He spoke quite loudly, but mostly to himself; the audience being distracted by the fire, the barricade and the fighting.
‘Against the laws of man and gods, against the will of nature, in the fire and the fury; so begins the reign of Beowulf!’
He felt complete.
The End
But don’t worry!
Beowulf will return to further darken the dark ages in…
Beowulf is Back!
Available October 2014
If you can’t wait that long you can contact the author at [email protected] and tell him to get a move on!