Beowulf's Return (Tales of Beowulf) (2 page)

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 chamber. 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 then 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?"