Читать книгу Hero-Myths & Legends of the British Race - M. I. Ebbutt - Страница 17

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Meanwhile Beowulf had made ready for his task. He trusted to his well-woven mail, the corslet fitting closely to his body and protecting his breast, the shining helm guarding his head, bright with the boar-image on the crest, and the mighty sword Hrunting, which Hunferth, his jealousy forgotten in admiration, pressed on the adventurous hero.

“That sword was called Hrunting, an ancient heritage.

Steel was the blade itself, tempered with poison-twigs,

Hardened with battle-blood: never in fight it failed

Any who wielded it, when he would wage a strife

In the dire battlefield, folk-moot of enemies.”

When Beowulf stood ready with naked sword in hand, he turned and looked at his loyal followers, his friendly hosts, the grey old King Hrothgar, the sun and the green earth, which he might never see again; but it was with no trace of weakness or fear that he spoke:

“Forget not, O noble kinsman of Healfdene,

Illustrious ruler, gold-friend of warriors,

What we two settled when we spake together,

If I for thy safety should end here my life-days,

That thou wouldst be to me, though dead, as a father.

Be to my kindred thanes, my battle-comrades,

A worthy protector should death o’ertake me.

Do thou, dear Hrothgar, send all these treasures here

Which thou hast given me, to my king, Hygelac.

Then may the Geat king, brave son of Hrethel dead,

See by the gold and gems, know by the treasures there,

That I found a generous lord, whom I loved in my life.

Give thou to Hunferth too my wondrous old weapon,

The sword with its graven blade; let the right valiant man

Have the keen war-blade: I will win fame with his,

With Hrunting, noble brand, or death shall take me.”

Beowulf dived downward, as it seemed to him, for the space of a day ere he could perceive the floor of that sinister lake, and all that time he had to fight the sea-beasts, for they, attacking him with tusk and horn, strove to break his ring-mail, but in vain. As Beowulf came near the bottom he felt himself seized in long, scaly arms of gigantic strength. The fierce claws of the wolfish sea-woman strove eagerly to reach his heart through his mail, but in vain; so the she-wolf of the waters, a being awful and loathsome, bore him to her abode, rushing through thick clusters of horrible sea-beasts.

“The hero now noticed he was in some hostile hall,

Where him the water-stream no whit might injure,

Nor for the sheltering roof the rush of the raging flood

Ever could touch him. He saw the strange flickering flame,

Weird lights in the water, shining with livid sheen:

He saw, too, the ocean-wolf, the hateful sea-woman.”

Terrible and almost superhuman was the contest which now followed: the awful sea-woman flung Beowulf down on his back and stabbed at him with point and edge of her broad knife, seeking some vulnerable point; but the good corslet resisted all her efforts, and Beowulf, exerting his mighty force, overthrew her and sprang to his feet. Angered beyond measure, he brandished the flaming sword Hrunting, and flashed one great blow at her head which would have killed her had her scales and hair been vulnerable; but alas! the edge of the blade turned on her scaly hide, and the blow failed. Wrathfully Beowulf cast aside the useless sword, and determined to trust once again to his hand-grip. Grendel’s mother now felt, in her turn, the deadly power of Beowulf’s grasp, and was borne to the ground; but the struggle continued long, for Beowulf was weaponless, since the sword failed in its work. Yet some weapon he must have.

“So he gazed at the walls, saw there a glorious sword,

An old brand gigantic, trusty in point and edge,

An heirloom of heroes; that was the best of blades,

Splendid and stately, the forging of giants;

But it was huger than any of human race

Could bear to battle-strife, save Beowulf only.”

This mighty sword, a relic of earlier and greater races, brought new hope to Beowulf. Springing up, he snatched it from the wall and swung it fiercely round his head. The blow fell with crushing force on the neck of the sea-woman, the dread wolf of the abyss, and broke the bones. Dead the monster sank to the ground, and Beowulf, standing erect, saw at his feet the lifeless carcase of his foe. The hero still grasped his sword and looked warily along the walls of the water-dwelling, lest some other foe should emerge from its recesses; but as he gazed Beowulf saw his former foe, Grendel, lying dead on a bed in some inner hall. He strode thither, and, seizing the corpse by the hideous coiled locks, shore off the head to carry to earth again. The poisonous hot blood of the monster melted the blade of the mighty sword, and nothing remained but the hilt, wrought with curious ornaments and signs of old time. This hilt and Grendel’s head were all that Beowulf carried off from the water-fiends’ dwelling; and laden with these the hero sprang up through the now clear and sparkling water.

Beowulf shears off the head of Grendel

Meanwhile the Danes and Geats had waited long for his reappearance. When the afternoon was well advanced the Danes departed sadly, lamenting the hero’s death, for they concluded no man could have survived so long beneath the waters; but his loyal Geats sat there still gazing sadly at the waves, and hoping against all hope that Beowulf would reappear. At length they saw changes in the mere—the blood boiling upwards in the lake, the quenching of the unholy light, then the flight of the sea-monsters and a gradual clearing of the waters, through which at last they could see their lord uprising. How gladly they greeted him! What awe and wonder seized them as they surveyed his dreadful booty, the ghastly head of Grendel and the massive hilt of the gigantic sword! How eagerly they listened to his story, and how they vied with one another for the glory of bearing his armour, his spoils, and his weapons back over the moorlands and the fens to Heorot. It was a proud and glad troop that followed Beowulf into the hall, and up through the startled throng until they laid down before the feet of King Hrothgar the hideous head of his dead foe, and Beowulf, raising his voice that all might hear above the buzz and hum of the great banquet-hall, thus addressed the king:

“Lo! we this sea-booty, O wise son of Healfdene,

Lord of the Scyldings, have brought for thy pleasure,

In token of triumph, as thou here seest.

From harm have I hardly escaped with my life,

The war under water sustained I with trouble,

The conflict was almost decided against me,

If God had not guarded me! Nought could I conquer

With Hrunting in battle, though ’tis a doughty blade.

But the gods granted me that I saw suddenly

Hanging high in the hall a bright brand gigantic:

So seized I and swung it that in the strife I slew

The lords of the dwelling. The mighty blade melted fast

In the hot boiling blood, the poisonous battle-gore;

But the hilt have I here borne from the hostile hall.

I have avenged the crime, the death of the Danish folk,

As it behovèd me. Now can I promise thee

That thou in Heorot care-free mayest slumber

With all thy warrior-troop and all thy kindred thanes,

The young and the aged: thou needst not fear for them

Death from these mortal foes, as thou of yore hast done.”

King Hrothgar was now more delighted than ever at the return of his friend and the slaughter of his foes. He gazed in delight and wonder at the gory head of the monster, and the gigantic hilt of the weapon which struck it off. Then, taking the glorious hilt, and scanning eagerly the runes which showed its history, as the tumult stilled in the hall, and all men listened for his speech, he broke out: “Lo! this may any man say, who maintains truth and right among his people, that good though he may be this hero is even better! Thy glory is widespread, Beowulf my friend, among thine own and many other nations, for thou hast fulfilled all things by patience and prudence. I will surely perform what I promised thee, as we agreed before; and I foretell of thee that thou wilt be long a help and protection to thy people.”

King Hrothgar spoke long and eloquently while all men listened, for he reminded them of mighty warriors of old who had not won such glorious fame, and warned them against pride and lack of generosity and self-seeking; and then, ending with thanks and fresh gifts to Beowulf, he bade the feast continue with increased jubilation. The tumultuous rejoicing lasted till darkness settled on the land, and when it ended all retired to rest free from fear, since no more fiendish monsters would break in upon their slumbers; gladly and peacefully the night passed, and with the morn came Beowulf’s resolve to return to his king and his native land.

When Beowulf had come to this decision he went to Hrothgar and said:

“Now we sea-voyagers come hither from afar

Must utter our intent to seek King Hygelac.

Here were we well received, well hast thou treated us.

If on this earth I can do more to win thy love,

O prince of warriors, than I have wrought as yet,

Here stand I ready now weapons to wield for thee.

If I shall ever hear o’er the encircling flood

That any neighbouring foes threaten thy nation’s fall,

As Grendel grim before, swift will I bring to thee

Thousands of noble thanes, heroes to help thee.

I know of Hygelac, King of the Geat folk,

That he will strengthen me (though he is young in years)

In words and warlike deeds to bear my warrior-spear Over the ocean surge, when arms would serve thy need, Swift to thine aid. If thy son Hrethric young Comes to the Geat court, there to gain skill in arms, Then will he surely find many friends waiting him: Better in distant lands learneth by journeying He who is valiant.”

Hrothgar was greatly moved by the words of the Geat hero and his promise of future help. He wondered to find such wisdom in so young a warrior, and felt that the Geats could never choose a better king if battle should cut off the son of Hygelac, and he renewed his assurance of continual friendship between the two countries and of enduring personal affection. Finally, with fresh gifts of treasure and with tears of regret Hrothgar embraced Beowulf and bade him go speedily to his ship, since a friend’s yearning could not retain him longer from his native land. So the little troop of Geats with their gifts and treasures marched proudly to their vessel and sailed away to Geatland, their dragon-prowed ship laden with armour and jewels and steeds, tokens of remembrance and thanks from the grateful Danes.