Hygelak, a brave and heroic man, ruled over Gothland at this time. He
was surrounded by a band of famous warriors, chief among whom was his
nephew Beowulf (bee-hunter, _i.e._, woodpecker), son of Ektheov. When
the harper arrived in Gothland, he found that the Swedes had invaded
the country, and a great battle was about to take place. A few days
later the battle was fought, and would have gone badly with the Goths
had it not been for the almost superhuman prowess displayed by Beowulf,
who, in spite of repeated disaster, always returned to the charge. His
coolness and courage kept up the spirits of his men, and at last the
Swedes had to return to their own land, mourning the loss of their
king, and of many a valiant hero.
During the feast that was given in honour of this great victory, the
stranger minstrel sang to the assembled warriors of the great deeds of
past and present times. He sang of Siegmund (Siegfried) the brave
Wölsung, and of all his adventures with giants and dragons. Then,
striking yet louder chords upon his harp, he sang of Beowulf’s victory,
and called upon him to do yet greater things, to seek out and slay the
horrible fiend of the fen, Grendel, who nightly crept into the
Skiöldungs’ hall, and fed on the blood of heroes.
Beowulf promised to go and try to slay the monster that had done such
incredible mischief. Now one of the great lords, Breka by name, was
envious of Beowulf’s fame, and proposed that they two should on the
morrow go down to the sea, and fight the monsters of the deep. They
would then see which of them was the better man; and the one that
reached the shore first after the battle was over should receive the
prize of victory. It was agreed that this trial of strength should take
place on the morrow, and King Hygelak promised to give the gold chain
he wore round his neck to whichever was the victor.
Next morning the sun rose red in the east, the stormy sea moaned,
groaned, and dashed upon the shore, as though demanding a human
sacrifice. The two bold swimmers stood on the strand, arrayed in their
shirts of mail, their swords in their hands. When the signal was given,
they flung themselves into the raging sea, and were soon lost to sight.
They kept close together, that they might come to each other’s help if
hard pressed by the monsters of the deep, but were at length parted by
waves which bore them in different directions. Breka soon after found
himself in calm water, where he swam about until it was time to return.
Beowulf, on the contrary, was carried to a place where the waves beat
fiercely against great cliffs that towered above the water, a place
that swarmed with polypi, sea-dragons, and horrible nixies, all lying
in wait for their prey. Gigantic arms were stretched out to grasp him,
but he cut them down with his sword. Monsters of every sort tried to
clutch and stifle him, but he stabbed them through their scales. A
nixie clasped him in his arms, and would have dragged him down to his
cave, but he stabbed the monster to the heart, and drew him to the
surface of the water. After a long struggle he again reached the open
sea, and then strove with all his might to get home before the sun
should quite have set. The storm was over, so that there was the less
danger. Breka was the first of the bold swimmers to reach the shore. He
turned with a triumphant smile to greet Beowulf, but what was his
astonishment, and that of all present, when the hero dragged the
monstrous form of the nixie on the sands, and stretched it out before
them. The princes crowded round the hideous creature, and gazed at his
enormous limbs in speechless amazement.
“Here is the gold chain,” said the king to Breka. “You have won it by
hard labour; but my bold nephew has done even more than you, in that he
has conquered and slain one of the monsters of the deep. I shall
therefore give him my good sword Nägling with the golden hilt, and the
Runic letters engraved in gold, that are sure to bring good fortune to
the possessor.”
Beowulf was held in high honour by the Goths; but he could not sit
still, satisfied with what he had already done. He longed to free the
royal palace of the Skiöldungs from the monster Grendel, so he
presently took ship for King Hrodgar’s castle, accompanied by the
minstrel, and fifteen noble and courageous Goths.
On their ship touching the strand below the fortress, the watchman
asked them who they were, and what brought them to King Hrodgar’s land.
When he learnt their names and business, he was pleased, and sent them
on to the king. Hrodgar also received them with joy and gratitude. The
minstrel tuned his harp and sang of Beowulf’s heroic deeds, and
prophesied that he would conquer and slay the monster of the morass.
This praise made Hunford, one of the courtiers, angry and jealous. He
said it was Breka, not Beowulf, that had won the golden chain; that the
Gothic hero was undertaking an enterprise that would very likely lead
him to his death; and he advised him to think twice before attacking
Grendel. Upon this, Beowulf exclaimed indignantly that he had won a
good sword instead of the golden chain, and that it was sharp enough
both to pierce the hide of the monster and to cut out a slanderous
tongue. Hrodgar bade the courtier be silent, and promised the Goth that
if he were victorious, he would give him rich presents, and would enter
into a firm alliance with his people.
At night-fall Hrodgar and his warriors withdrew, and serving-men came
into the hall to make up beds for the strangers. Beowulf felt so
confident of victory, that he laid aside his helmet and shirt of mail,
and then gave his sword to the groom in attendance.
“I intend to master Grendel with my fists,” he said; “he is unarmed,
and I will meet him in like fashion.”
Midnight came, and the fiend of the fen rose out of his hiding-place.
He expected a feast that night, and, wrapping himself in a veil of
mist, made his way to the palace. He entered the banqueting-hall, and,
at sight of the Goths, a grin of satisfaction spread over his
countenance, displaying his great teeth, which resembled boar’s tusks
in size and shape. At the same time he stretched out his hairy hands,
which were furnished with claws like those of an eagle.
The warriors were all sunk in a sleep so profound as to seem like
enchantment. Beowulf alone remained awake, and that only by a mighty
effort. He watched the monster through his half-closed eyes, and saw
him stand gloating over his intended victims, uncertain with whom to
commence. At last he seemed to have made up his mind, for he hurled
himself upon one of the sleepers, whom he rapidly slew, drinking his
blood with evident eagerness and enjoyment. He turned next to Beowulf.
But the hero seized his outstretched arm in such a firm grip that he
bellowed with pain. And now began a terrible struggle between the man
and the demon. The hall trembled to its foundation, and threatened
every instant to fall in ruins. The sleepers awoke. They drew their
swords and fell upon the monster; but their weapons glanced harmlessly
off his scaly hide, and they were fain to take refuge in out-of-the-way
corners, that they might not be trampled under foot by the wrestlers.
At length Grendel had to acknowledge Beowulf’s mastery, and now only
strove to escape. With a mighty effort he succeeded in freeing himself
from the hero’s grasp, but at the price of one of his arms, which, torn
out at the socket, remained in his antagonist’s hands. Then, with a
howl of rage and pain, the demon fled back to his morass, leaving a
trail of blood to mark the path by which he had gone.
The Gothic hero stood in the middle of the vast hall, holding his
trophy in his right hand. The rays of the rising sun streamed in at the
window and lighted up his head as with a glory. His companions crowded
round him and greeted him with awe and reverence. Then he fastened the
trophy of his victory over the door of the hall, and, having done this,
he returned thanks to All-father for having given him strength to
withstand the monster. The warriors knelt round him and joined him in
his praise and thanksgiving.
When the Goths rose from their knees, they saw the king and his
courtiers assembled in the hall, gazing in astonishment, now at them,
and now at the monster’s arm over the doorway. They told Hrodgar all
that had happened during the night.
The king was at first too much amazed to speak, but recovering himself,
he desired his nephew, Hrodulf, to bring the gifts he had prepared to
reward the victor. The warrior soon returned with some servants bearing
the presents, which Hrodgar gave to Beowulf with many words of
gratitude for the service he had done him and the country. He then
prayed the Goth to stand his friend and his son’s friend as long as
they all should live.
After these things the king ordered a great feast to be prepared in
honour of the last night’s work. While this was being done, Hunford
came forward and said:
“Noble Beowulf, I wronged you yesterday evening by my scornful speech,
which I never would have made had I known what you were. Will you
accept my sword Hrunting? it was made by dwarfs, and the blade was
hardened in dragon’s blood, and, in taking it, will you grant me your
forgiveness and friendship?”
The two heroes shook hands in token of their reconciliation, and went
together to the feast.
When the feast was over, and the warriors sat over their wine-cups, the
minstrel sang of Beowulf’s victory over Grendel, and of the alliance
which had that day been concluded between the Goths and the Skiöldungs.
When the song was finished, Queen Walchtheov filled the goblets of all
present. To Beowulf she presented a golden cup, telling him to keep it
in remembrance of her, together with a ring and a necklace that she put
in his hand, saying they were the same that Hama (Heime) in the olden
time stole from the Brosing (Harlung?) treasure.
“Wear them,” she added, “for our sakes, but also for your own, that you
may come whole and victorious out of all the battles you will have to
fight during a long life.”
Beowulf thanked the queen in seemly fashion, and then the Lady
Walchtheov retired.
While the king and his men, and Beowulf and his friends, retired to the
royal apartments, beds were spread in the hall for many warriors, who,
no longer fearing a one-armed Grendel, had now flocked to the palace
and filled it to overflowing.
The night, however, was not to pass as quietly as was hoped.