XVIIII
They sank into sleep. And one paid dearly
for his rest, just as when Grendel
before his downfall brought to the hall
his bloody crimes. Then it was clear
there lived an avenger, a war-stricken mother,
a woman monster brooding on misery.
Grendel's mother was doomed to live
under dread waters moved by chill currents
after Cain murdered his only brother.
Stained by crime, he fled warm pleasures
to live in the wild, and from him sprang
many dark spirits. One was Grendel,
the hated outlaw, who found at Heorot
a watchful man, ready for battle,
who grabbed him hard with God-given strength
and brought him down. Wretched and broken,
Grendel then sought his joyless deathbed.
And now his mother, raging and ravenous,
plotted savage revenge for her sorrow.
She came to Heorot, the sleeping hall,
and crept inside, scourge of misfortune.
The horror was lesser only as much
as women's war-fury pales besides
an armed man wielding a hammered blade
that runs with blood, just as he shears
the boar-crest from his enemy's helm.
Men snatched swords and war-bossed shields
as terror came on them, but she was in haste,
afraid for her life. She seized one thane
and fled for her fen. But he was the best
of Hrothgar's men, a renowned warrior
ripped from his rest. The uproar grew
when men saw that she took from its place
their grim trophy, the gory hand.
Thus sorrow was renewed in Heorot,
and a bad bargain paid in the lives
of friends of both peoples. You can imagine
the turbulence in the mind of the king,
that white-haired warrior, when he heard
of the death of his favourite. Beowulf was fetched
to his bower at daybreak. The noble champion
came with his company where the king waited,
hoping that elfish strength might turn
the course of sorrow. Beowulf strode
across the hall, his footsteps ringing
on naked wood, and asked the king,
the lord of the Ingwines, if this summons
meant he had spent a pleasant night.
--
Editor, Masthead: http://www.masthead.net.au
Blog: http://theatrenotes.blogspot.com
Home page: http://www.alisoncroggon.com
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