XVII

Missing their friends, the warriors left
and scattered through Frisia, seeking their homes
and high fortresses. Hengest stayed on
companionless in Finn's dark hall
all through that death-stained winter,
dreaming of home. His ring-prowed ship
lay idle while the ice-locked sea
weltered in storm. At last the year
turned in the courtyards, as it does now,
bringing clear sunshine, and winter departed
from earth's fair face. Unhappy exile,
he yearned to leave, but vengeance for ills
haunted his thoughts more than the sea-lanes -
how he might stir that bitter encounter
the Jute-sons stored in their secret minds.
So when Hunlafing laid on his lap
the battle-bright sword, famed among Jutes
who knew its edge, he didn't refuse it.
And in his turn, Finn saw the sword-death
cruel in his house. Guthlaf and Oslaf,
Dane-men returning, told of their grief
and laid the blame. Hengest's anger
burst from his breast and reddened the hall
with his foes' lifeblood. Finn was slain,
the king and his men, and the queen was taken.
Scylding spearmen plundered the house
of every furnishing, every gem,
and burdened their ships with kingly treasure.
Then they ferried that noble lady
back to Denmark, back to her people.

The lay was sung, and mirth sprang high
over the bench-noise, wine was poured
from wondrous vessels. Golden-crowned,
Wealhtheow walked to where the good pair,
Hrothgar and Hrothulf, sat together. Then was each
to the other true, kinship unbroken.
Unferth sat at the feet of his king,
Hrothgar's spokesman, trusted still
in spirit and courage, although his sword
had shamefully sought his brother's blood.
Wealhtheow spoke then:
    "Take this cup,
my noble lord, giver of treasure, friend of men.
Be joyful now and speak kind words to the Geats
as men should do, mindful of gifts generously given.
I have been told that you want Beowulf to be your son.
Heorot is cleansed, the ring-hall bright now.
While you can, you should delight, open-handed
in all your blessings, and when it's time to meet your fate,
then leave the folk and kingdom to your kin.
I know your nephew, my gracious Hrothulf. If you should die,
Scylding Friend, before he does, he'll be true
to both our sons. If he remembers all we've done,
those youthful favours, he'll repay good with good."
			She turned to the bench
where her boys, Hrethric and Hrothmund, sat
with hero's sons; and Beowulf, that good man of the Geats,
sat between them.


Note: the irony here is that Hrothulf did indeed betray his brother
after he died, seizing the kingship for himself and killing
Wealtheow's sons. Hence the poet's dramatic contrasting of the trio of
Hrothulf, Hrothgar and the dubious Unferth with Beowulf and the two
sons of the king. Also, Wealtheow's speech is written in six stress
lines, which the bards shifted to for important passages; I've kind of
preserved it, mainly because it felt dramatically right, giving
emphasis to a woman's voice in this very male poem.

-- 
Editor, Masthead:  http://www.masthead.net.au
Blog: http://theatrenotes.blogspot.com
Home page: http://www.alisoncroggon.com