Beowulf is Back

After she had knocked out Gretza the Angel, Grendel’s Mother had sat for a long time and thought. She had pursued Beowulf half way across the known world and she was determined that this time, considering how far she had come and how lucky she had been to pick up his trail again; she must, finally, kill him. To that end she had tried to anticipate his actions. She was aware that he was intending to go into the Monastery and she had seen the carts being prepared to go down the hill. As it seemed likely that Beowulf must go that way, she had gone down the hill before him. She had found a smaller, steep path that ran directly down from the Monastery, through the forest, to the village. It rejoined the road, just before the last bend. There, she had made some preparations and settled down to wait.

  As the evening had gone on she had begun to become impatient; nothing seemed to be happening; perhaps he had changed his plan and would not come this way? Her anxiety had grown and she was close to abandoning her hiding place; but then she had smelt a faint aroma of smoke. She smiled to herself, he was on his way. She waited patiently for a few minutes and was then surprised to hear voices behind her; some people were coming down the path.

  ‘The Monastery’s burning pretty nicely now!’ she had heard a man say.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed a woman, ‘it is a pretty sight! Lewis will have to get it rebuilt once he is King. We’re going to need the money, aren’t we Dorf?’

  ‘This money is very, very heavy!’ asserted a second man, ‘Why can’t Caractacus carry some?’

  ‘Because otherwise I shall become tired and stop being so brainy,’ replied the first man, ‘let’s go and find a place to drink until Beowulf brings in the new King.’

  ‘I don’t trust him,’ said the woman.

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ thought Grendel’s Mother as she watched the three Britons, one of whom was carrying a large, heavy sack, walk past her hiding place and along the last stretch of road into the village.

  A few moments after that she had seen the carts and readied her ambush.

  Grendel’s Mother had prepared a trap that comprised of a huge, old moss covered log. It was clearly too heavy for a man to move, but she felt that she just might be able to manage it. She had hauled it up to a ridge that overlooked the last hairpin bend. Her intention was to push the log up and over the lip of a small depression, where it was now balanced, causing the log to roll down the hill so that it would either crush the cart completely, or at least sweep it off the road. Then she would be able to confront and destroy the hateful Beowulf. As soon as she had seen his cart leading the way down the mountain, she had bent her back and begun to push the massive log into position so that she could release it. She strained as she edged the huge weight up to the point where she could let go.

  For a moment she panicked. It was too heavy! She could not power the log over the edge. She looked over at the carts again. He was still coming. She would have to find the strength. She turned her back to the log and pushed her body underneath, using her powerful thighs to push and edge the log up the slope. She was sweating heavily. She concentrated all her energy and hatred; as a reward, she felt the log move a fraction. She pushed her aching legs and back harder and, little by little, she lifted the log to the lip.

  She paused for breath, with the weight of the log resting on her back. She could not now turn around and look at the track without letting the log slide back and so she listened, waiting for the sound of the lead donkey. When she heard it coming; that would be the moment. Then, she would strike.

  Grendel’s Mother clearly was not able to see Bull overtake Beowulf, or realise that Ironhead had greatly increased his speed; and so she heaved the log over the edge of the depression at the sound of Bull’s rather than Beowulf’s cart. In all other respects her plan went perfectly; the giant log bounced down the slope and struck Bull’s cart a huge crushing blow that ripped it away from Ironhead (who swung around and fell) and cleanly removed it from the road. The cart crashed through the trees, shedding guards as it fell. She turned just in time to see it disappear into the woods.

  Beowulf’s Mother let out a roar of triumph that died in her throat as she looked back at the road and saw Beowulf’s one-wheeled cart still creeping down the road towards the bend. The sight of this paralysed her as she tried to take it in.

  ‘How?’ she asked herself, and then realised that the question was irrelevant; he was still there!

  She let out another roar and began to run down the hill towards the cart.

  It was this sight that had distracted Naiman. He slowed Burro Rapido as the hugely angry Troll charged at the cart.

  ‘Save us! Eet ees a feend from Hell!’ wailed Pedro, as Grendel’s Mother approached the cart.

  ‘Not again,’ was Beowulf’s response; but he was already moving. After a quick glance downhill, he decided that there was some chance of the cart surviving the drop to the next straight patch of road, whereas there was no chance at all of defeating the enraged Troll. He decided to emulate D’Orbergene, and so he cut the reins and freed the cart.

  Offered freedom and faced with an onrushing Troll, Banshee turned and fled back up the road, picking her way through the fallen guards and pieces of wreckage from Heinrich’s cart. Beowulf’s one wheeled cart rolled on, but did not have sufficient speed to go over the edge. It came to rest just at the side of the road overlooking the drop.

  Beowulf groaned in frustration.

  Pedro shook with fear.

  Grendel’s Mother kept on coming and hit the cart so hard that she and it were flung down the slope.

  ‘Hold tight!’ he shouted, ‘this is going to hurt!’