Not Quite Beowulf

  The men cheered again. This time more confidently and they began to move off. The King and Beowulf waited while two horses were bought round. They then mounted and set off together to follow the marching soldiers, who seemed to be in good voice and quite happy at the prospect of burning and destroying.

  ‘I think this should proceed very smoothly,’ said Beowulf to the King, ‘The men will enjoy banging and burning. I think we should let them progress around the area for the whole of the morning before we call them back together for lunch at the lake.’

  ‘But what if they should discover the Troll, before then?’ asked Lars.

  ‘I think that is very unlikely. The Troll will hear them coming. Look here is the village.’

  Before Lars could ask more about what Beowulf meant, they were greeted by the villagers from where Grendel’s Mother had taken the body of Puck the Pot Boy. The villagers cheered the soldiers and shouted encouragement to them. Lars was gratified to be so well received and waved to the people.

  ‘See,’ whispered Beowulf, ‘the appearance is everything!’

  They rode on.

  Thwurp was in his element. He had organised braziers to supply a constant source of lighted brands, which he was happily distributing to soldiers with the considered military advice of ‘Burn the bastards out!’

  The men had warmed to the task and were setting fire to any vegetation or wood they could find. The dry grass by the lake had begun to burn well and a large black cloud was beginning to take shape and even overshadow the past pollution of the area. Some early problems, where the younger recruits had started setting fire to the trees in the Beer Hall orchard, had been sorted out and all of Thwurp’s men were concentrating on the destruction of what natural forest remained around the lake.

  Roscow was keeping pace with the achievements of Thwurp and his men were searching the piles of rubble and the ravines that had been created in the acquisition of building material for the Beer Hall. They had considerably less opportunities to start fires, but were compensating admirably by breaking or defacing anything they came across. They had a large selection of drums and trumpets and these concentrated on producing the loudest and most raucous sounds, as a way of maintaining their high morale and ‘putting fear in the opposition.’

  The villagers were inspired by such a well organised military expedition and abandoned their normal work to join the hunt for the ‘child-killing trolls.’ They formed a third group, armed with tools and their own burning brands. They mostly marched behind where the soldiers had been, to maximise their enjoyment and to minimise the risk of actually discovering the Troll.

  The only person not enjoying the morning’s hunting was Klug.

  Earlier, Beowulf had sent him with another message to the Queen, which he had delivered. She, in turn had given him a note for Beowulf and another for the banker. He had delivered both of these. The banker had nervously pocketed his missive and scuttled away. Beowulf had opened his, read it swiftly and then laughed happily.

  ‘Klug, we’ll soon have you sorted at this rate.’

  Then Beowulf had gone to join the hunt. Klug, having nothing else to do, had followed on behind. As the morning progressed Klug became more and more disgusted with the process. He had never claimed to be an ideal man or even a good man and nowadays he was convinced that he was a very bad man; ‘the lowest of the low!’ as his old mother would have said, if she had been there. But even he could see the stupidity and the brutality of the hunt. He realised that it served no purpose. The soldiers could not catch or trap anything; they were just engaged in random destruction. He wondered what Beowulf’s plan might be. He decided to keep following in order to see what happened.

  Also watching the hunt was Grendel’s Mother. She had woken refreshed and well in a thick, patch of undergrowth in an unharmed patch of the forest. She had got up and explored the area and, much to her surprise, she had discovered the lake that she had dreamt of the night before. As in the dream, she had drunk the lake water and felt invigorated. She realised that if she climbed the rocks to the side of the small waterfall then she would find herself on top of a small hill peak that overlooked the lake and the surrounding area. She had climbed, and when she reached the top she was appalled at the picture of destruction that greeted her.

  There were men, burning and destroying everywhere; cheering to each other to continue their senseless waste and destruction. It was as the voice had said in her dream; her time had run out. If she was to do anything to prevent the desecration of all that she loved, now was the time to act. Again, she was staggered by the difficulty of doing anything against so many, but compelled by the need to act before all was lost. She huddled down on the hill summit, looking for inspiration or an opportunity.

  King Lars was also growing tired of the senseless hunt. He could see that there was considerable vandalism going on and that the already inhospitable environment was being substantially degraded, but he could not see how this was helping to kill the troll.

  ‘I hope your plan produces some effect soon!’ he said, slightly huffily, to Beowulf, as they rode along.

  ‘Oh, it won’t, it won’t,’ said Beowulf breezily, ‘it has almost no chance of success. This is no way to hunt a troll at all!’

  He rode on. Lars spurred his horse to catch up.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he spluttered angrily.

  ‘This is no way to catch a troll. In fact, it is entirely the wrong way to go about catching a troll! If we were seriously hunting for trolls, we should have waited for nightfall, moved silently, used nets and traps. That is the correct way to hunt for trolls.’

  ‘Then what is the meaning of what we are doing? We are not catching the troll, nor are we finding out where it is. Why have you sent all the guards out? You will make us look like fools.’

  ‘I hope not.’ Beowulf replied, ‘I hate to look foolish. What we are doing this morning is restoring the troops’ morale and building confidence. We don’t need any of them really. After lunch I shall deal with the troll; alone, as has always been my plan.’

  Lars was now angry.

  ‘Then why have you not told me of the plan. I have been riding around on a wild goose chase all morning to no good point. You are supposed to be helping me, not wasting my time! Explain yourself!’

  Beowulf smiled.

  ‘I am helping you. Have you not noticed all the support from your people? Have you not seen how happy they are to be engaged in delivering themselves from the monster? They will remember that you organised this glorious hunt, which they have all enjoyed and later they will be able to celebrate because the troll will be dead.’

  ‘But you can’t be sure of this. We have not discovered the troll’s lair. If we cannot find it, we cannot kill it!’

  ‘I already know where it is,’ replied Beowulf smirking happily.

  ‘How?’ asked Lars in exasperation.

  ‘Study.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Floggorskrom’s guide to ‘non-human creatures of the world’ clearly describes the living habitats of trolls. I have been fortunate enough to read a copy, before I came. Trolls, Floggorskrom writes, fall into two categories, Mountain Trolls (trolska alpinia) who live in the high peaks and tend to dwell above the snowline, in shallow hollows, carved out of snow; and Lake Trolls (trolska laccasia) who live in naturally occurring caves, ‘usually entered below the surface of the lake.’

  ‘Now, you have no mountains to speak of; so my surmise is that we are not dealing with the former species, and the proximity of your lake to all known sightings of the Troll inclines me to the belief that we are dealing with trolska laccasia. Therefore, we will all shortly proceed to the lake, congratulate the troops on the mighty job they have done in driving the troll back to its lair in the lake. I will then set up some specialist equipment, before diving into the lake, locating the lair of the beast; wherein I shall engage it, bring it to the surface and kill it, using a specific technique that I have perfected over the years. Now this a
ll seems to be entirely in the spirit of our contract, if slightly eccentric in methodology. But you are the client. Is there any suggestion you would like to make as to how I might vary the plan to your greater advantage? If so, I am at your disposal.’

  He rode on leaving Lars staring at his back.

  ‘You’re mad!’ shouted Lars at the retreating hero.

  ‘Mad, bad and proud of it!’ replied Beowulf grinning, ‘shall we do lunch?’

  King Lars, Beowulf, the troops and the villagers gathered at the side of the lake for lunch. Beowulf had ordered supply wagons to meet them there with food and beer. This was very well received by the troops and villagers alike, and the good name of the generous and brave King Lars was often toasted, as was the name of the mighty hero Beowulf. The troops and villagers settled down to share the best meal they had seen for some time. They were tired and happy after their morning’s work and they were curious to see what form the next phase of the Troll Hunt would assume. They had lost their fear, as Beowulf had predicted; and they were feeling confident that they would prevail over their enemy, under the splendid leadership of King Lars and Beowulf.

  One of the wagons was a covered wagon that did not contain food, but a curious set of equipment that Beowulf’s most trusted men assembled under the direction of Roscow, while the others ate lunch. At first it seemed that there were a number of thick beams of wood and the more knowledgeable soldiers began to discuss the possibility that Beowulf was building a siege engine, catapult or trebuchet; however, this proved not to be the case. The beams of wood were joined together to create a square platform that was the size of a small room. Onto the platform Beowulf’s soldiers fixed shining wood blocks that formed pleasant symmetrical patterns.

  ‘Parquet flooring,’ explained Beowulf to a bemused King Lars, ‘very fashionable in France nowadays. I think it lends a certain elegance to proceedings.’

  When the entire area was finished it shone rather beautifully in the sun and Roscow declared that the next equipment could be brought in. This proved to be two large and very finely made padded, wooden chairs. Beowulf supervised the exact placing of these so that they were slightly off centre and almost adjacent to each other. He sat in one and beckoned Roscow to take the other.

  ‘Hello, good Troll,’ he said to Roscow, who laughed and replied in a impression of what he thought a Troll sounded like,

  ‘Me beat you very bad. Me mess up your face!’

  ‘Very nice,’ replied Beowulf, ‘almost done.’

  He then helped Roscow move a heavy cube shaped item that was covered in a protective sheet from the back of the covered wagon. He placed this item between the two chairs so that it was at arms length from where each party would sit. Then he unveiled it. It appeared to be low table carved from bone.

  ‘I’d call it Ivory,’ said Beowulf to Lars, ‘but that wouldn’t mean anything to you. And I’d call it a coffee table too, but you wouldn’t know what that was either.’

  ‘And this equipment will help you kill the Troll?’ asked Lars incredulously.

  ‘Couldn’t manage without it,’ replied Beowulf, who then appeared to reflect, ‘well perhaps I could, but it would be nowhere near as much fun.’

  He looked over the two chairs on their wooden platform by the side of the lake, ran a finger along the edge of the ivory table as if checking for dust and then gave a grunt of satisfaction.

  ‘One more piece of equipment to get and then I will be ready to explain the plan.’

  With this he disappeared into the back of the wagon and was gone for several minutes.

  When he emerged from the wagon; Lars, the soldiers and the peasants all burst out in a spontaneous gale of laughter. Beowulf had removed his armour and all his clothing. He was an unimpressive sight. The thought that this small, bald, naked man was about to destroy the creature that was the bane of their kingdom was too much to be taken seriously. Beowulf accepted their hilarity gracefully and appeared to be completely unembarrassed by his nakedness or their laughter. He walked over to the wooden platform, climbed up and turned to address Lars and the troops.

  The idea that a small naked man was about to address the army and the King produced a fresh round of laughter and Roscow was forced to stand up and lift his clenched fist to achieve silence. The crowd fell silent, partly due to fear of Roscow, but mostly to hear what the mad, naked man would say next. He did not disappoint them.

  ‘The Greeks venerated the naked form, you know,’ he began, ‘but then you probably don’t know that, and it is quite irrelevant to our purpose. And this is a purposeful mission upon which we are engaged.’

  He appeared to think for a moment and then began again.

  ‘Friends! Forgive my strange attire. I mean no disrespect to yourselves or to your King. I am merely equipped for the task I must now perform; killing the troublesome troll who has plagued your Majesty’s Beer Hall. Thank you for your help and cooperation up to this point. Under the manly direction of King Lars we have driven the beast to its lair beneath the lake. These creatures often have secret caves hidden beneath the waters where they think they will be safe from the long arm of the King’s justice, but today I will out the creature from its foxhole and slay it, here on this platform, before you, this afternoon.’

  ‘Now this is a difficult, dangerous and most of all, a delicate business and I shall need your assistance again. Not in an arduous practical way like this morning. I don’t need beaters, shouters, archers or spearmen. What I need is a quiet audience that is patient, respectful and obedient. Can you provide this?’

  The multitude was entranced.

  ‘Yes!’ they cried, although many of them did not understand the words that he had used at all. He continued,

  ‘What will happen is this: I will dive below the surface of the lake. I will be gone for some time, longer than you would think possible. In this time you must be quiet and wait. Do not make any noise, as this may disturb the beast and spoil the plan. You must also not worry. It may appear that I have been drowned or killed, but that will not be the case. You must remain calm.’

  ‘After a long time I will come to the surface of the lake and the Troll will follow me. THIS IS MOST IMPORTANT! You MUST NOT shout out, you MUST NOT try to harm the troll at all. No shooting, spearing or other attacks must be attempted or the troll may escape.’

  ‘When we come out of the water I will sit here,’ he gestured to one of the chairs, ‘And the troll will sit there.’ He pointed to the other chair.

  ‘We will talk for a long time. You may understand some of what we talk about, or you may not. The important thing is that you STAY QUIET and LISTEN! That is the only way that the plan will succeed. Is that all clear?’

  The crowd considered and were mumbling their acquiesce when Thwurp stepped forward and said,

  ‘I don’t see how any of this is killing the troll! Shouldn’t we stab, bludgeon or burn it as soon as it comes out. That seems a much sounder plan to me.’

  Beowulf waited, allowing Thwurp to feel a little foolish and uncomfortable.

  He then allowed himself a pained, yet sympathetic smile.

  ‘And in most cases, you would be absolutely right, dear Captain. I can see that your King chose you for your bravery and tactical acumen! Yes, stabbing, burning and bludgeoning are generally very effective methods of disposing of your enemy, however in this case there is a difference.’

  ‘What is that?’ asked Thwurp.

  ‘This,’ whispered Beowulf, ‘is a surprise attack.’

  ‘A surprise attack?’

  ‘A surprise attack. I will attack the creature, by surprise. You are by way of being a (very large) diversion. Need I say more?’ concluded Beowulf, ‘you are a military man.’

  ‘I am,’ replied Thwurp,’ not another word!’

  ‘Perfect,’ agreed Beowulf.

  ‘This is the plan again; in the simplest form that it can be. I dive into the lake. You wait quietly. I return with the troll. I sit here. It sits there. We talk. You
listen. I kill the troll. Are we all agreed?’

  The crowd nodded solemnly.

  ‘If anyone messes up, the Roscow will take their head off!’

  Roscow grinned evilly and brandished his sword. The crowd were very silent.

  ‘Well then,’ said Beowulf, ‘wish me luck!’

  And he turned and dived into the lake. The crowd sat quietly and waited.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In which Beowulf dives to the lair of the beast and pleasantries are exchanged.

  The crowd sat at the water’s edge and waited.

  Beowulf swam down into the depths of the lake, concentrating on looking for the kind of opening he had seen illustrated in Floggorskrom’s book. He had trained for a number of years to enable himself to hold his breath for a long time and his barrel chest was a testimony to the capacity of his lungs. He scanned the rocks and plants and eventually saw what he was looking for; a small outcrop of rock, next to a hollow that had obviously been enlarged. The front door! With a grin on his face, he swam down and disappeared into darkness.

 

  Gavin was sleepy. Grendel had not taken him to the surface that morning, due to the prolific activity of the men on the lakeshore. Grendel himself might have been able to swim up and escape into the bushes and gullies of the lakeshore, but Gavin would certainly have been detected. So they had stayed in. At first Gavin had felt lively and run around the cave, sniffing the lichen and barking, but by mid afternoon the poor quality of air and the lack of response from Grendel, who continued to fret about his mother had worn the poor dog down and he was feeling tired. He had just curled up in his favourite spot in the cave when he heard a splash at the entrance. He was instantly alert and noticed that Grendel was too. Grendel raised a large strong hand and Gavin obediently held his ground. They were ready to strike. Gavin felt a low, soft growl gather in the back of his throat. He felt his muscles tense. He felt the strength of his claws and jaws and waited for a movement to trigger his spring. He was therefore surprised when no one entered the cave. The seconds stretched out, until he heard a cheerful voice call.