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That Herot w o u l d be his to command. A n d thenHe declared:385'"No one strange to this landHas ever been granted what I've given you,N o one i n all the years of my rule.Make this best o f all mead-halls yours, and thenKeep i t free of evil, fight390 W i t h glory i n your heart! Purge HerotA n d your ship w i l l sail home w i t h its treasure-holds full." . . .The feast ends. Beowulf and his men take the place ofHrothgar's followers and lie down to sleep in Herot.Beowulf, however, is wakeful, eager to meet his enemy.The Battle with Grendel83954oo4054io415420Out f r o m the marsh, f r o m the f o o t of mistyHills and bogs, bearing God's hatred,Grendel came, hoping to killAnyone he could trap o n this trip to high Herot.He moved quickly through the cloudy night,Up f r o m his swampland, sliding silentlyToward that gold-shining hall. He had visited Hrothgar'sHome before, k n e w the way—But never, before nor after that night,Found Herot defended so firmly, his receptionSo harsh. He journeyed, forever joyless,Straight to the door, then snapped i t open,Tore its i r o n fasteners w i t h a touch,A n d rushed angrily over the threshold.He strode quickly across the inlaidFloor, snarling and fierce: His eyesGleamed i n the darkness, burned w i t h a gruesomeXLight. T h e n he stopped, seeing the hallCrowded w i t h sleeping warriors, stuffedW i t h rows of young soldiers resting together.A n d his heart laughed, he relished the sight,Intended to tear the life f r o m those bodiesBy morning; the monster's m i n d was hotW i t h the thought of f o o d and the feasting his bellyWould soon know. But fate, that night, intendedGrendel to gnaw the broken bonesO f his last human supper. HumanEyes were watching his evil steps,Waiting to see his swift hard claws.3 2 T H E ANGLO-SAXONSBronze coin showing awarrior killing a monster.
425430435440445450455460465Grendel snatched at the first GeatHe came to, ripped h i m apart, cutHis body to bits w i t h p o w e r f u l jaws,Drank the blood f r o m bis veins, and boltedH i m d o w n , hands and feet; deathA n d Grendel's great teeth came together,Snapping life shut. Then he stepped to anotherStill body, clutched at Beowulf w i t h his claws,Grasped at a strong-hearted w a k e f u l sleeper— A n d was instantly seized himself, clawsBent back as Beowulf leaned u p o n one arm.That shepherd of evil, guardian o f crime,K n e w at once that nowhere o n earthHad he met a man whose hands were harder;His m i n d was flooded w i t h fear—but nothingCould take his talons and himself f r o m that tightHard grip. Grendel's one thought was to r u nFrom Beowulf, flee back to his marsh and hide there:This was a different Herot than the hall he had emptied.But Higlac's follower remembered his finalBoast and, standing erect, stoppedThe monster's flight, fastened those clawsI n his fists till they cracked, clutched GrendelCloser. The infamous killer foughtFor his freedom, wanting no flesh but retreat,Desiring nothing but escape; his clawsHad been caught, he was trapped. That t r i p to HerotWas a miserable journey for the w r i t h i n g monster!The high hall rang, its r o o f boards swayed,A n d Danes shook w i t h terror. D o w nThe aisles the battle swept, angryA n d w i l d . Herot trembled, w o n d e r f u l l yBuilt to withstand the blows, the strugglingGreat bodies beating at its beautiful walls;Shaped and fastened w i t h iron, insideA n d out, artfully worked, the buildingStood firm. Its benches rattled, fellTo the floor, gold-covered boards gratingAs Grendel and Beowulf battled across them.Hrothgar's wise men had fashioned HerotTo stand forever; only fire,They had planned, could shatter w h a t such skill had p u tTogether, swallow i n h o t flames such splendorOf ivory and iron and w o o d . SuddenlyThe sounds changed, the Danes startedI n n e w terror, cowering i n their beds as the terribleScreams of the Almighty's enemy sangI n the darkness, the horrible shrieks o f painA n d defeat, the tears t o r n out o f Grendel'sBEOWULF33
470 Taut throat, hell's captive caught i n the armsOf h i m w h o of all the m e n on earthWas the strongest.That mighty protector o f m e nMeant to h o l d the monster till its lifeLeaped out, k n o w i n g the fiend was no use475 To anyone i n Denmark. A l l of Beowulf'sBand had j u m p e d f r o m their beds, ancestralSwords raised and ready, determinedTo protect their prince if they could. Their courageWas great b u t all wasted: They could hack at Grendel480 From every side, trying to openA path for his evil soul, but their pointsiCould not h u r t h i m , the sharpest and hardest ironCould not scratch at his skin, f o r that sin-stained demonHad bewitched all men's weapons, laid spells485 That blunted every mortal man's blade.A n d yet his time had come, his daysWere over, his death near; d o w nTo hell he w o u l d go, swept groaning and helplessTo the waiting hands of still worse fiends.490 N o w he discovered—once the afflictorOf men, tormentor o f their days—what i t meantTo feud w i t h Almighty God: GrendelSaw that his strength was deserting h i m , his clawsBound fast, Higlac's brave follower tearing at495 His hands. The monster's hatred rose higher,But his p o w e r had gone. He twisted i n pain,A n d the bleeding sinews deep i n his shoulderSnapped, muscle and bone splitA n d broke. The battle was over, Beowulf500 Had been granted n e w glory: Grendel escaped,But w o u n d e d as he was could flee to his den,His miserable hole at the b o t t o m o f the marsh,Only to die, to wait f o r the endOf all his days. A n d after that bloody505 Combat the Danes laughed w i t h delight.He w h o had come t o t h e m f r o m across the sea,Bold and strong-minded, had driven afflictionOff, purged Herot clean. He was happy,Now, w i t h that night's fierce work; the Danes5io Had been served as he'd boasted he'd serve them; Beowulf,W O R D STO O W Ntaut (tot) adj.: stretched tight.sinews (sin'yooz) . pi: tendons or connective tissues.n3 4 T H E ANGLO-SAXONSEagle shield ornament (7th century).Sutton Hoo ship treasure.British Museum, London.3 Mi
A prince o f the Geats, had killed Grendel,Ended the grief, the sorrow, the sufferingForced on Hirothgar's helpless peopleBy a bloodthirsty fiend. No Dane doubted515 The victory, f o r the proof, hanging highFrom the rafters where Beowulf had hung it, was the monster'sArm, claw and shoulder and all.10520525530535540A n d then, i n the morning, crowds surroundedHerot, warriors coming to that hallFrom faraway lands, princes and leadersOf men hurrying t o behold the monster'sGreat staggering tracks. They gaped w i t h n o senseOf sorrow, felt no regret f o r his suffering,Went tracing his bloody footprints, his beatenA n d lonely flight, t o the edge o f the lakeWhere he'd dragged his corpselike way, doomedA n d already weary o f his vanishing life.The water was bloody, steaming and boilingI n horrible pounding waves, heatSucked f r o m his magic veins; b u t the swirlingSurf had covered, his death, hiddenDeep i n murky darkness his miserableEnd, as hell opened to receive h i m .Then o l d and young rejoiced, turned backFrom that happy pilgrimage, mounted their hard-hoovedHorses, high-spirited stallions, and rode t h e mSlowly toward Herot again, retellingBeowulf's bravery as they jogged along.A n d over and over they swore that nowhereO n earth or under the spreading skyOr between the seas, neither south nor n o r t h ,Was there a warrior w o r t h i e r to rule over men.(But no one meant Beowulf's praise to belittleHrothgar, their k i n d and gracious king!) . . .Detail of picture stone from Larbro,Gotland, Sweden.Grendel's monstrous mother, in grief for her son, nextattacks Herot, and in her dripping claws she carries off oneman—Hrothgar's closest friend. The monster also carries offGrendel's arm, which Beowulf had hung high from therafters. Beowulf is awakened and called for again. In one ofWORDSTO O W Nmurky (mtrk'e) adj.: shadowy,pilgrimage (pil'grim-ij) n.: journey made to a place of religious or historical interest.BEOWULF 3 5
NOVELIn his novel Grendel (1971), the contemporary American writer JohnGardner (1933-1982) retells part of BeoWfTrom the point of oe monster In this excerpt, Grendel tells his own version of oneof his raids on Hrothgar's hall.from' «i\IID\lllGrendelJohn GardnerI sigh, sink into the silence, and cross i t likespeaks.) "Don't ask!" I t must be some terriblew i n d . Behind my back, at the world's end m ysecret, I used to think. I'd give her a craftypale shghtly glowing fat mother sleeps on 'oldsquint. She'll tell me, i n time, I thought. But shesick at heart, i n our dingy underground r o o m 't o l d me nothing. I waited on. That was beforeLrfe-bloated, baffled, long-suffering hag. Guilty,the old dragon, calm as winter, unveiled theshe imagines, of some unremembered, perhapstruth. He was not a friend.ancestral crime. (She must have some humanA n d so I come through trees and towns toin her.) N o t that she thinks. N o t that she disthelights o f Hrothgar's meadhall. I am nosects and ponders the dusty mechanical bits o fstrangerhere. A respected guest. Eleven yearsher miserable life's curse. She clutches at me i nnowandgoing on twelve I have come up thisher sleep as i f to crush me. I break away. "Whyclean-mown central hill, dark shadow out o fare w e here?" I used to ask her. "Why do w ethewoods below, and have knocked politelystand this putrid, stinking hole?" She tremblesonthehigh oak door, bursting its hinges andat m y words. Her fat lips shake. "Don't ask-"sending the shock o f m y greeting inward like aher wiggling claws implore. (She nevercold blast out of a cave. "GrendeH" theythe most famous verses in the epic, the old kingwhere Grendel and his mother live.describes11545 ; "y Jive i n secret places, w i n d yCliffs, wolf-dens where water poursT n eFrom the rocks, then runs underground, where mistSteams like black clouds, and the groves o f treesGrowmg out over their lake are all covered550 W i t h frozen spray, and w i n d d o w n snakelikeRoots that reach as far as the waterAnd help keep i t dark. A t night that lakeBurns like a torch. N o one knows its b o t t o mNo w i s d o m reaches such depths. A deer36 T H E ANGLO-SAXONS
squeak, and I smile like exploding spring. Theold Shaper, a man I cannot help but admire,goes out the back window with his harp at asingle bound, though blind as a bat. The drunkest of Hrothgar's thanes come reeling andclanking down from their wall-hung beds, allshouting their meady, outrageous boasts, theirheavy swords aswirl like eagles' wings. "Woe,woe, woe!" cries Hrothgar, hoary with winters,peeking in, wide-eyed, from his bedroom inback. His wife, looking in behind him, makes ascene. The thanes in the meadhall blow out thelights and cover the wide stone fireplace withshields. I laugh, crumple over; I can't help myself. In the darkness, I alone see clear as day.While they squeal and screech and bump intoeach other, I silently sack up my dead and withdraw to the woods. I eat and laugh and eat untilI can barely walk, my chest-hair matted withdribbled blood, and then the roosters on thehill crow, and dawn comes over the roofs of thehouses, and all at once I am filled with gloomagain."This is some punishment sent us," I hearthem bawling from the hill.My head aches. Morning nails my eyes."Some god is angry," I hear a woman keen."The people of Scyld and Herogar and Hrothgar are mired in sin!"My belly rumbles, sick on their sour meat. Icrawl through bloodstained leaves to the eavesof the forest, and there peak out. The dogs fallsilent at the edge of my spell, and where theking's hall surmounts the town, the blind oldShaper, harp clutched tight to his fragile chest,stares futilely down, straight at me. Otherwisenothing. Pi s root dully at the posts of awooden fence. A rumple-horned ox lies chewing in dew and shade. A few men, lean, wearing animal skins, look up at the gables of theking's hall, or at the vultures circling casuallybeyond. / Hrothgar says nothing, hoarfrostbearded', his features cracked and crazed. Inside, I Jiear the people praying—whimpering,whinin/g, mumbling, pleading—to their numerous sticks and stones. He doesn't go in. Theking has lofty theories of his own."Theories," I whisper to the bloodstainedground. So the dragon once spoke. ("They'dmap out roads through Hell with their crackpottheories!" I recall his laugh.)Then the groaning and praying stop, and onthe side of the hill the dirge-slow shovelingbegins. . . .555 Hunted through the woods by packs of hounds,A stag with great horns, though driven through the forestFrom faraway places, prefers to dieOn those shores, refuses to save its lifeIn that water. It isn't far, nor is it560 A pleasant spot! When the wind stirsAnd storms, waves" splash toward the sky,As dark as the air, as black as the rainThat the heavens weep. Our only help,Again, lies with you. Grendel's mother565 Is hidden in her terrible home, in a placeYou've not seen. Seek it, if you dare! Save usOnce more, and again twisted gold,Heaped-up ancient treasure, will reward youFor the battle you win!"Gundestrup cauldron.National Museum, Copenhagen.toss:BEOWULF 3 7
Were over, his deat nearh dow; n To hell he would go, swept groaning and helpless To the waiting hands of still worse fiends. 490 Now h discovered—once thee afflictor Of men, tormentor of their days—what it meant To feud with Almighty God : Gr
