Chapter 4: So, He Had A Mother Then?
Jamie stood on the footpath of Wimbledon Parkside and looked across at the old windmill on the Common. He whistled and glanced around, hoping that no-one was watching as Dhoo left his scent on the wall that separated the Parkside houses from the main road. Dhoo finished, scratched up the sparse autumn grass and then winked at Jamie, letting him know that it was time for his Sunday afternoon walk on the Common. Jamie took a final look at the mock Georgian elegance of Parkside before tugging on the dog's lead.
Once they crossed the road, Jamie walked up Windmill Road until they were clear of the trees, he then stood by the track used by the horse riders and bent down to let Dhoo off his lead. The whippet gave the boy a big lick on his face and then ran off to sniff and snuffle the clumps of grass on the heath. With the weak sun trying vainly to break through the clouds, the boy followed the meandering dog as it sniffed, ran and then stopped, all the time searching for rabbits or squirrels to chase. By fits and starts they headed towards Jerry's Hill on the Putney Heath. Dhoo found something interesting to roll in, but instead of stopping him, as he should have, Jamie left him alone, for in the distance he saw a group of youngsters hassling someone. Jamie squinted up his eyes. He thought he could make out Grimm's old white cloak. He looked for his dog.
'Dhoo? Come on, hurry.' Jamie ran off towards the group of people. Dhoo got up and shook himself. He sat and gave the boy a good head start, as he knew he could easily run him down.
As he got closer, Jamie slowed down for, although he recognised school bully Troy Howell and three of his cronies, he saw that their victim was not the old man at all, but a sprightly young man. Although the man had his back to Jamie, he could see that he had a long staff, just like the old man had, but there the similarity ended. The young man's cloak was shining white, with shimmering bright gold embroidery along its edges in a square pattern, and his bare head was crowned with a bobbed crop of light golden hair. The young man stood with no stoop and had his shoulders thrown back, his cloak flung over his left shoulder shewing a bright blue shirt that that was heavily embroidered. Interwoven in the red and yellow silk on the collar was red gold and the edge of his sleeve had a swirling pattern of red gold and silver.
Jamie stopped and watched; Dhoo sat at his heels, panting. Troy and his mates had sticks and were jabbing them at the man. Suddenly, the young man swung his staff high and then brought it down on the nearest thug's wrist, he then stepped forward, spun the staff over arm and hit a second thug on his right arm, another step forward and the staff slid through his hands and the end of it was thrust into a third thug's stomach. Jamie saw Troy run at the young man's back, a stout stick held high, aimed at the man's head. Jamie gave a yell and started running. Suddenly Troy crunched down in a heap as the young man, without turning round, thrust the staff backwards and jammed it between his assailant's legs. By the time Jamie arrived, Troy and his mates had hobbled off into the woods, the thug who had been poked in the stomach still retching as he went. The young man shook his golden head and bent down to retrieve something lying on the ground.
'Well,' said Grimm the old man, as he stood up and dusted off the dirt on his battered pointed hat, 'that was easily sorted, wasn't it Leofwine my young æþeling.'
'Grimm?' Jamie was confused. 'Is that you Grimm? I thought it was a young man who fought off Troy Howell and his hoods.'
'Ah,' exclaimed Grimm. 'I was the young man, now I am the old man.' He put on his hat and gave a look that told Jamie that that was all the explanation he was going to get. 'Come with me to my camp. I shall tell you the rest of Beowulf's story.'
With Dhoo first trailing behind them and then running ahead, Jamie and Grimm passed a large grassy mound and then entered the woods behind it. A little way in there was a low hut made of woven branches and covered with turf; in front of it was the remains of a small fire. Grimm sat down and waved Jamie to do the same. 'A nice hound you have my young and dear friend.'
'A whippet. Do you know the breed?' Jamie pushed Dhoo away as the dog tried to lick his face.
'A small greyhound. Do you go to Wimbledon Stadium and watch the big greyhounds race there?' Grimm prodded the grey ashes of the fire until he found a red glow and started to feed it leaves and twigs.
'You can't go and watch the dog racing until you are eighteen. I go there to watch the speedway though, when I haven't too much homework that is.' Jamie contributed twigs of his own until the fire caught.
'Speedway is?' quizzed Grimm.
'Motorcycles, very stripped down motorcycles.' Jamie turned round and found a small branch behind him. He pulled it forward so that he could start to break it up for the fire.
'They let you watch motorcycle racing, which can be dangerous, but not hound racing, which isn't? The more I see of today's world, the less I understand it.' Grimm took the branch from Jamie and broke it on his knee. 'I suggest that you keep your hound close. My own hairy hoard hunters are off at present, but they won't take too kindly to finding a strange hound in my company if they come back before you leave.' Grimm threw the broken pieces of wood onto the fire and the flames licked hungrily round them.
Jamie dug in his pocket and produced two Mars Bars; he offered one to the old man. 'My tribute Grimm.' Jamie put his hand into his jacket, pulled out a small plastic bottle, and proffered it to Grimm. 'Dandelion and burdock, the label says that it is natural.'
'Thank you, but I have my own drink donated by the good folk at the "Hand in Hand" public house. Wonderful stuff, it comes from the Ram Brewery in Wandsworth.'
'I've seen the horses and dray they use for deliveries,' commented Jamie as he undid the lid of the bottle and heard a satisfying "hiss" as he did so.
'I recently visited them you know. I asked them if the reason that they kept still kept horses was so that they could lant their beer.' Grimm commented as he pulled forward his old leather bag from inside the low hut and rummaged around inside it until he produced a cow's horn.
'Lant?' asked Jamie, before taking a swig of his drink.
'Yes, you know, adding urine to strengthen the beer.' Grimm then produced a stone crock and proceeded to pour its contents into his drinking horn.
Jamie gagged on his drink and then spluttered the contents of his mouth out onto the ground.
'You don't like the idea?' Grimm asked, wiping his moustache with the back of his hand. 'You youngsters today are very hard to understand; you really are. What is wrong with lanting beer pray?'
'It's dirty!' exclaimed Jamie, thankful that he had brought his own drink on this occasion.
'No it's not, the fluid has been filtered, albeit through some creature's kidneys. All right, let's leave the drink alone and feast on these treats you have brought for our food.' With that Grimm bit into his Mars Bar and started contentedly chewing.
Jamie looked at his watch to see how long he could safely stay with the old man before he had to start off for home and was happy to see that he had at least an hour to spare. 'Grimm?' Jamie's voice had a slight whine to it, 'Can you tell me more of Beowulf? I have to complete the project tonight ready for school tomorrow.'
Grimm folded the torn wrapper of the Mars Bar over the remaining stump of the Bar and carefully stowed it away in his leather bag. 'Where were we? Ah yes, Grendel quite armless and Beowulf, his Geats and the Danes all legless after celebrating Beowulf's great feat.' Grimm picked up his drinking horn, re-filled it and then tossed the contents down his throat. 'They didn't turn their noses up at lanted ale or beer young Leofwine; they were heroes!' The old man flicked the empty horn into the hut. 'Well, the fools thought that that was that didn't they. One monster with his arm ripped off and it was all done. They rode off on their horses towards the fen, following the trail of Grendel's blood. I was already there, waiting for them as they came to the edge of the mere. They looked so pleased with themselves and one of the Danes was already making up verses glorifying Beowulf and his battle with Grendel, no doubt expecting to get a gold arm ring or three
from Beowulf in exchange.' Grimm stopped staring into the fire and gazed at Jamie, 'Heroes like to hear stories about themselves; they prefer it to gold and silver. "Cattle die, kindred die, every man must die.
But word-fame never dies, For those who earn it well."'
'Who said that?' asked Jamie feeding his Mars Bar wrapper into the fire.
'I did, silly,' replied Grimm.
'Not now, silly. Then, silly,' Jamie shook his head and picked up his dandelion and burdock for another drink.
'Young man, you are pushing your luck,' Grimm's voice dropped to a snake's hiss and his one eye blazed. 'I have said many things over the years, including that. I have also said "With a good man it is good to talk; make him your fast friend: but waste no words on a witless oaf, nor sit with a senseless ape!"'
Jamie looked abashed and mumbled 'Sorry.'
'Just remember young lordling,' Grimm continued in a hiss,' I have said many things and most of them true. I have said "To ask well, to answer rightly, these are the marks of a wise man". Note it well.'
'I said I was sorry Grimm,' Jamie whined.
'Don't over do the whining æþeling, it does not become you.' Grimm took to looking at the fire again. After a moment or two of collecting his thoughts, he continued. 'They looked so pleased with themselves, laughing and boasting about what had happened in the hall. They didn't see me at first, but a horse, especially a white one like the horse Beowulf was on, will never pass me by without stopping and greeting me. I warned them that all was not done, and that rather than drinking and celebrating the coming night, they should be sharpening their blades and tightening the straps on their shields. Did they listen? No,' Grimm looked sharply at Jamie. 'They were like you, laughing and mocking an old man. They went to ride away, but I told their horses not to. It was then that they started to understand who I was, but before they could ask any questions, I left.' The old man put some more bits of wood on the fire, which had started die down. Once he was satisfied with the blaze, Grimm gathered himself together and looked into the fire. 'They may have pondered my words on the ride back to Heorot, Hrothgar's hall, but they were young and brave and over sure of themselves, as all young men are and when it came to that night it was, "party time", all over again with drinking, eating.'
'…. and boasting' proffered Jamie, hoping to get back into Grimm's good books.
'Yes Leofwine, and boasting, and story telling. The King and Lady saw me at one of the lower mead benches and sent me down a horn of their finest and a whole leg of pork, complete with its crackling, wonderful, so wonderful with the fat all dripping out. They fed me, but there were no gifts this time, they were for the heroes. Myself I think that Hrothgar went over the top with gifts to Beowulf and his men. The byrnie and helmet for Beowulf was fine, a sword of renowned, well all right, but eight horses each? How he expected them to get them on their ship and take them home I have no idea. Even Wælþeow gave Beowulf a gift, a treasured collar of gold and jewels. It had once belonged to Beowulf's uncle, a fierce warrior and dreaded raider called Hygelac; naturally he had stolen it from someone else. Old Hygelac had got too clever for his own good in the end and got him and his fleet trapped by the Franks at the mouth of the Rhine. Young Beowulf really did prove himself a hero that day, killing the Frankish champion and many others besides, but he couldn't stop his uncle and most of the Geats getting slaughtered. Beowulf only got away by swimming with the few other survivors to their ships. Maybe I shouldn't have told the Franks where the Geats were, but I do so love to see a good fight.' The old man sighed and pulled his cloak closer, shuddering despite his nearness to the fire. 'Now Beowulf had the collar back. Lots more drinking and eating, a bit of dancing and singing, a couple of half decent fist fights, and they were all ready for bed.' Grimm lifted his bright eye to Jamie, 'They may have been asleep,' he whispered in such a chilling way that Dhoo crept closer to Jamie and looked at the boy for re-assurance. 'But elsewhere another was not.'
Jamie pulled back and waited for the old man to continue what promised to be a frightening addition to the story, but instead Grimm turned and pulled his bag forward and commenced to rummage in it until he triumphantly produced a squashed white paper bag. He split the bag open to reveal what appeared to be a mangled meat pie of uncertain age.
'Grimm?' prompted Jamie, as the old man concentrated on removing bits of mould from the pastry. 'The story, please?'
'You are whining again Leofwine. If you are indeed to live up to your rank of æþeling, you will have to learn to stop whining. You should "command".' Grimm took an exploratory nibble of the very flat pie before putting it down on the ground and looking studiously at it. 'Though I suggest you don't try commanding me, it is not appropriate.'
Dhoo saw the pie and started to dribble. After checking that Jamie was looking at Grimm, the dog started to edge forward, but Jamie caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and caught Dhoo's collar before he managed to get his long tongue within reach of the dried pie. 'I won't "command", but can I "ask well"?'
'Ah, so you are listening little drighten, and before you ask, that means lord. Not only listening, but learning!' Grimm picked up the pie and threw it to Dhoo, who went off to eat his prize in peace.
Jamie checked the time, but found he still had over an hour before he had to leave. 'Then I ask you, as a "good man" and a "fast friend", to continue Grimm.'
'Very good Leofwine, very good. To continue then: the hall called Heorot was full, for despite it only being two nights since Beowulf had so successfully arm wrestled Grendel, an amazing number of thegns had returned. All of them spoke of how their wives had miraculously recovered from their illness or their dear old father had decided not to die after all. There were bodies all over the place. The King and the Lady had their own room, naturally, and the women their bower. Beowulf and his Geats had been given a sleeping hut of their own, now that they were the Danish King's champions. The other men slept wherever in the hall they could find space to roll themselves in their cloaks, for those who thought themselves heroes had already claimed the sleeping benches along the walls.' Grimm's voice dropped to a whisper, 'As it grew darker, on that moonless night, and the temperature fell, Grendel's avenger came, sniffing along the fence line, seeking a sentry to kill and eat. After that light snack it moved on, looking for richer prey in Heorot itself. The foul smelling creature eased up to the great golden hart doors and tested them; they opened quietly on well-greased hinges. Looking around the monster saw a man with rich clothes and many jewels and rings.' Grimm's voice was now so quiet that Jamie had to lean forward to catch what was being said. 'Bending down the creature eased the man towards itself, catching its arms under its victim's. Carefully, so carefully, the wealthy thegn was moved towards the now open door.' Grimm put his head alongside Jamie's left ear. 'Now and again a man muttered in his sleep or lifted his leg to break wind, and each time the monster stopped dragging its sleeping victim. Softly, very softly, the monster reached the door and then….' Grimm took a deep breath, 'THE DOOR FLEW OPEN WITH A GREAT BANG AS A TREMENDOUS GUST OF WIND CAUGHT IT,' he yelled at the top of his voice.
'AHHHHHHH,' Jamie screamed, standing up and almost knocking Grimm over in the process. Dhoo dropped the remains of the pie and ran snarling towards Grimm, ready to defend his young master.
Grimm rolled on the ground laughing his head off, doubled up with pleasure, with Dhoo barking and yapping all around him. Finally he pulled himself together, wiped the tears from his eyes and sat up. 'Oh, Leofwine, your face, oh my. But you are in good company, every time I tell that part of the story the listeners fall for the trick, yes every time. Why I remember King Alfred dropping a valuable glass goblet and smashing it to smithereens when I did it to him! Oh dear, such an easy trick, but it really, really works every time.'
'Very funny Grimm, ha, ha.' Jamie put a finger in his ear and wiggled it about, trying to stop the ringing sound in his head.
'Well the thegn who was being dragged out didn't find it very funny, for the
monster, now being exposed to a hall full of angry men, albeit somewhat drunk and very tired men, bit his head straight off and headed for the fen taking the corpse with it.' Grimm leant forward and beckoned Jamie to lean forward. Jamie was reluctant at first, but finally conceded and leant to listen to Grimm. 'There was a lot of noise and scrambling around as the men picked up swords and spears and grabbed their shields, by the time they got outside the monster was well away. They did notice one thing though, as the creature went over the skyline. It was a female monster, it was Grendel's mother!' Grimm leant back and smiled. 'Now wasn't that a turn up for the books?'
'But I knew it would be Grendel's mother, I've read the poem,' Jamie said with a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
'You did? Oh, I wasn't sure if the version you had heard was the true one or not.' Grimm looked nonplussed.
'There is only one version, apart from your version. There is only one written copy of the poem. The poem is the only complete story we have in Old English. Mr Watson says ….'
'Well, only one written version may still exist, but trust me, there are, or have been, many versions of the story of Beowulf, each version tweaked to suit the people it was being told to.' Grimm patted the still yapping Dhoo on the head and stilled him. 'So, you know that the monster was Grendel's mother. Most folk, King Alfred included, said "So, he had a mother then?" for they assumed that he was an evil spirit or some such. Do you want me continue? Or will you tell me that you know the rest of the tale and that you need to go home.'
Jamie again checked his watch and found that there was still over an hour spare. 'Your version is better than that in the book, please finish it for me Grimm.'
'Good, flattery gets you everywhere. I will continue.' Grimm pointed Dhoo in the direction of the bits of remaining pie and gave him a gentle push. The old man returned to poking the fire 'Beowulf and his boys heard all the noise and came over to see what was happening. Well, for once the truth: they were sound asleep and wouldn't have heard a thing except that I had been banging on the door of their hut in the hopes that they would catch Mrs Grendel whilst she was still in the hall, for that would have been very amusing. Anyway, late as always, in the hall they came, adding to the confusion of yelling men, yapping dogs, and weeping women. Old King Hrothgar gave them the bad news that he had forgotten to tell them that there was more than one big bad bogeyman out there in the fen; it may have been one monster down, but there was still one monster to go! Next morning the Geats and the braver Danes went off with Beowulf to find where Grendel's mummy lurked. The less brave Danes all suddenly received urgent news that their wives, mothers, fathers, children, etc had suddenly become ill, or were dying, or both, and promptly left.' Grimm poked the fire with a stick and then fed it some wood. 'In the middle of the fen, there was an island. You must realise, of course, that the fens are wetlands; it was an island of solid ground in a marsh, not an island in a lake. They could see where the monster had dragged the rich thegn's body. They left their horses as soon as the ground got too soft and followed the tracks across the sinking mire. Beowulf dropped his sword and it sank into the dark brackish waters leaving only a tracery of bubbles to shew where it had gone. Old Unferth, at my prompting, lent Beowulf his own blade, Hrunting. A family heirloom that. Normally he wouldn't have let it out of his grip, let alone his sight, but I suggested that Hrothgar might expect him, as his spokesman, to lead the fight against the monster. If, however, he didn't have a sword, he couldn't be expected to fight the monster, thus he could avoid a fight he was going to lose and yet not get blamed for avoiding it!' Grimm looked up from his fire poking and smiled mischievously at Jamie, 'I can be very cunning at times, as you will see. That old fool Unferth had crossed my purposes more than once, so he needed a lesson.'
'The sword, or blade as you call it; it had a name. Was that usual?' Jamie tossed a handful of small pieces of wood into the fire as his contribution.
'Oh yes, especially the famous ones. Particularly the pattern welded or snake blades. Sigimunð's was "Gram" but he broke it, his son, Sigifrið, owned it too after it was re-forged, he also used Fafnir's blade "Hrotti" after he cut that old dragon's heart out with another blade called, "Riðill", Hereward's was "Brain Biter", Wendlewulf's was "Red Mist", oh and lots more. Yes a good blade has to have a good name, if it is to be of any worth. But you distract me. Let us get back to the story: the going wasn't easy, you see they had to battle not only the bog, which was hard going for men in full war gear, mail coats, boar crested helmets and all, but they also had to fight off attacks from the Grendel folk. It wasn't only Grendel's mother who lived on that low island in the fen. Oh no, there were big Grendels and little Grendels popping up everywhere. The Geats and Danes had their hands well and truly full beating them off. They knew only the path that Grendel's mother had created as she dragged her dead Danish dinner to the island; the Grendel kin knew the fens well and used the secret paths to attack the war band. But force of arms won out and one by one the Grendels were killed. The problem for Beowulf was that, by the time he reached the island, he was alone.' Grimm stopped poking the fire, got the remains of the Mars Bar from his bag, and took a bite. 'I was just behind him, but he didn't see me. This was the chance for seeing something special as far as fights go, so I wasn't going to miss it if it could be avoided.' Grimm delicately picked a flake of chocolate from his beard and put it in his mouth. 'Beowulf was getting edgy, and who in their right mind wouldn't, for a warrior needs a companion to guard his back. I think he might have turned back and left, if I hadn't coughed. Once he knew that I had seen him, he knew he couldn't back off. I mean, a hero who boasts of being fearless has to live up to the claim. He asked me if I was going to push him again, as I had that time at sea, but I assured him that I would only do so if I had to. So, adjusting his helmet so that the eyeholes lined up correctly, he hefted Hrunting in his hand and headed towards a turf mound that had smoke escaping from its centre.' Grimm gave Jamie strong contact with his one green eye, 'the Grendel folk were poor people in many ways and had not the skills, nor the love of timber that those of my blood have. The mound was their hall. There Beowulf knew he would find Grendel's mother. I followed him, at a safe distance of course, for I like to watch fights, I like to encourage fights, but prefer not to take part in them, unless I have no choice. It was surprisingly well furnished inside, well what you could see, for the only light came from the hearth fire. Sitting on a seat, made up of a stone plinth, sat Grendel's mother, a wicked seax in her hand, the firelight glinting off its one edge. I'll say one thing for Beowulf, he didn't hang about, and he strode straight in and took a sweeping slash at her head. Unfortunately he forgot about the low stone ceiling and poor old Unferth's blade, Hrunting, shattered!' Grimm broke off to smile broadly. 'That will teach that over wordy and under achieving Unferth I thought, lending his blade to another so that his work is done for him.' The old man looked at Jamie inquisitively, 'I don’t suppose you have any of that dandelion and whatever drink left do you?'
'Certainly Grimm,' Jamie passed over the half empty bottle. 'A teller of tales is worth his drink.'
'My, you are learning fast young æþeling. Next time though, bring it to me, and don't make me ask for it.' Grimm tipped the bottle back and drained it. 'Not bad, but still too much gas, it masks the flavour.' Grimm passed the empty bottle back to Jamie, who tucked it into his inside pocket. 'The old girl didn't take too kindly to Beowulf's attack. She launched herself off her seat and tried to open the hero up from navel to ear in one upward slash of the hand seax. Fortunately Beowulf was wearing a proper byrnie, one Hrothgar had given him. If he had still been wearing the…'
'Rusty ring coat?' Jamie chipped in.
'As I was saying,' Grimm said, but with a twinkle in his one eye, 'If he had still been wearing the golden mail he had arrived in, he would have been standing in a pool of his own blood. But the new coat was elven made and Grendel's mother's seax merely scratched it. She had had to get in close to deliver the blow, so Beowulf grabbed h
er in a bear hug and tried to break her ribs, but she was too tough and rather fat, so it didn't work. She retaliated by biting him on the neck, not a love bite you understand, it was a full fang thing.'
'Like Count Dracular?' Dhoo had finished off the pie and sat next to Jamie, The boy absentmindedly patted the dog's head.
'I told you, I think the Grendel folk were non-singing Welsh; they weren't Slavs. Besides it was long before Vlad the Impaler fought the Turks. Stop interrupting, I am getting near the final bit. So there they were, warrior and hag, rolling around the floor, one minute Beowulf on top trying to stick the monster in the fire, then Grendel's mummy on top, trying to smother him with her fat. It was a right old to-do. To start with I was thoroughly enjoying myself watching them as they grabbed odd bits and pieces and tried to whack each other, or endeavoured to get an arm around the other's throat for a strangle hold. I thought that Beowulf had her finished when he straddled her prone body and smacked her across the bridge of her nose with his forehead.'
'A Liverpool Kiss,' Jamie commented.
'A kiss? Oh no, a hard smack: forehead to nose.' Jamie was just about to interrupt and advise the old man that that was what a Liverpool Kiss was, when Grimm went back to telling the tale. 'It shook the old girl up a bit, but it made her so mad that she thrust herself up, brushed the hero's arms away, and grabbed him two handed around the throat and started to choke the life out of him. I found it rather funny to see his eyes starting to bulge like two oversized pickled onions, I mean, he was over proud and needed bringing down. But when his face started to go a funny blue colour, I realised that if I didn't do something, quickly Beowulf, who was my descendant after all, one of my blood kin and, hopefully later on a decent meal ticket. Oh and he would be a meal ticket, because if he didn't keep me well fed and watered I wouldn't keep my mouth shut about him being worsted by a woman, and a fat old woman at that, not some battle hardened shield maiden….'
'So women fought in those days? Mr Watson says that they didn't, that they ….'
'When did women not fight? Eh? Though all right, the shield maidens, that is women who were fully trained and armed warriors who could head a warband, well they were few and far between, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in vicious ability. There was one battle where…..'
'Grimm: the time, please finish Beowulf's tale, don't go off on another one. I only have,' Jamie glanced at his watch, 'just over an hour before I have to be home.'
'So, yes, so,' the old man gathered his thoughts. 'Yes, so, there was our young hero, pride of the Geats, killer of Frankish Champions, defeater of monsters, having the life choked out of him by a woman old enough to be his grandmother. I couldn't let him get killed by someone not of my folk, now could I? So I looked to see how I could help him. There on the end wall, dangling from two pieces of rope, was a sword. Not an ordinary sword either. It was a very long sword, too long to be of normal use. Many would say that it was a giant's sword, but really it was one that was made to be used against horsemen. Not the best weapon for that purpose, but very showy and there are many who prefer to flick a showy blade around even if, when it comes to a battle, they leave it behind for something that they can actually use. Goodness knows where Grendel had got it from, for it was not a weapon used in the north. But it was all I could see that would help Beowulf, so I took it down, ran over and stuck it in his hand. He was going to try an over arm swipe again, and I had a vision of it shattering, just as Hrunting had. But, just at the last moment, he stopped, gathered the last bit of wit he had before he blacked out, and hit her on the temple with the pommel. The old hag went down like a pole-axed ox. The fool then decided to hack her head off. Not that that was a foolish idea, but he tried to use, you've guessed it, an over arm cut. Twang went the blade as it hit the stone ceiling and bits of steel flew everywhere, I was lucky I didn't get hurt. He did take her head off, but used the remains of Hrunting as a saw to do so.'
'I didn't wish to know that.'
'The youth of today, too squeamish by half. Eat meat, but don't want to know that some animal had to die to provide it. Even people don't die these days, they "pass over' or "pass on". Life is nasty Leofwine and to survive you may have to do nasty things, get used to it.' Grimm heard a sound behind him and turned his head. There, in the woods, two pairs of yellow eyes looked at him and then to Jamie and Dhoo. The dog started to whimper and snuggled close to Jamie. Grimm stared at the eyes, 'Geri, Freki, behave yourselves. This is my dear friend and that is his hound. You cannot have them. Go find your dinner elsewhere.' The eyes looked at each other and then at Grimm. 'Go on. Off you two go.'
The yellow eyes gave a final glance at Jamie and Dhoo, two red tongues appeared in the darkness and Jamie thought he could just make out two very dark grey dogs' faces. The tongues licked their invisible chops before there was a rustle of leaves and the eyes disappeared. Jamie listened as the creatures moved through the woods down the hill towards Putney Vale Cemetery. Eventually the sounds faded and he broke the silence that had fallen between him and the old man. 'Were they your two dogs?'
'You could say that,' Grimm agreed.
'Were they Huskies? I though they were German Shepherds, but they looked grey and you don't get them grey. If I didn't know better, I would have said that they looked like the wolves I saw in a TV programme the other night.'
'Geri Greedy Guts and Freki Gobble Up wolves?' Grimm looked as if he was going to say something and then stopped. He pulled at his lower lip, thinking. 'Wolves on Putney Heath and Wimbledon Common? Does that sound likely?' asked Grimm, with a troubled look in his eye.
'No, I am just being silly.' Grimm looked relieved. Jamie looked at his watch, there was still an hour or so to go before he had to be home. 'Look, I will have to be off soon, is there much more to Beowulf's story?'
'No not really. Beowulf had been away so long the others thought he must have got lost and sunk in the fen.' Grimm pulled his staff over and used it to get himself up. Jamie stood with him, Dhoo kept close to his master with regular glances in the direction the yellow eyes had gone. 'By the time he got back to the hall they were all drinking a farewell toast to his memory.' Grimm started to make his way out of the woods, back towards the path, Jamie and Dhoo followed him. 'Naturally they got a shock when he arrived with the shards of Hrunting in one hand and the head of Grendel's mother in the other. Still,' Grimm stood at the edge of the trees and gazed at the grass mound in the open grass area in front of him, 'it made little difference to them. The toast changed from a death toast to a victory toast: any excuse to drink you see.'
Jamie followed the old man's gaze, 'It is a tumulus, that is an Iron Age barrow, where the Celts buried their dead, so Mrs Wilson, our History teacher says. I used to think it was a Womble burrow when I was little.'
'A Womble?' asked Grimm abstractly.
'Little creatures who tidy up the Common.'
'Oh yes, it was built by little folk: the brownies. Long before my time. The Belgae killed them off.' The old man turned to Jamie, 'The Belgae were my folk, but they abandoned both my speech and me and took to speaking as Celts. They didn't make the barrow, the brownies did. The Celts killed them. When my folk came they made that mound a Woðin's Hlæw.'
'A hwæt?'
'No, not a hwæt, a hlæw. A place where the Thing met.'
'What thing?'
'The Thing.'
'Grimm, you are getting me confused; The Thing?' Dhoo snuggled close to Jamie's leg.
'The Thing, the folk moot, the gathering place, the place where the law was given and decisions affecting the kin were made, but that was long ago and another story. I confess, though, it is why I still camp here. I feel it is my place.' The old man gave a deep sight, 'I have told you of Beowulf, which is what you wanted, now I need to rest, for I am the old man, and I tire easily.'
'One last thing Grimm: the barrow in front of us, the tumulus. Is it like the one that the dragon lived in, the one that Beowulf killed and was killed by at the end of the poem, when
he was an old man?'
'I hate to disappoint you, but there was no barrow, and no dragon as such. He was killed fighting the Geats' old enemies, the Swedes. The only dragon was the dragon's head on the ship they came in. The Swedes came 'a raiding', but got the tide wrong. Instead of being able to slip away with a boat full of treasure and slaves, the Geats caught them on the beach. Beowulf was at the head of the warband, for he was then their king, having been chosen from all the æþelings for his luck against Grendel and his kin. The Geats won the fight, with a little help from me, but Beowulf was too old and slow by then and got himself killed. He should never have been in the point of the Swine's Snout that broke the Swede's shield wall, but he wouldn't listen to me. I suspect that over the years he had actually started to believe the stories I had been telling about him! The ship burning was true, they used the Swede's own ship for that. The ending for the poem is an example of the, "poetic licence", I told you about.' Grimm dropped his head, resting his bearded chin on his chest.
'And what about the story of Hengest and Finn in the poem?'
Grimm raised his weary head and smiled gently, 'An interesting tale, but it will have to wait for another time.'
'Thank you for the tale of Beowulf Grimm, I am not sure if it is of any help as it is far different from what I had read, but it was exciting all the same.' Jamie knelt and clipped the dog lead onto Dhoo's collar. 'Can I see you again? Will you still be here?'
'Oh yes young Leofwine; you will see me again, but not for a while. It is getting cold and my old bones need warmth. I think I will visit my folk on the underside of the world where summer is just starting.'
'And there are tributes awaiting to be collected?'
Grimm one green eye twinkled brightly for a short moment. 'Oh yes, there are always tributes and donations to be collected.'
'One last thing Grimm.'
'You said that before, but go on, as long as it is short, for I am so weary.'
'Is there a lesson to be learnt from the poem of Beowulf? Mr Watson says that we should try and find a lesson in all that we read.'
'A lesson?' asked Grimm calling over his shoulder as he headed back to his camp. 'Why yes. Behind every great Welshman, even one who doesn't sing, there stands his mam!'
***
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