Read Online Beowulf's Return (Tales of Beowulf) by Tim Hodkinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Tim Hodkinson
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Part 1
The longship scythed through the grey
waves like a spear blade. It had no mast or sail, instead its swift progress
across the grey freezing waters of the Northern Sea was propelled by the twenty
hardened warriors who manned its ranks of oars.
At its dragon-carved
prow stood a bear of a man, broad chest and powerfully built. He savoured the
taste of salt in the air. The cold wind stung his skin and whipped his long
blond hair behind his head over the black bear's pelt he wore as a cloak around
his shoulders. His tunic and britches were of the highest quality but he wore
no armour or helmet, because he was on his way home.
A cheer rose from the
warriors toiling at the oars as the sight of land arose from the waves ahead.
They had been away from home for years now. Too long.
"We're nearly home
lads," the big man shouted over his shoulder, his words loud and clear
despite the buffeting wind. The warriors responded with eager glances over
their shoulders. Ignoring their aching shoulders, fatigued from the long voyage,
they redoubled their efforts on the oars.
The beach was a couple
of ship lengths away and through the mist and spray that rose from the freezing
waves a group of figures could be seen moving on the land.
"Beowulf, look: A
welcoming committee," Weohstan, the warrior who stood beside the big man
said, pointing at the figures on the beach.
"Our friends and
relatives," Beowulf grinned. "It will be good to see everyone
again."
His grin faded a little
as he narrowed his eyes, squinting against the morning sunshine. There was
something not quite right about the people waiting for them. The glint of
sunlight on armour made it suddenly clear.
"That's no
welcoming committee," Beowulf growled. "That's a war party."
Weohstan started and
looked again. The men on the beach were armed to the teeth. Burnished chainmail
glittered in sunlight that also glinted from helmets, swords and spear tips.
Brightly painted shields were locked together in the unmistakable defencive
formation of a shield wall. The message was clear. What awaited on the beach
was not a welcome but a confrontation.
"Prepare for
battle," Beowulf shouted to the rest of the men in the boat. The warriors
from Beowulf's war band at first looked confused then their training took over.
They dropped their oars and reached for weapons, armour and helmets. There were
several moments of frantic activity as the warriors scrambled into their
fighting harness and unhitched their shields from the side of the ship. Beowulf
grabbed his own helmet as the boat shuddered and a loud grinding sound
announced that they were grounding on the stones of the beach. He looked up and
saw the warriors on the land already advancing towards them.
Beowulf turned to yell
orders to his men when suddenly he froze. Intense pain stabbed through his
right arm. He cried out in surprise and anguish and bent over, grabbing the
limb with the other hand.
"I'm hit!" he
cried out, looking down and expecting to see the shaft of an arrow protruding
from his arm or a spear in his shoulder. His face creased with bafflement when
he saw no evidence of injury.
Beowulf suddenly gasped
again as another acute pain seized his left thigh. Cramp-like and just as
crippling, the big man dropped to his knees, unable to support himself while
his leg spasmed.
"By the
Lord!" the Beowulf exclaimed, his face contorted with agony and confusion.
"I'm hit again but there is no wound."
Weohstan looked down at
his leader, worry etched on his face.
"This is seithr ,"
he said. "Witches' work." He looked at the beach and saw that the
warriors were about twenty paces away and closing fast. There was no time to
tend to Beowulf further. They would have to fight without him.
The fifty men on the
beach outnumbered the crew of the ship more than two to one. Beowulf's men
swarmed over the prow, jumping into the surf and wading urgently up onto dry
land. It was imperative they got onto a defensible position before
The longship scythed through the grey
waves like a spear blade. It had no mast or sail, instead its swift progress
across the grey freezing waters of the Northern Sea was propelled by the twenty
hardened warriors who manned its ranks of oars.
At its dragon-carved
prow stood a bear of a man, broad chest and powerfully built. He savoured the
taste of salt in the air. The cold wind stung his skin and whipped his long
blond hair behind his head over the black bear's pelt he wore as a cloak around
his shoulders. His tunic and britches were of the highest quality but he wore
no armour or helmet, because he was on his way home.
A cheer rose from the
warriors toiling at the oars as the sight of land arose from the waves ahead.
They had been away from home for years now. Too long.
"We're nearly home
lads," the big man shouted over his shoulder, his words loud and clear
despite the buffeting wind. The warriors responded with eager glances over
their shoulders. Ignoring their aching shoulders, fatigued from the long voyage,
they redoubled their efforts on the oars.
The beach was a couple
of ship lengths away and through the mist and spray that rose from the freezing
waves a group of figures could be seen moving on the land.
"Beowulf, look: A
welcoming committee," Weohstan, the warrior who stood beside the big man
said, pointing at the figures on the beach.
"Our friends and
relatives," Beowulf grinned. "It will be good to see everyone
again."
His grin faded a little
as he narrowed his eyes, squinting against the morning sunshine. There was
something not quite right about the people waiting for them. The glint of
sunlight on armour made it suddenly clear.
"That's no
welcoming committee," Beowulf growled. "That's a war party."
Weohstan started and
looked again. The men on the beach were armed to the teeth. Burnished chainmail
glittered in sunlight that also glinted from helmets, swords and spear tips.
Brightly painted shields were locked together in the unmistakable defencive
formation of a shield wall. The message was clear. What awaited on the beach
was not a welcome but a confrontation.
"Prepare for
battle," Beowulf shouted to the rest of the men in the boat. The warriors
from Beowulf's war band at first looked confused then their training took over.
They dropped their oars and reached for weapons, armour and helmets. There were
several moments of frantic activity as the warriors scrambled into their
fighting harness and unhitched their shields from the side of the ship. Beowulf
grabbed his own helmet as the boat shuddered and a loud grinding sound
announced that they were grounding on the stones of the beach. He looked up and
saw the warriors on the land already advancing towards them.
Beowulf turned to yell
orders to his men when suddenly he froze. Intense pain stabbed through his
right arm. He cried out in surprise and anguish and bent over, grabbing the
limb with the other hand.
"I'm hit!" he
cried out, looking down and expecting to see the shaft of an arrow protruding
from his arm or a spear in his shoulder. His face creased with bafflement when
he saw no evidence of injury.
Beowulf suddenly gasped
again as another acute pain seized his left thigh. Cramp-like and just as
crippling, the big man dropped to his knees, unable to support himself while
his leg spasmed.
"By the
Lord!" the Beowulf exclaimed, his face contorted with agony and confusion.
"I'm hit again but there is no wound."
Weohstan looked down at
his leader, worry etched on his face.
"This is seithr ,"
he said. "Witches' work." He looked at the beach and saw that the
warriors were about twenty paces away and closing fast. There was no time to
tend to Beowulf further. They would have to fight without him.
The fifty men on the
beach outnumbered the crew of the ship more than two to one. Beowulf's men
swarmed over the prow, jumping into the surf and wading urgently up onto dry
land. It was imperative they got onto a defensible position before
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