Beowulf - Curse of the Dreygurs - Chapter 9

The Second Son of the King

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Chapter 9

As the sun set behind the clouds, the group pitched camp inside a large circle of enormous stones topped by an enormous capstone. Inside the cromlech, the men unpacked their woolen bedrolls along with their bags. They were pleased to find such a suitable spot for the night. Massive stones holding the capstone contained spacing between them only wide enough in most places for a single person to enter. It gave them a natural defensive position. The stone roof protected them from the snow, much better than using their lean-to tents of woolen cloth. The gigantic structure allowed them to place their horses at one end where the body heat would warm them. Plus, the animals would have some measure of protection as well.

In the distance, stumpy hills of brown grass and green areas of the forest could not hide the outline of a destroyed farmhouse. Below their position was the village of Routhebiria, which appeared abandoned. As some men grumbled about not going into the village where they would find a building to warm themselves, Weohstan rode up after scouting the area. As expected, he reported dreygurs ravaged the farm. He explained about the trail of footprints split away into two trails. One line of prints led into the hills, while the other followed the path past the village. Beowulf nodded at the news as he scanned the landscape.

“I’m not sure, but I think someone is following us,” Weohstan said to Beowulf. “I noticed a movement in the area along the road behind our camp. Not sure how many, but they are keeping out of sight. Should I ride out and check on them?” Beowulf shook his head as he rubbed his hands together for warmth in the frigid temperature.

“No, you get food and drink. It’s either enemy scouts or locals spying on us, is my guess,” he said. “When the night turns black, a couple of warriors will join me to find out more.”

“What about the monsters?” Osberht asked.

“If the dreygurs are bold enough to attack us, they will find the Nægling able to speak for me,” Beowulf declared. He tapped his scramasax, the single edge sword given to him by King Heardred, then turned to Weohstan.

“If you hear a battle, you will join us. For now, let us pull out our bags of food and drink to ready ourselves for the night.”

After the moon finally crept from behind a few clouds on the horizon, a pale cast fell across the landscape. Beowulf shook Swidhun and Aeschere from their slumber to begin their mission. He watched them gather their weapons and join him outside of the cromlech. The largest warrior among the group, Swidhun remained quiet and remote. He was a Saxnat or spirit chaser. The warriors respected his ability to communicate with the spirit world, often advising them about future events. In battle, the man fought with a determined savageness. His massive chest and thick arms gave him a significant advantage when using the spear. Swidhun might speak a little, but his fierce green eyes showed others his mood. Aeschere, on the other hand, was not a Geat, but a Dane from the nearby peninsula. The warrior who stepped next to Beowulf in the cold air joined the group just before Sigibert. Actively competitive, the Dane warrior boldly challenged his future leader to a wrestling match before King Heardred. While Beowulf finally overcame the Dane, the bloodied and bruised men found a mutual respect. Despite his roots with a different tribe, instant respect went to Aeschere that night in the mead hall. The other men quickly regarded the Dane fighter as a valued member of Beowulf’s group.

The three warriors left camp and moved across the open land on foot. They took a circular route to the spot to the camp of their followers. As they closed in on the area, they could smell the wood smoke of a campfire hidden from sight. Using hand signals, Beowulf ordered his men to spread out into a line as they closed in. Slowly, each fighter pressed forward in a crouch to blend into the night. Several paces away, they saw the intermittent yellow flame jumping above the improvised fire pit made of stone. Near the fire, two men slept, each wrapped in dark-colored blankets. Signaling to a stop, Beowulf paused while he listened for movement.

This raid is too easy.

The only noise was the crackle of the fire. Beowulf signaled and suddenly charged into the camp. As they let out their war cry, the warriors fell upon the surprised people who attempted to get to their weapons. They were too late. Looming over one of the waking men, Beowulf yelled out a halt to the fight as he held his sword at the neck of the blonde man.

Appa’s stunned shock changed into a bitter resentment when he realized who stood over him. His Angle partner was attempting to recover after receiving a blow from Swidhun’s massive fist.

“Why are you invading my camp?” Appa bellowed out as he gathered his arrogance for display.

“A better question is why are you following us?” Beowulf causally replied.

He sheathed Nægling back to its scabbard, which hung from the baldric over his shoulder.

“A king’s son should know better than to sleep with no guard on watch while they are in the land of their enemies. It appears you wish for an untimely death.”

Appa scowled, realizing the Geat warrior was right, but he refused to acknowledge it. After a slight pause, Appa told Beowulf they traveled to join them against the monsters. The words caused Aeschere to laugh outright. The amusement brought a slight smile to Swidhun’s typically sad face. Beowulf tried to remain stoic, casting a dark glance at his laughing comrade, who went quiet.

“I’m sure your brother will welcome you to our camp,” Beowulf replied. “Next time, try to enter during the daylight, so we don’t have to escort you.” He turned away, letting the sarcasm of his words sink in. Then he ordered his men back to their camp.

“I’ll let Glappa know you are coming,” he told Appa. Beowulf and his men went back to their camp as the fire of revenge burned bitterly inside Appa.

~~~

The next morning, the group of warriors gathered around the fire. Each man was finishing his breakfast of dried meat and mead, trying to warm himself next to the small fire. But the three Angle warriors huddled away from the followers of Beowulf.

Coming back from a brief walk around the stone circle, Beowulf remained oblivious to his role in the tension. His men knew of the public embarrassment given to Appa during the night. They viewed the king’s son as a little better than a fool. The sidelong glances and quiet jokes revealed their scorn.

Glappa saw Beowulf as he entered the cromlech and he cut him off before reaching the campfire.

“I believe my father sent my brother,” he stated quietly. “You might make some small amends with Appa. He can fight. It’s better to have another ally for our cause.”

Beowulf glanced over at Appa, who watched him.

“Your brother should focus on becoming a better warrior with monsters attacking his kingdom,” he replied to Glappa curtly. “You are the eldest son of Ida. It is not my role to hold his hand.”

Glappa held his tongue, but his eyes showed a flash of anger at the comment. As Beowulf walked to the fire, Glappa recognized the young warrior remained too proud to consider such a request. He shook his head as he followed him.

“We need to follow two trails this morning,” Beowulf suddenly stated to Glappa when they reached his men.

“Nobody’s in the abandoned village since the refugees came into our lands,” Glappa replied. “We should follow the other trail.”

“Since I just saw smoke coming from the village, it appears we may have some villages who don’t fear these monsters.”

Beowulf’s observation sent the others scurrying out of the cromlech. To their surprise, they saw white smoke coming from the chimney of the largest building. Beowulf followed the rest while he chewed on a piece of dried deer meat. He stepped next to Weohstan.

“I would have thought our guard would tell us about this earlier. Did someone fall asleep?” He asked in a whimsical tone.

Sigibert immediately turned around, protesting he had not slept. He told them no smoke was coming from the village when he left to get food. Beowulf stared at the young monk for a moment.

“Then go prepare the horses for us,” he ordered Sigibert. “We will go into the village and see who might be there. I must meet such brave people.” He watched with satisfaction as the monk ran back into the circle of stones to retrieve the mounts.

“How does a learned man with such strange beliefs become a thegn in your group?” asked Glappa.

“Sigibert came to me with his reasons. He carries noble blood, and his family is from this area. Since he reads and speaks many languages, he’s proven useful at times,” he replied as he wiped off the salt from the dried meat on his hand using his pants.

“Cut them down!” interjected Appa, who stood next to his brother. “Father sent such believers into exile after he invaded Bernicia. He hung those who would not leave. Such beliefs are dangerous.”

“Sigibert is a strange one,” Weohstan agreed as he joined the conversation. “The lad wears no armor but a helmet. And he carries no shield for combat as he swears this one god protects him with God’s armor. But don’t fool yourself about his ability. His sword is fast and sharp, and he is fearless against an enemy.”

“That is true,” said Beowulf.

“I’ll never forget the first time I met him. Sigibert showed up at our king’s mead hall, impulsively pledging himself as a Geniht before our tribe. The men of my tribe laughed and ridiculed him mercilessly. He showed great courage to stand in front of us, taking such scorn while trying to make himself heard above the din. I thought the king might have him tortured and killed for daring to bring his ways into Geat lands. But our king noticed something in the man. He was right.”

“He is not of your kin or tribe. Seems risky to take on such strangers,” Glappa observed.

“Why not allow men to prove themselves?”

Beowulf asked aloud before he drank down the last of his mead. Then he pointed to the village.

“As I said, I will take my men into the settlement. What are your thoughts?”

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