Beowulf - Curse of the Dreygurs - Chapter 5

Dreygurs

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Chapter 5

The corpse which lay across the road had a blue hue to its mummified skin, stretched tight across the exposed parts of the creature’s arms and legs. An old, rusted breastplate that matched the green armor on the arms and legs covered the chest. Rotting remains of a wool cloak draped down across to the other side of the body, clasped high on one shoulder by an elaborate pin. Aeschere pointed out the gnarled fingers of the man, somehow elongated, now had long, animal-like claws. Ecgberht found an unusual rusted helmet lying nearby. The helmet had a crest along the top, as well as a neck guard behind and high cheek guards on either side. Reaching down, the old warrior picked up the green bronze only to have a mummified head tumble out on the ground. The grotesque trophy appeared human as well. However, with corpse-pale skin, tightly stretching over the noseless face, it was the face of a smiling demon. Its opened eyes, dark and soulless, combined with animal teeth, gave the men their first look at a dreygur.  

 “It appears these after-walkers exist,” Beowulf announced as he glanced over at Ecgberht. The old warrior tossed the rusting helmet to the ground. Aeschere asked about the type of unfamiliar armor the creature wore.  

“I’ve seen such metalwork before,” Ecgberht spoke up as he kicked at the body with his foot. He started walking back to his horse.

“Where?” Sigibert asked, as his impatience showed.

Ecgberht dragged himself up on his horse before he scowled at the monk.

“You should know this armor comes from the Roma. They conquered these lands many years ago.” He told him when he looked back at the corpse. He paused for a moment.

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?” Beowulf asked.

“The Romwarena always burned their dead,” Ecgberht replied. “Families normally pass down the armor since it’s valuable. However, the Brythonians and other tribes of this land break it apart and reuse it. But this metal is rusting through and nearly worthless. The leather straps barely hold it together.” He scratched his beard.

“Why would dead bandits and outlaws wear this stuff?”

“I remember a story of about ancient priests who stayed after the legions from Rome left,” Sigibert quietly stated. “They wore this armor against the Picts, along with the tribes who remained. In the time’s chaos, the fighting priests went to the grave in their armor along with other trinkets, which they hid from outlaws. If these monsters came from the burial mounds, they could use the armor and weapons.”

Ecgberht spat on the ground.

“Well, that makes these dreygurs just mindless outlaws who steal even after death. It makes sense with the armor, but it still doesn’t explain how the dead walked here to die again,” the warrior said.

The group went quiet. Unsettling thoughts about the creatures and the magic behind them drifted unsaid as the men looked around.

“Let’s hope my uncle has some ideas,” Beowulf finally took action.

He retrieved the reins of his mount before swinging up on the saddle.

“Come on,” he said as he led them to the fortress.

Overlooking the river valley, the stone remains of the fortress had a square ruin that stood flat and squat on the ridge. The gatehouse watchtowers extended from the main entrance. Crumbling walls joined the watchtower from a line that ran far along the riverbank towards the distant hills.

While imposing at a distance, the Geats saw significant gaps in the walls from villagers removing the cut stone for other uses. The walls of the main fort rose above them, and they could see two watchtowers at either end. Parts of the gatehouse structure near the top of the battlements, along with the walls, were missing. In the years since the Romwarena left, blocks of fallen stone lay in piles around the base of the structure. During their journey, the Geats noticed the locals used such cut stone for their fences and buildings.

Fortunately, the massive wooden gates, banded with iron, remained. However, the gates lay against the arched entrance; the brackets holding them long gone. It was no longer a fortified spot for long-forgotten warriors to defend the valley. Instead, it became a last-minute place of refuge.

Above them, the group noticed movement inside one tower as an Angle warrior stared down. Several of King Ida’s warriors suddenly appeared in front of them. With armor and clothes torn and covered with dried blood and dirt like their comrade in the village below, they held their weapons at the ready.

Beowulf stopped his mount several paces in front of them. He climbed down from his horse, approaching the men calmly. The warriors before him remained on edge.  

“This is not the welcome I expected from my uncle,” his voice growled. “Announce me, for I am Beowulf!”

The surprised men quickly scurried back through the gate. Beowulf nodded for his men, who dismounted, and they followed him into the fort. Osberht stopped Sigibert, handing him his horse’s reins. He ordered him to take the mounts to a protected spot within the walls. The monk knew by the look and the task that he was to stay out of the way of the other warriors. Sighing, he took the reins and led the mounts inside.

Sigibert split from the others, taking their horses to a grassy area between several wooden buildings. The structures were nothing more than a pile of rubble covered with the slate from the roofs. Still, the dead grass covered the ground to feed the animals. Sigibert securely tied the reins to thick poles which used to hold the walls of the buildings. The monk quickly caught up with Beowulf and his men at the back of the fort, where a large building still stood. Made of brick, it was the largest building. Once covered in plaster that lay in white heaps at the base of the walls, the structure still had enormous steps leading past two fallen columns. The building had a decorated mosaic floor with images of men in the same armor as the headless dreygur outside. Among the displays were pictures of sea creatures along with naked men and women, their images still shining through the dirty mosaics. Sunlight pierced through the open arched windows to give ample light within the columned room. In the shadows, they could see many doors that led to other rooms. The thegns of Beowulf were quiet in undisguised awe at the impressive structure, which rivaled the largest wooden mead halls they knew.

“My nephew, please come in and join us.”

The voice echoed slightly as an older man with a long gray beard stepped from the shadows. King Ida wore a heavy leather breastplate, partially covered by a bloodstained tunic ripped during the battle. Gray hair hung over his shoulders while his pale, lined face showed the years of battle and rule. However, his eyes were bright with the excitement of his latest conquest. He swept his hand toward the surrounding room.

“I must apologize for being detained. I fear you have come at an unfortunate time for Bernicia.”

Beowulf stepped forth to greet his uncle, grasping the king’s muscular forearm as the older man returned with a powerful grip as well. King Ida looked into Beowulf’s eyes, and the Geat knew his distant uncle was studying him. His youthful appearance was always the first impression Beowulf felt the need to confront. Ida stood taller than Beowulf, but his lean body grew frail over the years. Only the king’s powerful arms and his cold eyes hinted at a ruthless past to achieve dominance over Bernicia. Something else in the old king’s face suggested more than weariness, but he hid it well.

“King Heardred sends greetings and asks that the great god Tyr watch over your house.” Beowulf released his grip and bowed before Ida. “I have come as instructed to offer my sword for your service.”

“You please me with your words, my young thegn,” Ida replied. He pressed a fist to his lips as he struggled to keep from coughing.

“Unfortunately, we have not quite recovered from the night. No doubt you have seen the reason for the invitation to my lands during your journey to this ancient fort.” 

Beowulf nodded. Behind the king, two servants struggled to bring long pieces of timber. They placed the wood upon blocks of stone already positioned, which formed a place for sitting. While the men worked, Beowulf introduced his thegns, who bowed before the gray-haired man.

“Sit with us, and you can tell me about your journey while my servants find us food and drink. Unfortunately, there are no tables for our men in this old fort.”

King Ida turned and led the Geats to their temporary seating. The king took his place before sitting across from him. To Beowulf, it was apparent why the Angles had not gone after the monsters at daylight. Even more clearly in the sun’s light, which showered down in the middle of the room. King Ida was no longer strong enough to lead such an expedition. Beowulf noticed two men stepped from the shadows to join them. They sat across from Beowulf and Weohstan after the introductions. The king’s two oldest sons, Glappa and Appa, who nodded at their introduction. Beowulf’s men sat on the mosaic floor, while Ida’s warriors sat across from them, keeping their distance. Servants brought mead to the men, and Beowulf told the crowd of their journey along the coast. During the several rounds of drink, the men exchanged tales of heroic deeds. After the introductory conversation subsided, Ida finally told Beowulf of the troubles in his lands.

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