Beowulf - Curse of the Dreygurs - Chapter 13

Failure

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Chapter 13

Those watching the two strong-willed men’s argument half expected it to end with blows. But Ecgberht’s words finally pushed past Beowulf’s temper. After a moment of tense, silent stares at each other, Beowulf backed away. He threw down the remains of his sword, then stomped away in disgust. After a few paces, he finally stopped while he took a few deep breaths. Beowulf looked across the open fields while he steadied himself. He knew lashing out at Ecgberht was wrong. It was his failure.

Beowulf found it difficult to accept the defeat. Such an event seldom occurred. In his heart, he knew destiny awaited him. Beowulf grew up knowing he was the best warrior and a great atheling. He took another deep breath, slowly realizing that Wyrd, the god of fate, had sent such trials at him before. Each path given was not an end destination, but something continuous in the lives of the Geats. The warrior turned, looking back at the proud man who stared at him. He stepped over to him as he slung his shield over his back.

“My friend, you are correct,” he told Ecgberht. “Not only did I lose the scramasax of my ancestors, but I could not stop those monsters.”

Beowulf put his hand on the warrior’s shoulder.

“It was your foresight and wisdom that allowed me to fight another day against the undead. You are the dolsceada mare of my thegns.”

Ecgberht smiled at the words of Beowulf. Pride filled him because the young man saw through his anger. The ex-slave was equally proud of what he heard. Beowulf gave him a title. Ecgberht was to be known as the destroyer of monsters. He placed his hand on Beowulf’s shoulder.

“You honor me with your words,” Ecgberht replied with a seldom seen smile. “We will not let these dreygurs prey upon these lands again.”

Beowulf nodded, then looked back at the men. They were curious about the exchange and the new title of their comrade. However, their leader did not explain. Instead, he turned to them to focus on their upcoming fight.

“All of you did well against these creatures,” Beowulf announced. “I failed you for a moment. However, we will plan for their ultimate defeat. Prepare your weapons for the next battle.”

He kneeled by Weohstan and his brother as he asked about their wounds.

“We will live,” Weohstan pressed his hand down on his leg to stop the bleeding.

“I could use some mead.” Osberht groaned as he slipped his arm in a makeshift sling.

“You will have it, my friends. I’m sending you both back to the village,” Beowulf stated as he stood.

He held up his hand to stop the upcoming protest from the wounded warriors.

“Hold your breath,” he told them. “I need you to find out what Sigibert has learned. More importantly, I need another sword. I’m not going back into that mound looking for one. You might as well scour the village for any weapons. We both know villagers will hide such things for trade. Perhaps we will get lucky.”

Beowulf patted Weohstan on the shoulder before he walked over to Glappa.

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