The King’s Favour
After the return of Hrothgar and his companions from Samso the King shows them great favour and invites them to over-winter at Heorot. The Spearhafoc is permitted to navigate the narrow passage that separates the Sealand and the Northern Mainland and harbour at Hroarskilde. A hall is allotted near the great mead hall to the Geats which will comfortably accommodate at least a dozen. So Hrothgar and his Geatish companions stay there, while the rest of the crew take turns in sampling the King’s generous hospitality. Of the crew who sailed from Wisby all are still with the Spearhafoc, but for Horsa and Ecglaf who have returned to their homes and Saehild who departed one night after they reached Hroarskilde, in secrecy, without a word.
Outlawry
In early Winterfell a ship docks at Hroarskilde that the Geats recognise, for the Seamare was one of the ships of the Geatish fleet. Its Brimwisa, a West Geat called Fraena, is returning to Geatburgh, his holds groaning with Eowan silver. He also has word for Hrothgar from Beornfrith of Nordhafn.
“I have good tidings and what ye will doubtless see as ill tidings. Beornfrith has come to agreement with Godric Hardword of Wisby over the slayings committed in his scire during Haligmonath. Wergelds have been paid for those Geats slain in the affair. The Wends have been told that they broke the ealdorman’s peace by kidnapping freemen and their losses deserve no recompense. However, it is Godric’s word that murder cannot go unpunished in his scire and that Hrothgar and his crew must be outlawed for their deeds. Beornfrith has succeeded in persuading him that this should be a minor outlawry of three years, but in return Beornfrith has agreed to support the sentence at the next Folk-Moot so that it holds good for all the lands of the Geats. They have further agreed that the name of Thegn Osgar-Lytelman need be no part of it. It is open to Hrothgar and his companions to dispute Godric’s word at the Folk-moot but Beornfrith accounts this a chancy course of action. You will not have his support since it risks undoing his work and besmirching Osgar’s name with this unfortunate affair.
“Once the period of your outlawry is done then you may return to the Isle of the Weather Geats but he counsels you against returning to Wisby without coming first to Nordhafn. Wergelds have been offered to and accepted by Alfgar’s folk so that should be the end of the matter, but you cannot expect a warm welcome. Be aware that the Sambor and his Wends will undoubtedly seek to obtain a blood-price if they have an opportunity.”
Hrothgar bethought him that perhaps it would be wise to inform King Hrothulf of what had passed. However, the King shows little interest in the details and waves him away, saying “You are my guest here and I will not change my mind because of some squabble between Geatish scipmen.” Though it has to be said that they are questioned closely enough on it by Scrocmael the Thyl who is also seen in close converse with Fraena.
The Norsemen’s Gift
Towards the end of Winterfell, a longship arrives in Roskilde from the North. The uncouth Norse, whose speech is barely understandable, have nevertheless brought the King a woundrous gift in the form of a huge white bear from the Great Ice in the uttermost North. The King is delighted with his gift and sends the Norse on their way laden with presents in return and bear is displayed for all to see, in its stout cage, in the compound of the King’s burgh.
Blot Begins
The month of Blot arrives and with it such feasting as the Geats have never before seen. A vast quantity of meat is provided to the King’s household and guests along with ale, mead and even wine for those with a taste for it. The mead in particular is said to be of unusually fine quality, brewed by the queen’s white hands from the woundrous fine honey that Hrothgar brought her from the Summerlands of the Giants.
As usual the herds are gathered for the Blot slaughter and men make sacrifice to the Gods. Hrothgar decides that this is an auspicious time to sacrifice to Wade for the Spearhafoc. He gives two pounds of silver to Bumoth who trades it for a white stallion whose blood anoints the prow of the Spearhafoc, pooling in the runes carved there by the Wade-Priest.
A Show of Arrows
Drink flows and makes warriors foolish. Foolish warriors make unwise vows and wagers. Herewulf the Geat, called Crowsbane for shooting a crow in flight last Blot, makes another proud boast – this time with Zosimus, the outlander from the far south – that he is the better bowman. They agree a mark to shoot at in the fields outside Heorot. Men agree that this is a mark fit to test the mettle of skilled men. Each puts down a purse of ten marks of silver while those around them lay side bets – most in favour of the Geat, for they know his eke-name and how he came by it and have heard his tales of witch-slaying from his own mouth. Perhaps they neglect to consider that perhaps they have heard no such boasts from Zosimus because he can scarcely string a sentence in the language of the North, and fail to notice that most of the Spearhafoc crewmen present are betting on the foreigner, having seen both at practice.
Each man shoots in turn and each time Herewulf hits the mark but the southerner is closer to its heart. After three arrows, Zosimus is declared the winner. Then Zosimus lets it be known that if someone will lend him a horse, he will lay his purse that he can hit the same mark at the same range from the back of a galloping horse. He finds no shortage of takers for another foolish, drunken boast and a horse is soon provided. Zosimus leaps into the saddle and with a yelp gallops off at break-neck speed. Some think it is a trick and he is fleeing with the beast (though to what end none can say). A few hundred yards later he wrenches the steed’s head around at full speed and turns it on its haunches. He gallops back across the frozen ground, this time with his left arm outstretched, hand grasping bow, right clutching an arrow and two more held in his teeth. As he approaches the first arrow flies and strikes the centre of the mark, as he draws level, the second arrow joins it, and just as the onlookers assume he will have to make a second pass, he swivels in the saddle and the third is planted squarely next to the other two. He gallops on a space then turns the horse once more and this time trots back to the crowd of onlookers to collect his winnings, a wide grin splitting his bearded face.
The White Bear
Throughout the first part of Blot the White Bear is on display in the compound for all to see – as it happens, quite close to the hall assigned to the Geats as their guest quarters. Its cage is deemed secure enough, so the fetters with which the Norsemen had secured it on their ship were struck off to allow it to pace around its tiny kingdom, sleep when it can (though it was often tormented by passers by) and devour the meat and fish it is thrown. It can reach through the bars with its front paws and stick its snout out, though not its whole head, so those approaching have to be on their guard. A few unwary souls are buffeted and gouged by its paws but none are foolish or drunk enough to come close to its jaws. A few daring wags make a practice of placing bowls of ale and mead in its reach and these it will lap up with apparent relish.
Being Blot, however, it was only a matter of time before a foolish oath was uttered by someone regarding the bear. A young thegn’s son, by the name of Aelfheah swore in front of many witnesses that before the week was done he would stand in the cage with the bear. No doubt he was already regretting his words the following morning as he and his cousin Sigebriht, there as a witness to his deed approach the cage. It is just the first glimmerings of dawn and those who are not sleeping off their heroic drinking of the night before, are still engaged upon the task. Only children are outside, bright and early for their games and the odd guard – for even at Blot there is always someone at readiness in arms – to see the two approach the cage.
Sigebriht, perhaps just a little wiser than his cousin, carries with him a bucket of the strongest ale which he places where the beast can come at it, at the side furthest from the barred entrance to the cage. The bear drinks deeply of the ale and as Sigebriht had planned, it puts its head in its great paws and seems to sleep. This is the opportunity they seek. Sigebriht pulls the bar, and Aelfheah slips inside. He need only place both feet over the threshold to fulfill his boast. This he does – so he may brag to Woden when shortly he meets the One-Eyed Death God that he had fulfilled his oath – but the bear hears or smells the intruder, lurches to its feet and charge. Aelfheah flees and Sigebriht tries to close the gate, but the bear is faster than the one and stronger than the other. Aelfheah’s neck is snapped in an instant and tossed aside as the bear turns its attentions to Sigebriht who is badly mauled before a brave guard named Leofweard arrives to try to drive it off with his spear.
His spear gouges the bear’s shoulder but has little effect but to attract its attention and arouse its fury. The bear begins to maul Leofweard as it had Sigebriht, though at least Leofweard has some armour to protect him. He is still indebted for his life to Hrothgar the Geat who was just repairing to his bed nearby when he heard the cries. He grabbed his sword and lost no time in engaging the white beast. With him came Tohrwulf who having nought but a scramasaex thought it a better use of his efforts to pull Leofweard to safety and see to his wounds.
Hrothgar quickly concludes that it might have been better to have grabbed his spear in this fight, for though his sword bites on the creature, he finds himself within the ambit of the Great White Bear’s gouging claws and fierce bite. Fortunate it was that his cries of pain brings out two more companions. Herewulf and Herefrith have been drinking long into the night and beyond into the morning. In their mead-sozzled heads, it seems to them but a small thing that all they have at their belts are their saexes. Herewulf comes first at the white terror and thrusts his scramasaex deep into its haunch as it looms over Hrothgar. Roaring in pain the bear whips around, tearing the blade from Herewulf’s hand and mauling him terribly in his turn. Next, with a howl, the Marsh-wise Herefrith flings himself upon the beast’s back, he too driving in his blade. Once more the bear turns upon his new tormentor, ripping flesh from bone with its awful claws and sinking its teeth into his shoulder, seeking the pulsing veins of his neck to rip them out and end his life.
Alas for the poor bear, wrested from its homeland, imprisoned, tortured, humiliated and granted one last lease on its life with which to seek a glorious death. One last assailant arrives just as it has Herefrith’s life in its jaws. A spear is driven into its side and up into its great pulsing heart. It tries to rear up once more, but falls upon its right side (narrowly missing the prone Herefrith) and dies. The newcomer, one of the King’s gesiths, a waelcyrige name Ceolburh puts her foot upon the beast to withdraw her blade and claim the kill.
Though the honour of the kill went to Ceolburh, the Geats did their reputations no ill in Heorot especially those who threw themselves upon the bear armed with but scramasaexes – though there were those wags who claimed that their deeds had less to do with Geatish valour than Danish mead. The king was wroth at the loss of his pet but since the Gods themselves had punished the foolish oaths of the Danish carls, there was little more to be done. If Sigeberht lived at all he would do so with reminders of his cousin’s oaths upon his body for the rest of his days. He granted Ceolburh the pelt. To the Geats and Leofweard he granted the teeth and claws. Ceolburh made a robe of the bearskin which she wore proudly. She was not a particularly large woman and it was a very large bear, so she graciously gave the off-cuts to the others to make hoods and robe-trimmings.
The King’s mood is little improved when several of his favourite hounds fall sick and die after consuming the bear’s entrails.