The Folkmoot of all the Geats took place at Aerra – midsummer – on the Eastern bank of the Great Mere, beginning in the latter part of Forra Aerra and lasting through to the beginning of Aefter Aerra. There gathered a goodly portion of the free-folk of the East Geats, the West Geats and the Weather Geats. It should have been a joyous affair, and for many it was. There was many a meeting of long-sundered kin, friendships renewed, many a marriage contracted, gifts given and received, while skops and shipmen alike plied their trades amongst the throngs. The chief purpose of the moot, though, was to choose a new King to rule the Geats in place of the dead hero, Beowulf.
This was no easy matter. Beowulf had ruled long and well, but he had left no sons – and indeed no daughters from whom a goodly king might spring. Beowulf, himself had come to the kingship late, when all the other Athelings of the Hrethling line had preceded him to the grave. In truth he might have been chosen king earlier, in preference to his two younger cousins – the sons of Hygelac – had he wished it. Yet the Geats had no great wish to return to the Atheling lines of old – the Gislings, the Bryhtings nor yet the Wulfings, of dark repute. There had been good reason why they had turned from them in the past – nor did it seem to most that there were candidates of sufficient prowess amongst them to warrant their return.
In the end it was Wiglaf, Beowulf’s sister-son, that was acclaimed King of the Geats in his uncle’s stead. Wiglaf had stood with his uncle at the end and sheltered him under his shield as he struck down the great wyrm that had wrought such devastation on the lands of the Geats. Moreover, Wiglaf had played a lead role during the spring in quelling the Oslafings and defeating their Sweon allies.
Yet there were many who doubted, for he was yet young and while few questioned his mettle, his wisdom and temperance were uncertain. He remained wroth that all Beowulf’s other gesiths had fled when he alone went forward to aid the dying king, and he wore his fury like a cloak, much as he distained to hide the livid burn scars upon his neck and left shoulder where the dragon-fire had licked him. This mien of smouldering anger had served him well in his war against the Sweons, but seemed less meet for a king who must be able to speak fairly when the need arose and give out cool judgement that peace and frith might be kept amongst his folk.
In the midst of hustings he had openly accused his fellow gesiths of cowardice, dishonour and carelessness of duty in failing to support the old king in his hour of need. They retorted that the old king had expressly sent them away, and that he was the one who had failed in his duty by following his master into the mound where the dragon lurked. Then Wiglaf slew one of their number, who had gone far enough to called him a liar to his face, in a wager of combat. The remainder fled the moot, fearing further vengeance, along with hearthguards, bondsmen and many other their kin – a goodly number of the East Geats. Who can say they were wrong to do so since Wiglaf’s first action as king was to pass sentence of outlawry upon them and announce his intention to march on their halls and root them out.
Many looking on at these events shook their heads and thought that those who had doubted Wiglaf’s suitability had had the right of it. The ealdormen of the Weather Geats, looked at each other with disquiet, but said naught, hoping that the matter would blow over like a summer storm. They felt themselves somewhat insulated from the quarrels of their East Geatish cousins, safe on their island in the midst of the White Sea.
However, Thorir Houndsfoot, war-chief of the West Geats, chosen by open contest to lead them in battle, stood forth and spoke his mind. He said that he had never hesitated to bend the knee to Beowulf on behalf of his folk and follow his lead in peace and war, for he was not only a mighty warrior but a good and just man. Wiglaf, by his actions, had already proved himself a lesser king than his uncle. Thorir was not prepared to tie the wyrd of his folk to that of a petulant boy. If there came some external threat that touched on the weal of both East and West Geat, then the doors of his hall would be open to the King’s envoys, but he would not bend the knee to Wiglaf nor yet have any part of the heedless feud he pursued against his uncle’s men.
So saying Thorir gathered his folk about him and for the most part they clambered upon their boats and sailed westwards across the Great Mere whence they had come. Wiglaf looked on in fury, then gathered about him his folk and set off south – the direction in which most of his foes were believed to have fled. The earldormen of the Weather Geats declined to follow, gathering their folk and their remaining trade goods and made their way Eastwards, back to the Malanmere and its channels that led back to the White Sea.
So ended the Great Folkmoot, with only a few handfuls of unsworn warriors that refused to take any part in the kin-slaying to come left in the great encampment.