| THE SAGA OF BEOWULF |
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4. Edgtheow’s Tale
Although Edgtheow, as the father of our hero, occupies a significant position, very little is, in fact,
said of him in the poem, and little of it with any clarity or detail. He is not actually seen in the poem,
but only spoken of, and what we know of him can be summed up as follows:
1) He is Beowulf’s father, 2) he married the Geat king Hrethel’s only daughter at some point in the
distant past, 3) he began a feud with the Wylfings when he slew Heatholaf, a warrior of that clan,
for which he was exiled from Geatland, 4) Hrothgar of the Danes took him in and paid the wergild
for his feud, for which Edgtheow swore oaths to the Danish king, and 5) he is now dead.
Revenge of his father’s death is given more than once as a prime motive for Beowulf’s fight against
Grendel, but nothing more is said of the bond between father and son. Indeed, more often than not
the characters' chief motivations in the poem are given as "fame and glory," elements of prime
importance in that day (and hardly much less now).
The name of Hrethel’s daughter is not given, nor is the reason why Edgtheow was given her hand in
marriage, but one must infer some great deed on his part by which he gained such merit. His fame is
praised by more than one character other than his own son, so that at some point his star was
ascendant before its ultimate fall. But just what Edgtheow did to merit such a prize cannot be
known. However, one might presume a feat of martial prowess in such times, and nothing short of
saving the king’s own life could assure such reward.
As for the feud with the Wylfings, I found it poignantly ironic, in light of Edgtheow’s position, both
as war-famed warrior and in-law of the king, and played upon this aspect of the tale. The Wylfings
are nothing to the Geats, so far as the remainder of the poem relates. Certainly they are not the
mortal enemy the Swedes became. Yet clearly there was a threat, since it is said that Edgtheow
was exiled “for fear of war.” And yet he is the husband of the king’s own sister, and had gained his
fame quite likely by a similar act. What had changed to cause this sudden downfall where before he
was among the foremost Geats? For one, Hrethel, the former king, had died and been replaced by
Hygelac, his son. And secondly, the Swedish feud had begun. Thus, we can deduce easily enough
the reasons for Edgtheow’s sudden change of status. How fast one falls when politics come into
play!
It is not said in the poem how Edgtheow died, nor that he ever returned to Geatland, and thus it is
possible he fell in Daneland. Beowulf himself says that his father was old when he died, but nothing
more; and as Beowulf himself is still a young man yet at that point, Edgtheow could not have been
very elderly. All this I have pieced together to create Edgtheow’s tale, the story of a once-proud
man now dispossessed, and of the son whose legacy he inherits.
5. Grendel’s Descent
Here we come to a major crux in the tale. The ogre’s maternity is given, and the Troll-Hag herself
is a central figure in the poem; and yet no mention is made of his patrimony (save his ancestry as a
descendant of Cain). Who the father was is left unsaid. But a careful reader might well hazard a
guess.
But first one must ask some other questions. Why Heorot? Why are no other halls mentioned as
being ravaged over the course of a twelve year reign of terror? This was, indeed, a sparsely
populated realm, but at least two other pre-Viking era settlements are known of on Zealand:
Ringsted to the south and Trelleborg in the west, and many more existed by the time our poet
penned his tale five centuries later (although he is clearly unfamiliar with the geography of Denmark,
a low-lying island with no seaside cliffs upon the north). There were certainly many farmsteads
spread about the central hall of Heorot, as well and other ports and steadings. But let that be.
A better question is why Hrothgar? Or rather, why not Hrothgar? That is, why is Hrothgar not slain
by Grendel? Surely he would have been foremost among the fighting men, at least early on. And yet
he is never killed or maimed. For twelve long years the ogre ravages his hall, slaying nearly every
other man until but few remain. But the king himself is never taken.
Then there is the issue of the throne. In a somewhat contested reference, it is stated that Grendel
“could not approach the throne.” This is vague and has been given many meanings which I will not
argue here. But taken at face value one might wonder why: what is preventing him? What stands
between Grendel and the throne? And why is the throne an issue here? Is it Hrothgar as the
embodiment of the throne that we speak of, or the throne itself as a physical seat of power? Either
way, Grendel clearly wishes to approach, otherwise he would not try.
Again, we must ask ourselves why the Danish king does nothing to prevent the ogre’s attacks. And
more importantly, why he makes no mention of the Troll-Hag, even though it is later revealed that
he knew about this other demon all the while. This seems highly suspect, and comes close to
dereliction of duty as the protector of his clan.
I have taken these together to infer that the throne itself is at issue, and that Grendel is its rightful
heir as the son of Hrothgar. How this came to be is purely speculation, and based almost entirely
on the passing mention of the Troll-Hag as a “witch wife” at one point.
It should be stated here that this development came to me many years ago, during the scriptwriting
phase, and long before the recent Robert Zemeckis motion capture film adaptation came out. Neil
Gaiman, its main screenwriter, talks about this very issue briefly in one of the DVD special features.
As interesting and exciting as it was to see my own idea hit upon (and therefore somewhat
validated) by someone else, I have to say that I was plunged into a deep despair at the same time. I
was proud of my deduction, and thought the idea quite singular and cleverly thought out. That
someone else thought of it as well somewhat lessened the uniqueness of its invention, not to mention
the thought that others might now think I stole the idea from the film. Yet I did not, and have dated
documents far preceding the film's release to prove it (as well as many personal witnesses).
Therefore, I am concerned only from an artistic standpoint. Still, only those well versed in the
original poem (or reading this) will even realize its import.
6. Wiglaf
As mentioned earlier, Wiglaf is such a significant character in the scope of our story that he
demanded greater treatment, both in length and breadth. Not only does he become the last king of
Geatland, as the only surviving member of Beowulf’s bloodline, but he has complex relationships
with many of the other characters due to his mixed lineage.
It is given out during the course of the poem’s many digressions, that Wiglaf’s father Weohstan had
at some point married a Swedish princess and taken service with the Swedish king (inferred from
the fact that Onela gives him the sword and armor of his nephew Eanmund, whom Weohstan had
slain). The Wægmunding line, from which Beowulf himself is descended through his father
Edgtheow, are in fact said to be Half-Swedes, so that Weohstan was not the first to intermarry,
and cannot even be said to have been a true Geat (Beowulf has pure Geat blood by his mother, if
not by his father). How Wiglaf came to be in Geatland is not said, and can only be inferred from his
loyalty to Beowulf. In fact, how closely he is related to Beowulf is never stated, only that Edgtheow
and Weohstan are both descended from Wægmund's line. I have made them first cousins and their
fathers brothers.
Since his lineage makes Wiglaf both a Swede and a Geat, and as his father serves the Swedish
king, this provides an inherent conflict of loyalties for all involved, since the Swedes and Geats are
by this time blood enemies. How could an author possibly pass up such an opportunity for dramatic
tension? I can only hope to have served his story well.
It might also be mentioned here that what ultimately became of the Geats is not known. Only
recently have the Geats been seen as historical at all, and their origins, and even the location of their
homeland, are hotly contested. I have gone with the common consensus and placed them in and
around Gothenburg. If this is so, and Wiglaf anything like an historic figure, it may well be that the
clan, like those lands, were absorbed by the expanding Swedes, and Wiglaf returned again to his
father’s home. Yet more scholars seem to hold that they fled to England, as not long afterwards a
dynasty of “Wuffings” was founded in East Anglia with apparent Danish-Geat connections. Either
way, the Geats as they once must have been no longer were.
7. Wulfgar & The Danish Harbor Guard
During the writing of the screenplay I had combined the characters of the Danish harbor guard with
that of Wulfgar, the Danish door guard. The poem uses a repeating episodic structure for the arrival
of Beowulf in Daneland, where he is greeted and questioned three times in rapid succession. Such
redundancy is unacceptable in the narrow confines of the film medium, but in truth, this was one
case where the compression served to create a far stronger character. Our harbor guard is heard of
only twice, on Beowulf’s arrival and departure, and Wulfgar himself is given little more to do but
act the part of herald to the king. Therefore, I let this alteration stand, even though it technically
leaves the harbor unguarded by its chief protector. Given the nature of their visitor, I am sure he is
forgiven.
8. Unferth & The Sons of Hrethel
Unferth is another character whose role I have greatly expanded (as with most of the existing
characters in the poem). However, he merits special mention here for another reason.
In the poem there is a minor story involving the two elder brothers of Hygelac: Herebeald and
Hæthcyn, the younger of whom slew the elder accidentally with an arrow during an archery contest.
Initially I had, of course, intended to portray this subplot as it stands, as it offers a very moving
narrative, one of the more emotional moments, in fact, in the poem.
This proved more difficult than I had hoped, since there is very little else told of these two
characters, aside from the fact that Hæthcyn is the Geat king hewed down by Ongentheow during
the Ravenswood episode, and not Hygelac at all. Anything else involving these two elder sons of
Hrethel would have required pure invention. In the end it was just too much to add to a story
rapidly growing out of all bounds of reason. They were not significant enough to merit such lengthy
treatment, and only served to stand in the way of the more important character: their youngest
sibling, Hygelac, now the rightful king of Geats (for more on this, see The Swede-Geat Feud
below).
This is one of those instances where adaptation proves most trying. On the one hand there is loyalty
to the original, and on the other the dictates of the new medium and its audience. To tell the story as
accurately as possible in the best way possible are not always the same, and are often at odds.
However, as I did not want to lose this strong story point entirely, I continued to search for a
means of conveying it in passing, at first as a digression, and then as a passing mention during
another related episode. But none of these proved particularly successful, until another unresolved
issue laid claim to it almost by chance. I had been struggling to solve this dilemma when it suddenly
occurred to me that another dilemma required a similar solution: that of Unferth’s kin-slaying.
Beowulf, during his rebuttal of Unferth’s challenge, states that he knows about Unferth’s past
history, accusing him of having slain his own brothers (plural in the poem). As the accusation is not
refuted, either by Unferth or anyone else, it must be presumed to be true. Clearly, this is a strong
story point, deserving far more attention that a mere passing mention. What is the nature of
Unferth's actual crime? What brought it about and what came of it? How would such an accusation
affect him in this situation? And how is it that Beowulf even knows about it?
These questions all came together in a flash, and all was answered at once. Thus, I appropriated
the Herebeald-Hæthcyn storyline and reassigned it to a better use, one where it could be properly
developed in the context of the main plotline. This, of course, left the other brothers with little left to
do, and I have employed them to other uses more suitable. Yet since kin-slaying was their proper
sphere, it has been retained as their due.
As a further note on the character of Unferth, I should mention here his prolonged appearance in
the story. In the poem, of course, he is not heard of again after Beowulf’s departure from Daneland
– and, in fact, not after Beowulf’s return from Grendel’s mere when he is thanked for the use of his
sword, even though it proved useless. Unferth is, in the poem, only initially an antagonist to
Beowulf. Seemingly, he comes around after Beowulf’s success against Grendel; but little is said of
him other than that he offers up his sword to Beowulf in his fight against the Troll-Hag, presumably
as an acknowledgement of his lesser status.
However, not wanting to dispense with such a prominent character, who, as a chief member of
Hrothgar’s council, would not simply disappear from the action soon to follow, I have opted to
involve him further in our tale. And the perfect opportunity awaited in the distant future, in the
unnamed character of the dragon-hoard thief.
Unferth, I came to feel, was as much a victim of his circumstances as an active participant in them.
The thief, too, seems very much a victim of his circumstances, a man whose needs far surpass his
means – that is, until an opportunity presents itself. Also, I have striven to avoid having characters
show up just to fulfill a necessary function in terms of propelling the plot forward (even though that
is what happens here in the poem). I much prefer each event having some connection and relevance
to those surrounding it. That it would be Unferth who brings about Beowulf’s demise by disturbing
the dragon from its sleep seemed to me the ultimate twist of fate, given especially that by that point
he seems to have come around at last, as in the poem, and would, like the unnamed thief, offer up a
token of submission to his master.
In evaluating the various characters in light of Norse cultural mores and status, and knowing how
truly in all times and places men differ from one another on every level, I came to wonder how one
might feel in such a time who did not in constitution conform to the social norm. Not all men have
the fighting spirit, and there are cowards and brave men in every walk of life. The change of
Unferth’s character in the poem gave me an example of how I might pursue that observation to a
more dramatic conclusion.
9. Halga, Hrothulf, & the Yrsa Issue
Here I was presented with an opportunity to bring the Swedes and Geats together which proved
far more fruitful than I ever could have hoped for. From the single obscure mention of Halga at line
62, with its proposed oversight of Yrsa as the given spouse of the Swede Onela, a complex web
was spun.
The name Yrsa is provided by external sources, among which is the fourteenth century Icelandic
Saga of Hrolf Kraki. From this came the seeds for the tale of Yrsa’s incestuous lineage, in the
saga only a single layer deep, but grown to rank fruition here on multiple levels. This was such a
complicated garden to weed that I almost gave it up. But so intense was the tale as I listened to it
being told time and again by Freawaru and her heartsick compatriot Wulfgar that I could not but
pursue the matter further.
The initial motivation came not from Kraki, but from wondering what became of Halga. Why, I had
to ask, was he not in Daneland? Had he fled a coward from the wrath of Grendel? That did not
seem likely, since in his one mention he is given the epithet of Halga “the Good” – a far cry from
Halga "the Wuss," or some such. Then I began to wonder about Yrsa. Where was she? With the
Swedes, presumably, if Onela was her mate. And then it occurred to me that this would provide
the perfect opportunity for Onela to pursue the Geats to Daneland. If the ogre was slain and people
coming from near and far to witness Grendel’s arm, why would Yrsa not want to seek out her kin?
Then there was the problem of Hrothulf. Scattered hints throughout the poem insinuate the nephew
of the Danish king in a plot of some dark intent. The exact nature of this is never clearly divulged,
but involves some form of treachery and betrayal. Again, external sources come into play, and I will
not dive into them here – they are dealt with at great length elsewhere – but suffice it to say that the
general consensus is that Hrothulf at some point usurps the Danish throne. Now, this is hardly an
unheard of occurrence among the aristocracy of any nation, but in any case requires a character of
scheming wit and great ambition, untainted by any sense of moral compunction, and better by one
who feels himself unfairly treated.
Here is where Hrolf Kraki’s Saga came to prominence. Hrolf Kraki is, for those unfamiliar with
that less prominent work, Hrothulf in his Iceland guise. The intervening years and leagues had made
of Hrothulf a far more sympathetic figure, to the extent that he was seen the hero of his escapades.
Some of these concern us here, but none so much as those of his parentage. Yrsa, having wed her
brother Helgi (our Halga), gives birth to Hrolf (Hrothulf).
That Hrothulf was the offspring of an incestuous union seemed to answer many questions, both of
himself and of his parents. Yet still that didn’t seem quite enough to create such a dramatic
berserker as our Hrothulf is. Therefore, I pressed the issue one step further, and made Yrsa herself
the daughter of Halga by his own mother, after which she then bears Hrothulf to her father-brother,
who flees on learning of his deed.
This pointed up another question I had often pondered: In such a time and place, when rape and
plunder were so common, how could anyone be certain of his heritage? With so many bastard
children running around impregnating one another, how intermingled must their bloodlines been!
What must have come of it was answered well enough by the monks of Lindisfarne when they
wailed out: "from the fury of the Northmen, Lord protect us!"
Although Edgtheow, as the father of our hero, occupies a significant position, very little is, in fact,
said of him in the poem, and little of it with any clarity or detail. He is not actually seen in the poem,
but only spoken of, and what we know of him can be summed up as follows:
1) He is Beowulf’s father, 2) he married the Geat king Hrethel’s only daughter at some point in the
distant past, 3) he began a feud with the Wylfings when he slew Heatholaf, a warrior of that clan,
for which he was exiled from Geatland, 4) Hrothgar of the Danes took him in and paid the wergild
for his feud, for which Edgtheow swore oaths to the Danish king, and 5) he is now dead.
Revenge of his father’s death is given more than once as a prime motive for Beowulf’s fight against
Grendel, but nothing more is said of the bond between father and son. Indeed, more often than not
the characters' chief motivations in the poem are given as "fame and glory," elements of prime
importance in that day (and hardly much less now).
The name of Hrethel’s daughter is not given, nor is the reason why Edgtheow was given her hand in
marriage, but one must infer some great deed on his part by which he gained such merit. His fame is
praised by more than one character other than his own son, so that at some point his star was
ascendant before its ultimate fall. But just what Edgtheow did to merit such a prize cannot be
known. However, one might presume a feat of martial prowess in such times, and nothing short of
saving the king’s own life could assure such reward.
As for the feud with the Wylfings, I found it poignantly ironic, in light of Edgtheow’s position, both
as war-famed warrior and in-law of the king, and played upon this aspect of the tale. The Wylfings
are nothing to the Geats, so far as the remainder of the poem relates. Certainly they are not the
mortal enemy the Swedes became. Yet clearly there was a threat, since it is said that Edgtheow
was exiled “for fear of war.” And yet he is the husband of the king’s own sister, and had gained his
fame quite likely by a similar act. What had changed to cause this sudden downfall where before he
was among the foremost Geats? For one, Hrethel, the former king, had died and been replaced by
Hygelac, his son. And secondly, the Swedish feud had begun. Thus, we can deduce easily enough
the reasons for Edgtheow’s sudden change of status. How fast one falls when politics come into
play!
It is not said in the poem how Edgtheow died, nor that he ever returned to Geatland, and thus it is
possible he fell in Daneland. Beowulf himself says that his father was old when he died, but nothing
more; and as Beowulf himself is still a young man yet at that point, Edgtheow could not have been
very elderly. All this I have pieced together to create Edgtheow’s tale, the story of a once-proud
man now dispossessed, and of the son whose legacy he inherits.
5. Grendel’s Descent
Here we come to a major crux in the tale. The ogre’s maternity is given, and the Troll-Hag herself
is a central figure in the poem; and yet no mention is made of his patrimony (save his ancestry as a
descendant of Cain). Who the father was is left unsaid. But a careful reader might well hazard a
guess.
But first one must ask some other questions. Why Heorot? Why are no other halls mentioned as
being ravaged over the course of a twelve year reign of terror? This was, indeed, a sparsely
populated realm, but at least two other pre-Viking era settlements are known of on Zealand:
Ringsted to the south and Trelleborg in the west, and many more existed by the time our poet
penned his tale five centuries later (although he is clearly unfamiliar with the geography of Denmark,
a low-lying island with no seaside cliffs upon the north). There were certainly many farmsteads
spread about the central hall of Heorot, as well and other ports and steadings. But let that be.
A better question is why Hrothgar? Or rather, why not Hrothgar? That is, why is Hrothgar not slain
by Grendel? Surely he would have been foremost among the fighting men, at least early on. And yet
he is never killed or maimed. For twelve long years the ogre ravages his hall, slaying nearly every
other man until but few remain. But the king himself is never taken.
Then there is the issue of the throne. In a somewhat contested reference, it is stated that Grendel
“could not approach the throne.” This is vague and has been given many meanings which I will not
argue here. But taken at face value one might wonder why: what is preventing him? What stands
between Grendel and the throne? And why is the throne an issue here? Is it Hrothgar as the
embodiment of the throne that we speak of, or the throne itself as a physical seat of power? Either
way, Grendel clearly wishes to approach, otherwise he would not try.
Again, we must ask ourselves why the Danish king does nothing to prevent the ogre’s attacks. And
more importantly, why he makes no mention of the Troll-Hag, even though it is later revealed that
he knew about this other demon all the while. This seems highly suspect, and comes close to
dereliction of duty as the protector of his clan.
I have taken these together to infer that the throne itself is at issue, and that Grendel is its rightful
heir as the son of Hrothgar. How this came to be is purely speculation, and based almost entirely
on the passing mention of the Troll-Hag as a “witch wife” at one point.
It should be stated here that this development came to me many years ago, during the scriptwriting
phase, and long before the recent Robert Zemeckis motion capture film adaptation came out. Neil
Gaiman, its main screenwriter, talks about this very issue briefly in one of the DVD special features.
As interesting and exciting as it was to see my own idea hit upon (and therefore somewhat
validated) by someone else, I have to say that I was plunged into a deep despair at the same time. I
was proud of my deduction, and thought the idea quite singular and cleverly thought out. That
someone else thought of it as well somewhat lessened the uniqueness of its invention, not to mention
the thought that others might now think I stole the idea from the film. Yet I did not, and have dated
documents far preceding the film's release to prove it (as well as many personal witnesses).
Therefore, I am concerned only from an artistic standpoint. Still, only those well versed in the
original poem (or reading this) will even realize its import.
6. Wiglaf
As mentioned earlier, Wiglaf is such a significant character in the scope of our story that he
demanded greater treatment, both in length and breadth. Not only does he become the last king of
Geatland, as the only surviving member of Beowulf’s bloodline, but he has complex relationships
with many of the other characters due to his mixed lineage.
It is given out during the course of the poem’s many digressions, that Wiglaf’s father Weohstan had
at some point married a Swedish princess and taken service with the Swedish king (inferred from
the fact that Onela gives him the sword and armor of his nephew Eanmund, whom Weohstan had
slain). The Wægmunding line, from which Beowulf himself is descended through his father
Edgtheow, are in fact said to be Half-Swedes, so that Weohstan was not the first to intermarry,
and cannot even be said to have been a true Geat (Beowulf has pure Geat blood by his mother, if
not by his father). How Wiglaf came to be in Geatland is not said, and can only be inferred from his
loyalty to Beowulf. In fact, how closely he is related to Beowulf is never stated, only that Edgtheow
and Weohstan are both descended from Wægmund's line. I have made them first cousins and their
fathers brothers.
Since his lineage makes Wiglaf both a Swede and a Geat, and as his father serves the Swedish
king, this provides an inherent conflict of loyalties for all involved, since the Swedes and Geats are
by this time blood enemies. How could an author possibly pass up such an opportunity for dramatic
tension? I can only hope to have served his story well.
It might also be mentioned here that what ultimately became of the Geats is not known. Only
recently have the Geats been seen as historical at all, and their origins, and even the location of their
homeland, are hotly contested. I have gone with the common consensus and placed them in and
around Gothenburg. If this is so, and Wiglaf anything like an historic figure, it may well be that the
clan, like those lands, were absorbed by the expanding Swedes, and Wiglaf returned again to his
father’s home. Yet more scholars seem to hold that they fled to England, as not long afterwards a
dynasty of “Wuffings” was founded in East Anglia with apparent Danish-Geat connections. Either
way, the Geats as they once must have been no longer were.
7. Wulfgar & The Danish Harbor Guard
During the writing of the screenplay I had combined the characters of the Danish harbor guard with
that of Wulfgar, the Danish door guard. The poem uses a repeating episodic structure for the arrival
of Beowulf in Daneland, where he is greeted and questioned three times in rapid succession. Such
redundancy is unacceptable in the narrow confines of the film medium, but in truth, this was one
case where the compression served to create a far stronger character. Our harbor guard is heard of
only twice, on Beowulf’s arrival and departure, and Wulfgar himself is given little more to do but
act the part of herald to the king. Therefore, I let this alteration stand, even though it technically
leaves the harbor unguarded by its chief protector. Given the nature of their visitor, I am sure he is
forgiven.
8. Unferth & The Sons of Hrethel
Unferth is another character whose role I have greatly expanded (as with most of the existing
characters in the poem). However, he merits special mention here for another reason.
In the poem there is a minor story involving the two elder brothers of Hygelac: Herebeald and
Hæthcyn, the younger of whom slew the elder accidentally with an arrow during an archery contest.
Initially I had, of course, intended to portray this subplot as it stands, as it offers a very moving
narrative, one of the more emotional moments, in fact, in the poem.
This proved more difficult than I had hoped, since there is very little else told of these two
characters, aside from the fact that Hæthcyn is the Geat king hewed down by Ongentheow during
the Ravenswood episode, and not Hygelac at all. Anything else involving these two elder sons of
Hrethel would have required pure invention. In the end it was just too much to add to a story
rapidly growing out of all bounds of reason. They were not significant enough to merit such lengthy
treatment, and only served to stand in the way of the more important character: their youngest
sibling, Hygelac, now the rightful king of Geats (for more on this, see The Swede-Geat Feud
below).
This is one of those instances where adaptation proves most trying. On the one hand there is loyalty
to the original, and on the other the dictates of the new medium and its audience. To tell the story as
accurately as possible in the best way possible are not always the same, and are often at odds.
However, as I did not want to lose this strong story point entirely, I continued to search for a
means of conveying it in passing, at first as a digression, and then as a passing mention during
another related episode. But none of these proved particularly successful, until another unresolved
issue laid claim to it almost by chance. I had been struggling to solve this dilemma when it suddenly
occurred to me that another dilemma required a similar solution: that of Unferth’s kin-slaying.
Beowulf, during his rebuttal of Unferth’s challenge, states that he knows about Unferth’s past
history, accusing him of having slain his own brothers (plural in the poem). As the accusation is not
refuted, either by Unferth or anyone else, it must be presumed to be true. Clearly, this is a strong
story point, deserving far more attention that a mere passing mention. What is the nature of
Unferth's actual crime? What brought it about and what came of it? How would such an accusation
affect him in this situation? And how is it that Beowulf even knows about it?
These questions all came together in a flash, and all was answered at once. Thus, I appropriated
the Herebeald-Hæthcyn storyline and reassigned it to a better use, one where it could be properly
developed in the context of the main plotline. This, of course, left the other brothers with little left to
do, and I have employed them to other uses more suitable. Yet since kin-slaying was their proper
sphere, it has been retained as their due.
As a further note on the character of Unferth, I should mention here his prolonged appearance in
the story. In the poem, of course, he is not heard of again after Beowulf’s departure from Daneland
– and, in fact, not after Beowulf’s return from Grendel’s mere when he is thanked for the use of his
sword, even though it proved useless. Unferth is, in the poem, only initially an antagonist to
Beowulf. Seemingly, he comes around after Beowulf’s success against Grendel; but little is said of
him other than that he offers up his sword to Beowulf in his fight against the Troll-Hag, presumably
as an acknowledgement of his lesser status.
However, not wanting to dispense with such a prominent character, who, as a chief member of
Hrothgar’s council, would not simply disappear from the action soon to follow, I have opted to
involve him further in our tale. And the perfect opportunity awaited in the distant future, in the
unnamed character of the dragon-hoard thief.
Unferth, I came to feel, was as much a victim of his circumstances as an active participant in them.
The thief, too, seems very much a victim of his circumstances, a man whose needs far surpass his
means – that is, until an opportunity presents itself. Also, I have striven to avoid having characters
show up just to fulfill a necessary function in terms of propelling the plot forward (even though that
is what happens here in the poem). I much prefer each event having some connection and relevance
to those surrounding it. That it would be Unferth who brings about Beowulf’s demise by disturbing
the dragon from its sleep seemed to me the ultimate twist of fate, given especially that by that point
he seems to have come around at last, as in the poem, and would, like the unnamed thief, offer up a
token of submission to his master.
In evaluating the various characters in light of Norse cultural mores and status, and knowing how
truly in all times and places men differ from one another on every level, I came to wonder how one
might feel in such a time who did not in constitution conform to the social norm. Not all men have
the fighting spirit, and there are cowards and brave men in every walk of life. The change of
Unferth’s character in the poem gave me an example of how I might pursue that observation to a
more dramatic conclusion.
9. Halga, Hrothulf, & the Yrsa Issue
Here I was presented with an opportunity to bring the Swedes and Geats together which proved
far more fruitful than I ever could have hoped for. From the single obscure mention of Halga at line
62, with its proposed oversight of Yrsa as the given spouse of the Swede Onela, a complex web
was spun.
The name Yrsa is provided by external sources, among which is the fourteenth century Icelandic
Saga of Hrolf Kraki. From this came the seeds for the tale of Yrsa’s incestuous lineage, in the
saga only a single layer deep, but grown to rank fruition here on multiple levels. This was such a
complicated garden to weed that I almost gave it up. But so intense was the tale as I listened to it
being told time and again by Freawaru and her heartsick compatriot Wulfgar that I could not but
pursue the matter further.
The initial motivation came not from Kraki, but from wondering what became of Halga. Why, I had
to ask, was he not in Daneland? Had he fled a coward from the wrath of Grendel? That did not
seem likely, since in his one mention he is given the epithet of Halga “the Good” – a far cry from
Halga "the Wuss," or some such. Then I began to wonder about Yrsa. Where was she? With the
Swedes, presumably, if Onela was her mate. And then it occurred to me that this would provide
the perfect opportunity for Onela to pursue the Geats to Daneland. If the ogre was slain and people
coming from near and far to witness Grendel’s arm, why would Yrsa not want to seek out her kin?
Then there was the problem of Hrothulf. Scattered hints throughout the poem insinuate the nephew
of the Danish king in a plot of some dark intent. The exact nature of this is never clearly divulged,
but involves some form of treachery and betrayal. Again, external sources come into play, and I will
not dive into them here – they are dealt with at great length elsewhere – but suffice it to say that the
general consensus is that Hrothulf at some point usurps the Danish throne. Now, this is hardly an
unheard of occurrence among the aristocracy of any nation, but in any case requires a character of
scheming wit and great ambition, untainted by any sense of moral compunction, and better by one
who feels himself unfairly treated.
Here is where Hrolf Kraki’s Saga came to prominence. Hrolf Kraki is, for those unfamiliar with
that less prominent work, Hrothulf in his Iceland guise. The intervening years and leagues had made
of Hrothulf a far more sympathetic figure, to the extent that he was seen the hero of his escapades.
Some of these concern us here, but none so much as those of his parentage. Yrsa, having wed her
brother Helgi (our Halga), gives birth to Hrolf (Hrothulf).
That Hrothulf was the offspring of an incestuous union seemed to answer many questions, both of
himself and of his parents. Yet still that didn’t seem quite enough to create such a dramatic
berserker as our Hrothulf is. Therefore, I pressed the issue one step further, and made Yrsa herself
the daughter of Halga by his own mother, after which she then bears Hrothulf to her father-brother,
who flees on learning of his deed.
This pointed up another question I had often pondered: In such a time and place, when rape and
plunder were so common, how could anyone be certain of his heritage? With so many bastard
children running around impregnating one another, how intermingled must their bloodlines been!
What must have come of it was answered well enough by the monks of Lindisfarne when they
wailed out: "from the fury of the Northmen, Lord protect us!"
| ADAPTATION NOTES, PART II |
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