Part 3.1 - Unferth's Challenge

Unferth spoke, Ecglaf’s son,
Who sat at Hrothgar’s feet, spoke harshly
And sharp (vexed by Beowulf’s adventure,
By their visitor’s courage, and angry that anyone
In Denmark or anywhere on earth had ever
Acquired glory and fame greater
Than his own):
“You’re Beowulf, are you—the same
Boastful fool who fought a swimming
Match with Brecca, both of you daring
And young and proud, exploring the deepest
Seas, risking your lives for no reason
But the danger?
With Brecca at your side you swam along
The sea-paths. Then winter
Churned through the water, the waves ran you
As they willed, and you struggled seven long nights
To survive. And at the end victory was his,
Not yours. The sea carried him close
To his home, to southern Norway, near
The land of the Brondings, where he ruled and was loved. He’d promised to outswim you:
Bonstan’s son made that boast ring true.
You’ve been lucky in your battles, Beowulf, but I think
Your luck may change if you challenge Grendel,
Staying a whole night through in this hall,
Waiting where that fiercest of demons can find you.”
Beowulf answered, Edgetho’s great son:
“Ah! Unferth, my friend, your face
Is hot with ale, and your tongue has tried
To tell us about Brecca’s doings. But the truth
Is simple: No man swims in the sea
As I can, no strength is a match for mine.
As boys, Brecca and I had boasted—
We were both too young to know better—that we’d risk
Our lives far out at sea, and so
We did. Each of us carried a naked
Sword.
He could never leave me behind, swim faster
Across the waves than I could, and I
Had chosen to remain close to his side.
I remained near him for five long nights,
Until a flood swept us apart;
The frozen sea surged around me,
It grew dark, the wind turned bitter, blowing
From the north, and the waves were savage. Creatures
Who sleep deep in the sea were stirred
Into life—A monster seized me, drew me
Swiftly toward the bottom, swimming with its claws
Tight in my flesh. But fate let me
Find its heart with my sword, hack myself
Free; I fought that beast’s last battle,
Left it floating lifeless in the sea.
Other monsters crowded around me,
Continually attacking. I treated them politely,
Offering the edge of my razor-sharp sword
By morning they’d decided to sleep on the shore,
Lying on their backs, their blood spilled out
On the sand. Afterwards, sailors could cross
That sea-road and feel no fear; nothing
Would stop their passing.
And at last I could see the land, wind-swept
Cliff-walls at the edge of the coast.
Lucky or not, nine was the number
Of sea-huge monsters I killed. What man,
Anywhere under Heaven’s high arch, has fought
In such darkness, endured more misery, or been harder
Pressed? Yet I survived the sea, smashed
The monsters’ hot jaws, swam home from my journey.
The swift-flowing waters swept me along
And I landed on Finnish soil. I’ve heard
No tales of you, Unferth, telling
Of such clashing terror, such contests in the night!
Brecca’s battles were never so bold;
Neither he nor you can match me—and I mean
No boast, have announced no more than I know
To be true.
Grendel learned that terror is his alone,
Discovered he can come for your people with no fear
Of reprisal; he’s found no fighting, here,
But only food, only delight.
He murders as he likes, with no mercy, gorges
And feasts on your flesh, and expects no trouble,
No quarrel from the quiet Danes. Now
The Geats will show him courage, soon
He can test his strength in battle. And when the sun
Comes up again, opening another
Bright day from the south, anyone in Denmark
May enter this hall: That evil will be gone!”
Hrothgar, gray-haired and brave, sat happily
Listening, the famous ring-giver sure,
At last, that Grendel could be killed; he believed
In Beowulf’s bold strength and the firmness of his spirit.
There was the sound of laughter, and the cheerful clanking
Of cups, and pleasant words.
Then Welthow,
Hrothgar’s gold-ringed queen, greeted
The warriors; a noble woman who knew
What was right, she raised a flowing cup
To Hrothgar first, holding it high
For the lord of the Danes to drink, wishing him
Joy in that feast. The famous king
Drank with pleasure and blessed their banquet.
Then Welthow went from warrior to warrior,
Pouring a portion from the jeweled cup
For each, and it was Beowulf’s
Turn to be served. She saluted the Geats’
Great prince, thanked God for answering her prayers,
For allowing her hands the happy duty
Of offering mead to a hero who would help
Her afflicted people. He drank what she poured,
Edgetho’s brave son, then assured the Danish
Queen that his heart was firm and his hands
Ready:
“When we crossed the sea, my comrades
And I, I already knew that all
My purpose was this: to win the good will
Of your people or die in battle, pressed
In Grendel’s fierce grip. Let me live in greatness
And courage, or here in this hall welcome
My death!”
Welthow was pleased with his words,
His bright-tongued boasts; she carried them back
To her lord, walked nobly across to his side.
The feast went on, laughter and music
And the brave words of warriors celebrating
Their delight. Then Hrothgar rose, Healfdane’s
Son, heavy with sleep; as soon
As the sun had gone, he knew that Grendel
Would come to Herot, would visit that hall
When night had covered the earth with its net
And the shapes of darkness moved black and silent
Through the world. Hrothgar’s warriors rose with him.
He went to Beowulf, embraced the Geats’
Brave prince, wished him well, and hoped
That Herot would be his to command. And then
He declared:
“No one strange to this land
Has ever been granted what I’ve given you,
No one in all the years of my rule.
Make this best of all mead-halls yours, and then
Keep it free of evil, fight
With glory in your heart! Purge Herot
And your ship will sail home with its treasure-holds full.” . . .