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He was minded in after-days to be requiting the fall of the prince. He was a friend to the wretched Eadgils, and helped Eadgils the son of Ohthere with an army with warriors and with weapons, over the wide seas. And then he wrought vengeance with cold and painful journeyings and deprived the king (Onela) of life.⁶⁴ Thus the son of Ecgtheow had escaped all the malice and the hurtful contests and the courageous encounters, until the day on which he was to wage war with the dragon. And so it came to pass that the Lord of the Geats went forth with twelve others and inflamed with fury, to spy out the dragon. For he had heard tell of the malice and hatred he had shown to men, whence arose that feud.

In later years, he intended to avenge the prince’s death. He was a friend to the suffering Eadgils, the son of Ohthere. He helped Eadgils by sending an army of warriors and weapons across the wide seas. Then he took revenge through cold and painful journeys and killed the king (Onela).⁶⁴ Thus the son of Ecgtheow had survived all the malice, brutal struggles, and brave encounters. He survived until the day he was to fight the dragon. And so the Lord of the Geats set out with twelve others, burning with fury, to track down the dragon. For he had heard of the dragon’s malice and hatred toward men, which had caused the feud.

And by the hand of the informer,⁶⁵ famous treasure came into their possession; he was the thirteenth man in the troop who set on foot the beginning of the conflict. And the sorrowful captive must show the way thither. He against his will went to the earth-hall, for he alone knew the barrow under the ground near to the sea-surge, where it was seething, the cavern that was full of ornaments and filagree. And the uncanny guardian thereof, the panting war-wolf, held possession of the treasures, and an ancient was he under the earth. And it was no easy bargain to be gaining for any living man.

And through the informer,⁶⁵ the famous treasure came into their possession. He was the thirteenth man in the troop and had set the conflict in motion. And the sorrowful captive had to show the way there. He went unwillingly to the underground hall, for he alone knew the burial mound near the churning sea. The cavern was full of ornaments and delicate metalwork. And its sinister guardian, the panting war-wolf, held the treasures and had lived beneath the earth for ages. And gaining those treasures was no easy bargain for any living man.

So the battle-hardened King sat down on the cliff, and took leave of his hearth-comrades, he the gold-friend of the Geats. And his heart was sad, wavering, and ready for death, and Weird came very near to him who would be greeting the venerable warrior and be seeking his soul-treasure, to divide asunder his life from his body. And not long after that was the soul of the Atheling imprisoned in the flesh. Beowulf spake, the son of Ecgtheow: ‘Many a war-rush I escaped from in my youth, in times of conflict. And well I call it all to mind. I was seven years old when the Lord of Treasures, the friendly lord of the folk, took me away from my father—and King Hrethel had me in thrall, and gave me treasure and feasted me and kept the peace. Nor was I a whit less dear a child to him than any of his own kin, Herebald and Hæthcyn or my own dear Hygelac. And for the eldest was a murder-bed most unhappily made up by the deeds of a kinsman,⁶⁶ when Hæthcyn his lordly friend brought him low with an arrow from out of his horn-bow, and missing the mark he shot through his brother with a bloody javelin. And that was a fight not to be atoned for by gifts of money; and a crime it was, and wearying to the soul in his breast. Nevertheless the Atheling must unavenged be losing his life. For so is it a sorrowful thing for a venerable man to see his son riding the gallows-tree when he singeth a dirge a sorrowful song, as his son hangeth, a joy to the ravens. And he, very old, may not give him any help. And every morning at the feasting he is reminded of his son’s journey else-whither. And he careth not to await another heir within the cities, when he alone through the fatality of death hath found out the deeds.

So the battle-hardened King sat down on the cliff and said goodbye to his companions, the men of his household. He was the generous lord of the Geats. His heart was sad and troubled, and he was ready for death. Weird drew very near, ready to greet the old warrior and claim his treasured soul, separating his life from his body. The prince’s soul would not remain trapped in his flesh much longer. Beowulf, the son of Ecgtheow, spoke: ‘I escaped many fierce attacks in the battles of my youth. And I remember them all well. I was seven years old when the Lord of Treasures, the people’s kindly lord, took me from my father. King Hrethel took me into his care, gave me treasure, feasted me, and kept the peace. I was no less dear to him than his own children, Herebald and Hæthcyn or my dear Hygelac. But a kinsman’s actions brought a tragic, violent death to the eldest.⁶⁶ Hæthcyn, his noble companion, struck him down with an arrow from his horn-bow. Missing his target, he pierced his brother with the bloodstained shaft. No payment could make amends for that killing. It was a crime that weighed heavily on the heart. Yet the prince had to lose his life unavenged. ‘For an old man feels such sorrow when he sees his son hanging from the gallows. He sings a mournful song as his son hangs there, a delight to the ravens. And the father, very old, can give him no help. Every morning at the feast, he remembers his son’s journey to another place. He has no wish to await another heir in the towns, when death alone has taught him what happened.

‘Heartbroken he looks on the bower of his son, on the wasted wine-hall, become the hiding-place for the winds and bereft of the revels. The riders are sleeping, the heroes in the tomb. Nor is any sound of harping, or games in the courts as erewhile there were.

‘Heartbroken, he looks at his son’s chamber, at the ruined wine-hall, now a shelter for winds, empty of celebration. The riders sleep, the heroes lie in the tomb. No harp music sounds, and no games are played in the courtyards as they once were.