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[lines 1537-1569 in sections XXII and XXIII and 5th line from the bottom of folio 163v, through folio 164r to 4th line from the top of folio 164v on Kevin S. Kiernan's Electronic Beowulf CD] Images of the original manuscript text of this section, and an mp3 file of Ben Slade reading it in Old English, are here. Note: there is a discussion of the word eaxle in line 1537a on my page on Shoulder Grabbing vs. Hair Pulling
In this part of the story Grendel's mother has just been to Heorot to seek revenge for Beowulf's victory over Grendel. She has grabbed one of Hrothgar's men and taken Grendel's arm down from above the hall door and taken the man and the arm back to her under-water cave.
King Hrothgar asks Beowulf to chase after her and one of his men leads Beowulf to where they believe her home to be. Beowulf puts on his mail armour and takes Unferth's sword "Hrunting" and swims down through the water looking for Grendel's mother. It takes him hours to swim down through the water but eventually Grendel's mother and other monstrous beings swim up to meet him and fight with him in the water. They eventually end up in the under-water cave where Grendel and his mother have been living. The roof of the cave holds out the water.
Beowulf and Grendel's mother fight in her cave and she crushes him fiercely with her claws but his life is protected by his armour. He tries to kill her with Hrunting but it will not even bite into her flesh. Eventually he sees Grendel's mother's own giant sword on the wall -- the sword is so large that he is the only man in the world strong enough to wield it -- and he uses it to kill her.
At this moment Beowulf has just failed to hurt Grendel's mother with the sword Hrunting and he tries to wrestle her as he had done with Grendel.
Beowulf Fights Grendel's Mother -- Audio: beowulf-audio-1537a-1569b-benslade.mp3
140 seconds, 2.2Mb, Sampling Rate=22,050, 16bit -- lines 1537-1569
Click to hear Ben Slade read about Beowulf's fight with Grendel's mother in Old English (or right click and "Save-As" to save to your hard drive)
Ben Slade's Beowulf page is at http://www.heorot.dk.
The prince of the fighting Götar then seized the mother of Grendel by the shoulder. He had no regrets at all about that fight. The battle-hardened man spun her-- then his blood was up-- till she fell in a heap on the floor. She in turn quickly paid him back in wicked holds. She pulled him towards her. His spirit worn out, the strongest of soldiers, the champion of the army, was thrown off balance, so that he was given a fall. Then she sat on the man who had invaded her hall, and drew her short-sword, broad-bladed and with its edges glittering. She was about to avenge her child, her only son. On his shoulder rested the meshed corslet. That saved his life. It prevented the entrance of point or edge of blade. Ecgtheow's son, the champion of the Götar, would have come to the end of his exploits deep under ground, had not the battle-mail, the tough war-corslet been a help to him, and had not Holy God, the Lord in His wisdom, the Governor of Heaven, decreed victory in battle. With ease and in accordance with His justice, He had ordained it the moment Beowulf got on his feet again.
It was then that he saw in her gear a blade blessed with victory, an ancient sword of more than human make, with rugged edges, one that had done soldiers proud. It was the choicest of weapons, except that, noble and majestic as it was, a masterpiece by giants, it was larger than any other man could have carried into battle. The champions of the Scyldings, stern and savage in a fight, then grasped the ringed hilt and drew the damascened blade, and, despairing of life, struck so furiously that hard thing bit into her neck. It split the neck-bones; the blade went all the way through the doomed flesh. She crumpled to the floor. The sword was dripping blood; the soldier gloried in his deed.
Then the prince of warlike Geatas (he shrank not at all from the fray) seized Grendel's mother by the shoulder; then the doughty fighter, for he was enraged, shook his deadly adversary, so that she sank down on the place. She on her part quickly paid him back in his own coin with a terrible clutch of the hand, and grappled with him. Then that foot-soldier, strongest of warriors, weary of spirit, over-reached himself, so that he fell. Then she sat upon that hall-guest, and took her dagger, broad, brown-edged; she would avenge her bairn, her own heir. His linked coat of mail lay on his shoulder; that protected his life; against point and against edge it withstood entrance. Then would the son of Ecgtheow have gone the way of death under the vast ground, the champion of the Geatas, unless his war-corselet, that hard coat of chain-mail, had afforded him help, and holy God, the all-knowing Lord, the Ruler of the heavens, awarded victory; he settled it aright, easily when he [Beowulf] again stood up.
Then he saw among the stuff a blade blessed with victory, an old sword of Jotun times, with finest edge, the glory of warriors; that was the very pick of weapons, save that it was larger than any other man could carry forth to the game of war, -- good and properly fitted, the work of giants. He, the champion of the Scyldings, fierce and savage, seized that belted hilt; hopeless of life, he drew the ringed blade, fiercely he struck, so that it smote heavily upon her neck, burst the vertebræ; the blade drove right through her doomed carcase; she sank down on the place. The sword was gory, the man rejoiced in his work.
So all undaunted the prince of the Geats grasped Grendel's dam by the shoulder and his wrath hurled her from him so that she sank to the floor. But straightway she met him, grip for grip, and they grappled together till his great strength wearied and he stumbled and fell. Then she was upon him, sitting, and the byrnie on his shoulder caught the stab of her knife, broad and brown-edged. And save of this, the son of Ecgtheow had strayed to his destruction under the wide earth-- save for his battle-burnie and the Lord God, the ruler of the skies, who granted the victory and by whose just decree the hero got him once more to his feet.
Thereupon, amongst weapons that were there, he caught sight of an ancient sword and mighty, the work of giants, omen of victory, and huger than any man else could swing in battle. This by its circleted hilt he seized and drew it forth, and all despairing of his life he furiously smote. And the edge took hold on her neck, and broke the bone-locks, and the sword passed quite through the casing flesh of a spirit doomed and fey, so that she fell on the hall-floor. And the hero with his sword all of a gore-blood had his joy with the deed he had done.
--- The Lord of the War-Geats seized then Grendel's mother by the shoulder-- he did not shrink from her wrath. Then the fierce war thane dragged his life-enemy-- for he was angry-- until she sank to the floor. Quickly in return she paid him back with grim clutches and grappled with him, Weary of heart the warrior, strongest of fighters on foot, stumbled, so that he fell. Then the hall-visitor sat upon him and drew her knife, broad and brown-edged. She would avenge her son, her only offspring. On his shoulder lay the woven breast-net: that saved his life, barred entrance against point and edge. Then would the son of Ecgtheow have perished under the broad earth, the warrior of the Geats, had not his battle byrnie, the hard war-net, done him service, -- and holy God, Heaven's Ruler, easily decided it rightly when the warrior again stood up.
Then he saw among some war-gear a victory-favored sword, a brand descended from giants, hard of edge, the glory of warriors. That was choicest of weapons except that it was greater than any other man could bear in battle, good and fully wrought, the work of giants. Then the Lord of the Scyldings seized the hilt, grim and fierce, drew the ring-sword, despairing of life, angrily struck so that sorely it gripped her by the neck, broke bone-rings. The blade went clear through her death-doomed body. She sank upon the ground. The sword was bloody. The hero rejoiced in his work.
So the leader of the warfaring Geats, who felt no compunction in the feud, grabbed Grendel's mother by the shoulder; then, ruthless in the struggle, for he was no enraged to bursting, he threw the life-menacing foe so that she feel to the floor. She sharply gave him quittance again with savage clutches, and she made a grab at him. Then, desperate of mood, she tripped the man fighting on foot, strongest of warriors, so that he was prostrated; then she pinned down her hall-visitor and dragged out her broad, bright-edged knife; she meant to avenge her child, her only son. Across his shoulder lay the meshed mail-shirt: it saved his life and resisted penetration by point or edge. Ecgtheow's son, the Geatish campaigner, would have perished then down in the vast deep, had not his battle-corslet, his sturdy soldier's mail-coat, afforded him help; and were it not that holy God held sway over victory in war. The wise Lord, arbiter of the heavens, easily determined the matter on the side of right as soon as he got up again.
Then, among some trappings, he saw a blade blessed with success, an ancient, gigantic sword, excelling in its edges, a thing to lend prestige to warriors. It was the choicest of weapons -- except that it was huger than any other man would be able to carry into the cut and thrust of battle -- efficient and beautiful, the work of giants. So, bold hero of the Scyldings, fierce and deadly grim, he grabbed the bound hilt, unsheathed the ring-embellished sword and, not expecting to survive, struck angrily -- so that it caught her hard on her neck and smashed the rings of bone: clean through her doomed flesh clove the blade. She fell dead to the floor. The sword was bloody. The man felt pleased at his achievement.
...Then the chief of the War-Geats seized Grendel's mother by the shoulder-- he mourned not at all for the strife; the hardy in battle, as as he was swollen with rage, hurled his life-foe so that she bent to the floor. Quickly she paid him back hand-meed with grim grasps, and clutched at him; then weary of mood, the strongest of warriors, fighter on foot, stumbled so that he fell. Then she sat upon the hall-guest, and drew her dagger, broad, brown-edged, and would avenge her child, her only son. On his shoulder lay the braided breast-net; that saved his life, withstood the inthrust of point and edge. Then had the son of Ecgtheow, champion of the Geats, perished under the wide seabottom but that the battle -burny gave him help, the hard army-net, and hold God, the wise Lord, brought about war-victory-- the Ruler of heavens easily judged it aright. Afterwards he stood up again.
Then he saw among the armor a bill rich in victories, an old sword of eotens, with doughty edges, the worship of warriors; that was the pick of weapons, but that it was greater than any other man might bear to battle-play, good and well garnished, a work of giants. He seized then the belted hilt, the wolf of the Scyldings, fierce and sword-grim, drew the ring-sword, hopeless of life struck irefully, so that the hard blade griped at her neck, broke the bonr-rings; the bill went through the doomed flesh-covering; she fell to the floor. The sword was bloody; the man was glad of his work.
Note here that I have found that in Sedgefield, and in Jack, the word feaxe is used. This seems to be due to comments by someone named Rieger, and someone named Stanley, and the emendation is apparently done to cause the "correct" alliteration. I will do more research on this and alter the paragraph below
In some of the translations of line 1537a Beowulf grabs Grendel's mother's shoulder and in others he grabs her hair. In some translations the Old English word is "eaxle" while in others it is "feaxe". As far as I can tell from looking through dictionaries and various translations, "eaxle" means "shoulder" and "feaxe" means "hair". Here are some images of the original manuscript from Kevin Kiernan's Electronic Beowulf CD.
This image of the original manuscript [last word of line 1535 to end of line 1539] is from three-quarters of the way down folio 163v (from the Electronic Beowulf CD by Kevin Kiernan). The last two words on the third line are the phrase "Grendles modor;" [Grendel's mother] from line 1538b. You can click the image to see a 2070x414 pixel version (74k in size).
This is a larger image of the fourth word on the second line of the above image. It is clearly "eaxle" and not "feaxe".
Then the lord of the War-Geats -- he shrank not at all from the strife -- seized Grendel's mother by the shoulders. Strong in battle he hurled his life's foe, for that he was swollen with wrath, so she fell to the ground. Quickly she paid him back his dues to his hand in savage clinchings, and laid hold upon him. Spent in spirit, the fighter on foot, strongest of warriors, tripped so he fell. Then she threw herself on the stranger in her hall, and drew her dagger broad and bright-edged -- she thought to avenge her son, her only child. His woven breast-mail lay on his shoulder; it shielded his life, withstood the in-thrust of point and blade. Then had the son of Ecgtheow, foremost fighter of the Geats, gone to his death beneath the broad deeps, had not his battle-burnie, the stout battle-mesh, given him help, and Holy God, the Wise Lord, Ruler of the Heavens, held sway over victory in battle, awarded it aright. Readily thereafter he found his feet.
He saw then among the war-gear a blade oft victorious, an old sword of the eotens, doughty of edge, one prized by warriors; it was the choicest of weapons, save that it was greater than any other man might bear out to the battle-play, good and brave to see, the work of giants. The warrior of the Scyldings seized it by its chain-bound hilt. Raging and battle-fierce, he drew the ring-marked blade, and despairing of life smote so wrathfully that the hard edge gripped her by the neck, brake the bone-rings; the sword went clean through her fated body, and she fell to the ground.
Then, heedless of peril, Beowulf sprang upon Grendel's dam, and seized her by the shoulder. Full of rage he was, and he grappled the dreadful creature so mightily that she sank down upon the ground. But she was not yet overcome. No, indeed, for in her turn she grappled with him, closing in upon him, and flinging him, strongest among men though he was, upon the pavement of the floor; for his breath failed him, and his strength was spent. Then the hag sat upon him and drew her knife, broad of blade it was and brown; willingly would she have slain him, for she was minded to take vengeance for the death of her son. Then of a truth had Beowulf perished, but for the coat of mail that was about his body. This the hag could not pierce; neither with blade nor with point could she drive her knife through it. So did the Almighty Father help the champion in his need.
Then again Beowulf, with a great struggle, threw the hag from off him, and stood upright on his feet. And as he looked about the hall, he saw among the armour that was hanging about it a great sword, a weapon of giants, keen of edge, a very king among swords; only it was so huge that none other on earth could have wielded it in the press of battle save only Beowulf the Goth. He seized it with his hands, thinking to himself, "If this avails me not, I die," and smote the beldam so fiercely on the neck that the steel shore her body right through, and she fell dead upon the pavement of the hall.
The prince of the War-Geats then seized Grendel's mother by the shoulder-- he grieved not at the struggle;-- the brave in combat, bursting as he was with rage, so flung the deadly foe that she fell upon the ground. She quickly yielded him a recompense again with fearful graspings, and clutched at him. Sick at heart, the strongest of warriors, of foot-combatants, stumbled so that he had a fall.
She threw herself then on her hall-visitant and drew her dagger, broad and bright of edge;-- she would avenge her child, her only offspring. The woven hauberk lay upon his shoulder. That preserved his life, barred entry against point and edge. Then the son of Ecgtheow, the hero of the Geats, would have perished under the wide earth, had not the war-corslet, his strong coat of mail, furnished him succour, and the holy God, the all-wise Lord, brought about victory in battle. With ease, the Ruler of the heavens decided it aright after Beowulf had got up again.
He saw then among the armour a victory-blest weapon, and ancient giant-made sword, doughty of edge, the glory of warriors; choicest of weapons that; howbeit it was greater than any other man could carry to the battle-play, good and majestical, the work of giants. Then he, champion of the Scyldings, seized the ornamented hilt; swung the patterned blade, savage and fierce in battle; struck furiously, reckless of life, so that the sword smote her sharply on the neck and broke the bones. The blade cleft her doomed body through and through; on the floor she fell. The sword was gory, the man rejoiced in his work. ---
where the fire-flood shed
Its deep and livid light.
Here he attempted to make a stand, but found that even his good sword Hrunting, which had never yet deceived him in battle, availed no more against the mother than it would have done against the son. He threw the weapon from him in anger, and, relying on the strength of his arm alone, grappled with his unnatural adversary. The contest was long and doubtful; but at length the Grendel [sic], extricating herself from his grasp, aimed at his heart so powerful a blow of her falchion, as must inevitably have terminated his existence, had it not been resisted by the temper of his breast-plate, and the protecting arm of that power which had hitherto befriended his efforts in the cause of justice.
Canto XXIII.
Then spied he mid the treasures of that realm
A wondrous brand and vast; keen was the blade,
For Jutes had forged it in the days of old.
He saw and mark'd its power; -- no feebler hand
In the stern play of battle had sufficed
To wield its giant fabric, -- but the Goth
Full lightly seized the hilt.
His opponent quickly discovered that the chances were no longer in her favour: despairing of success and even of life, she made one more ferocious effort; but Beowulf was now in possession of no ordinary weapon, and he used it with no ordinary power. At a single stroke he cut through the "ringed bones" of her neck, and
Through the frail mantle of the quivering flesh
Drove with continuous wound. She to the dust
Fell headlong, -- and, its work of slaughter done,
The gallant sword dropp'd fast a gory dew.
Then Beówulf saw the mighty sea-woman, and furious, swung his heavy sword and brought it down with a crash upon her head. But the keen steel failed him in his need, for her hard skull turned its biting edge. So angrily flinging from him his twisted blade, and trusting wholly to his mighty hand-grip, he caught the wolf-woman by the shoulders and bent her backwards to the floor. Fiercely she gave back his grappling, and wrestled him till from weariness he rolled and fell; then, drawing her brown-edged knife she sought at one blow to avenge her son. But the hard battle-net upon his breast hindered the entrance of the knife, and God who rules the firmament protected him, so that he gat upon his feet again. Then Beówulf saw hanging in the sea-hall a huge sword made by giants, a weapon fortunate in victory, doughty of edge, which none but he could wield. Hard grasped he the war-bill by the hilt, and whirled it savagely against the sea-woman's ring mail in despair of life. Furious he struck, and the bone-rings of her neck gave way before it; so that blade passed through her doomed body, and, war-wearied, her carcase lay lifeless on the floor.
Beowulf threw the monster to the ground. But then she tripped him, held him in a fearsome clinch and drew a dagger. Beowulf could not throw her off. Then Grendel's mother stabbed at Beowulf's heart. She stabbed again. But the cunning links of chain-mail held firm and guarded Beowulf; his corslet saved him.
Now the Geat sprang to his feet. He saw a sword, massive and double-edged, made by giants, lying in one corner of the chamber. It was so huge that only he of all men could have handled it.
Beowulf ran across the floor, gripped the ringed hilt and swung the ornamented sword -- he struck Grendel's mother as she lumbered towards him. The blade slashed through her neck, smashed the vertebrae. The monster moaned and fell dead at his feet.
Then he seized by the hair Grendel's mother - the man of the War-Geats did not shrink from the fight. Battle-hardened, now swollen with rage, he pulled his deadly foe so that she fell to the floor. Quickly in her turn she repaid him his gift with her grim claws and clutched at him: then weary-hearted, the strongest of warriors, of foot-soldiers, stumbled so that he fell. Then she sat upon the hall-guest and drew her knife, broad and bright-edged. She would avenge her child, her only son. The woven breast-armor lay on his shoulder: that protected his life, withstood entry of point or or edge. Then the son of Ecgtheow would have fared amiss under the wide ground, the champion of the Geats, if the battle-shirt had not brought help, the hard war-net - and holy God brought about victory in war; the wise Lord, Ruler of the Heavens, decided it with right, easily, when Beowulf had stood up again.
Then he saw among the armor a victory-blessed blade, an old sword made by the giants, strong of its edges, glory of warriors: it was the best of weapons, except that it was larger than any other man might bear to war-sport, good and adorned, the work of giants. He seized the linked hilt, he who fought for the Scyldings, savage and slaughter-bent, drew the patterned blade; desparate of life, he struck angrily so that it bit her hard on the neck, broke the bone-rings. The blade went through all the doomed body. She fell to the floor, the sword was sweating, the man rejoiced in his work.
Then did the Leed of the warlike Goths -- nought recked he of deadly peril -- seize Grendel's dam by the shoulder; then did the man valiant in fight, as he was full of rage, sway his deadly adversary so that she sank on the pavement. The hag swiftly paid him back reprisal with fell grapplings, and closed in upon him: -- then staggered he with spirits exhausted, he the strongest of warriors, the champion-soldier, insomuch that he fell prostrate. Then did the hag sit upon the visitant of her hall, and drew her knife, broad and brown-edged; would revenge her bairn, her only offspring. About his shoulder lay the breast-net interlaced; that fenced his life; against point and against edge it barred the entrance.
Then had the son of Ecgtheow, the champion of the Goths, miscarried under the vast profound, had not his campaigning byrnie, his hard war-net, afforded help; -- and holy God controlled the victory, the Lord of providence, the heavenly Ruler, he determined it aright, and that with ease; -- presently he again stood erect on his feet.
Then saw he among the armour a monumental cutlass, an old eotenish sword, of edge effective, a trophy of warriors; -- that was the very pride of weapons, only then it was huger than any other man could bear to the battle-game; it was good and gallant, handiwork of giants. Then did he, the champion of the Scyldings, grasp Fetelhilt; exasperate and greedy of fight he drew the jewelled arm; despairing of his life, he smote in his fury; insomuch that the hard steel caught her by the neck, broke through the bone-rings, the bill sped all through the doomed flesh-jacket; -- she dropped on the pavement; the sword was gory; the lad was fain of his work.
Terrible and almost superhuman was the contest which now followed: the awful sea-woman flung Beowulf down on his back and stabbed at him with point and edge of her broad knife, seeking some vulnerable point; but the good corslet resisted all her efforts, and Beowulf, exerting his mighty force, overthrew her and sprang to his feet. Angered beyond measure, he brandished the flaming sword Hrunting, and flashed one great blow at her head which would have killed her had her scales and hair been vulnerable; but alas! the edge of the blade turned on her scaly hide, and the blow failed. Wrathfully Beowulf cast aside the useless sword, and determined to trust once again to his hand-grip. Grendel's mother now felt, in her turn, the deadly power of Beowulf's grasp, and was borne to the ground; but the struggle continued for long, for Beowulf was weaponless, since the sword failed in its work. Yet some weapon he must have.
"So he gazed at the walls, saw there a glorious sword,
An old brand gigantic, trusty in point and edge
An heirloom of heroes; that was the best of blades,
Splendid and stately, the forging of giants;
But it was huger than any of human race
Could bear to battle-strife, save Beowulf only."
This mighty sword, a relic of earlier and greater races, brought new hope to Beowulf. Springing up, he snatched it from the wall and swung it fiercely round his head. The blow fell with crushing force on the neck of the sea-woman, the dread wolf of the abyss, and broke the bones. Dead the monster sank to the ground, and Beowulf, standing erect, saw at his feet the lifeless carcass of his foe. ---
Then the chieftain of the warlike Geats gripped Grendel's mother by the shoulder-- he felt no remorse for the hostile deed-- and flung down his deadly opponent so that she fell to the floor, for he was hardy in combat, and fury was rising within him. She quickly paid him back by her fierce grasp as she clutched at him. Then this strongest of fighting men, this champion among marching hosts, stumbled with weariness, so that he got a fall.
She then seated herself on the guest in her hall, and drew her broad knife with its burnished edge; she meant to avenge her son, her only offspring. But across his shoulder lay the interwoven mesh that guarded his breast; this protected his life, preventing all entrance by point and edge. Ecgtheow's offspring, champion of the Geats, would have perished then down under the broad earth, had not the hard war-mesh of his corselet afforded him help, and had not Holy God held victory in His power. It was easy for the Wise Lord, Ruler of the Heavens, to decide this matter according to justice, when Beowulf had risen again to his feet.
The he saw, among other weapons, a broadsword blessed with the luck of victory, and ancient sword of the ogers' making, doughty of edge, a thing of glory to fighting men. It was the choicest of weapons, save that it was too huge for any other man to carry it in the sport of battle-- a fine sword, splendidly wrought, the work of giants. The daring champion of the Scyldings, savage and cruelly grim, grasped the hilt and its fastenings and drew the blade with coiling patterns. Recking nothing for his own life, he struck so wrathfully that the sword took her hard on the neck and broke the rings of bone; the broadsword passed straight through her death-bloomed flesh. She fell to the floor. The sword was gory; the warrior rejoiced at his work.
Beowulf then grasped her by the shoulder, and sought to over-throw her. And they struggled for life and death within the den. At length Beowulf threw her down, but soon she rose again, and seizing him with a terrible grip, she cast him upon the floor of the den. Then she placed her knee upon his breast, and taking a knife from her bosom she sought to stab him. But the mail-shirt of Beowulf stopped the knife. By the protection of God
