Brecca’s
Odyssey
In the grand court,
Ecghyrd held reign,
his house honoured, and
secured for keep,
the King attired, from
hard fought treasures,
his bidding, thanes
sought,
the stories of old, on
the ears of the young
castles stormed and
maidens rescued,
a Son he had, Brecca
the Charitable
a man ready to fight, a
boy awaiting glory.
The Geatish court,
attuned to hunting,
a boy sallies forth,
Brecca’s foray to
Harnehyrd, the Royal
Forest
where a boar roars, in
rampant style,
the young hero, dirk
and shield
stands his ground, the
charge straight
at him, meaning harm,
death
if the lad moved, the
wrong way.
The boar, Trychnia,
lashed with tusks,
an attempt to gore, to
bleed, to win
to slay the hapless
boy-man, future king
of the Geats, kinsmen,
thanes, ladies
of a court cringing,
the news not expected
to be a good kind, yet
Brecca raises his dirk,
and as the hot beast
lunges forward,
his trusty blade slices
downward
and impales with venom,
into a tough hide,
tough yet pliant, aged
yet pliable,
he turns the blade,
lunges to heart,
blood spurts, a mighty
growl,
the beast slain, honour
to the victor.
He enters the hall, the
boar weighty
pushing down, his
youthful stature,
the King, his father,
raises his glass
mead maids fill again,
the Thanes and
Geatlords
fill theirs to
overflowing,
the Great Lords kin,
fighter to be,
Brecca places his
trophy on the floor
bows to his Father,
unsheathes his blade,
and cuts the beasts
head off,
honouring all the
fighters, giving due deference
licking the blade, he
instils bloodlust,
the warrior to be,
anointed,
proclaimed, acclaimed,
gifted
the Mighty Sword of
Eochyrd.
Beowulf looked on, from
behind,
too young yet to raise
the Mead,
too young yet to fight
for Geat,
a year or two behind
Brecca,
but ready to spring
into his manhood,
so he steals from the
hall,
makes his way to
Harnehyrd
and wrestles a wild Elk
Herckyrd, to it’s
sanctioned death.
Into the Great Hall,
alive with bravado
and the boasts of war
thanes, legends,
those that fought the
Frisians, allied the Danes,
the great headless
boar, gone to the kitchens,
the blood on the floor,
freshly cleansed,
only the sign of Brecca
at the head of court,
the ladies teasing, the
King laughing,
Beowulf places his
prize on the floor,
erupting, the court
goes into caterwauls,
no sword to be seen, no
knife, no dirk,
just the sign a great
man to be
had wrestled a great
deer to death.
Far from displeased,
Brecca hops to join him,
a trophy shared by two
kinsmen,
the spirit of blood and
bond, a license accepted,
but both men receive
now full military regalia,
the chain mail vests,
hard helmet,
a sword and scabbard,
death and life.
There came a messenger,
a man of Denmark,
a thane of some
standing, to gain allegiance,
to stop the ruination
of the Danes
through a difference of
opinion
in the Dane Mead Hall,
Cheryct
throne room of Feng, a
bad king,
when in fact Amleth
should be anointed Danerule.
The Lord Ecghyrd
dispatched Brecca
with seventy five
fighting thanes
and with the Dane
messenger,
they set sail for
Denmark,
horses in the hold,
swords, shields
helmets and longbows
with spears,
a full kit out of chain
mail
and sufficient supplies
to last a long
campaign.
The long boat with high
prow
sailed the seas,
avoiding the shallows,
skirting mortal danger,
digging
nose first, into
spewing sea turmoil,
the emissary repeated,
trouble was afoot,
how could a boy, so
young in years,
manage to negotiate,
deal with
and restore the kingdom
again.
Then the speaker, the
one with tales,
related the story of
the Great Boar,
and the boys reaction,
after thoughts,
his immediacy to keep
balance,
which so impressed his
noble King
and the teaching
started, the decorum,
the ability to be a
king, to manage men,
and he was introduced
to mead, and the
laughter and company of men,
and the tactical
infighting erupted,
as it does when a boy
becomes man,
when the boy man
Beowulf, did the same
he too was gifted with
statesmanship,
and both boys were sent
off to Fris,
to make peace with the
Frisians
and to negotiate trade.
They both did such a
sterling job,
our king bestowed
thanedoms for them,
boys not yet cutting
their hair
with sharp blades and
careful hands,
given the right of
passage,
the land of princely
wealth,
given freedom to serve
the court
when and where, by Gods
grace
they felt it important
to be there.
So placated, the Dane
turned
and stood facing the
bow, home
across hostile seas
that were growing
more in turmoil every
passing minute.
It was then Brecca
recognised Bruntha
the death wind of the
East, and knew
things were not going
to be safe,
already the sails were
fluffing,
spilling poisonous air,
and ripping,
the longboat became
becalmed
and all men, land
dwellers,
shivering in their skin
boots,
the long boat commander
ordered oars
and the sails furled,
oars set in portholes
the longboat started to
turn with Bruntha behind it
making way back towards
Geat.
Brecca stood firm,
measured his decisions,
he knew he needed to
get to Denmark,
but the way was closed
to him,
Bruntha’s bidding,
huge waves
welled up and broached
the oars,
water spilled over, the
water drowning
innocent men, fighting
men,
they passed the turning
point to Geat,
lost in a haze, lost
like sea whales,
what sea dragons would
assail them,
as they ventured where
no Geat had been.
Brecca sung a dirge,
short and sweet,
Oh Bruntha, wild
women of the sky
play me a tune
that I’ll not
fear, send me to places
where bears
roar
and whales sound
they horns,
place me in the
care
of long lost Dryar
the ghost wind
of Geat, the wind
that jams
logs into
place, ladies into bed.
The sea grew wilder,
the waves killing
a crew fighting oars,
fighters fighting death,
the toll rising as the
waves overwhelmed
and in the breath of a
spoiling Bruntha,
Brecca and his crew,
became legends
in every mead hall of
Geat.
Bibliography
Heaney, Seamus
“Beowulf” London Published 1999
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