Chapter 13
We burnt the body on a small pyre. I know some of the peasants would have
much preferred to save the meat against starvation, but I could not stand the idea of
perhaps eating someone I had killed.
What a strange feeling, to have killed someone. And not because he had harmed
me, or my child, or was threatening to do harm to either, but only because he had seen
something terrible—yes, even I can admit that it was something terrible—and had run
away. There was even the possibility that he would not have told Beow at all, although
the man would have perhaps been crazy not to. And, being one of Beow’s thanes, he was
not an innocent; I was sure he had had his own part in the massacre the victims of which
we now fed upon.
The trek back to Heorot was made in snow nearly knee-deep. I pushed hard,
tripping over my hem and holding my shawl close against me. Wracked with shivers, my
clothes still soaked with blood, my knuckles rubbed raw and covered with a mix of the
thane’s and my own blood, for the first time since I had tasted human flesh, I felt sick. I
could still smell it on me, the aromas of hot, roasting meat. I could hear the sizzle of
juices spattering in the fire.
I bent over and retched into the snow, my stomach rejecting all the good food and
nourishment I had taken it. I did my best not to look at the mess, knowing I would be
hungry in the morning, and wishing I had not vomited.
When I had done, I dragged myself through the snow, up the steep hill. In the
dark, the roughly split rails of the corral fences cast black shadows in the moonlight
across the white snow. Heorot, our hall that was not much more refined than the fence,
stood, a blacker space against the black sky, where not even the light of the stars or moon
would shine.
There was no one in the open space before the hall, and for a moment I turned and
looked back down the hill, the long slope of snow broken only by my footsteps. So
peaceful in the silent night. Then I turned and slogged the rest of the way up the hill to
the hall.
I opened the door and found Beow’s icy blue eyes staring down upon me. I let
out a surprised shriek, then one in pain as he grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. A
quick glance around the hall showed the thanes gathered at the trestles, watching us
intently. “Husband!” I gasped, as Beow gripped me more tightly. “You’re hurting me!”
Beow pushed his face close to mine. “Do you think that is of any concern to me?
You have been out all night, traipsing with the thralls, no less, and I should care if you
are hurt? You have shamed me, Aesileif! You have acted like a peasant maid, not a lady
of noble blood. Certainly not like a queen!” He pulled me closer to him, inhaled loudly
through his nose. “And what’s this I smell? Fire...and meat?” His eyes blazes. “Meat!
From where have you gotten food? You would eat while your husband goes hungry?”
I winced as his fingers dug harder into my arm. “My lord! No food! I have had
no more meat than you have had this winter!”
“Then why have you had such strength lately that you can feed our son? The
other mothers among the thralls have lost many of their children, and many of them were
much older than our own son. How is it that you have had the milk to keep our son
alive?”
“My lord, a mother may find her strength if she wishes…Are you not happy that
our son has lived for so long?”
Beow growled. “Do not lie to me, woman. I am no fool. I know the scent of
meat when I smell it, and it has long been around you.”
“You are mistaken, my lord,” I argued, breathless with pain.
“Mistaken? Mistaken!” Beow made a sudden movement with his arm and sent
me sprawling to the ground. From his height above me, he said, “I am not mistaken, my
lady. You will tell me where the meat came from!”
He raised his hand, and I expected the blow to come when a voice called, “My
lord!” I turned to see Gavin standing among the thanes, already coming forward. “My
lord. I have heard the thralls have come across a source of food…”
As the bard’s voice trailed away, Beow prompted: “What source?”
“My lord,” Gavin said, suddenly hesitant. “They have been eating those who
were killed in the village some days ago.”
For a moment, no one in the hall spoke. Looking out on the thanes, I saw that
perhaps only half of them looked surprised and horrified. The others, whether they
actually did, or my mind merely made me believe they did, seemed to sink into the
background, out of sight.
Realizing the silence had gone on for too long, I looked up. Beow’s eyes had
found a steady anchor on me, cold and blue and clear. I trembled and he whispered, “Is
this true, wife? Have you feasted upon the flesh of men?”
“My lord,” I whispered. “We were starving. What else could we do? If I do not
eat, then our son does not. Everything I have ever done has been for our son, and for
you, my lord.”
For a moment, my husband’s expressionless face melted away, and his features
twisted into a distortion of horror and disgust. Then just as quickly, he rearranged his
face to be completely blank and, leaving me sprawled on the floor, he stalked out of the
hall.