But first a side note: One nifty feature of the spelling here is its economical use of the single letter "w" for an entire syllable, of the type we might now spell with "ough" or at least "ow": forw = furrow; goldeborw = Goldborough; borw = borough. (Looks like 6 appearances of borw to 1 appearance of boru.)
So anyway, there's a sort of throwing game on, which they refer to as putting the stone (cf. shotput). Just how heavy is this stone? Glad you asked! It's "al so heui so a neth" (1026) - so possibly the stone is as heavy as livestock ... or a net? The word neth appears twice in this formula, in ll. 808 and 1026, and both times it's glossed as a "net." But unless the net is filled with fish, it doesn't seem like much of a challenge. In any event, it takes a "Grund stalwrthe man" (1027) to lift the stone to his knee; there's never been a clerk or priest who could lift it to his breast (ooh, burn!). It would seem that the game typically goes to the one who is able to "put" this stone "Biforn a-noþer, an inch or more" (1034). But although our hero Havelok is the tallest man in Lincoln and the strongest man in England, he is not inclined to participate in the throwing game; he's too scared even when his master (the earl's cook) tells him to do it.
Þo hise mayster it him bad,
He was of him sore adrad;
(1047-48). Luckily, he's a natural and he wins anyway by a substantial margin. Instead of mere inches, he beats them by "Twel fote, and sumdel more" (1054). And also luckily the others are good sports about it:
Þe chaunpiouns þat [þat] put sowen,
Shuldreden he ilc oþer, and lowen;
Wolden he no more to putting gange,
But seyde, “we dwellen her to longe!”
(1055-58). (Not 100% sure of the second line here. Seems to be The champions who saw that throw / Shouldered [each other?] and laughed; -- Shrugged their shoulders? Nudged each other's shoulders? / They would no more go to shotput, / But said, "we've stayed here too long!")
Godrich hatches an evil scheme to marry off his ward Goldeborw, the rightful heiress of England, to our rugged yet unconfident hero.
He wende, þat hauelok wer a þral,
Þer-þoru he wende hauen al
In engelond, þat hire rith was;
He was werse þan sathanas,
Þat ihesu crist in erþe shop:
Hanged worþe he on an hok!
(1096-1102)
Havelok is not one of our great wooers, unfortunately. He refuses Goldeborw's hand, initially, due to practical concerns (his lack of means and station). Godrich has to threaten him with death before he caves in out of fear:
Hauelok was one, and was odrat,
And grauntede him al þat he bad.
(1153-4) (As far as I can tell, "odrat" is an alternative spelling of "adrad" or "adred"; and I'm thinking "one" here might be "wan" rather than "alone").
Goldeborw also kicks at the proposed match; she refuses to marry anyone less than a king. So Godrich has to threaten her with death too. At this point it's not clear why he doesn't just go ahead and kill her, or else use the threat of death to get her to marry him or one of his sons, or to get her to assign him her interest in the kingdom, etc. But I suppose a villain can't think of everything. And his threat is effective, because she decides it must be God's will for her to marry Havelok. God works in mysterious ways. Luckily on their wedding night Havelok has a dream that convinces her he's going to be the rightful king of Denmark and England, so that's all sorted.
The poverty-stricken Havelok, accompanied by his wife and Grim's sons, goes to Denmark for revenge. He immediately checks in with an old friend of his father's, the earl Ubbe, and (1) asks him for permission to set up as a merchant (as one does when seeking revenge on a usurper who has murdered one's siblings in cold blood) and (2) gives him a gold ring (because, really, who doesn't have a gold ring for just such emergencies) and somehow also (3) sells the gold ring. At this point, I assume the poet means our hero is "selling" the ring to Ubbe in return for Ubbe's support, but I suppose we'll find out soon.
2 comments:
I am reminded of a friend's trip through North Carolina, years and years ago. He reported, "We stopped for the night in Greensborough. The 'ugh' is silent, but necessary."
Ha - love it!
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