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  Chapter 1: The Old Man

  Jamie came out of Snappy Shots clutching the paper bag with the photocopying he needed for his school assignment. He looked up Wimbledon Broadway towards the railway station.

  'Should I walk up there now for the 93 bus to get back home, or can I spend some time ambling around the shopping centre?' he mused. He glanced around quickly to make sure no one had heard the conversation he had just had with himself. Re-assured, he scuffed the heels of his rather worn trainers on the curb as he watched the traffic entering the one-way system. He turned his head towards the brightly lit Burger King next door to the shop he had just left; his eyes were drawn to it like iron to a magnet. In his pocket he jingled the coins that his mother had given him for the bus-fare and was tempted to change their fate. Just then an old man staggered out of the Prince of Wales pub next door. The boot of a younger man, who yelled out something before going back into the pub, had assisted the old man's exit. The younger man's words were lost to Jamie in the sound of the traffic, but he smiled as the old man raised his fist to his now gone assailant. "To eat, or not to eat: that is the question! Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the rumbling of the guts on a bus or to leg it back home and eat the bus fare….' Jamie was suddenly aware of a woman staring at him, 'Just, err, rehearsing for the, err, school play: Hamlet.' The woman did not seem convinced, so Jamie gave her what he felt was a reassuring smile and, rather than cross the road to the shopping centre, went into Burger King to hide his embarrassment.

  Once inside Burger King, Jamie looked at what was on offer and tried to make up his mind whether to get two burgers, a burger and chips or a burger and a drink. He checked his money for the fourth time.

  'Oi, pip squeak.' Jamie glanced round to see Troy Howell: class bully, at least two foot taller than Jamie and with more acne than the rest of the class put together. 'Just 'urry up will yer tiny? I'm a growing lad, I needs feeding.'

  'To the lions,' whispered Jamie as he moved to one side. 'Maybe if I get two burgers, it will make me grow.' He shuffled back into the line behind Troy, being careful to give the bigger boy room.

  ''ello darlin',' Troy leered at the young woman behind the counter. 'Four burgers, a shake and a big smile eh?'

  'Would you like anything else with that?' the young woman asked with a forced smile. 'Like a clip round your spotty ear,' she added under her breath as she walked to get the ordered food.

  'A big wet kiss would go down well,' Troy shouted out after her.

  The young woman smiled as she passed over the food and Troy's change. 'The only kiss I will give you, you smelly little schoolboy is a Liverpool one!' she whispered in his ear, smiling again.

  'She offered to kiss me!' Troy boasted as he elbowed Jamie out of the way. Just as he made to sit down at one of the tables he suddenly gave out a scream and fell headlong on the floor. He slid along, saving his milk shake only by keeping it upright. When he gathered himself together he searched for his burgers, but no matter how hard he looked and scrabbled around the feet of the other customers searching, he could only find three.

  'Do you mind,' called out a tall and stern looking man whose name badge was bigger than the other staff member's and must therefore have been the manager. 'If you have your items, please leave without making any more fuss.'

  Troy gathered what was left of his dignity and mangled burgers and left, throwing a threatening glance to Jamie as he went. Jamie ordered two burgers. Whilst the young woman collected them, he toyed with the idea of whether he should share Troy's humiliation with the rest of the class or not. He decided not to, picked up the burgers and headed for the door; it was raining. Jamie looked at the food and then back at the rain now beating against the window. He shrugged and turned back to find a seat in the hopes that the rain would have stopped before he started the long walk home up Wimbledon Hill and along Park Side.

  He was just cursing himself for spending his bus fare on burgers, when he noticed the old man he had seen being thrown out of the Prince of Wales. From somewhere the old man had acquired himself a long rough wooden staff and his head now sported a dirty white hat with a pointed crown. What Jamie had earlier taken for a white coat turned out to be a moth eaten old blanket tied around the man's shoulders like a cloak. The old man looked rather like a wizard in one of those books that were so popular. The effect, though, was somewhat spoilt by the fact that the hat had 'OKTOBERFEST' on it in big bold letters, together with German brewer's brand mark. In the old man's hand was a rather battered burger that looked as if it had been trodden on.

  The old man sat down where Jamie had intended to sit, the boy went to turn away, but the old man called out to him, 'Come young lord, come and feast!' Jamie saw the other patrons looking at him so, turning red and wishing to avoid drawing any more attention to himself, he sat down opposite the old man. 'Rather tasteless, but better than some others that are offered,' the old man contemplated the limp and crushed burger before him. At first Jamie thought that the old man had closed one eye to examine his prize, Troy's missing burger, but then he realised that the old man only had one eye, the other was just a watery socket that the eye lid barely covered. The old man saw Jamie's look and smiled. 'I swapped it for wisdom, many years ago, when I was the young man. I have often wondered if I got the bargain I then thought I had,' the one bright green eye sparkled with merriment. 'Tell me about yourself young æþeling.'

  'Who?' asked Jamie, tearing his eyes away from the old man's missing eye.

  'Æþeling!' the old man saw the confusion in Jamie's face. 'All right then, prince, noble, or whatever. Don't they teach you anything these days?' the old man used a grimy finger to poke a limp bit of lettuce back into the mangled bun. 'I mean you are English aren’t you?'

  'Yes,' Jamie assured him.

  'Then why don't you know that all the young lordlings of royal blood are called "æþeling"?' The old man's staff slipped down the wall and poked out into the passageway, almost tripping up a passer-by: he glared at the customer and put it back in its place. 'Mind of its own this thing, it used to be a spear, till some young policeman took offence at it a few years back, about 60 years, if my fading memory serves me correct. So, why don't you know about æþelings?'

  'I do study history at school,' Jamie assured the old man.

  The old man picked a crumb out of his unkempt beard and poked it into his mouth, 'Doesn't everyone?'

  'No,' Jamie chanced a bite of one of his rapidly cooling burgers. 'It isn't compulsory once you get to a certain level,' he explained with his mouth still full.

  'Doesn't know his words, and now can't even say them properly. I gather that you said that history isn't compulsory. If you don't know your folk's history, how can you be proud of them eh? If you haven't heard of their successes and failures, how can you make decisions for today and the future? I don't know what the world is coming to, I really don't. Tell me, oh uneducated one: where does your history of England start?'

  '1066,' Jamie smiled, for he knew that this time he had the right answer.

  The old man put the remains of the burger into his mouth and chewed very slowly whilst he gave Jamie a withering look with his one unblinking eye. Finally he swallowed. '1066 is when it finished really. After William of Normandy came here your history was no longer your own.'

  'William the Conqueror?' asked Jamie opening the wrapper of his second burger.

  'William the Bastard!' spat the old man, his fingers drumming the tabletop. 'Oh don't look so shocked little lordling. He really was a bastard. His mother was a tanner's daughter and his father…..look I can see you need educating properly, just wait until I get myself some more food.' The old man heaved himself up using his staff and went to the rubbish bin. Levering the top up with the end of his staff he began to poke around inside.

  'Excuse me sir,' the young woman who had served Jamie called out. ' Have you lost something?'

  'My appetite looking at this messy lot,' the old man replied dangling a half chewed chicken patty
from his claw like long fingers.

  'Excuse me sir,' this time it was the over badged manager, 'do you mind not scavenging for food in the bins?'

  'I wouldn't have to if you brought the food to me as is my right,' the old man pushed his hat back onto the back of his head to enable him to rummage deeper into the bin.

  'I am sorry sir….'

  'You're sorry? So am I, in the old days anyone seeing me at their table would send down the best cut of meat, the champion's cut in fact, now I have to dig for the stuff, and it doesn't taste the same! I mean, where is the fat? I also would like to know: where are the turnips and the beets eh? Whilst we are on the subject, why are your carrots orange not white, hmm? What much have you been feeding them to turn that strange colour I wonder! Dragon's dung?'

  The manager looked around flustered till he caught the young woman's eye; he nodded his head towards the door. She tipped her head back in acknowledgement and slipped out. 'Now sir,' the manager's voice sounded bolder, 'unless you desist with this behaviour I will advise you that you are trespassing and that I have the right to use reasonable force to remove you.'

  'Hwæt?' the old man called out, his voice echoing from inside the bin.

  The manager cleared his throat, 'You are trespassing on this property and if you do not go I will have you removed,' he glanced nervously towards the door.

  'Speak louder man, it's hard to hear in here,' the old man rejoined.

  'You are trespassing on this property and if you do not go I will have you removed. This is your second warning' again he glanced nervously towards the door.

  'Trespassing? How's trespassing? I am merely collecting my dues,' the old man held up a partially full container of soft drink to the light.

  'You are trespassing on this property and if you do not go I will have you removed. This is your third and final warning.' By now the manager was hopping up and down trying to see the door over the old man's pointed hat.

  'Yes, yes, so you say, so you say.' The old man cautiously sipped the drink before spitting the contents of his mouth back into the bin. 'What is that stuff? So full of gas that it obviously hasn't finished fermenting. It is so cold too, cellar temperature, low gas; that's how an ale should be.' The old man tossed the drink container back into the bin.

  'Ale?' the manager went red, 'Ale? We don't sell alcoholic beverages here!'

  'Why ever not? You can't drink the water, you will get very ill with your cesspits so close to the building.' The old man pointed his staff towards the spotlessly clean toilets, 'And don't say they aren't!'

  'G'day sport,' said the bouncer from the pub next door, his sunny Australian drawl sounding out of place in such a cold wet climate. 'This old fool being a pest here too? Had to chuck him out of the Prince earlier for demanding free drinks and then, when he didn't get any, he started drinking out of any glass that was unattended. He's about as welcome as a shark at Bondi Beach.'

  'In years gone by, young stripling,' the old man drew himself up to his full height and straightened his hat to make himself appear even taller. 'In years gone by, the lord of the hall himself would have sent his personal mead horn down to me, filled to the brim; mead mind, not the over oxygenated sour excuse for a beer that you provide!'

  'All right grand-dad,' the Aussie bouncer started to roll his sleeves up, 'either move out, or I'll move you out.'

  'In the old days many a warrior would have leapt to my defence and died to preserve my honour.' The old man tilted his head back and peered down his nose his one eye gleaming. 'But now, alas, I find myself with but one young small, and untrained apprentice.' He turned to Jamie, 'Come boy, let us sully ourselves here no longer.'

  Everyone looked at Jamie. Jamie turned red realising that they all thought he belonged to the old man. As the old man stormed out, Jamie followed, knowing he would never be able to face going back there again.

  'Why did you do that?' Jamie challenged the old man. 'I mean, I like Burger King, now I will never be able to go back there, not after that, they all think I am your grandson, or something.'

  'You said you were English? Yes?'

  'Yes,' Jamie agreed.

  'In that case, although you may not be my grandson, you most certainly fall within the category of being one of my 'or somethings', all the Ge-men are.' The old man pulled a large loose bag round from under his tatty blanket cloak.

  'Ge-men?'

  'Later in England the term changed to yeomen, now you would say spearmen. When I was young they were all the Ge-men; it got corrupted later to German. Don't tell me you don't know that the English are Germans?' the old man opened the bag and pulled out a burger, which he passed over to Jamie, and pulled out a large helping of chips for himself.

  'We are?' Jamie took the burger, which was piping hot, and unwrapped it.

  'Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Friesians, Danes, Swedes, Norwegians, Germans, Austrians, Dutch, Flemmings and many others whose names have now gone. They are all Ge-men and they are all my descendants. I wont mention the Franks of Gaul, the Longabards of Italy or the Visigoths of Spain as they became very interbred with the locals, so now I ignore them as I can't work out who are my descendants and who aren’t.'

  Jamie took a bite of the burger and then looked at the old man, who was sorting through the chips, looking for the longest ones. 'Did you steal these? Because if you did……'

  'Steal? How can I steal what is mine by right? Your education is sorely lacking and I will have to set that to right.'

  Jamie and the old man crossed the Hartfield Road traffic lights and began the walk up Wimbledon Hill towards Wimbledon Common and home.