We have seen that the two stories differ essentially in regard to the outcome of the adventure. Frotho's death is recorded by Saxo in quite a different connection and apparently long afterwards. But here we may turn to the story of the other Frotho, Saxo's Frotho III (the Peaceful), for there can be little doubt that the two characters were originally identical. According to Saxo this latter king was killed in his old age by a sorceress who had taken the form of a 'sea-cow' (marituma bos), though the author does not make clear what kind of creature he means by that term. It is at least a question whether this story does not belong to the same class as the others; for whatever differences there may be in other respects between a 'sea-cow' and a dragon, it may be observed that nearly all the dragons of Northern legends make their home by the sea.
If there is a connection between the two stories—the dragon-fight of Frotho I and the death of Frotho III—their origin must surely be sought in myth. Fróði the Peaceful (Frotho III) is the central figure of Danish legend and his fame became proverbial even in Germany. Moreover, though there is no evidence that he was regarded as a god, it is clear that he was the Danish counterpart of the god Frey.
It may not be out of place here to cite one more of Saxo's stories (p. [29] f.). Hadingus, the father of Frotho I, while bathing in the sea off the coast of Helsingland encountered and killed a sea-monster of unknown species. As he was having it carried to his camp he met a woman who uttered a prophecy of dire woe, saying that he had killed one of the deities who was wandering about in a form not his own[183]. In order to propitiate the gods he instituted a sacrifice to Frey, which was to be repeated at regular intervals and which the Swedes call Fröblod. This story seems to take us back to the days of theriomorphic religion—or perhaps one should say to a time when certain marine animals were regarded as divine. But is it not also connected somehow with the story of Frotho's death?
We need not enter here into a discussion of these mythical stories, though it may be remarked in passing that theriomorphism plays a very prominent part in the religious practices and conceptions of primitive peoples, and, what is more, that we hear not unfrequently of a struggle between a god or national hero and some theriomorphic being whose sanctuary or attributes he appears to have taken over[184]. But it is perhaps worth noting that in Beowulf also the hero is repeatedly involved in adventures with water-monsters. This feature is entirely absent from the story of Biarki and can hardly have a historical basis. What I would suggest is that it is derived, in part at least, from the same group of legends which in Danish tradition are centred round the names Hadingus and Frotho. But in that case there is considerable probability that these stories have been transferred to the hero from his namesake, the son of Scyld, who belongs genealogically to the same group of persons.
This explanation will at all events account for the discrepancy between the English and Scandinavian accounts of the hero's death[185]. Only the latter properly comes into consideration for Beowulf the son of Ecgtheow. For the suggested transference we have a certain analogy in the various incidents which are connected sometimes with one Frotho, sometimes with the other. A much better case however occurs in an English work of later date, the Vitae Duorum Offarum. In that work Drida, the wife of Offa II (the Mercian king), is represented as a most desperate character, and incidents are related of her which seem to be totally incompatible with what we know of this queen—whose real name was Cynethryth—from contemporary sources. On the other hand they agree very well with the brief account given in Beowulf of Thrytho the wife of Offa I (king of Angel). We may compare too the hopeless confusion which prevails in the chronicles with regard to Anlaf the son of Sihtric (Olafr Kvaran) and Anlaf the son of Guthfrith. It can scarcely be doubted that heroic poetry was liable to mistakes of the same character, although the question has scarcely received as much attention as it deserves.
In the explanation put forward above I do not mean of course to suggest that the dragon of northern heroic poetry is always a distorted form of some marine animal. My view is that this is one of the elements which have contributed to the formation of the stories—playing a part similar to that of the crocodile in the legends of southern lands[186]. Dragons endowed with supernatural or at least unnatural characteristics figure in the folk-tales of many nations throughout the world; and such stories are by no means restricted to maritime populations. Very frequently no doubt they are handed on from one people to another, and their currency is perhaps assisted by works of art. We have to remember that the word draca is derived from Latin. Yet the conception itself is probably much older; at all events the association of such monsters with hoards of gold can be traced back in northern regions to a very remote antiquity[187].
As regards the origin of this association—which is clearly unnatural and not due in any way to the influence of marine animals—it may be noted that the dragon's lair is often a tomb or barrow[188], as in the case of the one encountered by Beowulf. An explanation of this phenomenon seems to be afforded by a story relating to the tomb of Charles Martel, which is found in a number of medieval chronicles. St Eucherius, bishop of Orleans, in a vision saw Charles in hell, and on coming to himself begged St Boniface and others to go and inspect the prince's burial place. On opening the tomb they saw a dragon dart out suddenly and found the grave all blackened as though it had been burnt up. Here it would seem that the dragon—a fiery dragon, like the one in Beowulf—was nothing else than the spirit of the dead prince, and it is permissible to suspect that such was the case elsewhere. At all events the fact that dragons are represented as inhabiting tombs is clearly to be taken in connection with their character as guardians of gold; for in early times it was customary to bury with the dead a considerable amount of treasure.
But there is another feature which deserves notice in the story of Charles Martel's grave. The earliest document[189] in which it is found dates from the year 858, i.e. about a century after the incident is said to have taken place. But the closing words of the account[190] state quite definitely that the writer or writers had known persons who were present at the opening of the tomb. We have thus to deal with evidence which is strictly second-hand, as in the case of more than one remarkable story told by Bede. The explanation lies no doubt in the fact that the men of that age did not clearly distinguish between the supernatural and that which is merely unusual. At such a time if a person asserted that he had seen a fiery dragon, his statement would be received doubtless with wonder but not necessarily with incredulity. As a matter of fact we find it stated in the Saxon Chronicle[191], sub anno 793, that in that year fiery dragons were seen flying in the air. It cannot therefore be assumed with safety either that the killer of a dragon must be a fictitious person or that the adventure itself must have been invented long after the hero's time.
In conclusion we have to take account of supernatural properties possessed by beings which in themselves are natural. As an instance we may take the speeches of the birds (nuthatches) which in Fáfnismál 32 ff. warn Sigurðr of the treachery prepared for him by Reginn. Similar stories occur elsewhere in Old Norse literature. Absurd as this belief may seem we have good contemporary evidence for its existence in Procopius' account of the Warni, which we discussed in the last chapter (p. [97] f.).