Wiglaf’s devotion to his king is most touchingly illustrated in the scene in which the young retainer tends to the corpse. Within the limits of the manuscript, it is fair to picture the young warrior kneeling, holding the lifeless body, not washing it in preparation for a funeral but hoping to give comfort to the man “dearest in his life” (2822), now beyond human comfort. We can hear the anger in Wiglaf’s voice as he reprimands the 10 cowards who fled to the woods when their master needed them most.
Counting the thief, there were 12 with Beowulf that day, and we can understand those who find parallels with Jesus Christ and his disciples. As tempting as that interpretation may be, this scene is really about the heroic code of the comitatus, the relationship between ruler and followers that provides order and structure to the civilization of the Geats. Wiglaf begins slowly, almost calmly, but his contempt for the 10 and love for his king lead him into a long, convoluted first sentence that is fierce with retribution before its end (2864–71). These were Beowulf’s own thanes, his most trusted men, supposedly loyal warriors, and they betrayed their king completely. Wiglaf is proud of his own attempt “beyond my strength, to help my kinsman” (2879) when his liege needed him most. As the new king, he condemns the 10 and all their kin to exile, disowning them and denying their future rights to property, wealth, or membership in the comitatus, stating that it is better to die than to live in shame, a maxim that Beowulf would and did support.
