English 83

Once again wary of reading too anachronistically, I can’t help but feel there’s something unsettling about a mass murderer charming his way into a knighthood by finding Jesus and throwing a swank dinner party.  After epics and romances, only now, in this humble poem, do the politics of largess seem truly sinister.  Just where does the Carl get all those fancy presents anyway?  Maybe when he gave Sir Kay “A blode-rede stede,” he should have thrown in one of those “blody serkes” (shirts) he had lying around.