Pearls of Wisdom 2020 - Part 8

 

Pearls of Wisdom 2020 - Part 7

 

Winternights & Dísablót 2018

I sit at home in December 2020 pondering my plans for the Yuletide and the Winter Solstice. So many of our plans have been affected by events, beyond our control and even beyond our comprehension. I pause therefore, to look back on happier times. Times when I was able to enjoy the seasonal festivities with family and friends. Many of my previous outings have come to mind recently, some have been documented but many have not.

Today I remember the Winter Solstice of 2018, when I with a friend headed south from our homes in Northern Mercia. Our destination was not a very great distance, we visited the county of Oxfordshire in the south of the Old Kingdom. Our ultimate objective was the wonderful, atmospheric and enigmatic Rollright Stones. This is a surprisingly peaceful stone circle although set close to a road. It is shielded by trees that add to the sense of seclusion.

There are many legends pertaining to the origin of the circle, clearly they are untrue but that does not mean they lack significance. Our quest should be to interpret the stones within the archaeological, historical and the mythological context. Each discipline should complement the others. It is an ancient site, it remains archeologically and historically significant. It is a still a sacred site of spiritual significance.

One legend relates that the number of stones present cannot be counted, they are of peculiar shapes being created from the locally sourced oolitic limestone. Small stones can be hard to spot, they can be hidden by long grass and by the larger stones. The odd shapes will often lead to us counting one stone as two. I try to count the stones whenever I visit. Sometimes more than once. I have never yet got the same figure twice, sometimes counting only ninety stones and on other visits; one hundred and twenty. I have heard it said that officially there are less than eighty stones, I have never yet counted less than eighty five. The stones play games with you and they usually win.

The Rollrights complex itself consists of three segments, the main circle is called the King's Men and barely half a mile away across the field, are the Whispering Knights. This is the remains of a burial chamber and may be the oldest part of the monument, potentially having been in situ for six thousand years. Across the road on a rise is the King Stone, the most recent part of the monument complex.

Our journey south was as usual uneventful and we arrived to meet another friend of ours well in advance of the sunrise. It was a wet, slightly overcast morning. Cool but not too cold. The rain had stopped when we arrived. As is our want we joined others wandering amongst the King's Men. Always a pleasurable way to spend the time, as we wait in anticipation of a sunrise.

The sunrise that day was not the most spectacular that I have witnessed but it was still a sight worth the seeing. The clouds were low and the sun rose between a layer, casting finger like shadows across the beautiful Oxfordshire countryside. Slowly the Whispering Knights revealed themselves as the dawn mist was brushed away by the beams of warming sunlight. It was mysterious and enriching. Even on a day with a low cloud, a sunrise has an aesthetic that is difficult to describe.

Across from the King's Men was a wicker work sculpture of three women dancing in a ring. Nearly life size it was an attractive and impressive structure. It had clearly been created by an artist of talent. The sunrise added to the effect of the troupe as their own shadows now danced for us

As a group we walked over to visit the Whispering Knights, I think this was perhaps the first time I have ever got up close. They are an intriguing group, clearly they would have been more substantial than they are now and they are reminiscent of the Cromlechs we find in Wales. An obvious shared origin and function.

Returning the way he had come, we once again looked around the Men before crossing the road to visit the King himself. An oddly shaped but interesting stone. It is said the shape has been created by people chipping pieces off for luck up until only a couple of centuries ago. The stone is now quite correctly protected from further damage by a railing. We stood on the rise by the stone watching the sun climbing over the copse,  the weather was deteriorating. It was obvious to us all that we needed to leave and find shelter.

We drove down to Longcrompton, a wonderfully attractive and very expensive looking Oxfordshire village nearby. Many of the buildings here are built in stone local to the Wolds and the village still has a certain 'Olde England' atmosphere of great charm. Here we wondered into the equally wonderful, attractive and very expensive looking Red Lion Inn. The owner was found and although breakfast was only for residents, this kind lady found us a table by a large bay window. A cooked breakfast was not available to us, we were offered tea and toast. This was quite adequate for our needs. We sat there with a very fine view of the village, admiring the traditional and very impressive internal fittings. We enjoyed a large pot of tea, toast, fine jam and marmalade. It was a very satisfactory Winter Solstice breakfast and not at all expensive. The reader can find inks to this fine hostelry at the end of this post.

Falling between the Winter Solstice and Christmas Day, is the festival of Mōdraniht or Modranicht. This is variously translated from the Saxon as Night of the Mothers or as Mothers' Night. A festival that is held to honour the Dísir, the Goddesses of the Northern Peoples and our female ancestors. I had been graciously invited to attend a Dísablót and to gather with friends, at the home of mutual friends for this observance.

We gathered out of doors in full ritual attire, with the Master of the house who bore a lamp. We carried coal and so when welcomed indoors by the Mistress of the house; we entered with light, warmth and good companie. Much of the ritual that followed is and should remain private. It is enough to know that we were served bread, we were served drink, we were purified and blessings were given. There was song, invocations and prayer. The women of the group as is appropriate for a Dísablót, took the lead in the majority of these activities.

Gifts were given and a rune reading, one single rune being drawn by each of us in turn. My own rune drawn was Ansuz and it is difficult to think of a more appropriate rune. It is perhaps a personal favourite. A final, apt and spontaneous quotation from the Edda and given by one of our number, ended the formal proceedings of the night. There followed a meal, a feast of traditionally epic proportions, an overflowing table of food and drink; complete with the obligatory mead of course.

The evening continued with storytelling, discussions and lore. We each came with poetry. My own performance, given from the Skald's Chair were two excerpts from Gawain and the Green Knight. One in honour of our host and one in honour of our hostess.

To our host: "The king was at Camelot at Christmas time, with many a handsome lord, the best of knights, all the noble brotherhood of the Round Table, duly assembled, with revels of fitting splendour and carefree pleasures. There they held tourney on many occasions; these noble knights jousted most gallantly, then road back to the court to make merry. For there the celebrations went on continuously for fully fifteen days, with all the feasting and merry-making which could be devised; such sounds of mirth and merriment, glorious to hear, a pleasant uproar by day, dancing at night, nothing but the greatest happiness in halls and chambers, among lords and ladies, to their perfect contentment. With all the well-being in the world they dwelt there together, the most famous knights in Christendom, and the fairest ladies who ever lived, and he who held court there was the handsomest of kings. For this goodly company in the castle hall were all in the springtime of life and most favoured on earth, their king the most noble minded of men, it would now be very hard to name so valiant a company in any castle."

To our hostess: "While New Year was so young that it had just newly arrived, on the day itself the company was served with redoubled splendour at table. When the king had come with his knights into the hall, the singing of Mass in the chapel having drawn to an end, a loud hubbub was raised there by clerics and others, Christmas was celebrated anew, 'Noel' was called out again and again. And then nobles came forward to offer good luck tokens, called aloud 'New Year Gifts,' proffered them in their hands. There was eager contention over the presents; ladies laughed loudly, even though they had lost, and he who won was not displeased, that you may well believe. They carried on all this merry-making until the dinner hour. When they had duly washed, they went to table, the noblest person always being more highly placed, as seemed most fitting. Queen Guinevere, brilliantly dressed, was set in the midst, placed on the dais of honour, all about her richly decorated, fine silk around her, a canopy above her of choice fabric of Toulouse, many hangings of Tharsian stuff, which were embroidered and set with the best gems that ever money could buy - the fairest jewel to be seen, her grey eyes shining, no man could truly say he ever saw a lovelier."

There followed the Sumbel in which a mead horn was passed around the table. The first passing for toasts, the second for oaths and the third for boasts. I cannot remember the specifics from here on. The mead flowed freely and the horn was frequently refilled. My toast was to our blessed hosts. My oath is lost in the haze of the evening but I remember my boast. I stood at the end of the long table and declared; "I am the most pretentious man I know." All present smiled, there may even have been a nod or two. No one disagreed. I distinctly remember that no one disagreed.

The festivities wound down with more eating, drinking, talk, lore and laughter. Until finally we paraded out into the fields to watch out host send an arrow high across the land.

There is no better time to spend with family and friends than the Yuletide. In the year 2020 many of us will not be able to enjoy that divine experience, of such physical belonging. Yet that does not mean that we are alone. Our friends, our family, our Gods and our ancestors are with us always. Even if we are physically alone this Yuletide, we shall still think of them. With that thought, I wish all you reading this a most Blessed Yuletide and pray that 2021 will be a year of joy for us all.

The Red Lion Inn

https://www.facebook.com/redlionlongcomp/

https://redlion-longcompton.co.uk/

Excerpts quoted are taken from: Gawain and the Green Knight translated by W.R.J. Barron (1974/1998) Manchester University Press.