I am called Mask

Introduction

The title ‘I am called Mask’ has been borrowed from Old Icelandic ‘Heto mek Grímr’  (Grímnismál when Odin introduces himself in strophe 46)

In this poem we set the mood of a runic consecration by the masked lord based on the Sutton Hoo Helmet (An Eye for Odin? Divine Role-Playing in

the Age of Sutton Hoo - European Journal of Archaeology 17 (3) 2014, 517–538) and also from an idea expanded from a contemporary inscription: ‘One with a gleaming eye consecrates the runes’ (Looijenga, 2003: 211–12; McKinnell et al., 2004).

It has been argued that in certain circumstances and locations, such as the firelit interior of the mead hall that the wearer of the Sutton Hoo Helmet was seen as both war leader and war god, a literal personification of Odin.

This was reinforced by the addition of wafer-thin foils of gold behind the garnets, which were stamped with a cross-hatched pattern, over the right eye causing this eyebrow to sparkle, thus placing emphasis on one eye.

The heavily patterned plates of tinned bronze would also have caught the flickering flames of the fire and appeared to sparkle and move.

‘On the spear side’ means within the realm of men, compare ‘on the spindle side’ within  the realm of women.

I am called Mask

Warriors retainers, fill the mead hall,

Glittering Lord on, carved seat set so tall.

On warrior’s sword, at height of full moon,

The gleaming eyed one, consecrates the rune.

The shifting flames light, the glimmering mask,

Mead cup bearing boys, break open the cask.

Horn of mead passes, from bench to bench,

Boasting of valor, and longing to quench.

The right eye garnets, glitter and glimmer,

Stiff bronze dragon shank, sparkle and shimmer.

Dark hollow eyeholes, in soft shadows deep,

Warriors move round, flames flicker and leap.

The bird soars skyward, and dragon descends,

Bronze boar heads to wings, strong shielding defends.

Figurers of silver, on mask of giver,

Forming in firelight, they shudder and shiver.

Thick billowing smoke, upwards ever drift,

Flickering fire light, faint images shift.

Torn long tunic bard, he weaves riddle craft,

While on the spear side, they down the best draught.

Amid the chatter, and immodest song,

Wæs hæil loudly called, amongst heathen throng.

While slacking the thirst, with ample mead strong,

Much wassailing in, the small hours long.

Copyright Andrew Rea July 2015

The mead halls and the masked ones

Introduction

The Sutton Hoo helmet formed a glittering mask that would have been worn in the mead halls.

The land was divided into a number of kingdoms each with a pyramidal structure of king, earls and thanes. You would have been likely to swear allegiance to one of these lords perhaps in exchange for a gift. Each lord would have provided entertainment within their mead hall. From Beowulf we know that much boasting took place in the halls but this did not always bear true in the field of battle.

This poem explores and laments some of the pitfalls of any such power structure and could also be applied to certain contemporary institutions. The reader is invited to form their own overlay.

The mead halls and the masked ones

Wherefore art my maid, with her linden shield?

Before an aloof lord, she hast now kneeled,

Shield maiden hast gone, to have her oath sealed,

Before the glittering Lord.

Believe the bond of, the sacred mead oath,

Bound in loyalty, love and trust he quoth,

She solemnly said, that melomel troth,

She swore upon her sword.

Oath of love to pass through, that oaken door,

Such magical sights, in mead hall she saw,

Glittering eyed one, that makes all thine law,

Much mead in horn was poured.

Allegiance is as, to darkly enthrall,

We must meet without, of merry mead hall,

As this Lord didst not, me to circle call,

We bow to his accord.

Her fine linden shield, still serves me quite well,

But he who wouldst cast, such a magic spell,

Will not a mead hall, conflict stop or quell,

He will not draw his sword.

But these melomel oaths, do soon wear quite thin,

As mead spell wear off, attack kith and kin,

But still some do not, think this is a sin,

Hast anyone here deplored?

There are those with a need, to take other's power,

Oft with false faces, looking so dour,

Hidden within their, distant tall tower,

Guarding their stolen hoard.

Oaths of love seem bland, in light of morrow,

Other's trust promise, slowly wanes hollow,

A knife in the back, brings many sorrow,

Are we bound by the same accord?

Mead halls together, they serve a great part,

Yet some usurpers, will rip out thy heart,

We see kith and kin, cleave and split apart,

That sly Auld Scrat has scored.

Alas all power, that is so unjust,

Alas the broken oath, of love and trust,

Alas for good work, that withers to dust,

Is this our perfect accord?

Copyright Andrew Rea Midsummer 2015

The End?

Historical introduction

Æthelberht who worshiped Wotan was married to Berta who was a Christian. The king permitted her to restore an old Roman church for her use.

At the request of king Æthelberht a papal party of about 40 men led by Augustine arrived in Kent in 597. The king had a meeting with them in the open so that the monks could not work magic on him. He permitted the monks to preach in Kent and some time later he was converted, ten thousand of his subjects followed.

When Æthelberht died in 616 Kent returned to being Heathen for a few decades.

Meanwhile his nephew, Saeberht, the king of Essex was also converted.

Rædwald, king of East Anglia, was only partly converted (apparently while at Æthelberht’s court) and retained a pagan shrine next to the new Christian altar.

Meanwhile in 627 King Edwin of Northumbria and all his nobles were baptised. He may have been influenced by his wife, Ethelburgh, who was a Christian. Most of his subjects followed.

Missionaries also preached in the kingdom of Mercia. In 653 King Paeda of Mercia was converted and baptised and gradually the realm was converted.

The last part of England to be converted to Christianity was Sussex. It was converted after 680 by St. Wilfrid. Finally by the end of the 7th century all of England was at least nominally Christian.

Christianity introduced Sunday as a day of rest together with a permanent tax system of one tenth of your produce. Sacred oak trees were cut down and replaced with pine trees. Pagan temples were converted into churches. However some people continued to secretly worship the old pagan gods into the 8th century......

Drychten: Lord

The End?

Æthelberht didst meet, his wife's monks outside,

Because he would have, their magic denied.

When they built their church, much magic they wove,

And won him over, from his sacred grove.

That wise Rædwald kept, two altars laden,

A Christian next, to the old pagan.

Edwin of the North, gave up the pagan,

As Ethelburgh was, a Christian maiden.

Kings and Drychten did, the monks mesmerise,

Paeda of Mercia, did they then baptise.

Sussex held out but, a few years longer,

Those fay folk were, of the old gods fonder.

Each day of the Sun, we're granted some rest,

The new religion, gave us this new fest.

But tenth of our labours, by night and day,

To the village church, must we all now pay.

In church I must pray, to our given Lord,

But still have the runes, on my damask sword.

My spear is still cut, from Wodan's ash tree,

I sing over herbs, I pick three times three.

As to my Drychten, I am a good ward,

I follow his lead, unto his accord.

But to the old gods, I offer in stealth,

And make herbal charms, for restoring health.

Within my secret, faery woodland glade,

The old ones still come, to my natural aid.

Where votive offerings, they used to be laid,

A pine tree now stands, where libations were made.

But in deepest depth, of the wild green wood,

Where the mighty oak, of grey beard once stood.

And votive offerings, were solemnly laid,

The old gods doth now, into the mist fade.

We do sill have the, giver of treasure,

We sit at the feast, drinking much pleasure.

We still revel in, the smokey mead hall,

And in the still wood, the old gods still call.

Copyright Andrew Rea March 2015

Fly leaf Leechdoms - Charm of Protection

Fly leaf Leechdoms - Charm of Protection, (P389)

This is an attempt to add (restore) a Pagan feel to this lessor known Anglo- Saxon charm.

I fortify myself in this rune staff and deliver myself into Wodan's allegiance,

Against the sore sigh,

Against the sore blow,

Against the grim horror,

Against the mickle terror, which is to everyone loathly,

And against all the loathly mischief which into the land may come:

A triumphant charm I chant,

A triumphant staff I bear.

Word victory and work victory:

Let this avail me,

Let no night mare mar me,

Nor my belly shrink me,

Nor fear come on me ever for my life, but may Drychten heal me.

Wodan worthy of all glory, as I have heard, heavens creator and eke, Frigg, a thousand of the bright elves I call to be a guard to me against all fiends. May they bear me up and

keep me in peace and protect my life, uphold me altogether, ruling my conduct;

May there be to me a hope of glory.

Hand over head:

The hall of Valhalla,

The regions of the glorious and triumphant, of the truthful wights.

With all blithe mood I pray, that for me, hand over head:

Dragon be my helmet,

Boar my coat of mail,

A light life's bulwark,

Wayland my sword, sharp and sheer edged,

Linden my shield, embellished with glory.

Ye Seraphim, guardians of the ways!

Forth I shall depart,

Friends I shall meet,

All the glory of the ese,

Through the lore of Drychten.

Now pray I to the victor for the mercy of the gods,

For a good departure,

For a good, mild, and light wind upon those shores,

The winds I know,

the encircling water,

ever preserved against all enemies.

Friends I shall meet, that I may dwell in Valhalla, yea, in his peace, protected against the loathsome one, who hunts me for my life, established in the glory of the ese, and in the hand of the mighty one of Valhalla, while I may live upon earth.

So mote it be.           

And here is the translation of the original:

A charm or prayer, P389

I fortify myself in this rod and deliver myself into

Gods allegiance, against the sore sigh, against the

sore blow, against the grim horror, against the mickle

terror, which is to everyone loathly, and against all the

loathly mischief which into the land may come: a

triumphant charm I chant, a triumphant rod I bear,

word victory and work victory : let this avail me,

let no night mare mar me, nor my belly swink me,

nor fear come on me ever for my life: but may the

Almighty heal me and his Son and the Paraclete Spirit,

Lord worthy of all glory, as I have heard, heavens

creator. Abraham and Isaac and such men, Moses and

Jacob, and David, and Joseph, and Eve, and Hannah

and Elizabeth, Sarah and eke Mary, mother of Christ,

and also a thousand of the angels I call to be a guard

to me against all fiends. May they bear me up and

keep me in peace and protect my life, uphold me

altogether, ruling my conduct; may there be to me

a hope of glory, hand over head, the hall of the

hallows, the regions of the glorious and triumphant, of

the truthful angels. With all blithe mood I pray, that

for me, hand over head, Matthew be helmet, Mark

brynie (coat of mail), a light lifes bulwark, Luke my sword, sharp

and sheeredged, John my shield, embellished with glory.

Ye Seraphim, guardians of the ways ! Forth I shall

depart, friends I shall meet, all the glory of angels,

through the lore of the blessed one. Now pray I to

the victor for Gods mercy, for a good departure, for

a good, mild, and light wind upon those shores ; the

winds I know, the encircling water, ever preserved

against all enemies. Friends I shall meet, that I

may dwell on the Almightys, yea, in his peace,

protected against the loathsome one, who hunts me

for my life, established in the glory of angels, and in

the holy hand of the mighty one of heaven, while I

may live upon earth. Amen.