Horses, swords, hospitality, and more in the Arthurian legend, Part II

Having spent the last few weeks mulling through a current rendition of the Arthurian legend, so many random thoughts have come into my head. And thus, I give you my longings and discovery as inspired by Stephen Lawhead's, Pendragon Cycle:

Story: Infrequently have I experience opulent story telling in my life. Three stories that do stick out are the Arthurian legend, Atlas Shrugged, and the Bible. These stories introduce numerous characters with rich descriptions, lots of details and plots, and absolutely no semblance to the plot chart that I learned in 4th grade--complete with rising action, climax, and falling action. In the Cycle, stories are retold by bards, accompanied with a harp, to entertain royal guests, earn one's stay in a passing village, or to swell the courage or heal the wounds of a fighting war band. For those who listen to a skilled bard it is to be completely enraptured by the sweetest sound of the most compelling tales of their time.
The stories themselves have become as real to me as my own life. I recall examples of descriptions of some event, what this one person said, the way that this happened, or whatnot, when I am dealing with my own life. This is the power of story... It is the richness of the human experience at it's apex.
For this same reason, I enjoy TV shows like Battlestar Galatctica and Lost, but only on DVD or a TiVo . Watching TV shows live, without the before mentioned apparatuses, would be like reading a novel, but with an obnoxious, printed advertisement every seven paragraphs... and you couldn't skim those pages.

* * *

Hospitality: We entered the house where, as Merlin had said, Gradlon the wine merchant had prepared a fire. In the elegant style of old Londinium, there were chairs drawn up to the fire, a small long-legged table bearing a tray ith cups of silver, and a fine class jar filled with ruby-red wine... I returned to the hearthroom. Merlin and Arthur were settled before the fire. Three cups stood on the hearthstone warming. "There is no one in the house, lord," I reported. Merlin nodded. "Yet he prepared our welcome..." (S.R. Lawhead, Arthur, p 23-4).
These types of accounts seem to fill me with a glorious nostalgia of this time period. Upon the immediate reception of guests, the host would usher the person to the hearth, if it was cold outside, and also produce a type of drink for the parched traveler served, even sometimes in a guest cup made of silver. Mead, beer, wine, or wined water were different types of spirits offered. Depending upon the circumstance and the guest being honored, a type of feast or meal would be planned for the evening with a discussion of news and such. With no type of communication with others and very little movement away from one's clan, group, caer, this type of hospitality to traveling guests has been replaced with phones, emails, and Motel 6. How often has the first guest arrived at a party and then said, "Am I too early?" No hearth. No mead. No warm embrace. No fun.

Life: (to be continued)

Comments

  1. Caleb19/10/07

    It truly is a lost art. I am sure you have read F-451; but I always loved the part where he meets the people outside the city who each have committed to memory learning a single author’s works. How is it that we have lost the capacity for memory and recanting of stories that our ancestors possessed? I guess the written word replaced the spoken one. Now, most people replace the television with the written. If I worked hard enough, could I commit to memory an entire book?

    Oh... and I love Battlestar Galactica! :)

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