The Law of Hospitality...Part 1

(Author’s Note: This series of posts is dedicated to all mothers and the sacrifices they make--but is especially dedicated to the two mothers who were the inspiration for Cerrydwen and the Frau--Happy Mother’s Day Pat and Mom! Thanks for all that you have done and continue to do!)

Cerrydwen emerged from the woods behind the table. In one arm she was carrying a large wooden bowl filled with apples and pears. In her other arm, she was carrying the carcass of a large hare, it’s head hanging loosely at an odd angle.

As she approached, she placed the large bowl on the table next to the two urns and nodded back in the direction she had come from. “Rusty, just beyond the woodline, you will find a small cabin. I need you to go get some of the firewood next to it and the tinderbox just inside of it. Oh, and grab the flint knife next to the tinderbox as well.”

“What are you doing with all of this? I thought we were expecting Drake anytime now?”

She didn’t bother looking up at me as she responded. “Yes, he will likely be here very soon.”

“So why are we making dinner? Are you expecting to kill his ass with kindness?”

She looked up now, eyes intense, but with an aura of patience. “There are certain rituals that must be followed in this, Rusty. The Law of Hospitality must be observed, even if our expected guest is not likely to appreciate it.”

“But why should we show that killer any hospitality at all?”

“Because that is the way of this place, the way of the Spirit who keeps this place sacred. We must observe each and every one of our obligations if we are to expect the hospitality and the protection of the Spirit of this place. There are no short cuts on this. So, will you please go get those things? Our time grows shorter by the moment.”

Grumbling all the way, I went in the direction she had indicated and found a small, almost invisible path into the woods that led to a small log cabin. Stacked next to the cabin was a couple of cords of neatly chopped and split firewood. I looked inside the open door of the place and quickly located the tinderbox and a large, flat piece of flint that looked like it had a razor sharp cutting edge on one side. I picked those two things up and grabbed an armful of firewood before heading back to the clearing.

When I came back out with those things, I found Cerrydwen kneeling in front of the large stone table. She had lain out the hare to be prepared for cooking, but the more shocking thing was to realize that she was now only wearing a loincloth since she had apparently shucked her clothing in the time that I was gone.

“Let me guess, more ritual crap, eh? This whole situation is getting to be very, very strange. First, we come to this weird island where I can’t even bring my weapons. Next, the Frau goes running off nekkid to turn into a damn bear, then you tell me we’re going to cook a damn dinner in honor of Drake, of all people, and now I find you almost naked. What is it with you two and this place?”

“Give me the knife, please.” Her hand was held out to receive it, her back was still to me.

I handed her the knife, careful to place the blunt edge in her palm as I did so.

“Thank you, now if you would be so kind as to build a fire in that stone circle to your left, I will explain a little more once I have this hare skinned and gutted.”

She then set quickly to work, using the primitive stone tool as easily as if she used such things to cook with on a regular basis. Meanwhile, I set to the task of building a fire, something I hadn’t done in many, many years.

By the time I had a small but respectable blaze going, Cerrydwen joined me, holding two long sticks with parts of the skinned hare skewered on them for cooking. She handed me one, then dropped to her haunches to place her stick over the fire to begin cooking it. The fat of the critter was soon dripping into the fire, making sizzling and popping sounds as it dripped onto the burning wood.

I joined her silently, letting her decide when to speak.

After several moments of quiet interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest, she began.

“One of the most ancient of all human laws is the Law of Hospitality. That law basically states that if a traveller comes to your camp or your home and asks for it, you are to provide them with guest privileges and to guarantee their safety while they stay with you. By requesting such privileges however, the guest also incurs certain obligations--to treat the host well and not steal from him, or to insult him, to fulfill reasonable requests for assistance if asked to do so.”

“This does sound familiar.”

“Examples of this law can be found in a lot of older literature, like Homer’s epics and the epic of Beowulf.”

“I still don’t see how any of this would apply to Drake coming here, it’s not like he’s going to ask for anything other than these urns and he likely won’t even ask for them-he’ll just try to take them.”

(To be continued)