By Kim Rendfeld
An
eighth-century pilgrim on his way to pray before the relics of a saint might
recite a charm to protect his horse from injury. A midwife might whisper spells
in an expectant mother's ear to hasten the birth, and if she feared the newborn
was near death, she baptized the child. Such was the blend of Christian and
pagan practices in the Dark Ages.
My
Christian characters would insist the charms and spells were white magic,
nothing to do with paganism, which they equated with devil worship. They
weren’t cursing their neighbors with illness or inducing storms to destroy
crops. Their intentions were good. They wanted a sick child to be cured or
their fields to yield an abundant harvest.
Officially,
the Church preached against magic and the people who practiced it such as
enchanters, dream interpreters, and fortune tellers. But to the populace, magic
was a tool that could be used for good or evil.
The
penalty for magical bad deeds was high. In the Carolingian era, witches and
sorcerers were sealed in barrels and thrown into the river, or they were stoned
to death.
However,
the most popular uses of magic were beneficial and sometimes profitable.
Amulets and their religious cousins, phylacteries, were sold to anyone who
wanted to buy them. In Rome, the heart of Christianity, women tied phylacteries
to their arms or legs.
A 13th century phylactery worn for protection. Walters Art Museum, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license, via Wikimedia Commons |
Magic
was so much a part of daily life that the Church realized it needed to take a
different tack. If you can't beat them, co-opt them. Want rain? Don't use an
incantation. Say a prayer instead. If you need to recite something while
gathering medicinal herbs, try the Pater and the Credo.
Still,
I can imagine desperate parents of a sick child praying to a saint and giving
alms, then taking the child to the peak of the roof, where herbs were cooked
while a spell was recited. Perhaps, they were appealing to any supernatural
power who would listen.
Sources:
Daily Life in the World of
Charlemagne
by Pierre Riché, translated by Jo Ann McNamara
Daily Life in Medieval
Times by
Frances and Joseph Gies
“Capturing
the Wandering Womb” by Kate Phillips, The
Haverford Journal, April 2007
Magic
and prayer play an important role in Kim Rendfeld's novels, The Cross and the Dragon (2012, Fireship
Press) and The Ashes of Heaven's Pillar
(2014, Fireship Press), both set in the days of Charlemagne. To read the first
chapter of either of Kim’s novels or learn more about her, visit kimrendfeld.com. You’re also welcome to visit
her blog Outtakes of a Historical
Novelist at kimrendfeld.wordpress.com,
like her on Facebook at facebook.com/authorkimrendfeld,
or follow her on Twitter at @kimrendfeld, or contact her at kim [at]
kimrendfeld [dot] com.