A Celtic Tradition

A romantic Celtic tradition... the groom fetches the bride on the morning of the wedding (Excerpt from "Ard Righ"):

As the groom’s party approached the stout oak doors, Myrddin stepped forward and knocked soundly on the door with his wooden staff.

The knock was greeted with silence.  Myrddin repeated it.

Out of the silence burst a voice from behind the door, a decidedly female voice. “Who is knocking on my door, with timing that is less than poor?” Silence.

Myrddin smiled, knowing his role well. He removed his harp from a satchel he’d slung over his shoulder. Taking his time, he tuned the instrument carefully, feeling the tension building on both sides of the door. When he had the harp properly calibrated, he closed his eyes and sang:

“The timing of our visit here
“To win the heart of one so dear
“Is written gently on our hearts
“A perfect day to make a start—”

Myrddin smiled at his companions as they waited for a reply, softly stroking the strings of his harp as he waited for the prescribed response.

Several moments passed. Arthur felt his throat constrict with nervous energy. Just as he was about to pound the door again, a lilting response drifted through from the other side:

“A noise I hear outside my door,
“I wonder who the noise is for?
“And wondering, I pause to think of
“Why you stand upon my brink?”

Myrddin picked up the cadence of the verse on the harp, and responded:

“We seek the one who’s tall and fair,
“With jade-green eyes and golden hair.
“From Camelaird our lady came,
“Open now and end this game—”

The men pounded Myrddin on the back at his response, congratulating him on his cleverness. Before too many congratulations were spread, the response cooled them as quickly as a sudden downpour on a cooking fire:

“The one you seek is here for sure
“But cannot face the open door.
“Try again some other day;
“Leave us be and go away—”

Myrddin’s fingers plucked at the strings of the harp in a staccato rhythm to match the heartbeat of the company as it increased in its intensity with the negation of their plea.

“The game is up, the bride-price paid,
“A groom awaits his loving maid’.
“Unlock your heart and let us pass,
“Before the sun too high does pass—”

Again the men smiled and congratulated each other on the vigor and swiftness of the reply. Myrddin spoke as a bard for everyman, and though the words he spoke were spoken out of a long-standing tradition, the bard made the words feel as if they were crafted for the specific bride and bridegroom.

Myrddin stopped the harp with a suddenness that left the room ringing with silence. He nodded to Arthur, who sang the final part of the ritual in a haunting, a-capello voice:

“I am Arthur, come to call
“Stout of heart behind this wall.
“Gwenhwyfar my bride to be,
“Open shuttered door to me—”

With that the great door was flung open. There stood Gwenhwyfar, dressed for the coming ceremony. The men stared in awe as she stepped across the threshold, beautiful as the first day of Spring.

© Ray Cattie