A Handbook of Saxon Sorcery & Magic: Wyrdworking, Rune Craft, Divination & Wortcunning - Alaric Albertsson 2017

Tools of the Trade
Getting Started

Almost every skill has its respective tools. The Saxon tailor or seamstress has a needle, shears, and, today, a sewing machine. The scop (Saxon musician) will often make use of a harp or perhaps a guitar.

The Saxon wyrdworker also has his or her own tools. These will vary depending on which magic techniques you favor. The wiglere will make use of different tools than the rúnwita. In this chapter we will explore some of the tools that most wyrdworkers will want to have on hand. Here again I am going to make use of the WWSD (What Would the Saxons Do?) principle. I do not always use the instruments and methods utilized fourteen centuries ago. I use tools appropriate for this time and place. You do not need to acquire all of the tools described here at once. Depending on your personal magic work, there are some that you may not want or need at all. If you focus exclusively on rune magic, for example, you may never need a mortar and pestle.

The Myse (Table)

The first thing to consider is where you are going to work your magic. Not for every little spell, of course, but for your more important work. This is where the rúnwita will carve runes, where the wyrtwita will infuse potions, where the galdre will sing spells. In The Book of Seiðr, shaman and author Runic John recommends at least a shelf or a flat stone placed on the floor as a focus for magic work (p. 60). This place, this surface, will eventually take on a power of its own, imprinted by the repetitious magic you have woven around and through it.

The Saxon sorcerer may refer to this object or location as the myse, an Old English word (pronounced MU-zeh) that simply means “table.” The myse need not be an actual table; it can be as simple as Runic John’s flat stone. Its defining qualities are that it provides a surface for your work, and that you perform the majority of your magic work on that surface.

The myse can be quite elaborate. I know a witch in southwestern Missouri who brews her potions and casts her spells on top of an ornate, beautifully preserved wood-burning stove. The large stove stands in her kitchen, where she also has a modern electric stove for everyday cooking. She acquired the wood burner specifically to serve as a location for her magic work. This myse is exceptional, of course, but it is an example of the effort some wyrdworkers will expend to create a special place for their magic.

Elaborate or not, there are obvious advantages to having your myse—your working surface—in or near the kitchen. In this room you have ready access to water, to waste disposal (usually down the sink), and to heat. This is especially advantageous for those who do a lot of work with herbs. There is no rule stating that your working surface needs to be in the kitchen, but it is a convenient location when you have to boil water or wash out a mortar.

Your household wéofod (altar) can also serve as a myse. I often make use of my own household altar in this way. If you are going to do this, it is a good idea to have at least one wéoh (statue or image) representing either Woden or Fréo, since these are the deities who take the most interest in magic. As a rule, I only work magic at my wéofod when I am also asking for help in my endeavor from Woden or some other deity, so it is appropriate, I think, that I do this where I normally approach the Saxon gods and goddesses.

There are two opinions as to how the myse should be treated. Some people believe that the myse should be kept sacred, or separate, from mundane activities; other people feel the exact opposite, and that it should be integrated into all parts of your life. Both opinions have their merits, but you should pick one or the other and stick to that perspective.

If your myse is an ordinary surface where you also perform everyday activities, then I do not think you should use your wéofod in this way. The wéofod is, indeed, a sacred space, and you are approaching your magic as an ordinary activity. Let me emphasize here that there is nothing wrong with this. As we have seen, magic is not the same thing as spirituality, and more than a few wyrdworkers make no distinction between their magic work and other everyday activities.

The other point of view maintains that mundane activities dissipate the power that the myse would otherwise develop or acquire. From this perspective, magic is still not the same thing as spirituality, but neither is it “ordinary.” If you wish to reserve your working surface as a separate space, then you cannot perform ordinary, non-magical activities on that surface. For most of us, this is impractical. Not everybody has an extra wood burner in the kitchen that can be reserved for magic work!

As an alternative option, you can use a board or cloth as your myse. Remember how Runic John suggested using a flat stone placed on the floor? This works on the same principle. The board or cloth serves as the myse, or actual working surface, even though it rests on something else. There is nothing radical or strange about this, as every myse rests on something. If you are using an oak table, the surface of the table is resting on its four legs. As I said previously, the defining qualities of the myse are that it provides a surface and that you perform most of your magic work on that surface. The myse board is simply a worktable without legs.

Before anyone accuses me of making something up here, let me clarify that there is no evidence of the early, pre-Christian Saxons having anything like a myse board. This is quite likely a modern innovation. But it is a very common innovation that many wyrdworkers today agree enhances their magic work. Runic John suggests a flat stone on the ground if a permanent working surface is not possible. And today’s rune sorcerers very often lay out or cast their runes on special cloths used for no other purpose. A myse in some form or another has become a common tool for modern practitioners.

The cloth and the board each have their disadvantages. The disadvantage of the cloth is that it does not necessarily provide a flat surface, but this should not be a problem if you are always going to use it on a table or on level flooring. The disadvantage of the board is that you can’t fold or roll it up, so storage can be more problematic. But most of us have space somewhere to store a myse board. Personally, I prefer the board.

A myse should be marked in some way to define it as sacred space. The board can be easily engraved with a wood burner. Inexpensive wood burners are sold at handicrafts stores, and are easy to use. The board itself can be a simple wood cutting board. A cloth, if you prefer this, is most easily decorated with embroidery. If you do not want the stitches to show through, a second lining can be sewn to the back.

How you decorate the myse board (or cloth) is a matter of personal taste. One obvious way is to engrave the Anglo-Saxon runes around the perimeter of the board. Whether you engrave twenty-nine or thirty-three runes is also a personal decision, depending on how you use these symbols in your magic work. We will examine the Anglo-Saxon runes in detail later on.

But maybe you want to focus on herb magic and galdor, and have no interest in runes whatsoever. If so—if you do not know the difference between feoh and éoh, and have no desire to know—then it does not make sense to engrave the entire Futhorc (the Anglo-Saxon runes) around your myse board. As an alternative, carve or paint this across the top of the board:

These runes spell out the phrase, ic spellige nu, which means “I now proclaim” in Old English. The verb spellian, meaning “to utter or proclaim,” is the origin of the modern English noun spell. When a witch casts a spell, he or she is casting or throwing down a proclamation. Your working space is now identified as such. This may seem trivial, but in Saxon magic, to name or identify something is to give it power. By engraving the words ic spellige nu across the top of your working surface, you are acknowledging its purpose and empowering it to fulfill that purpose.

If the myse board (or myse cloth) is intended to be a space set aside from your ordinary activities, it should always be put away when not in use. If, on the other hand, you have a permanent working surface, whether this is a shelf or a table, be sure to keep it clean and ready for use at all times.

The Telga (Wand)

The Saxon wand is a tool allowing the sorcerer to reach through the hama (astral body). Wands serve as conduits through which sorcerers can more effectively project their power.

The Germanic people valued and respected trees. European forests provided not only firewood, but also the raw material for crafting shelters, ships, tools, and weapons. The Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem tells us that the oak even provided “meat-animals’ fodder” (flæsces fódor) in the acorns that swine fed on. In the Prose Edda, a thirteenth-century collection of Icelandic tales, the first man and woman are said to have been created from a pair of trees, an ash and an elm. And in Saxon cosmology, Middle Earth itself is connected to six other extradimensional planes through the branches of the World Tree.

The telga—the Saxon wand—is a small symbolic reflection of the World Tree. Just as the World Tree connects Middle Earth to six other realms, the telga connects the wyrdworker to the surrounding environment. It connects us to the greater Web of Wyrd that is constantly generated by all living things.

To craft your own telga, you will need a reasonably straight branch of wood. The length should be approximately one fæðm, an Old English measurement that reaches from your elbow to the tip of your index finger. This measurement is also known as a cubit, from a Latin word meaning “elbow.” The exact length is not exceptionally important though. The only requirement is that the telga extend your psychic “reach” beyond your protective hama without being so long as to be unwieldy.

Ideally the branch should be something you find yourself. Any kind of wood can be used, but some people prefer wood from one of the trees of the Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem: oak, ash, hawthorn, elm, or birch. (Pine is also mentioned in the Rune Poem, but specifically as a source of firewood, which is not a doom—a fate—that you want to weave into your telga.)

It also does not matter if you find the branch among deadwood or if you cut it from a living tree. There are some who feel that the tree is being harmed in some way, and that this will imbue a negative energy into the wand. I disagree; it is a tree, not a person or an animal. Cutting a branch from a tree is nothing at all like cutting off one of your fingers, unless you have the extraordinary ability to grow new fingers. Trees lose their branches constantly due to various factors. I am not sure that I agree, either, with the idea that you need to give something back to the tree, although there are other wyrdworkers who believe this is important. The branch was not a gift from the tree; it is just something you took. To call a branch that you have cut from a tree a “gift” seems, to me, like stealing a person’s wallet and then claiming it was given to you. However, if giving back makes you feel better about cutting off the branch, then by all means pour a little ale or mead around the roots of the tree. It is important that you not have any pessimistic feelings about the branch you have cut.

Another approach is to do something beneficial for the tree. In Saxon belief, a gift’s value is relative not only to the degree of sacrifice, but also to how much worth it is to the recipient. Watering the tree—if it would benefit from water—or trimming away unhealthy branches are ways to offer a gift in exchange for the branch.

If you find your branch lying on the ground, as deadwood, be sure that it is solid and whole. Deadwood is often subject to rot. Try to bend the branch in your hands and see if it snaps in two. The branch should feel sturdy in your grip.

Strip the bark from the branch and sand away any irregularities. Your telga does not have to be perfectly smooth, but you do not want projections that may catch on your clothing or other objects. Some people like to embellish the telga by affixing a small thunderstone (quartz crystal) or semiprecious stone at the tip, but this is personal taste.

After you have shaped the telga and added any embellishment, carve the following along its length:

This rune is os, repeated here seven times, once for each of the Seven Worlds. Os is the rune of the god Woden, who is described in the Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem as the creator of all language or speech (ordfruma ælere spræce). As I mentioned earlier in this chapter, when a Saxon sorcerer casts a “spell,” he literally speaks or proclaims his will. As the creator of speech, Woden can be thought of as the creator of magic, at least as it is practiced by us mortals. The os rune is carved seven times into the telga to invoke this magic throughout the Seven Worlds.

After carving the runes, the final step in crafting your telga is to rub it down with oil. This can be linseed oil, any commercial furniture oil, or even an essential oil that is pleasing to you.

The Staff

The Old English word for staff is just stæf, which is nothing more than an older spelling for the same word with the same pronunciation.

In function the staff is a larger, longer version of the telga. The only real difference is the physical form of the tool; however, that is a very big difference. Because of its size, the staff can be used in a very practical way as a walking staff, which is especially useful at night. The staff can test the ground to ensure that the sorcerer is not stepping into a puddle, a deep pool of mud, or worse. Brambles are easily swept aside. But the staff is more unwieldy than a wand. If you want to mark runes in the air, the staff tends to be awkward.

I have known sorcerers to clutch a staff during trance work. The symbolism is quite obvious. Like Woden, traversing the Seven Worlds along the length of the World Tree, the wyrdworker is using the staff to help journey beyond the confines of his or her lic (physical body).

Your staff should be no longer than you are tall. As with the telga, this is an approximate guideline, but anything much larger may be unmanageable. Also as with the telga, the staff can be shaped from deadwood or cut from a living tree. In this case, if the wood is freshly cut, you should let it age for at least a few months before trying to shape it. This will lessen the chance of the wood splitting. You can carve the os rune into the staff seven times or, if you prefer (since there is much more room), carve all of the Anglo-Saxon runes along its length. This second approach imbues the staff with all of the mysteries described in the Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem. A few years ago, I had the pleasure of sitting with a talented wiglere (soothsayer) in the Colorado mountains as she journeyed through a seething. The wiglere held a strong wooden staff throughout her journey, with all of the Anglo-Saxon runes carved into its length.

The Mortar

If you are going to explore wortcunning (herb magic) at all, you will want a mortar for mixing and crushing herbs. Plant materials—usually seeds or leaves—are placed in the mortar and crushed with a blunt tool called a pestle. These two items, the mortar and pestle, are almost always sold as a set.

You can find mortar and pestle sets at gift shops, herb shops, and New Age shops or in the kitchenware departments of discount stores. The problem is not where to find them, but what to look for. Mortar and pestle sets are made from almost every material imaginable, including some you should avoid. You need to be able to thoroughly clean these tools, so porous materials are out. It can be difficult or impossible to get all the residue out of a wooden mortar.

Very often you can find mortar and pestle sets made of solid marble. In my opinion, this is your best choice. The marble is non-porous, can be scrubbed, and is difficult to break—difficult, but not impossible. I once managed to break a marble pestle, but it took some work on my part.

Your second choice—and these are almost as good as marble—are porcelain mortar and pestle sets. They are as easy to clean as marble and, although easier to break, they are surprisingly durable. I would not hesitate to purchase a porcelain mortar if I could not find one made of marble.

The Cauldron

It would not be wiccecræft if we did not have a cauldron to stir! Nevertheless I feel compelled to invoke my What Would the Saxons Do principle here. The cauldron is nothing more or less than a vessel for heating liquids. The early Saxons might have called this vessel a citel; a modern Saxon sorcerer is more likely to call it a “pot.”

You can, of course, still purchase old-fashioned iron cauldrons. I own one myself, and occasionally use it in my spiritual work as a symbolic representation of the Well of Wyrd. The Well of Wyrd lies at the roots of the World Tree. In Saxon belief, all of our words and deeds fall into this Well, which in turn affects all that is to come. The shape and design of my cauldron is perfect as a representation of this concept, but the same design is impractical, at best, for any magic work today. This is because, in its time, the cauldron was a state-of-the-art culinary implement; in the twenty-first century, it is archaic and outmoded for its intended purpose. We no longer cook over an open fire in the hearth. A practical, modern cauldron must be an implement adapted to a gas or electric range. So we ask ourselves, What Would the Saxons Do? They would probably do now as they did then, and use a contemporary vessel for heating liquids.

Your mód (self-identity) may want to connect with the ambience of an older, simpler time, and this is understandable. You do not need to use a plain, long-handled pot if you can find something more to your liking. The only requirement is that the vessel have a flat bottom that can rest easily on a stove burner. A small stock pot, for example, can serve as a suitable contemporary cauldron. Whatever you use should also be easy to clean. I favor stainless steel, which I readily admit is not a material the early Saxon sorcerers had at their disposal. But it is lighter in weight and easier to clean than cast iron, and thus a very suitable material for twenty-first-century Saxons.

If you follow the philosophy that your magic is an ordinary activity in your life, you do not need to reserve a special cauldron at all. The average modern kitchen will have a variety of pots and pans to use. But just as some practitioners prefer a separate, special working surface for their magic, there is an argument to be made for having a cauldron that is used only for that purpose. Since this cauldron serves no other use, it becomes “trained” over time as a magical implement. It will gradually acquire a power of its own. Some would argue that the change occurs within you and not with the cauldron, but the distinction is moot. The important thing is that the cauldron, for many of us, can become a more effective tool if it is used only for magic work.

You may want more than one cauldron, especially if you do a lot of work with herbs. In fact a dedicated herb sorcerer will eventually have an entire arsenal of equipment: cauldrons, kettles, cups, measures, and so on. For most of us it would be impractical to collect enough implements to stock an alchemical laboratory, but it is not unreasonable to reserve a couple of cauldrons and perhaps a kettle for your magic work.

The Seax (Knife)

The seax (SAY-ax) was an indispensable tool for the pre-Christian Saxon. The traditional seax was larger than a knife but smaller than a sword, its blade sharpened along only one side. It is most often thought of as a weapon, but the seax would have been used in this way only when a fight joined too closely for the spear. It was an all-purpose cutting tool. The blade was occasionally decorated with engravings of snakes or braids or simple lines.

I honestly think there is too much emphasis today on the seax as a magical tool. It is sometimes used to help project a wyrdworker’s power, but this is more properly the function of the telga. I rarely employ a seax in my own magic work and, when I do, I use it to challenge or redirect external forces. The seax is the more effective tool for this purpose due to the ferrous metal in its blade. (We will discuss the magic properties of iron in the next chapter.)

For the early Saxon, the seax was a personal tool with a spirit of its own. To empower your seax, you can give it a name and engrave this into the hilt. Alternately, you can engrave your own name into the hilt, identifying the seax as an extension of yourself. Here again I must emphasize that magic is an intensely personal pursuit. Whether you give your seax a name or share your own name with it depends on which approach gives this tool a sense of force and power.

You may not want to engrave the seax at all. If this is your choice, you can still empower it with a name (your own or another) through the process of Weland’s Transfer. Weland is an elf, or spirit, who attained the status of a Saxon god. Known for his ability as a smith, Weland was captured and imprisoned on an island. There he was forced to craft jewelry and other items for his captor. But eventually Weland escaped the island using a pair of wings he had made for himself. It was Weland who crafted the chainmail shirt worn by the hero Beowulf.

To empower a blade with Weland’s Transfer, the name is clearly marked on a piece of paper. Carefully burn this paper in a flame. It is easiest to do this with a candle flame, using a pair of tweezers to hold the paper. It does not matter if the corner held by the tweezers does not burn so long as the name itself is reduced to ashes. The ashes are then carefully rubbed along the length of the blade, thus transferring the power of the name into the metal.

I cannot attest that Weland’s Transfer is an ancient Saxon magical practice. I first heard of it in 1977, from an American wyrdworker who had learned of the procedure from an English wicca. Weland’s Transfer seems to work, though, and that is what really matters.

Once you have acquired some of your magical tools, you will want to prepare them for their intended purpose. All things are subject to a universal magical principle often known as the Law of Contagion. This law states that an object (or person) remains connected to anything else that it touches. The Law of Contagion is why sorcerers will often obtain and use personal items, such as clothing or a comb, belonging to whomever they are working magic for. The items in question provide connections with these people. The Law of Contagion is also the principle behind the technique of Weland’s Transfer. The name for the seax, reduced to ashes, is rubbed into the blade and thus becomes connected with the blade.

Whether it is your mortar or your seax or some other object, you cannot know for certain what objects or people came into contact with any given magical tool before you had it. Therefore it is always a good idea to use a simple spell to cleanse or wash away any previous connections clinging to the tool. This spell should even be cast over your myse before you use it for the first time if you are using a portable version, such as a board or cloth.

To work the spell you will be using the powers of water (cold) and fire (heat). In a later chapter we will examine European elemental theory, but for the purpose of this spell, all we require are the opposite forces that engendered the raw materials formed into the Seven Worlds. This primal event, the Germanic “big bang,” took place at the beginning of time, when frost coming from the north poured into the raging fires coming from out of the south.

You will need the tool you are preparing, plus a small bowl of water and an open flame. A candle flame will suffice. If using a candle, it should be made of either pure beeswax or red paraffin. Red, as we will discuss later, is the color of blood, and thus the color of life and strength.

Using your fingers, sprinkle your new magic tool with water as you say:

Waters of wisdom, work my will

With wód and wyrd my words fulfill

Banish any bane or blight

And wash away the wayward wight.

Here you are using galdor (magic of sound) to work your will. You are proclaiming what will occur, stating firmly that the water will remove any previous connections that will impair the tool’s ability to function. This particular galdor utilizes the techniques of rhyme and alliteration to lend further power to your words. A wight is any entity, living or dead, although in this context it usually references a spirit being.

After this, pass the tool over the open flame, holding it firmly in both hands as you say:

Flames of fortune from afar

Favor me with force and fire

Burn away all blight and bane

Let frith and fréot e’er remain.

The same galdor style is used here. The alliteration has changed, but the third line uses the same “b” sound alliteration to bind fire (the second galdor) to water (the first galdor). Frith and fréot are two Old English words that roughly translate as “peace” and “freedom.” You are charging the flame to render the tool free of any contrary influences.

Remember, though, what I have said about magic being intensely personal. If you feel silly speaking in rhyme, dispense with that and come up with similar, non-rhyming verse. Truly adept sorcerers always develop their own style.

Once you have passed your new magic tool through water and fire, it is ready for use. In the next chapter we will look at some of the components you may wish to collect for your spells.

Review

1. What is the purpose of the myse?

2. Which rune is carved repeatedly into the telga, and why?

3. Describe the difference between the use of the telga and the use of the seax.

4. What is the function or purpose of the cauldron?

5. What is the Law of Contagion?