Just prior to having
relocated to our current home, I began to ponder what it would be like to live
out in the country with my growing family on a nice piece of land. When I first
set eyes on what would be the future Erikhêm, I instantly felt a sense of
completion. This was to be my ‘forever home’ with my family, where I would be
raising my kids and entering into a gifting cycle with the wights of the land.
Just before I got the
final approval from all parties regarding the purchase of the home, I had taken
a bit of grave dirt from my Grandfather’s grave, which I kept at burial, and
sprinkled it about the four corners of the land and in the home. It seems like
a silly thing to do, but it had great import for the future wellbeing of my hîwiski
(that is household: family, land, outbuildings, trees, yard, house, pets and
all other holdings). I had entered into contract with my ancestors. I asked for
my Grandfather’s help in the purchase of the home as, in turn, he too would
benefit from our betterment. You see, I had made my home away from ‘back home’
and though I am not too far from my childhood and ancestral lands, two hours
distance makes the trip more than getting across the city. I had agreed to
visit often with my ancestors and bring my children to visit them also (and
learn the right customs) and to bring them offerings when we did. As such when
I now go ‘back home’, I feel it imperative to spend equal (within reason of
course) time between my living, healthy relatives and my ancestors at the grave.
But
that though, my responsibilities are much like any other person such as
working, providing shelter and a good upbringing for my children. Being a good
and wholesome hiwun (spouse) is paramount as in a marriage it takes strong and
committed players to make things work.
That
being said, I don’t simply view myself as the bread-winner (mostly because we
both are), the Dad and other such titles. I feel that all those things, be they
duties or pleasantries, fit under one hat. I have come to call that hat the Hêmahêto
as it best, within a FA framework, describes the penultimate role of the ‘male-first
of the house’. Hêma is derived from
the same root as the modern English word ‘home’, with the meaning of ‘a settled
place’. The second portion of the word, hêto,
is from the same root as the modern English word ‘-hest’ and means ‘to command
(vocally)’. In this sense, the Hêmahêto
is ‘one who bids the home’. This doesn’t mean that I go around and bark orders
at my family as though a king. No, the historic Hêmahêto was most certainly not
the king, but he would have been responsible for far more than even I am today.
The historic Hêmahêto was the leader of the household, which is of a
multi-generational familial unit which occupied a given territory held in
commons. He would have been responsible for playing a greater role in the tribe
as the leader of men capable of supporting the various higher stratus of
society, be they the Comes, Dux or Rex (or any of the similar).
The
term is referred to in the Salic Law under the title ‘Concerning the theft of
cattle’ (Fischer Drew) which lays out a number of fines for stealing cows in a
variety of ways. Under a number of those
compositions, there is mentioning of the act taking place in or pertaining to a
‘villa’. Villa is a term used often to translate such Germanic words as thurp (large farm or ‘village’) and hêm (a large settlement or ‘village’),
each of these being good cognates and often used interchangeably. Hêmahêto is
also a close cognate to the Gothic heiwafráuja
(oikedespótes or House-Lord) (DH Green),
both in turn relating in context to Lat. Dominus
and as the dominus maintain dominion over a villa, so too did the Hêmahêto
maintain the hêm and hîwiski.
It
would have been very ambitious Hêmahêta
which would have succeeded the Merovingian Kings as the Arnulfings did and
brought about the Carolingian Age. However by that time they were known as major domus (chief of the household), a
cognate term, and therefore a continuation of that original Old Frankish
personhood. There must also be no confusing the hîwiski, which is the extended
family/household of the Hêmahêto and the thiad of the Antthiad (the king, ‘he
who is across/distinct/against from the nation). Prior to the advent of
Frankish sacral kingship, that is prior to the Frankish genesis proper (prior
to kingship, they were known by their smaller thiadisk names), the folk were governed by community leaders known
as thungino/raginburgi (judges in a court) who settled disputes and knew the
customary êwa (law).
Though
a topic for another time, Frankisk Aldsido is a heathen revival which is
preoccupied by and with the on-goings of the hîwiski (household) and hêm
(settlement) and so the domus and not
so much with the genes of the thiad,
nor with the stranger who may live down the road who happens to be Asatru. As I
will outline in a future post, heathenry starts in the home and involves the
family. If that household expresses a Frankish identity, such as my own, then thia aldsido is a desirable
manifestation of such a heathen expression.
I
am conscious of the historical personhood of the Hêmahêto and I respect it for
what it was and try to use this knowledge as a barometer for myself. It is my
role in this life to maintain the wellbeing of my family, to educate my
children, to feed them, to cloth them, to shelter them and nurture them to one
day become strong home-leaders in turn. I must uphold my dead and see to their
wellness so that they may see to ours and at times I may have to seek the aid
of the gods. But above all, I am just one link in a long chain and as those
links come and go, from the forge to the roll, it is my sole hope that I have
made the hîwiski better off for having me as it’s Hêmahêto.
