Derneherald Fall 2015

The Derneherald
September 2015
This is the September 2015 issue of The Derneherald, a publication of the
Shire of Dernehealde of the Society for Creative Anachronism, Inc.
(SCA, Inc.). It is not a corporate publication of SCA, Inc., and does not delineate SCA, Inc.
policies. Copyright © 2015 Society for Creative Anachronism, Inc. For
information on reprinting photographs, articles, or artwork from this
publication, please contact the Chronicler, who will assist you in
contacting the original creator of the piece. Please respect the legal
rights of our contributors.
Cover photo by Katlyn Stump
Brief Officer Reports
Minister of Arts and Sciences
A&S Class schedule for September: 8 - History of knitting, 15 - Fashion show, 22 - Basic T-tunic demo, 29 –
Bardic.
(9/7) Craft Nights will be meeting every other Thursday from 7-10 pm in Grover 123W. The first craft night is
this Thursday, September 10th!
Report due October 1, 2015. If you attended or taught classes at Pennsic, let me know! Let me know what
you’ve been doing, please!
Exchequer
(8/18) Report has been finished, but not yet submitted (computer problems). A new requirement is that our
Shire have a Monthly Ledger, signed off by the Seneschal.
(8/25) The Shire is quite well set to host an event. Required Monthly Ledger signed off.
Archery Marshal
(8/18) I will be moving Thrown Weapons and Archery practice to Tuesday nights before the meetings. See the
website for a map of the location.
(9/7) Effective tonight, Mikael ibn Melhem al Uqlidsi will become Archery Marshal.
Thrown Marshal
(8/11) Now a fully warranted archery marshal!
(8/18) I will be moving Thrown Weapons and Archery practice to Tuesday nights before the meetings. See the
website for a map of the location.
(9/7) Combined practice with Archery.
Webminister
(8/31) Updates made to both the Newcomers section and to the A&S (fixed missing pictures/links).
(9/7) September’s A&S schedule put up on website. Other updates as received.
http://dernehealde.middlemarches.org
Pursuivant
Report due at the end of September.
Chatelaine
(8/25) His Grace, Talymar gave two presentations 1) SCA Social Structure, and 2) Structure of the SCA
(mundane side of things)
Student involvement fair was a success – lots of new people! Make them feel welcome.
Heavy Marshal
(9/7) Marshal did all birthday rounds plus two! Marshal took last part of his test. Lots of new fighters!
Other
(8/18) Wilhelm is no longer Baronial MOAS due to a case of Life. He will also be less active but Dorian wants
to continue being active – will need to coordinate rides to various events/meetings when Wilhelm has to work.
(9/7) Altani submitted her event bid for “Haunted Tower: The River Styx”. The date is November 7, 2015 and
it will be at the Albany Community Center. It was voted unanimously of those present to make it a FREE
event. There will be a charge for feast. Proposed feast cost: $10. His Grace has offered to donate $50 to cover
feast cost for brand new attendees (first event ever).
Dernehealde’s Fall Semester Class Schedulele:
September:
1st: Pythagoras
8th: History of Knitting
15th: Fashion show
22nd: Basic T-tunic demonstration
29th: Bardic: Icebreaker challenge
October:
6th: Awards in the SCA
13th: Norse Insults
20th: Scribal 201
27th: Bardic: Halloween challenge
November:
3rd: Profiling Your Persona
10th: Reserved for Post Event Presentation
17th: Period Board Game night
24th: Bardic
December:
1st: Dernehealde’s Annual Yule Feast
From the Archery & Thrown Weapons Marshal
Greetings!
Our Shire's practices have been going very well! With our weekly practices averaging at least 7 attendees I am
currently working on getting more and better loaner equipment in addition to a better target. If there are more
people who wish to try their hand at archery or thrown weapons yet can't make it to the usual practice please
come talk to me! If there is interest in a second practice during the week then I may be able to oblige. I don't
mind getting in plenty of practice before it gets too cold for archery and thrown weapons.
The most common question I get from beginners is 'Which bow should I use?'. The short answer is go to an
event or a practice and ask people about their bows and try them out until you find one you like. If you want a
bit of a guide, then I can give you some pointers in two ways.
First, bows come many, many forms. There are longbows, stickbows, horsebows, recurve bows, and crossbows
just to name a few, and there are varieties within each of the categories I named. For a beginner I really
recommend a fiberglass recurve bow because they are cheap, durable, and safe. An inexperienced archer can
twist or damage a wood bow without meaning to, but fiberglass won't be dangerous if twisted. Most recurve
bows come with an arrow shelf, which is good for beginning archers, as shooting off your hand is an advanced
technique that can hurt you if done incorrectly.
Second, bows are measured in poundage. This is how much force you need to pull back the bow, so the higher
the poundage the harder it is to pull back and fire. For most beginners I recommend either a 25 or 30 pound
bow (and if you are a smaller person then a 20 pound is probably a good place to start). Even if you feel that a
30 pound bow is too easy I would still recommend getting a 30 pound. For a true beginner you want to be able
to draw back your bow and be able to hold it. If you can't hold it then you can't aim properly and you'll learn
some very bad habits. If you can easily pull back the bow then you can start to learn how to shoot with Proper
Form. Once you learn Proper Form you can get a bow with a higher poundage.
If anyone has any questions please feel free to ask!
-Mikhail ibn Mehlem ibn Yosef al Uqlidsi
From the Minister of Arts and Sciences
Salvete omnes!
This year at Pennsic, I was fortunate enough to get to quite a few classes. One of my favorites was presented in a
very unusual but enjoyable fashion by Dr. Henry Best and Kuji Kaoni Musashi-Sensei called: Inside the
Persona. The class was more of an interview in which Dr. Best spent some time asking Kuji-Sensei about his
persona and Kuji-Sensei answered in persona. I was so inspired by this combination of performance and persona
that I spent the rest of my Pennsic and the several months since trying to figure out how to more fully
experience my persona.
The persona is a central part of participating in the SCA. Not only does it allow you to choose more accurate
garb and activities based on a time and place, but also gives us a better understanding of the world in which our
personas would have lived. For example, a fifteenth century Italian would have had a vastly different way of life
than a thirteenth century Mongol. But there’s more to having a persona than nailing down time and place. In
order to really live the dream, it’s essential to understand the daily life of your persona.
As many of you know, in Mundania I am a writer and editor by profession. I come up with characters all the
time. So, I reasoned, why not apply that same method for getting to know Pompeia Furia better? Later on this
semester, I’ll be teaching a class on how to use that particular method but I wanted to encourage everyone to
think about their persona in the meantime as a gateway to the Arts and Sciences.
Using the persona as a jumping off point to explore A&S is a great way to add accuracy and fun to your SCA
experience. For example, my persona grew up as the daughter of fullers, whose profession included the
collection of urine to clean laundry. My persona’s parents were merchants, which meant that they interacted with
almost all levels of Roman society and that allowed her the chance to hear lots of stories and meet lots of
people. It also means that Pompeia, living in the first century of Ancient Rome, she had a favorite chariot racing
team and had political opinions about the emperor and senate.
Some good starting questions to ask yourself about your persona might be:
What kind of food did he/she eat? What was his/her favorite or least favorite food?
What is your persona’s socioeconomic status and why?
In your persona’s down time, what kinds of hobbies do they enjoy?
Does your persona have a spouse? Is his/her parents living? Does he/she have a positive relationship with these
people?
What is your persona’s main source of income?
I’d like to encourage you all to develop your persona. You’ll find that doing so will exponentially increase your
enjoyment of the SCA as well as fostering our quest for recreating time periods accurately. Best of all, it’s
another good excuse to engage in A&S! So get out there and personify the dream!
YIS,
Pompeia Furia
MoAS
From the Pursuivant
Sain baina uu?
We have several wonderful events coming up very soon. Red Dragon will have crown attendance and therefore
kingdom level awards will be given. We also have our own event, Dernehealde’s Haunted Tower II: The River
Styx, coming up which will have baronial attendance. One of the best things about court is seeing your friends
and wonderful people called up to receive recognition for their hard work.
But the crown can’t be everywhere. They depend on us all to let them know who’s been doing awesome things.
This can be someone just starting on a new art, skill or area of research or it could be someone who has really
been working hard on becoming a better fighter. It can also be those who quietly work in the background with
whom our experience would be diminished if that person were no longer there doing that thing. From those
who help you sew to those who have created a wonderful work of art that made you go “Wow! That’s cool!” to
those who have worked patiently with you while you fumble with a weapon on a field, there are plenty of
people who make our experience wonderful. These are the people who our Baron and Baroness and King and
Queen need to know about!
If you are unsure about what awards a person has or if you’re not sure how to recommend someone for an
award, come find me! I can help! Also, make sure you attend my class on October 6th about SCA awards! See
you there!
Yours in Service,
Behi Altani Unegen
Dernehealde’s Pursuivant
From Your Event Steward
Sain baina uu? (Again? YES! And you thought I was done with you…)
Hey! We’re having an event again this year! Throwing this thing together at the last minute is going to be a bit of
a challenge but it’s with the idea that we should have something for our new members that has inspired. This will
take a bit of extra initiative as we work on a tighter schedule but I know we can pull this together!
This year we continue the theme of the Haunted Tower but with the subtheme of the River Styx, the river which
the dead were ferried to the afterlife upon. I hear there will even be an appearance of the ferryman, Charon, in
attendance!
We should have a harvest-themed feast that sounds quite scrumptious, fighting, thrown weapons and arts and
science classes, displays and competitions! Some of these activities may include prizes!
Because we would like to make this a place for our new people to experience the fun of the SCA, we have
decided to make the event free! The only thing that has a cost is the feast, which will be limited to 50 people.
Medieval food not for you? There is a café on site with wonderful (I can personally vouch for them!) diner food
that you can have for breakfast, lunch or dinner.
These events don’t just pop up out of nowhere. Many people will be giving their time so that everyone may have
a wonderful day! I very much wish to thank those volunteers because I would be lost without them.
If you feel you’d like to give a little of your time, please come find me either on facebook (Mundane name is
Anne Young) or e-mail at [email protected]. We need everything from those who can help set up and tear
down (even if you can only do one or the other), sit at troll to ensure that waivers are signed and to give site
tokens, or serve feast (hint: this is a great way to eat feast for FREE! Hurry though…this position can fill
quickly!). I can honestly say the most fun I’ve ever had at some events has been when I was volunteering. It is an
amazingly rewarding experience!
See everyone by the river’s edge!
Yours in Service
Behi Altani Unegen
Haunted Tower Event Steward
Be A Part of the Winning Team!
Are you ready to be a part of the largest empire in history? The Mongol Empire is seeking warriors
and experts in trades to join their empire!
The Mongol Empire has an excellent success rate in battle.1 But ensuring you aren't wrapped up in a
carpet and trampled to death isn't the only excellent reason for joining our empire! Other benefits2 of
our empire include:
t
t
t
t
t
No need to convert! Bring your own religion! We welcome all faiths!
Single currency and access to the riches of the silk road!
Passports to ensure safe travel throughout our extensive empire!
Access to the Yam: the fastest courier service!
Improved woman’s rights! Girls can learn to shoot a bow too!
And So Much More!
Imagine! Today in a hovel next to a putrid river in a city with nothing to your name and the same dead end job
fighting for unseen riches in the afterlife and tomorrow sipping mares milk wearing silk in the gilded ruins of
Baghdad with as many riches as you can carry!3 Fighting not for you? Prefer to remain a farmer? That's okay!
For only 9% more taxes than everyone else, you can! The Mongol Empire is full of opportunities!
Join Today!
__________________________________________
1. Success rate is based off of height of empire. Naval battles and battles in South East Asia in humid environments excluded.
2. Benefits dependent on your status. Full benefits to be enjoyed by Mongol citizens, particularly those of the Borijin royal family. Benefits subject to change depending on where you are
located and when in time during the Mongol Empire you join.
3. Riches are subject to redistribution. Any attempt to keep plunder without turning it in for distribution is punishable by death.
Additionally, urinating in running water sources, stepping on the threshold of a Ger (aka Yurt), committing adultery, disobeying a commanding officer, letting animals escape during hunting
campaigns, not conforming to prescribed butchering methods, failing to meet yearly tribute, siding with the wrong Khan candidate, betraying your commanding officer (even if he is an enemy of
the Khan), and passing a knife through flame can result in execution.
Medieval Math!
Far from the abstract, most of mathematics is derived from practical applications and what is more practical
than saving your life and your wallet?
1) This problem dates to 1500's England, but this type of situation is certainly very old: A Baron and 20 of his
subjects are around a table enjoying a meal. The Baron says that when the bill arrives it will be repeatedly
passed around the table. The seventh person to pass the bill is free to leave the table. The bill is passed around
those who are left and each time the seventh person to pass the bill is free to leave. If the subjects want the
Baron to be stuck with the bill, where should it start?
2) In case you thought the situation above is below your consideration, consider what happened to Josephus
Flavius: During a rebellion in Jerusalem in 70 CE, he and 40 of his fellow rebels were trapped and surrounded
by Romans. Instead of surrendering they decided upon suicide. They stood in a circle, and one man died. Then
the third on his right died, then the third on his right, and so on. Josephus stood in the spot where he would be
last, and instead of dying he surrendered to the Romans. Where did he stand in the circle?
3) This question is not medieval at all, but I'm not going to let facts get in the way of fun: A group of five
pirates are trying to divide 100 pieces of gold. The oldest among them proposes a way to distribute the gold,
and then everyone votes. If at least half agree to that distribution then it is done. If not, the oldest is thrown
overboard, and they try again with the now oldest. If you were the oldest, what proposal would you make, so
that you not only got to live but got some gold out of the deal as well?
-Mikhail ibn Yosef al Uqlidsi
The Lion and the Phoenix
Life takes many turns and twists.
One day, a young Phoenix decided, from the prodding of a friend, to attend an event of Pigs & Posies that was
hours from her home. The two arrived at this event and set up their tent, for it was a camping event and the
weather was quite agreeable for this activity. The day passed with little to remark upon and as it always does,
evening came stealing in.
It was a magical evening, filled with magic, moonlight and torchlight. There was a light fog on the ground that
added its touch to the night. In that darkness, that was most friendly, the Phoenix was introduced to The Lion.
The meeting was electric. Much to the confusion of the young Phoenix, the Lion became smitten, but the
Phoenix was promised to another. There were many soulful glances, touching with eyes only, a trailing hand on
shoulder and arm. Poetry was spoken, endearments and confessions of love. And yet, once the Phoenix told the
Lion that she was another's, he respected her boundaries. Courtly Love never had a more ardent Knight.
To this day, the Lion and the Phoenix keep a part of the other's heart, safe.
Now, the Lion is with The Lady, Goddess of Love, as She called him home to her and like a Good Knight and
True, he could do nothing other than answer Her call.
The Anvil’s Ring
By T.H.L. Eidiard an Gobihainn,
O.G.R. (X2), C.W., C.E., A.P.F., C.R.C
Randomly Bardic Type Person, Storyteller and Standup Philosopher
In the beginning the call came by messenger. A slight trickle at first but then a torrent of volunteers to answer
the call of the Dragon throne; forward to Æthelmearc, the disobedient child gone astray. We traveled over the
mountains of Derenhealde northward past the border of the Middle Marches into Brendoaken. We forded a
mighty river by way of a series of secured bridges and even passed under a mountain through tunnels deep and
dark, light only by the lights of our war wagon. We climbed the border mountains of the Debatable Lands and
headed to our forward campground where the forces of our knight, Sir Ustad "The Dreaded" Hasan had called
us.
The Dreadnaughts, Sir Ustad's sworn fighters assembled, armed and armored ready to serve and serve we did.
The enemy was unprepared so we had a week to rest and gather our forces. Then it came.
The first sounds of battle. It gives heart to older fighters who have survived such campaigns before and pause to
the newer ones untried in battle. We met them with the force of a desert wind, blasting them from all sides until
they retired the field. They knew that day it would be no easy task to try to give combat to the Dragon and the
Tiger on those green fields. Nay, unsaited in their lust for blood they tried again and again as a foolish child
will. From castle and battlement they tried. They even thought to attack from the woodlands, forgetting many of
those from Derenhealde would be titled Ranger if such were granted by the crown. Moving like spirits in a
graveyard, silent and deadly umong the trees. Many a lesson was taught on those battlefields. They began to fear
the Chevron of the Middle Marches moving into view, the Tower on a cloud brought weak knees to their
veterans and the bismalla of the Dreadnaughts brought terror to their rebellious hearts. We stood side by side
with our kin from the Eastern realms, once our enemy but now our ally in this most honorable quest to tame the
unruly child. They began to respect our archers and those who fight with the fencing blades as well, learning we
are well taught in the arts of war. Our academics proved to them their lack of education and the crafters showed
them their lack of skill in the arts; theirs being a culture undeveloped.
But, as time has shown, all wars come to an end eventually and all warriors turn towards home. Soon the
mountains of Derenhealde will be wrapped in snow and the home fires stoked to warm aching bones as stories
are recounted of those days we spent there.
While this may not be the war you remember, it is how I choose to remember it.
Till next time,
Eidiard
Dear Abbot!
By the Abbot of The Abbey of Saint Leibowitz
Greetings my good gentile folk. I set pen to paper to give sage advice
to any and all that may need it. Pray send your questions to:
[email protected] and she will forward them on to the
Abbey.
"Dear Abbot,
It's been a hot and damp season and my helm and armor has
begun to grow an interesting glow-in-the-dark fungus. Any
suggestions on how to clean it?
-Fungal Fighter"
Dear Fungal Fighter,
Fungus can be a problem for many a fighter, wither worn or consumed.
In your case I would suggest moving your yearly bath up a few months
or perhaps going on a sea voyage in shallow water without a boat. -A
"Dear Abbot:
Do you think about dying much?
-CURIOUS"
Dear CURIOUS: No, it's the last thing I want to do. -A
Dear Abbot,
Who is St. Leibowitz?
-Confused Applicant
Dear Confused Applicant,
Our Patron Saint, Lebowitz is the patron saint of list makers, correspondents, letter writers and boot resellers.
Don't ask me about the last one, even I am not sure about that one. He is often mentioned in the writings of
St. Lulu, our lady of perpetual confusion, whose texts were found written on 10 rolls of double ply toilet
paper. -A
Dear Abbot,
Is it possible for a man to be in love with two women at the same time?
-Jake the Rake
Dear Jake,
Yes, and also hazardous. -A
Dear Abbot,
My wife has allowed me to have a harem, but only if she picks them. Help?
-Confused
Dear Confused,
Take a deep breath and relax. I would say you have excellent taste in a wife who cares so much about your
happiness. As an aside I would also mention that she may be gathering allies. Send your application to the
abby to the aforementioned address if need be. -A
The White Hart (continued)
As the nobles departed, Thomas, both physically and mentally exhausted, dropped heavily to the ground,
the sword laid across his lap. This and more he pondered amidst the carnage of the field as screaming ravens
wheeled overhead in increasing numbers.
While he sat thus numbed, Thomas looked more closely at the scene that unfolded before him. There was
the long sloping hillside littered with the bodies of the fallen . . . Wolf and Dragon alike. Some men limped into
the cooling shade of trees helped along by companions. Some held bloodied arms, legs, heads or torsos, but they
were alive . . . moving. Friends slapped each other on the back; fathers embraced sons, all ecstatic to be alive.
Others moved around the field stripping the dead foemen of anything of value – armor, weapons, jewelry, or
silver. Some in their greed even sought to strip their own companions, but that was frowned upon, as their
belongings should be returned to their families. More than one man received a stout kick to the ribs as he bent
over to take belongings from the ‘wrong’ man. Most men, like Thomas, simply sat, exhausted and in shocked
amazement that they were still alive.
As the younger men stripped the bodies, the older ones took up the grim task of tending to the wounded
– those whose life weavings had been cut, whose bowels had been pierced through by the battle-waging spear,
whose limbs had been cut from them by the keen edged sword, or whose skull had been crushed by the broad
headed axe. Many such men had died instantly, yet some lingered, knowing their death was assured. It would be
slow and painful; an agonizing death that might last for hours or even days under the hot autumn sun.
The fear of the young was that they would not gain glory on the battlefield. The fear of the old was that
they would not die quickly – that they would be left to lie suffering in pain. All agreed that a stab to the
stomach . . . to the bowels was what they feared the most. That death was sure, but excruciatingly slow. So they
made pacts with one another – if they could not be healed, if they could not be brought home to their loved ones,
a swift . . . a decisive . . . a fatal blow – a stab to the heart, a quick strike to the head – from a friend was what
they wanted. “Let death be swift and pray that someone will do the same for you one day,” they said to one
another.
This was the last gift of one old warrior to another – old men who had seen the aftermath of too many
battles – the grim-gift of a quick death. No prolonged suffering, no lingering pain . . . no lingering death. A slow
death – that’s what you give to a man that you personally despise. But these men . . . these warriors . . . they did
not know each other; so the living helped the dying of both sides through the gates of death.
As the old warriors went about their grim task, the younger men celebrated the fact they were still alive.
And they said of their former foemen’s pleas, “To hell with them, they attacked us.” Conveniently forgetting the
fact that it was the Dragon banner that first crossed the ancient boundary.
“Let them suffer,” they said and mocked their defeated enemy’s calls for their mothers or wives.
Sweat stung Thomas’ eyes. As he wiped them with the hem of his tunic, he saw six women moving
about the battlefield . . . moving among the wounded and dying men. Thomas did not recognize them. Well,
maybe one he’d seen before he thought. Perhaps they had come from the village of Talford now that the battle
was at an end; if so, they had come quickly . . . perhaps too quickly he thought. They didn’t seem to be
searching for any particular man . . . a husband . . . a son . . . a father as women do after a battle. Yet, they did
seem to move with a purpose. Two, concentrated their attention on the wounded, carrying bandages, salves,
bottles, and cups from a central point where several pots were already boiling over a fire. Nearby there was a
wide array of dried plants . . . wyrts . . . herbs neatly arranged on a large white cloth. These two were older
women. They reminded Thomas of his own grandmother – stout and grey haired, their faces bearing the lines of
age and wisdom. Yet they moved with surprising speed and agility as they sought to bring their healing herbs to
as many men as possible.
Thomas noted that they did not minister to every man. They seemed to pass by some – but not because
of the side they had fought on. He observed that the two women gave solace to both Wolf and Dragon alike. It
was to those men who were injured that they came. The other four seemed to move among the dying, pausing
briefly with them and then moving on.
“Waelcyrie . . . the choosers of the dead,” Thomas whispered to himself, “Choosers of the fallen in
battle, the Valkyries of old.” He was at once in awe and terror of the sight.
Now Thomas was sure he recognized one of the older women; she returned to the pots and was
carefully placing in them various plants and herbs, some dried and some fresh cut, from bags and cloths that lay
around her. Yes, he had had seen her before, she followed the army, but not for reasons that women usually
followed men to battle. She did not cook, wash clothes, or travel with a husband or son. Men went to her for
healing and for advice. A wise women some said, one who knew well the old ways . . . a woman who could tell
a man’s fortune. “A friend of trolls,” scoffed others. Yet, it was said, that even the king had consulted with her
on occasion. “Morganna?” he thought. “Yes, Morganna . . . that was the name men had called her.”
If the things said of her were true, perhaps she could tell of the King’s fate, the ghostly army, the man in
the strange helm, and the sword . . . yes, the sword he now held and marveled at anew. So many questions, but
before he could summon the courage to approach her, she gathered up the flasks and pottery bottles, and walked
back onto the blood-soak field. His eyes followed her.
The woman . . . Morganna . . . helped all men who suffered on that field. Some she treated with herbal
poultices to staunch the bleeding and speed healing, others with a drink that seemed to numb the pain and
senses. Yet others were given a drink that hastened an inevitable death, but without the pain and suffering. This
power to heal or kill frightened most men and they shunned her – until they were injured that was.
After a space of time, Morganna returned to the bubbling pots and piles of herbs. Thomas’ courage
plucked up and he approached her. Without looking up from her fires she spoke as he approached, “What
would you of me, you seem to have no wounds.”
“I have questions.”
“Ah, so do all men; most are boorish or stupid, yet some are wise. Which would you ask?
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“You have not made a good start. Ah well, ask then if you must, but be quick I have much to do.”
Thomas was nervous and had not organized his thoughts well, “I saw the King ride into Trader’s Grove
with the man who gave me this sword, yet the king was found dead in the round ruins . . .”
“Traitor’s Grove,” she interrupted and emphasized ‘Traitor’ with distain, “not Trader’s Grove. Men have
such short memories, too much time thinking with their little heads to remember the things that are important.
‘Round ruins’ indeed, that’s Sanctuary boy and it’s what saved your life . . . all your lives.”
Now she turned to look at him for the first time. She was small in stature, her hair was grey and wiry,
that of an old woman . . . a very old woman, but her eyes were blue and bright not at all those of an old woman.
They sized him up; and unexpectedly stopped at the sword he still held in his hand. Her demeanor towards him
changed. “You want to know about the man in the helm, the Wolf Hammer. He and his companions are present
at many battles fought by the Dragon Kings. Present, but unseen save by those with eyes to see . . . and at
battle’s end some few may ride way with him to Alfheim. At some few times he has joined the fight. But I have
never seen the whole host ride into battle. Quite a sight to see, eh?
“Truly.”
She shredded more healing-herbs . . . laecewyrts . . . and dropped them into a pot; “There must have been
a reason of great import for the army to arise this day. I see you have the sword.”
“Yes, I have a sword, but do not let it frighten you. I do not have a scabbard in which to sheath it.”
“Boy,” she said firmly as an impatient mother chiding her child, “I did not remark that you had a sword,
and it certainly was not out of fear – I know that sword and do not fear it. You must learn to listen carefully if
you are to fulfill your destiny. I did not say you have a sword, I said, ‘I see you have the sword.’”
“Well, yes . . . I guess . . . and that is another of my questions.”
“Well it might be . . . well it might be – sit.” And she gestured for him to sit to the left of the herb-laden
cloth.
“Morganna, that is your name is it not?”
She gave a brief nod as the five women Thomas had seen earlier came to pick up the cups she was
filling. The five paused and looked briefly at Thomas. They were lovely and terrifying at the same time he
thought. Unspoken glances were exchanged between them and Morganna. They seemed to know something . . .
some secret that they shared and Thomas feared it might be about him.
As they returned to the field, he asked, with apprehension, “Are you . . . are they waelcyrie. . . choosers of the
dead . . . the Valkyries?”
“Boy, do I look like a god to you? They?” And she nodded in their direction, “They don’t look for stupid
heroes – men who wasted their lives on vainglory. No, we tend to all men on the field, Wolf and Dragon alike.
We bring healing or peace . . . whichever is dictated by their fates . . . whatever the Wyrd Sisters have woven for
them.”
“Why do you help the enemy? They intended to kill us all.”
“And you intended to kill all of them! Is there a difference? Enemies in arms, brothers on the slaughter
bed. ‘Let none lie in pain, let none die in anger or alone’ that should be carved into stone on every battlefield . . .
on every field of death . . . throughout the whole of the land.”
Again Thomas looked to the field, “Then who are they?”
“They are who they are, nothing more . . . and nothing less. Look and listen closely. Look not only with
your eyes, but look and listen with your heart.”
Thomas turned his eyes once more to the hillside, took a deep breath, exhaled, and began to relax for the
first time in days. Most men paid little attention to the five women who moved about the field. They continued
about their business of helping comrades, gathering loot, or just sitting in amazement that they were still alive.
In fact, the hael . . . the healthy . . . seemed not to notice the women were there at all.
One, an older woman like Morganna seemed to go only to those wounded men whose life thread had not
yet been cut by the weavers of men’s fate. She carried salves, bandages, and cool healing drinks. She would
often run her hands over the wounded areas, before setting quickly to work.
He began to watch the other four more closely. Being a young man, Thomas’ eyes were drawn more to
the two younger women - one tall, statuesque with blonde hair, the other more petite with curly brown hair. Both
lovely beyond compare. The other two were more matronly in their appearance, but no less lovely and graceful
in their movement about the field. All carried drink, cool water infused with herbal mixtures, that they returned
often to the pots to replenish. But Morganna and the other, older, woman filled their flasks from distinctly
different pots than the other four – that was obvious even to Thomas. These four seemed to have two different
tasks. The youngest, the maids, moved among the young men. Kneeling beside them, they would gently brush
the hair from their faces wiping away the blood, the sweat, and the tears. Cradling the youths in their laps, the
women would respond to whatever name was spoken to them – “Alflaid… Brighid . . . Bronwyn . . . Gwynn.”
“Bronwyn, my love, you’ve come for me?” Thomas heard one man say.
“Yes darling, I’ve come to take you home.” She gave him the kiss of a lover, held him briefly . . .
tenderly, then finally . . . slowly . . . gently . . . closed his eyes.
The ‘Mothers’ too responded to varying names. Young men, some only boys, seemed to recognize them.
Each looking into her eyes, smiling in recognition, reaching out and calling them “Mother.” One youth, horribly
injured – his life-blood flowing freely - called out loudly in anguished pain, “Mother, Mother!”
One of the ‘mothers’ hurried quickly beside him, “I am here son.”
“Mother?”
“Yes Gareth, I am here now, it will be alright.” She held his hand, cradled his head, and seemed to hum
to him a soothing lullaby.
“I hurt mother.”
“Yes, Gareth, I know. Here, I have a cool drink.” He drank deeply and she he gave him a kiss on the
cheek as if from a loving mother. Then there was a smile, a sigh ... a relaxing of muscles . . . a quiet peaceful
countenance, and finally a long exhale of breath as his body went limp. The process was repeated often . . . too
often. Each time the women responded to a different name and the men seemed to see a different woman – a
mother, a wife, or a lover.
“I still don’t understand.” Thomas said as he turned back to Morganna.
“In time you will. In time you may come to know them well. But you came to me with questions . . .
many questions you said.”
Thomas gave another glance at the women busy on the field, then continued. “Who was the man who
rode under the banner of the White Hart? Why did he give me this blade? What does it mean? Where did the
King go?
“That’s enough. Let me answer as best I can – in a manner that you might understand. The man was
Talymar Thridacyning . . . Talymar ‘Thrice-king,’ Ealdorman, and Dux Bellorum of your kingdom. ‘Hammer of
the Wolf’ some call him.”
“Thrice King? How can that be?” and he chuckled, a quiet nervous laugh. Morganna cocked an eye at
him and he added, “Well… it seems I have heard stories of such a man – but surely he was not real.”
“What is real? What is a dream, an illusion, a ghost, or a legend? He was real enough in his own time.
Great was his word-fame and great his deed-fame. But that was long ago and doubtless of little interest to a
young man such as yourself. Legend . . . that is all . . . and we’ll leave it at that.” And she returned to stirring her
pots and filling flasks and cups, yet she watched him from the corner of her eye.
Thomas paused to ponder, then replied, “Do legends rescue an army, save a man’s life, and give him a
sword . . . one you seem to put great stock in? I think not, he must be real. Yet the Venerable Bede does not
speak of him.”
“Bede? The old fool, he didn’t know how to record one man becoming king three times; so, he just left
him out. It was made easier by the fact that Talymar was outside the royal family’s linage and he was not a
Christian.”
Thomas nodded in acceptance of her explanation, “Tell me of him.”
“Then listen well,” and she turned to face him, “for I was there when that sword went to ground . . . laid
in the place that you pulled it from this day, laid in the shade of that ancient oak. Yet when it was laid there ‘twas
not much more than a sapling. I was there when Talymar laid down that sword . . . a sword of kings . . . when he
laid it down for . . . someone . . . perhaps you . . . I’m not sure,” and she turned away again.
“Please tell me,” Thomas insisted again.
“Be warned,” and she again turned her blue eyes upon him. This time they pierced into his heart and soul
as if his body were glass, “If you hear the tale you will not be the same, you will become part of it . . . what part I
do not know, perhaps you are meant to ride with the White Hart one day even as King Alric does. Or perhaps
you will be a nithing – nothing to the world of men – a name forgotten when the last cold clod of earth fills your
grave. Perhaps you will be an ordinary man who walks the land of life, who lives, loves, and leaves behind
children to carry on. Perhaps you are meant to ride with the White Hart. I do not know, but I will tell you the
tale. Sit, and take your comfort for the tale is not short, but its telling has been my appointed task since the day
that sword… your sword . . . was laid beneath the tree.” And so she began.