Crown Paens - November AS40

For the AS XXXX November Crown Tournament, the Guild of Entertainers has once again organised songs and poems honouring the entrants in the Lochac Crown lists. These works were typeset by katherine kerr of the Hermitage, and printed up nicely by Blodeuwedd Y Gath and presented to Their Incoming Majesties at Twelth Night Coronation. Thanks also go to Katherine Alicia of Sarum for again supplying illumination-bits.

The Tournament

The Sport of Kings, by Mistress katherine kerr of the Hermitage

The Sport of Kings is an Elizabethan-style double acrostic, with the word-play, unctuous toadying and terminally stretched metaphor that characterised the less polished examples of that form.

Call them forth to the field to fight
  Young squires, and old, tyro and knight
Hard yards they fought, to win the crown
  Rallying themselves to dot it down
In maul and bout clash arm and blade
  Let's give full credit to those who played
Valour and might, a potent mix
  Although some fall beneath the sticks
A game of two halves, for king and queen
  Vie chivalry and honour upon the green
Leading the front, our prince is found
  It was he who charged to win the ground
Royalty beckons to go the distance
  Heroes set play in this instance
Yet tackle foes howe'er they may
  Chivalry was the winner on the day

Wreath of Valour

Miles de Caldwell, by Baroness Blodeuwedd y Gath

Valour walks miles a'many,
Cold or well, it cares not any.

Let thy sword be bright and sharp,
Let thy shield be strong,
Let thy helm be mantled well,
Let thy voice give song,
Valour walks miles a'many,
Cold or well, it cares not any.

Let thy honour brightly burn,
Let thy shield be ready.
Every blow be sure to turn,
Keep thy courage steady.
Valour walks miles a'many,
Cold or well, it cares not any.

Steadfast stand, be sure and true,
Honour in thy heart,
Fight for her and not thyself
And Valour takes thy part.
Valour walks Miles a'many,
Cold or well, it cares not any.

Wreath of Chivalry #1

Sihtric Silfror, by Lady Fineamhain an Einigh inghean Ui Chonchobhair

See the sun settle on the embattlements at the day's ending
And know that in Stowe's lands there dwells a Squire
Strong in the arm and steady in his stride
Sweet not the voice, but merry in song
Roughness smoothed over with a long draft of sweet cider
And the halls know of no sound louder than the roar of his laughter.

See the sun rise at the day's beginning
And know that Stowe's squire rises from the depths of slumber slowly
Ah, but the soul does not for glory seek,
Nor for fame, or fortune,
But for a fight well fought
And the simple pleasures the day serves forth.

See the sun, high now in the heavens
And Sihtric, shield strong and sword stealthy
Gaze steady and solid in stance
Stands foot squarely, solid upon the earth
Joyous to the fray, a foe in stature met
Sword biting shield, blows raining

A test of strength, a clashing of arms
Never easily vanquished
Yet in the blink of a hawk's eye,
The foeman's sword swinging home to bite the dragon's silvery scale
A lamenting love, he graciously succumbs,
Chivalric in defeat

See the sun settle on the embattlements at the day's ending
And know that in Stowe's lands there dwells a Squire
At ease, tankard in his hand and contentment on his face
Back never turning on a foeman, never turning on a friend
Honest as the day is long, true as the arrow is straight,
Humble to the last.

Wreath of Chivalry #2

The Chronicle of Steffan Glaube, by William Castille

Enter William Castille, a poet.

To be or Not to be chivalrous,
That is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to stand aloof -
And thereby ignore sufferance of the fallen,
Or to extend thy arm to offer thy palm and say unto the slain
"Take my hand brother, let me bring thee to thy feet,
For he that sheds his blood with me this day shall be my brother,
Be he ne'er so vile, that I will not take a knee when his are gone."
Rare is the man who answers the later.
Steffan Glaube be one such of nature so rare.
So honourable of character be he
That all Lochac doth proclaim it
And does place upon his brow
The wreath of chivalry.

Knotted Sword

Styvyn Longshanks,
Who fac'd Death
To win the Knotted Sword
in Crown Tournament, ASXL
by Baroness Blodeuwedd y Gath

Once he danced and kissed these maidens all,
Now his sword and heart are sworn to one.
Maidens sigh for knights so brave and tall,
Styvyn Longshanks no more heeds their fun.
Once he broke hearts carelessly, they say,
Many maiden wept her tears for him,
Love was but a simple game to play,
Kisses given on a simple whim.
Now his sword is sworn to one fair face,
Honour knotted in her silken tresses,
Still the gods will pay for his disgrace;
Nemesis will make her dark redresses.
Death throws wildly shown upon the field,
Though his heart and honour to One yield.



Legatus Thadeus Blayney, by Fionnbharr

At the Lochac Crown Tournament, Spring AS XXXX, Thaddeus Blayney fought in the final and became the Champion of Lochac. As a commemoration of his noble endeavour I have written a sonnet, with period rhyming patterns of ABBA CDDC EFFE, as a precis the events of the day from Blayney’s perspective.

Greg Boston has chosen his persona, Thaddeus Blayney, to be a late Romano-British lad who finds his way to Rome with a sponsor from the legions. He is styling himself as Legatus, the senate appointed war leader, of the Legio Ardorum (Lit. Legion of Flames) which is the war unit of his shire, Colles Ardorum. Amongst his many awards and achievements he is a member of the Order of the Pelican.

Regarding my use of Artistic license:

1 - I know how to spell niche, but I wanted to rhyme with Astrakhanovich so I changed both the spelling and pronunciation to nich.

2 - I've borrowed pell from the Latin word pello (to beat/strike) to mean a repeated undefended blow, and to make an intra-sentence rhyme with fell. Or to put it another way, I followed Shakespeare's example and made up a new word.

From Brittain, Colles Ardorum, Rome's last son did stride
To forward his name and state his claim, an heir for Lochac's Crown
Legatus Thaddeus Blaeney, of Starfall South renown
Surveyed and measured the warriors who are Lochac's pride.
First to fall, via legs, wrap and heart, Kasian Astrakhanovich
Next, Steffan Glaube, played to the crowd and was wrapped in lines
Viscount Styvyn flashed smile and sword, as then, as often times
Ysambart Cortain graciously fell when repeated pell found their nich
After thrust and parry, Miles de Colwell fought bravely and fell
Bran Torc Dubh Mac Brude, fiery Celt, met Rome's sword with blood
Finally Aedward, once and future king, was first to greet the mud
As Blaeney, Lochac's Champion, twice rang Aedward's Royal bell.

Crown Prince Aedward and Crown Princess Yolande

Stadefaeste Carol, by Master Crispin Sexi and Lady Joan Sutton

The victors of the tournament were Sir Aedward Staedfaeste and Mistress Yolande Kesteven.

This 14thC-style piece mimics the Agincourt Carol, in words and in musical form, and celebrates Aedward's love of tourneying, and Yolande's interests in costume, the arts and political intrigue.

Our King went forth to Rowany to hold his court and there tourney,
And it pleased our gracious Queen in grand attire to be seen,
Our King rode on to Innilgard to joust and so at Southron Gaard,
And then Aneala.

Our King progressed to Mordenvale for sport and came home whole and hale,
And it pleased his lady fair to praisen scholars everywhere,
Our King set out with sword and shield, in Riverhaven held the field,
And then St Florien del la Riviere.

Our King went forth to fight some more: Ildhafn, Stormhold, Ynys Fawr,
And it pleased Her Majesty to then devise well privily,
Our King went forth to every place, so too his harness, just in case,
And then Politarchopolis.

Lochac Reigns