in the Principality of Aethelmearc,
in the Kingdom of the East,
of the Society for Creative Anachronism, Inc.
--Simon
Enjoying A Damp Hunter's Moon In Anglespur
Wulfstan the Unshod holds the bridge against a challenger.
by Caterina
Mathilde and I drove out to Anglespur on a humid August day, seeking to find Wulfstan and SUNY-Albany, not necessarily in that order. SUNY is a little easier to spot from I-90, but Wulfstan is somewhat more popular amongst the Anglspurrians, most of whom were treating the event as a rest cure from Pennsic. It was so restful, in fact, that we thought we had stumbled into one of those enchanted castles where the evil fairy had put evreyone to sleep for a humdred years. We cruised in and out of the event, which was held at a picturesque camp, a couple of times, and although some attendees claimed there had been activities, to our eyes no one had moved---neither the merchants, nor the campers, nor the people in the main hall. The only motion seemed to be spiders spinning their webs over everything.After a trip to SUNY to acquaint my sis with its peculiar architecture, more suited to the tropics than upstate NY in winter, and its student population, which consisted largely of confused freshmen and their parents offloading their wordly goods in huge parking lots, we returned to the camp, where we at last encountered Mr. Wulfstan, who had also been moving his worldly goods from Binghamton to Albany. Although he doesn't look much like a handsome prince, he had apparently been able to break the somnolent spell hanging over Camp Nok-a-homa by challenging everyone to a bridge battle. Throngs of giggling spectators flocked to the swimming area to watch the watery spectacle--at least , watery for Wulfstan's opponents, all of whom took the big plunge. For safety, the fighters undid their chin straps, and the water was only four feet deep, so the main injury was to the swimmer's pride. Finally Hawk and some others threw Wulfstan in, which he saluted as his yearly bath.
When everyone had towelled off we went to Wulfstan's house for some Chinese food and a visit with Danger Kitty, who seemed intent on slaughtering the rodent population of Albany with as much style as he did Binghamton's. "Hunter's Moon" was an apt description, indeed, at least for the animal population!
Gilded Pearl Celebrates Fourteenth-Century Burgundy in Sterlynge Vayle
A giant taunts the fighters lining up to enter the Burgundian tourney, the Fete of the Pillar.
The Burgundians would have loved it. The members of the Gilded Pearl guild put on a swell event in Sterlynge Vayle, all based on courtly life in 14th-century Burgundy. Even Their Majesties Bjorn and Morgen entered into the spirit of the day by assuming the roles of the Duke and Duchess of Burgundy.
The day's activities included (for us) finding a liquor store so that we could contribute some burgundy of our own. Then we watched the cool tourney for a while, where a giant clad in red shouted insults at the fighters, much like the fans in Arrowhead Stadium. A quaint outdoor inn featured cooks in 14th-century garb turning spits and stirring kettles. We had a great lunch and sampled Isabella's tasting bar. Things sort of blur after this, but I do remember rain, a sumptiously decorated main hall, and lots of great garb. At court, Ansitruda Helgasdottir joined those Manches, Anna Herold von Ossenheim garnered a Silver Crescent, and, to much applause, both Brekke Franksdottir and Octavia Rosa di Bari were made members of the Order of the Pelican.
Driving home, very late, Dan and I spent another of those Kodak moments at a rest stop on route 81. He unlaced my gown for me so that I could breathe while driving, then wandered into the bushes to try to be ill. It's just not Dan's year to do so, however, so we drove off, much to the disappointment of the onlookers.
--Diego