The Re-enactor issue 23 PDF

The Re-Enactor Issue 23, November 2010

The Battle of Edgecote More, Sept 2010 Picture courtesy of The MSS

Readership 1175

Greetings All Welcome to issue 23 of the Re-Enactor, It is nearly the end of the season here in the UK, with just a few trade events at various places around the country. So a short break before we get involved with the Christmas festivals!

Congratulations to Andrew for winning the Michael Arnold competition in last month‟s issue. There is 1 brand new competition in this month‟s issue and still a couple of weeks to go to get your entries in for the other 3 book competitions. As of issue 24 the competitions will run for just the one issue and I have lots of great books lined up and I am speaking to other authors as well.

If any traders would like to put up a competition prize in exchange for as much advertising space as they want please do get in contact.

Pictures courtesy of The MSS. Edgecote More Battle re-enactment Sept. 2010

I‟m off to visit a couple of trade events later this month so will hopefully be addingJust more traders to the listings.

As always, I am still on the lookout for more groups, traders, event details, stories, articles and reports. Please contact me at the normal email address with details!

Features This Month 1: Edgecote More & The MSS 2: Competitions 3: Gaius Petronis Merva (1st Chapter) 4: Obloeron: The rise of the Dark Falcon 5: Archer by Jacky Grey 6: Ian Mortimer Interview 7: Richard III Foundation Conference.

8: Hereos of Princetown by Christopher Bell 9: Event Listings 10: The Old Tales: The Ring of Andivari

Jason.okeefe@btopenworld.com

Competitions: All competitions are free to enter Winners will be selected at random on the 15th of each month for the relevant competition.

Winners will be notified via email shortly after the draw takes place.

No correspondence will be entered into.

The editor’s decision is final.

The views and opinions expressed in the articles in this ezine are those of the individual authors themselves and not those of the Editor

Edgecote More and the Medieval Siege Society The armies of the rebel Yorkists clashed against the King of England, Edward IV of York on the battlefield of Edgecote Moor on September 11th and 12th when the Medieval Siege Society recreated the famous battle of 1469, at a time when England was locked in conflict, The Wars of the Roses.

The weekend re-created one of the many skirmishes which afflicted England for 30 years from 1455 until 1485, when the rival houses of York and Lancaster vied for control of the throne of England. Back in the 1469, England was under the rule of the enigmatic and charming Edward IV, who, having deposed the weak Lancastrian King, Henry VI, had ruled England for almost a decade. However, this period of peace was brought to an abrupt end with the defection of Edwards own family member, Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, who many now know as the Kingmaker. Despite his role in placing Edward on the throne, Warwick turned traitor after years of growing discontent. Angered by Edward‟s refusal to listen to his council and annoyed by Edward‟s marriage to Elizabeth Woodville, he felt his influence gradually wane. Determined to recapture his glory, he turned coat, and led a rebellion, causing York to clash with York. During May 1469 rebellions in the north occupied the Kings troops, meanwhile malcontents were gathering under the leadership of Robin of Redesdale who had soon gathered huge numbers of recruits. Alarmed, Edward called for men at arms including Warwick and his brother Clarence. With armed strength behind them, both the Kings kin openly disaffected, riding into London, then to Coventry to join Robin of Redesdale. Faced with such treachery, Edward waited at Nottingham.

Meanwhile enemy lines were being drawn with Devon, Pembroke and the Welsh fighting for Edward on one side and the rebels on the other. At dawn 26th July, the battle of Edgecote Moor was about to begin.

The battle of Edgecote, which was re-enacted both Saturday and Sunday to hundreds of spectators proved a feast of historical and entertainment value. With swords clashing, men in armour fought alongside common men, with little to protect them but minimal plate and the skills they‟d acquired through previous skirmishes. As parleying failed, fighting continued, with men-at-arms fighting through defences and palisades to take the victory. The clash ended with the victory of the rebels whose strength of numbers show in the final clashes. The crowd was entertained as the Yorkist army leaders including William Herbert were brought towards the crowd line and beheaded for the crowd to see!

With huge efforts to recreate Medieval fighting life, spectators were treated to a feast of fighting spectaculars. Jousting kept many entertained as the Medieval sport was re-created

between horseback knights, displaying the skills of horsemanship and combat from centuries ago. In a smaller arena, the public were treated to a talk on the arming of the Knight, commentated by Ash, a Medieval armourer by trade and demonstrated by Paul McKenna, Head of the Bonivant household. The informative talk explained the intricacies and use of the various parts of the harness, pointing out weaknesses and areas considered a hit, in readiness for, what many considered a highlight of the day.

As members of the Medieval Siege Society, dressed in their finest attire for this battle of skill amongst households, watched from a raised dias, the fighting members of society prepared for battle. With teams of four vying for the title of Tourney champions, crowds shouted and screamed for their team to win. Saturday saw two teams fight with the title deservedly taken by the Bonivant household, headed by Paul McKenna, fighting bravely against a young and upcoming group, The Herberts, who fought bravely and with dignity. On Sunday, the fighting became even more heated as four teams battled for the title. The fighting was often close, with many good hits taking out members of the opposition. While all teams fought well, it was undeniably the fighting DeCobham household, led by their skilled leader Pete Samworth who took the title, with MSS Chairman and DeCobham member Anthony Farrow being the last man standing. The Bonivants, Suffolks and Herberts also showed themselves worthy competitors in this competition, which was a hit with all at the show.

For those less eager to watch tourneys and jousting, there was a Medieval market to peruse, with both medieval and modern equipment, artefacts and articles, adorning their stalls, available to Medieval members and public. Many also took the opportunity to meander through the spectacular living history encampments, stepping back into time as society members recreated how army life would have been on medieval campaign. The public had the opportunity to talk to the re-enactors of the diets of both high and low born and watch as medieval food was prepared using authentic medieval ingredients and equipment.

However, for myself, as for many others, the highlight of the day was the battle, splendidly recreated as a spectacular performance along with the expertly delivered commentary by an Edgecote enthusiast and MSS Chairman, Anthony Farrow.

Competition One Berlin. 1931.

The year that Germany was lost to the Nazis.

Storm Troopers and Communists fight in the streets. Wealthy Jews and intellectuals think of fleeing. Desperate sexual and social outcasts cram Berlin‟s famous nightclubs to wring out one last dance.Hannah Vogel lives alone and works as a crime reporter.On a routine assignment, she sees a picture of her brother‟s body in the Hall of the Unnamed Dead. But since she loaned their identity papers to escaping Jewish friends, she cannot identify him and demand an investigation.

So she tracks the killer herself.

To be in with a chance of winning a signed copy of this book just answer this simple question: What is the correct name for the “balloon” shown on the front cover?

Send your answers along with your full postal address to the normal email address: Jason.okeefe@btopenworld.com The competition closes on November 15th

Competition Two A new book by George Saqqal, “THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF GAIUS PETRONIUS MERVA Soldier of Rome” is up for grabs this month. George has kindly allowed me to print the 1st chapter. Read the chapter and answer this question: Q: Who was Tribune of the 50th Augustan Legion?

Send your answers along with your full postal address to the normal email address: Jason.okeefe@btopenworld.com The competition closes on November 15th For more details about the book or to order a copy check out the website: http://www.3mpub.com/saqqal/

Competition Three The Invasion Of The Dream catchers By E Hunt Reville Meet Crimson, Jake, Chloe, Alex, Mai and Leroy, six extraordinary students from Pemrock Pool Boarding College.

They go on a train journey where they meet a nasty train guard, Nathan Soleman who protects the evil ones and enter a cold, icy climate. One of the characters is lifted from her sleep and travels with one of the evil dream catchers.

The five remaining characters are on the night train with their history teacher, Mrs. Blackwood, and developments occur when the other dream catchers creep in. The night train takes them to a place where no-one exists and where wolves protect the dream catcher,s domain. There is danger on the way with Mrs. Blackwood being targarted first. The trees of angels keep an eye on the teenagers, but underground another evil characterâ€&#x;s waits for the humans, rising from the pit and scaring them with the dark force. They end up scanning the dream catchers 'Ice Palace', where thousands of children have been abducted from their homes across the world are placed in a glass coffin bed with their dreams snatched by the dream catchers. Finally, the five characters release their friend from the ice palace and the snow and ice collapses all around them. Will they survive? Was it a dream? Will the dream catchers track them down in the real world?

To be in with a chance of winning a signed copy of this book just answer this simple question: What is the name of the teenagers history teacher?

Send your answers along with your full postal address to the normal email address: Jason.okeefe@btopenworld.com The competition closes on November 15th

Competition Four Obloeron: The rise of the Dark Falcon To be in with a chance of winning one of two copies of this new book by John Fitch V check out the books details further along in the ezine and answer this simple question: Which book did John give away earlier this year in The Re-Enactor?

Send your answers along with your full postal address to the normal email address: Jason.okeefe@btopenworld.com The competition closes on November 24th

Gaius Petronis Merva I was born in the second year of the reign of the emperor, Elagabalus. According to the custom of my ancestors, I was taken to the Temple of The Sun God, Sol Invictus on the ninth day following my birth and presented to him and acknowledged by my parents as an official member of my family. I was then given my name: Gaius Petronius Merva. Merva was the name of my father‟s family and Petronius was the name of the founder of that huge, boisterous clan my father‟s family traced its origins to many, many years ago. Gaius was my given name and forever afterwards I was known as Gaius Petronius Merva.

Until quite recently I was a soldier.

The army was the only life I ever knew or really enjoyed and yet as I look back to the time when it all started it hardly seems possible that over 60 years have passed since that day when I stood before the Altar of Peace on the Field of Mars in Rome and uttered the Sacramentum, the soldier‟s oath, that would bind me to the soldier‟s life, a life of honor and accomplishment, sorrow and hardship. Reader, I tell you this because I want to give you a sense of who I am, from whence I sprang and an idea of the forces that shaped me and my world. This is my way of trying to understand it all and to separate the fact from the fancy before the fancy replaces the fact and it is too late to understand what I did and its meaning to those who will come after me in this world.

The road that led me to Rome began in Antioch, the shining pride of Roman Syria. My father‟s family had come to Syria as part of a colony planted there by the emperor, Augustus. As the years passed they prospered and eventually rose to positions of power and influence in their adopted city. My father was one of the province‟s two chief magistrates or duoviri the year I was born. Since, by law, he could hold that office for only one year, he left public life at the end of his term and retired to the family farm on the banks of the Orontes River to tend his crops, write his history of Roman Syria and take personal charge of the preparation of his only son for a life of service to the empire he loved so dearly.

And so, from my earliest years I was subjected to an endless succession of tutors. It seemed that there was in Antioch a tutor for every conceivable human pursuit. Greeks, Persians, Syrians, Armenians, Jews, Africans, Britons and Spaniards came and taught me their languages. Greeks and Jews taught me the laws and principles of commerce; Persians taught me astronomy and Arabs taught me the mysteries of chemistry. Mathematics I learned from an Egyptian, rhetoric and a smattering of medicine I absorbed from the Greeks. Attempts to teach me countless other subjects were made, but failed. I took these diabolical intrusions into my freedom with good grace, but increasingly all I wanted to do was to be alone to swim the mighty Orontes or roam the delightful groves of the Daphne. I managed to escape regularly and enjoy the lush

countryside where I would roam free as a bird and pluck the flowering bounty of the fruit groves or hunt the abundant game with bow and javelin. I explored my small portion of the world relentlessly and even managed once to ride the great river all the way to Seleucia Pieria and the sea.

The older I grew the more rebellious I became, and the more exasperated my father became with his headstrong son whose rebellion he could not understand. He insisted that I become more of a Roman and less of a lazy, pleasure-loving Syrian. To placate him I would agree countless times only to fall back on my sybaritic ways with discouraging predictability. Antioch was a very old city and civilized even before the Romans came to civilize it. Actually, Antioch civilized the Romans, most of whom came and stayed and became hopelessly assimilated. It boasted all the trappings of civilization: university, medical school, school of rhetoric and philosophy and some of the greatest architects and engineers in the world. It sat astride a bustling commercial network of roads and its bankers and brokers were amongst the most astute in the world not to mention the richest. But despite all its commercial success it was a city dedicated to the celebration of the human spirit and its citizens were past masters at the exercise of every practice designed to heighten pleasure and the celebration of life.

The Autobiography of Gaius Petronius Merva Seleucus, Alexander the Great‟s general had built the city on a sloping plain between Mount Silpius and the Orontes about 500 years before. The great river flowed through the town and acted as the highway along which Syria‟s goods flowed to Rome and the western colonies of Rome. Juvenal had once quipped that the Orontes had flowed into the Tiber when he stopped to consider the amount of goods that flowed out of Syria into Rome.

One beautiful day in the summer of my seventeenth year I set into motion a chain of events that… well, let me describe them. I was in the garden listening to the monotonous droning of yet another tutor. This one an old and evil-smelling rhetoritician would constantly lean over and exhale a cloud of rich-smelling garlic in my face every time he made a point. After about an hour of this incredible discourtesy I rose, picked the old man up by his tattered elbows and dumped him into the pool. I ran to the stables and saddled my horse, relieved at the prospect of a free afternoon by myself. When I returned at nightfall the overseer of the farm ran up to me at the gate and took my horse‟s bridle. His name was Dorma and he was a wizened old Syrian who had served my family for untold years. With tears streaming from his leathery face he told me my father wanted to see me immediately. I went to his study to find him sitting behind the table he worked at. A single oil lamp was the only source of light in the room.

My father sat there in stony silence for some time and when he finally spoke his words were harsh and unforgiving. They brought an immediate rush of blood to my face and a knot to my stomach.

He ticked off my shortcomings like an accounting clerk listing the

inventory of a warehouse. We stood there looking at each other like two gladiators in the arena each aware that the next word could easily result in bloodshed. Finally, he searched among his papers and finding what he was looking for, a folded sheet of papyrus, threw it at me. It bounced off my chest and fell to the floor at my feet. I picked it up and stood there waiting for his next move. He told me to get some sleep as I would be needing it. Puzzled, I turned away and went to my room. I was filled with foreboding. Under Roman law a father exercised complete control over the members of his family including married sons and their families. He could punish any member of his family in any manner he saw fit and that included killing the offender, selling him into slavery or banishing him from the family hearth. And the law permitted him this wide course of action without resort to the courts. I knew something horrible was about to befall me, but I did not know what. I had deeply offended my father‟s sense of propriety and had been a cause of constant disappointment to him because of my headstrong behavior. But death? Banishment? Too ludicrous to imagine. The words he hurled at me that night stayed with me for many years. I tossed and turned all night not knowing what the morning would bring yet confident that whatever punishment he chose to visit upon me would be fair…and yet I still worried. I had never seen him like this.

Finally I slept only to be awoken moments later it seemed, by the crowing of the cocks in the barnyard. I ran to the kitchen to get an early breakfast for I felt that one could face any adversity on a full stomach. He was there waiting for me. He asked me if I had read the letter and I said no.

With a smile he asked me to bring the letter to him. I did. He sat down to eat his breakfast and motioned me to join him. He seemed like a different man from the antagonist I faced last night.

He had the look of a man who had just resolved a terrible problem and was now relaxed and confident in the outcome. He poured a pitcher of fresh milk and set a dish of fresh figs and bread before me. He was even smiling. I was in deep trouble.

“Gaius, please be good enough to read the letter I gave you last night.” I unfolded the papyrus breaking the waxen seals and began to read to myself.

“Aloud if you please.” The servants had all stopped and were listening.

Even now I can recite that letter word for word. It cut through like a sword thrust and the words chilled my blood. It was a short letter and it carried in its brevity the course that I was to take for the rest of my life. Listen.

“To Junius Strabo Cella, Tribune of the 50th Augustan Legion, Greetings. I send you my only son Gaius a headstrong youth of seventeen years educated in all the useful arts and sciences except discipline, the most important. I trust that the discipline in the army will teach him its usefulness. Make a man of him or keep what remains. Farewell, dear brother. I pray for your health.

OBLOERON: THE RISE OF THE DARK FALCON American author John Fitch V returns to his favorite creation as his newest Lord of the Rings-style fantasy epoch, OBLOERON: THE RISE OF THE DARK FALCON, meets readers eyes for the first time this fall.

The latest installment to the Obloeron world is slated for a tentative release on Tuesday, October 26, 2010.

The novel, set 50 years before the events in THE OBLOERON TRILOGY, re-introduces readers to Krampel Paddymeyer, the grandfather of Grumpet T. Paddymeyer from the original three novels. Krampel begins the novel as a slave to the merchant caravan, only to break free late one night. He becomes the apprentice to Vossler, who is known as a cobbler and tanner in the township of Cassimina. Little do they know that Vossler was a hero of wars long ago.

Vossler trains Krampel into a fantastic swordsman, giving him the famed Flad-rul, the Flame Thrower, a famous sword from eons past. But following an orc raid, Krampel decides to leave Cassimina and venture out into the realms, becoming a bounty hunter.

It is just the start of his life of loneliness – until he meets the beautiful daughter of a wealthy landowner, a young maiden who wants the life of a bounty hunter. Throw in a dwarf of future renown, on the hunt for Krampel‟s boyhood nemesis, and their adventures begin.

OBLOERON: THE RISE OF THE DARK FALCON will be available in trade paperback format through Amazon.com in the United States as well as Amazon.co.uk in the United Kingdom. It will also be available digitally on Amazon Kindle in both the US and UK, as well as on Smashwords for nook, Sony, iPad and Kobo. * John will give away two signed trade paperback copies to two lucky THE RE-ENACTOR readers this November.

To enter, simply e-mail Jason O‟Keefe at jason.okeefe@btopenworld.com by November 15. Jason will pick two winners at random.

Please specify in your entry if the book is for you or as a gift.

John is no stranger to readers of THE RE-ENACTOR. This past summer, John gave away two signed copies of his baseball time travel novel TURNING BACK THE CLOCK. OBLOERON: THE RISE OF THE DARK FALCON is John‟s seventh novel and is the first in THE OBLOERON PREQUEL TRILOGY. He plans on releasing four books – including the second Obloeron prequel – in 2011 and four books in 2012.

Prologue

Archer had a problem. A quandary, a dilemma, call it what you will. Not life-threatening exactly, but it was not a good place to be. He had two choices. The trouble was, he was damned if he did and damned if he didn‟t.

It was all about a girl. When wasn’t it all about a girl? Not for as long as he could remember. He thought back to the time when girls were just friends, but it seemed a very long time ago. When you could like a girl, be friends with her and do things together, without people getting stressed about it. People like his mate Finn, or the guys they hung out with.

People like his foster parents and their friends. People like every other girl in Aveburgh. But mostly, the two people he didn‟t want to stress the most, his best mate Fletch and the girl herself, Bethia.

He had one more minute to choose, either he kissed her and seriously annoyed his best mate or he didn‟t kiss her and she would be mortified and worse, publicly humiliated. It wasn‟t as if she wasn‟t kissable, exactly the opposite, she was one of the prettiest girls in the village. But Fletch had already made his feelings known and if you believed him, she felt the same way. Archer looked down at the pale green robe that covered her dress so he wouldn‟t have to meet her eyes. He could almost see the happy bubble of excitement that surrounded her a short five minutes ago beginning to evaporate as she sensed his reluctance.

His thinking time ended as Malduc finished his incantations over the rowan cross. He looked into Bethia‟s eyes, reading the apprehension and the faintest spark of hope. His decision was made.

Editor’s Note: A copy of this book will be up for grabs very soon in The Re-Enactor

The Richard III Foundation, Inc. Conference – Saturday, 9 October 2010 The conference was based at Dixie Primary School in Market Bosworth, and 78 people attend the conference.

After we were welcomed to the conference by Joe Ann Ricca, we were presented to Professor Ralph A Griffiths, who discussed Richard, Duke of York: The Man who would be King. Professor Griffiths led us through the possible motivations for the actions – and sometimes inaction – of Richard, and how it led to his claim to the throne in London on 10 October 1460 at the age of 49.

Professor Ralph questioned whether Richard was a victim of misfortune, misjudgment or of loss of nerve. Was his future always overshadowed by the treason his father committed in 1415? The conclusion was that it is not easy to judge Richard, who had an uncertain character which is not easily understood. Whilst he appeared to be a proud man, aware of his royal descent, his reputation was marred by his martial efforts in France, and a subsequent period in Ireland.

Professor Griffiths wondered if Richard‟s pride had been piqued by the elevation of the Lancastrian peerage in the mid 1440s, and his allegiance to the king fundamentally changed at this point.

Richard‟s ambition for power appears to come to the fore, but instead of an image of „Protector of the Realm‟, he appears to be a trouble-maker of sorts. It was concluded that Richard may have become a victim of circumstance due – in part - to the general level of unrest in the country at the time, but also that he appears to misjudge several key turning points. Did Richard‟s nerve or convictions fail at these crucial moments? This appears to remain the mystery of the „Man who would be King‟.

After this interesting discussion, we were joined by the costumed trio of the Master Fletcher, Mick Manns, his apprentice Ann Laken, and the “boy” John Potter to discuss The Medieval Fletcher in a visual display. Mick started by explaining that England – unlike France or Germany – had, in effect, a „standing army‟ of trained archers as by the 15th century every 6 year old boy should be given a bow of ash or yew and 6 arrows to train with, by law. Eventually, most men would be able to draw a 100 lb. bow and shoot an arrow 300 yards easily, although Mick felt that even 8-10 arrows a minute could not be kept up for a long period of time as it was hard physical work to draw a bow of this weight and more.

Mick went on to describe the various jobs involved with the making of the bow and arrow. The string, usually coming from a ropemaker, would be linen or flax. His interesting „snippet‟ of information was that many bowstring makers came over from Holland, and rather than being called „Stringer‟ – which they felt to be too common – they called themselves „Stringfellow‟. Ann followed this by describing the parts of the arrow, and how they were often made according to specifications and standards for both the shaft and the head. The Fletcher would use either goose or swan feathers – from the left or right wing, as long as all three were the same – and cut the feather at the oil line as it was the strong part of the feather. The feathers were then split along the back and affixed to the arrow shaft with glue of some kind – rabbit skin, bluebell bulb, and so on – and then tightly bound with thread as the glue was not as good as ours is now. Ann explained that with an already diverse array of hunting arrowheads, war heads could be made efficiently and cheaply, evolving as the armour of the time evolved on the battlefield. Whilst all heads were glued on, hunting heads were often also riveted with a small pin through the shaft as they were likely to be used again, whilst the war arrows were not, and if they came off in someone‟s body, so much the better!

After a short break for refreshments we reconvened with the next speaker, Michael Miller, who discussed The Medieval Soldier. Michael introduced the subject by explaining how armies were raised via commissions of array directly from the king, and through the orders of the lord of the area, though fraud was often committed by lords bringing troops to the field to fight against the king rather than for him. Michael also explained that the rules of Livery and Maintenance were very strict, and

that a lord was not permitted to raise and own a private army, and to travel with it if he had not been called upon by the king. To do so would mean heavy fines.

The arms and armour of the medieval soldiers were described by Michael, with the help of pictorial handouts. An interesting comparison of medieval to modern soldiers was drawn in terms of the challenges faced by the medieval soldier. Foraging for food whilst carrying equipment and walking huge distances in leather soled boots and to be expected to fight a battle relatively quickly at the other end of the journey. Michael also described the battle formations taken by the troops in medieval combat, and how these were moved within the battle.

The lunch break provided people with the opportunity to circulate round the tables of books and pamphlets from the Towton Battlefield Society, Tewkesbury Battlefield Society, Lance and Longbow and The Richard III Foundation. It was also a chance to have a short wander round the centre of Market Bosworth, a village steeped in history and reflected in the buildings surrounding the marketplace.

We returned to the next lecture, Towton: England’s Bloodiest Day in which John Sadler smoothly described the run up and execution of the battle, with interactive help from a costumed group of ladies portraying Margaret of Anjou and her ladies in waiting. This helped to introduce the human aspect to what people were thinking at the time of Towton. John Sadler conveyed the background to the battle and what happened that day in 1461 with great feeling and detail, which reflected the depth of research John must have gone to to provide us with such an information-packed lecture.

A short interlude in the lectures was made by David Baldwin to congratulate this year‟s Richard III Scholarship for Medieval Studies recipient, Carolyn Donohue.

We returned to hear about Margaret of Anjou: She Wolf of England presented by Dr Helen Castor.

Helen provided a riveting explanation for why Margaret has been portrayed as a „She-Wolf‟ rather than a peacemaker and loyal wife. As her background Helen explained that Margaret was married to Henry VI as a way of ending the Anglo-French wars that had been raging for 100 years. She provided him with an heir, Edward. Margaret decided to represent her husband and son in their „absence‟ in 1453, but the complexity of the political situation and social expectations of the peerage and women in England turned this loyal action sour. Whilst there was a precedence for this kind of action in France – e.g. Rene of Anjou‟s mother taking charge, in England the potential for women to take the throne was very unclear. Margaret may have felt her actions were acceptable and logical, but the English peerage felt she had overstepped her mark. She was thought to be immoral and ferocious, and against the very nature of what was expected of her sex – a monster. Thus she was stuck. Even when

Henry recovered physically, he was not able to take decisive action, and Margaret was not able to take what appeared to be superior power without appearing to be unnatural.

In short, her French political education ended up hindering her in her actions within a very different political landscape of England, and her sex hindered her from taking power for her son and husband when she was otherwise able to provide a sound, decisive and loyal direction on their behalf. As Helen came to the aftermath of Tewkesbury, I felt very sorry for Margaret, a capable lady who was only trying to forge a role in an alien culture.

Mid-afternoon brought us to another interlude, where Joe Ann Ricca opened a celebration of the 85th birthday of The Richard III Foundation‟s honorary patron, Robert Hardy. Rosie Paige, daughter to Alf Wight, Professor Matthew Strickland and Rae Ran read moving messages and expressed admiration to thank Robert for his kindness in his private and professional life, and to wish him the warmest of birthday wishes. The celebrations were further heightened when Joe Ann Ricca presented him with a special plaque and the presentation of a cake for Robert that was specially commission by The Richard III Foundation, which was subsequently enjoyed by all!

I was sadly unable to stay for the last lecture by Richard Knox - Bosworth 1485: A Battle Lost and Found or the Round Table Discussion led by Robert Hardy. However, lecture notes by Richard Knox are available in The Richard III Foundation‟s latest publication “Wars of the Roses: Defeats and Triumphs”, which can be purchased by contacting Richard3Foundation@yahoo.com.

I wish to thank the Richard III Foundation for bringing together such a stimulating set of lectures on a variety of subjects, and to the speakers themselves for their time and research, and excellent presentations.

Frances Perry is a member of Towton Battlefield Society, and its affiliated re-enactment group the ‘Frei Compagnie’. She is also a member of the Sir John Savile’s Household re-enactment group, which portrays an English Yorkist household in the mid to late 15th century. She also enjoys traditional longbow, studying various aspects of 15th century life, and painting artworks based on manuscript images.

The Ian Mortimer Interview I recently gave you the chance to ask a question of Ian Mortimer, well here are those questions and answers.

I would like to say a huge thank you to Ian Mortimer for taking the time to answer the questions.

Q1: what is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow (Martin Toms) Ian M: It would be unoriginal to say „it depends whether you mean the African or European swallow‟. So I‟ll boldly mix my comic idols... Forty-two. *** Q2: Do you have a list of visual manifestations of Mortimer arms? For example, I am aware of:

the beautiful windows in Ludlow‟s parish church depicting Roger and Edmund



the chancel window in Cirencester Parish Church with the Mortimer Arms



the amazing window at Cleobury Mortimer Church (the latter depicting Roger de Mortimer in prayer to our Lord), ....



the Mortimer Arms on Edward IV‟s sword of state



the plaque at Wigmore Abbey

....but no others. A more comprehensive list would be invaluable. Stefan Zachary Ian M: There are many, of many different sorts. Some – like the Ludlow glass you refer to – are relatively modern. While modern depictions are interesting, especially when they appear on pub signs, I think pre-1603 depictions of the arms are fascinating, showing who remembered their heritage – and even where such descendants ended up. I think such a list would be an excellent resource; perhaps it is something the Mortimer History Society might want to start with respect to sculpture, brasses and glass, or at least to include such refs in its forthcoming gazetteer.

As for a specific list, I wouldn‟t want to start racking my brain for all the places I‟ve seen the Mortimer arms since childhood. This is mainly because I cannot remember them: so many cathedrals and churches have a monument with a later descendant of the Mortimers, whose arms were quartered and include the name. As boys, my brothers and I used to enter cathedrals on our family holidays with the goal of being the first one to spot the Mortimer arms (only pre-1603 counted).

Some examples come to mind, like

 The brass of Lord and Lady Camoys (she being nee Elizabeth Mortimer) in Trotton Church, Sussex (only the faces are depicted in my book, 1415: Henry V’s Year of Glory; the arms appear on the upper part). There‟s a photo of this currently on the wikipedia page for Trotton Church.  There is a stone carving of the Mortimer coat of arms in the Burghersh tomb in Lincoln Cathedral  John Grove alerted me to a Mortimer coat of arms (with the colours inverted) in the upper quatrefoil light of a stained-glass window in the sacristy of Tewkesbury Abbey.  There used to be (in the 1980s) a correct medieval stained glass of the Mortimer arms on display in the V&A museum. There probably still is.  A medieval floor tile from St Mary‟s Church, Usk, bears the Mortimer arms  The arms of Roger Mortimer, 4th earl, appear on an arch of the church at Cley, Norfolk  Blanche Mortimer lies beneath the Mortimer and Grandison arms at Much Marcle church Et cetera. Other people with an interest in the medieval Mortimers will be able to point to dozens of other appearances, mainly in churches and cathedrals. There‟s Mortimer arms in a window somewhere in Chichester Cathedral. Henry VIII‟s ancestral arms included a quartering of Mortimer, as his mother was Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV, and Edward was the great-nephew of Edward Mortimer, 5th earl of March, the last of the medieval family. As a result, buildings by Henry and his children record the arms occasionally.

In addition you will find many medieval depictions of the arms in the family seals and documents. There are quite a few seals and fragments of seals. Images of those of Roger Mortimer (d.1330), 1st earl of March, and his uncle appear in the Lord Howard de Walden book, „Some Feudal Seals‟. The same earl‟s seal is attached to the marriage settlement of his son in the National Archives. As for manuscript images – things like the Garter book in the British Library preserve high-quality 15th century images of the arms. Elizabeth I‟s funeral images show banners with the quarterings of Mortimer. And, of course, there are dozens of depictions in the heraldic rolls of the College of Arms, many of which date back to the medieval period. *** Q3: Which historical character has interested you most and what effect has that had on your research? (Paul Remfry) The most powerful effect on my work has been the string of consequences of my rethinking the death of Edward II; it is because of that question that I sharpened up my research skills no end, learnt much more about historical methodology than I ever thought anyone would need, and realised there are ways of proving aspects of the past. So it could be said that Edward II hashad an impact impacted on my understanding of how we can do history – and the lessons I have applied to such disparate questions as whether John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy, kidnapped the French envoys in 1415 (yes he did), whether Edward III raped a countess (no he didn‟t), and whether Henry IV murdered his cousin Richard II (yes he did). Not a word of Medieval Intrigue: decoding royal conspiracies (2010) would have been written if I had accepted the traditional account of Edward‟s death; and two books at least – Greatest Traitor and The Perfect King – would have turned out very differently if the information-based

methods I developed had allowed the tradition to remain a possibility. Therefore there is no doubt which character has had the greatest effect on my work. However, I don‟t find him the most interesting. As to whom that might be... Hmmm. Narrowing the question just to people I have written about, either directly or indirectly, I suppose I have got to answer Henry IV. So well travelled, so capable, so intelligent, so human – and yet such a political struggle. I have huge sympathy for him. Currently I‟m reading more about Elizabeth I; and she is cold hearted and brutal by comparison with Henry IV. And the fascinating thing about him is that few people see it; everyone sees Richard II in a sympathetic light because of Shakespeare, and judges Henry IV accordingly. They also compare him with the „glorious‟ son he produced, little realising how much of the Henry V legend is down to propaganda. Henry V was really a brave man; but what he did would have been impossible without his father weathering all the storms of his reign. *** Q4: Would love to know if Ian found any more info on the 'Earl of Lincoln', Roger Mortimer and Queen Isabella's child.(Fran Norton) Ian M: No, to be frank. One researcher has suggested the record which yielded that name was in error, and another has suggested it should be read differently, and that the said person did not exist. Either of them might be right. When there is only one document to work on, I am not going to go out on a limb. However, with regard to the idea of there being a child, much of what I wrote in The Greatest Traitor stands – about Isabella making a settlement of her estates, and that long pause of the court at Lincoln being otherwise without explanation or parallel.

The only additional line of research I can suggest at present to someone interested in this possibility is the letters from the pope (John XXII) to Queen Philippa in the early 1330s which were for assisting Queen Isabella during some recent event which threatened her reputation. I‟ve no idea what that was – one would not expect the pope to be explicit in a letter in such a delicate matter as something touching a queen‟s disgrace, in case the letter fell into the wrong hands – but it indicated in about 1332 that some personal embarrassment had recently come to an end. Maybe it meant nothing more than her liaison with Roger Mortimer.

It is a curious letter, however. *** Q5: How important was the Welsh connection for the Mortimers? (John Grove) Ian M: It depends what you mean by „Welsh connection‟ and the various ways in which they might have seen it as being „important‟. And when, of course. If you mean the proximity of the family estates to Wales, well, clearly Marcher status is a subject one could spend a book exploring. I suspect, however, that you are driving at the family marriage between a daughter of Llywelyn the Great, Gladys the Dark, and Ralph Mortimer (d. 1246), lord of Wigmore. On that subject I have to confess I am no expert; but that‟s no excuse for not offering an opinion, and certainly no reason not to answer the question.

Given the talk at this year‟s conference, clearly this was of considerable significance for a while. It meant that Roger Mortimer (1232-1282), lord of Wigmore, was the first cousin of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd as well as being arguably the pre-eminent mid-Marcher lord. There were alliances between the two men as well as a bitter fight in the 1260s. But Roger was increasingly drawn into English politics: can we say that he used his connection with Wales

in an English political framework? I don‟t think so. Whether we are discussing his rivalry with de Montfort, or his actions on behalf of the Lord Edward, or his position as justiciar while Edward was in the Holy Land, Roger Mortimer‟s ambitions lay elsewhere, in England.

And it is in that light, perhaps, that we should look at the alliance at the end of his life with Llywelyn. If Roger Mortimer‟s ambitions really lay in English politics, as it seems, his toleration of Llywelyn can be read as a means of quietening the man. So the Welsh connection was of less significance than some historians have stated. Being a Marcher lord was more a thorn in the side of a man who was interested in wielding influence at court, even if the prince of Wales was his cousin. That‟s how it appears to me with my relatively limited knowledge, anyway.

There is one area of exception: the symbolism. After Roger Mortimer (1374-1398), 4th earl of March, came to be seen as a popular potential alternative to Richard II in the late 1390s, and, after his death, the development of the Tripartite agreement between the Mortimers, Owen Glendower, and the Percy family (linked by marriage to the Mortimers), it became a powerful element. It bound all these parties into a sense of unity, a Welshness in ancestral terms – and just perhaps a sense of unity in destiny (related to the prophecy of a Welsh prince reigning in London).

I hope that answers the question. *** Q6: In the “Fears of Henry IV” you state that Prince Hal was struck by an arrow beneath his left eye, which is in accordance with what the surgeon John Bradmore tells us. However, in “1415”, (the hardback edition), you state he was struck by an arrow “six inches below his right eye”. Why the change? (Kevin Goodman) Ian M: Excellent question. The reason was the following train of thought.

1. Originally when writing the Fears of Henry IV in 2006 I followed Bradmore: left eye. In this I was following Prof Carole Rawcliffe, who on page 76 of Medicine and Society says the arrow entered his face „on the left side of his nose‟.

2. Looking at all the portraits of Henry V when researching 1415: Henry V’s Year of Glory in 2008, I noticed that all the portraits of Henry were showing the same profile, with his left shoulder to the viewer, as if he did not want the right-hand side to appear.

3. Also in the course of researching the book, I came across a reference to the king not wanting people to look him in the eye. Putting this together with the above point, and the fact that no portrait images on charters or documents show a scar, I figured that it was most probable that the wound was on the hidden right-hand side of the face.

4. This squares with John Bradmore‟s account if the wound was on the left hand side of the face as you looked at the wounded prince. We would normally call this the right hand side – especially when the subject of the book was the prince-king Henry himself. Hence I changed the description of the wound. *** Q7: Could the outcome of the Pilleth battle been influenced by collusion between OG and Mortimer? Miraculously Mortimer survived the attack by the archers and of course threw in his lot with OG and married his daughter. After capture he wrote to the Mortimer‟s setting

out his intentions. The king was of course afraid of the Mortimer‟s because their claim to the throne could have been stronger than his. Mortimer could have decided to unite with OG well before the battle in the hope that they could have displaced Henry, and possibly the archers were under his influence. The late Prof Rees Davies thought that this theory could have been possible, but there is no proof Your thoughts would be appreciated. Owen Elias Ian M: It‟s interesting you should mention Prof Davies: he was rather quick on occasion to dismiss some quite plausible elements of narrative – for example he ruled out (without any explanation) the possibility that Richard II acknowledged the Mortimers his heirs, as recorded by the continuator of the Eulogium chronicle in respect of the 1385 parliament (recte the parliament of 1386). I think, however, there is an intrinsic common-sense reason why this was not the case. Men facing battle normally did all they could possibly do to avoid confrontation. Warfare was nearly always too unpredictable; as Prof John Gillingham memorably put it, the best advice to medieval war leaders coming upon their enemy and wishing to fight was: „don‟t‟. And as he added (I can‟t recall his exact words but they are more or less), „well, you might attack if your enemy is demoralised, less than half the size of your own army, poorly situated and easily crushed...‟ Remember how long the discussions went on before the battle of Shrewsbury before the attack finally took place. If there had been any common ground between Mortimer and his adversary at Bryn Glas, they would have talked first and not risked so many lives. Glendower would not have wished to risk valuable men in a conflict which he could have won by negotiation, if he had suspected Sir Edmund might acquiesce; and Sir Edmund should have been reluctant to risk men for a similar reason.

His army probably included family retainers and tenants as well as levies from the shire(s); he would have lost all face if he had betrayed them. As a battle took place, and men were killed, I think it unreasonable to suggest that either man knowingly led his men to a deadly battle unnecessarily, let alone that both commanders did so. For this reason I would rule out collusion before the battle‟s direction was clear.

The battle was fought on 22 June. Henry V heard about it by 25 June, when he personally („depar le roi‟) wrote to the council stating his intention to lead an army to Wales in person to remedy Mortimer‟s capture. Checking his precise wording in this letter, to see how he describes the initial news, I see it reads: „nous sont venuz de present de n‟re pais de Gales coment noz rebelles illoesques ont pris jatarde n‟re treschier „t tresame cousyn Esmond Mortymer „t pluseurs autres chivalers „t escuiers en sa compaigniee dont nous avons pris graunde poissantee‟. Clearly the reference to Sir Edmund as „our very dear and much loved cousin‟ indicates that the initial news that came to Henry IV in no way indicated any disloyalty from Edmund – and remember this letter was written at Berkhampsted, so the news had travelled the 140 miles in 3 days and so can only have been sent immediately by English forces. This too suggests no collusion on the part of Sir Edmund.

In this light, the fact that there is no suggestion of disloyalty on the part of Sir Edmund Mortimer until he married Glendower‟s daughter is significant (his letter to his retainers followed, in December, I believe). Percy‟s acerbic comments sent to the parliament that met on 30 Sept – stating that Henry IV had done nothing to rescue Mortimer – do not necessarily indicate that the king suspected Edmund at that juncture; merely that Percy was annoyed with the king for not having tried to ransom Edmund. The falling out between Percy and the king at this point probably only made it less likely that Henry IV would rescue Sir Edmund. If Edmund tried to make a compact at that point with Glendower – well, that is most understandable. And if Henry IV later presumed that Edmund had „thrown‟ the battle, he may well have been making this judgement in the light of Edmund‟s marriage to Glendower‟s daughter on 30 November (not sure of the date – this from memory). To judge motives in

hindsight is a dangerous thing. Unfortunately we have to do it all the time when we are investigating the remote past.

Anyway, to sum up, there are two clear reasons to doubt that collusion affected the outcome of the battle: the improbability of two commanders staging a dangerous fight and risking men‟s lives without being forced by circumstances to do so; and the loyalty of Edmund implicit in the king‟s response to the message from the battlefield sent so hastily to him, and therefore implicit also in the message itself, which would have been carried by an Englishman to the king. *** Q8,9 & 10: (1) Women [nearly] always wearing their hair covered is often one of the hardest adjustments for some new medieval re-enactors to make. As a result the subject of women‟s hair, covered and uncovered, often leads to a great deal of debate. To what extent to do you think women covering their hair was a function of practical fashion and to what extent is it a function of either social or sexual modesty? Re-enactors often speculate on the meanings of a woman displaying her hair, either loose or in a headdress, from youth and innocence to sexuality and even prostitution. What message would the medieval mind draw from a women‟s hair and how she wore it?

Ian M: This a very difficult question to answer, mainly because you are asking about general rules and most of what we know is based on specific instances or examples, or examples where we can‟t judge whether the context is representative. My understanding is that women of full age were expected to wear a headdress or covered hair in public, and that to leave hair loose was unseemly – just as to reveal bare arms and legs was unseemly (and is still deemed unseemly if you go into a Catholic church in Italy). But one needs to be careful: my impression is based mainly on manuscript illuminations and tomb sculptures and these do not necessarily portray every rank or social setting.

What evidence is there? As you‟ll be aware, all the working women shown in the Luttrell psalter have their hair covered – when out harvesting, spinning etc. One woman who does not is pictured beating her husband with a distaff: given the nature of the image it could be said to be a private event. Those two images are in my Time Traveller’s Guide and so too is an image from the contemporary (early 14th century) Taymouth Hours, in which a woman is hunting with her hair not bound in any way. Her arms are also bare – something which was unacceptable for a lady in public. But one has to note she is alone in the picture, even if clearly out of doors. The Luttrell psalter is clearly aiming to represent normal events – and so the public covering of the head is significant, I think, and the hair uncovered in private equally significant. The Taymouth Hours picture is more of an idealised setting.

Most 14th century aristocratic women have their hair shown in braided elaborate head dresses on their tombs. One exception is Eleanor of Castile (d. 1290) in Westminster Abbey, which does show her long hair loose, fastened only with the crown she wears. However, Eleanor stands out as a rare example: I am struggling to think of other women shown on their tombs with their hair loose. Sculpted images of Isabella of France (d. 1358), Philippa of Hainault (d.

1369) and other contemporary noblewomen (e.g. Catherine Beauchamp, nee Mortimer, countess of Warwick (d. 1369)) show headdresses. So too do drawings of Joan the fair Maid of Kent and many other pictures of fourteenth century women.

It is quite likely that somewhere there is an expert on medieval female behaviour who can contribute to this with more certainty than me. But I would say this: such is the regularity

with which one sees hair covered in public areas – and this among the working women (e.g. all the working women in the Luttrell psalter) as well as noble and gentry effigies – that there was clearly an expectation of this as normal female behaviour. And as „normal‟ female behaviour was largely the product of what men expected women to look like & do in public, it would be reasonable to assume that having loose hair was a deliberate step away from conventions. In private, a woman could be more herself – she could let her hair down in the same social sense that she could take her clothes off. In the case of a queen, I suspect that one sees Edward I‟s willingness to see his queen portrayed in a more natural way, and that says more about him than it does about her.

As for prostitutes – yellow or green hoods were their garb, in London at least. I think it would be very rash to equate loose hair with prostitution. Clearly if a queen can appear with loose hair, the looseness of hair does not equate with deliberate attempts to attract fee-paying lovers. Edward I would not have had his deceased wife portrayed with loose hair if there was a chance that that might mean everyone looked at her as a prostitute. Something that is sexual that does not meet with convention does not necessarily imply a sexual transaction.

(2) Re-enactors are often confused by social status of women in medieval life. The law and some texts would indicate women as second class citizens, where as other evidence shows some woman as powerful or given positions of autonomy and responsibility. How unusual is the strong woman in medieval society? And to what extent is any power a reflection of her relative social status overcoming the restrictions of her gender? Are any easy comparisons or rules of thumb that would help re-enactors understand the status of a medieval woman?

Ian M: strong women? How about Black Agnes of Dunbar, who commanded a successful defence of a castle against William Montagu, Edward III‟s right-hand man. Or Lady Montfort, who donned armour to defend Hennebont when besieged by Charles de Blois.

These were both important military actions presided over by women. (You can read about both in my biography of Edward III, The Perfect King.) But it needs to be emphasised that these women were very much the exceptions, not the rule. They are the only two fighting women who emerged from a study of that reign – and I was particularly looking to try and bring more women into that story.

As for strong-minded women outside the fighting classes, I only need to say „Wife of Bath‟ and you will understand what I mean. The fact we do not see such characters everywhere in medieval English literature is very much due to the fact that most of it was written by men for men, many were writing of an idealised social world (in which strong-minded women did not exist) or were writing for moral reasons. Or were writing political history in which women rarely featured because men assumed control.

Women, as I state in Time Traveller’s Guide, were not second-class citizens. In order to gauge their relative standing to men, one has to have context. Women and men were both within the same social structure or class system: by comparison with the wife or daughter of the lord of a manor, a male servant was of lower rank. Obviously a queen took precedence over almost everyone. As I state in TTG, at the other end of the social spectrum women were also equal partners in law to their husbands who were co-tenants of a manor. Independent women (widows and spinsters) had more or less the same rights in law as men. The law was most prejudicial to daughters and especially to wives, but the secondary status in law needs to be understood in terms of their second position compared to their own fathers and husbands, not the secondary position of al women compared to all men. If there was a lawsuit between a man and an independent woman, the man did not take precedence or have and privilege.

(3) To what extent can we use medieval illustration and fiction to learn about the social history of ordinary people, and how can we tell the difference between truth and allegory, parody or other distortions? Thanks, Fox aka Paul Turner Ian M: Now that is the subject of many books. The problems are implicit in the answers to the above two questions: one has to be sensitive to when images of women with their hair loose are not representative, or when strong-minded women do not appear in literature. As I make clear in „Objectivity and Information‟ – the methodological introduction to my Medieval Intrigue – all historical writing has a degree of subjectivity: nothing is wholly objective. That goes for the people who created the evidence we use as much as us as historians. The best we can do is work out the most important subjective factors involved, and try to distinguish the general from the particular, or the biased from the unbiased, or the personal from the impersonal.

Editor’s Note: I have 4 signed copies of Ian’s book, “The Time Travellers Guide to medieval England” to give away next month!

If you would like to know more information about Ian Mortimer or his work, then check out his website. http://www.ianmortimer.com/ Medieval Intrigue: Decoding Royal Conspiracies In this important new work Ian Mortimer examines some of the most controversial questions in medieval history, including whether Edward II was murdered, his possible later life in Italy, the weakness of the Lancastrian claim to the throne in 1399 and the origins of the idea of the royal pretender. Central to this book is his ground-breaking approach to medieval evidence. He explains how an information-based method allows a more certain reading of a series of texts. He criticises existing modes of arriving at consensus and outlines a process of historical analysis that ultimately leads to questioning historical doubts as well as historical facts, with profound implications for what we can say about the past with certainty

Heroes of Princeton by Christopher Bell.

Born of desperation and poverty, William James Snow happens by chance to cross an army recruiting party enticing his townsfolk with tales of adventure and fortune, Will‟s decision to accept the King‟s shilling is far from hard and so begins the adventure of a lifetime as he finds himself one of seven recruited that day in the line companies of the 17th Regiment.

Opening within the streets of Leicester „Heroes of Princeton‟ follows the lives and adventures of the very infantrymen that witnessed the events that changed the world forever, from garrison duty in Scotland and Ireland to the siege of Boston and beyond, these „penny a day‟ infantrymen find themselves not only fighting the enemy but fighting themselves.

Based on the historical movements of the 17th as they campaign across the rebellious colonies, Heroes of Princeton is packed with both comedy and tragedy as events are portrayed through the eyes of those that lived the days that saw the Crown interests lost in the Americas. If you like your history personal, you‟ll love this.

Available now at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and all good book retailers. www.heroesofprinceton.com

Editor’s Note: A copy of this book will be up for grabs very soon in The Re-Enactor

Forgework course

21st Annual Traditional Archery Shoot

December 11th & 12th 2010 at

Time

Glendon forge Glendon lodge farm kettering, England.

NN14 1QF

Location

This will be a two day course based on your ability, interests and requests within reason.

It will start with the basics and will hopefully progress as far as you can in the time available.

There will be a BBQ type lunch each day which we will supply and if you wish you can use the BBQ any other time during the weekend If there is a specific item you want to know how to make please email us details in advance.

Course costs £70 per person for the weekend, 50% deposit required.

The course will be ran by Alun Walker & David Hodges To book please contact Alun via email

Saturday, 05 February 2011 at 08:00 Sunday, 06 February 2011 at 16:00 Galt Sportsmens Glub 6542 Gore Road Cambridge, ON, Canada Hand-painted medieval targets 3D animal course also open Traditional archery tackle $15 per day, $25 for both days

More info

Wand Shoot 1pm Saturday. Champions Arrow 1pm Sunday.

Wooden arrows only for Wand and Champions Arrow Food available at clubhouse More info contact: Gerry Lee: 905-639-2405 Sandy Gordier: 519-740-5455

alunwalker@mac.com http://www.galtsportsmensclub.com/

The Grumpy Olde Archers In Assoc. with Marks hall Estate

April 9th & 10th 2011 Marks Hall estate Coggeshall England A weekend of archery including clout, wand and popinjay shoots.

Medieval Market & living history encampment In aid of Help for Heroes All shoot and pitch fees to charity

The Battle of Mortimer‟s Cross 550th Anniversary September 17th & 18th 2011 Main A49, 1 mile north of Leominster, Herefordshire England Battle re-enactment each day with fully armoured knights, archers and gunners.

Separate arena for barber surgeon, medieval dancing, mummer‟s plays and music.

Living history encampment Traders row Beer tent Local food stalls Passamezzo Early Dance Owain Leech (Barber Surgeon) Nominus Adults £5, Under 16s FREE, Concessions £4 Free Parking for all Contact: Bob & Pennie:01989 762159 Or Jason: 01432 352755

www.thegrumpyoldarcher.co.uk

www.mortimerscross.co.uk

Event Listings 29th-31st The Living History Fair, Warwickshire Exhibition Centre, UK http://www.livinghistoryfairs.com/ 30th & 31st Medieval Fair & Market, Tutbury Castle, Staffordshire, UK Contact: david.smith34@ntlworld.com

November 27th & 28th Ludlow Castle Medieval Christmas fair, Ludlow, Shropshire, UK Craft fair, medieval traders, combat, have a go archery http://www.ludlowcastle.com/

December 12th MSS Christmas Clout Shoot at Bodium Castle, Sussex, UK For information: http://www.medieval-seige-society.co.uk

2011 June 11th & 12th, Chester Roman Festival Contact: info@romantours.co.uk July 3rd & 4th fête médiévale de briançon http://www.facebook.com/?page=1&sk=messages&tid=1574642256880#!/group.php?gid=148203611869332 July 12th – 17th Viking Market in Gudvangen http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=45100027297

The Old Tales Written by: Karl Leofrsson 001

The Ring Of Andivari

In a time before the final rule of men, giants still lived in the world. Dragons ruled the skies and the gods still walked upon the world. Men lived with the wolf and the raven, according to the law of Odin, and the codes of the warrior. Those were days of honour and courage, and out of the north came great heroes. One of these great heroes was called Sigurd, yet his story starts a great many years before he was born.

It began one cloudless day, when Odin the Wise was walking upon the world, with his son, Thor the Steadfast, and his blood brother, Loki the Guileful. They had been walking for many hours through the heat of the day. Though it was still warm, it was starting to cool off, as evening approached. The ancient trees of the forest towered all around them, and they had been walking towards the sounds of a river, seeking to rest for a while upon its bank.

They had not been long, upon the river bank, when Thor took it upon himself to break the spell of silence.

“I am hungry.” He said suddenly.

“You are always hungry.” Replied his father.

“That is as may be,“ continued Thor. “Never the less, I am hungry at this time.”

“Well,” answered Odin. “I do not know what you expect to eat out here. I know for a fact that you have already eaten everything that we brought with us.”

“Any born hunter will tell you that none need starve in the wild,” called Loki. “Let me see what I can find for us.” With that, Loki scurried off into the under brush, and disappeared. It was not very long before he returned, bearing something large under each arm.

“What have we here, then?” Asked Odin.

“Looks tasty, anyway,” Stated Thor, obviously impatient to make a start on them.

“The salmon I found upon the river bank,” Answered Loki. “I waited a while, and then when it returned, by killing the otter, I was able to bag both prizes.”

“It seems rather late to begin to gather wood for a cooking fire.” Said Odin, studying the darkening sky. “It would be well into the night before we ate.”

“There is no need, Father. There is smoke beyond the trees.” Thor alone could see this, tall as he is.”

“A house, perhaps?” Asked Loki.

“There is only one certain way to find out.” Said Thor, already moving towards the column of smoke.

Again, they set off, walking through the woodland. Mile upon mile they walked. Finally, as evening gave way to night, they came to a truly massive house. Built of grey stone, it was, with wind-eyes showing it had many rooms. The huge outer walls were almost as thick as the ground floor was high, and the upper levels and corner towers carried fortifications. It was clearly the hall of a great lord.

Thor closed his right fist and beat heavily upon the iron clad oaken door. A few moments later they could hear the padding of heavy feet. With the silence of well oiled hinges, the door was opened, yet the way remained blocked, by the figure of a huge man. He was clearly of giant blood.

“What would you three want, at this hour of the day?”

Odin spoke for the three of them.

“Forgive our intrusion, Noble Lord. We are but travellers, seeking the shelter of your hall, for the night.”

“Then you had best come in. I am called Hreidmarr.”

“I am Odin. This is my son, Thor, and our companion, Loki.”

“Your names are known to me. You are welcome. Especially as you, Odin, and Loki are sons of giantesses. And Thor, as the grandson of a giantess is nearly big enough to be called a giant himself. You are welcome indeed.”

“Thank you. Have you taken your evening meal, yet?”

“No! But we are ready to. We wait only for my youngest son to return. Would you care to join us?”

“That is most gracious. In return, may we offer some food for the table?”

“Certainly, if that is your wish. What do you offer?”

“Thor. The bag, please.”

Thor brought forward the bag, in which he had been carrying Loki‟s kills. First he took out the salmon, which he laid upon the great table in Hreidmarr‟s hallway. It covered nearly the full length of the table.

“Impressive. That is large enough to turn a humble meal into a great feast, worthy of such honoured guests.”

Thor then took out the otter, which he laid beside the salmon. Hreidmarr‟s eyes turned black with rage. Odin felt a sudden chill, as Hreidmarr turned, and shouted down the hallway, for his sons.

“Fafnir, Reginn, come to me, now.”

Odin knew then, that Loki had managed to land them all in trouble, yet again. What sort of trouble, and how deeply they were in it, remained to be seen. Then the elder sons came in to the hall. They too, saw the otter upon the table, and their grief was plain to see.

“Father? What has happened?” They asked through welling tears, for even the strongest man may weep at such a loss.

“Murder. That is what has happened. Take these cur, that have slain your youngest brother.

Kill them all.”

“Wait, Hreidmarr,” said Odin.

“Why should I?” He also now was weeping with his grief.

“My companion, Loki, slew what he thought was a simple beast of the river. None of us had any way of knowing that it was your son.”

“That is reasonable.”

“We came to your hall, of our own free will. Had we truly intended any ill against you, then we would not have come here, simply to forfeit our lives. Surely a blood price is due, not our deaths.”

“Gold will not bring back my son.”

“Nor will our deaths. Would you be known for offending against the law of the hall, within your own hall?”

Hreidmarr thought for a moment, fighting also to control his pain and his anger.

“You speak of honour, and of truth, Lord Odin. So be it. This then is my blood price, for the murder of Ottar, youngest of my blood.

“The skin shall be cleaned and placed once more upon this table, it shall be filled with gold.

It shall be placed upright, and then gold piled up around it, so that it is hidden from sight.

Then shall I deem his blood price paid.”

Odin considered this demand for some minutes, before he spoke again. “That is a very heavy price, yet I deem it is just, for a heavy loss. I am indeed sorry, but even my power cannot restore your son‟s life, after this length of time, nor would the fates allow it.

“Well,” Demanded Hreidmarr. Will you pay the price I have set, or will you not?”

“Yes. Said Odin, quietly. I shall pay it.”

With this, Odin looked towards Loki. He was about to speak, when Loki beat him to it.

“Yes, I know. I got you two into this, and you expect me to get you out of it again.”

“And quite rightly so.” Answered Odin.

“Well!” Continued Loki... “I have been thinking about the problem, while you two have been discussing it, and I believe that I may have an answer.”

“Then you had better share it, and quick about it.” Roared Thor.” The famous rage was starting to build within Thor, and Loki knew he must work quickly.

“Hold your temper, my impetuous friend.” Said Loki. “This situation calls for subtlety, not violence.” He then look to his host. “Hreidmarr. I need eight of your staff, bearing four shields between them, to come with me to the river.”

“This had better not be a trick.” Answered the giant.

“No, Lord. It is neither trick nor jest. I know, where your gold may be found. But such a price as you seek, I cannot carry alone.”

“Then you shall have eight of my guards, to come with you, and they shall be armed, so do not try anything. But Odin and Thor must remain here, as insurance.”

“As you wish, Lord Hreidmarr, I shall wait outside.”

“Fafnir.” Hreidmarr turned to his eldest son.

“Father?”

“Guard these two. If they move, or try anything, kill them.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Reginn.”

“Father?”

“Organise the guards, then prepare the skin of Ottar, for receiving his blood price. I shall be in my library. I do not wish to be disturbed before the price is ready.

“As you wish, Father.”

Fafnir ushered Odin and Loki into the main reception room, where they would be held until Loki‟s return. Reginn walking down the length of the main corridor, calling out for the Guard.

It was some time before the eight guards joined Loki in the courtyard, armed but without armour, and carrying the required four shields. It was some time, so that it was utterly dark as they set off for the river. This did not put the guards into the best of humours, from right at the start of the walk.

This of course did not worry Loki, who picked up a branch as they entered the forest, and breathed upon it with runes of fire. It kindled with a bright blue flame, lighting the path for all of them. One of the guards muttered something about „dark magic‟, to his companions, and then they all continued in silence.

Upon reaching the river, they proceeded to follow a narrow path towards the river‟s source. The guards saw blood upon the stones in one place they passed, where Ottar had been slain. They saw and took note, but they said nothing.

Upon reaching a falls, Loki stopped and sat upon the stones beside the water. He looked into the water, studying it most carefully, as though he was looking for something in particular.

The giant guards took this as a sign to wait, and placing their shields against a tree, they sat down also.

Suddenly, Loki dived into the water, transforming himself into a pike, and was gone from sight. At this, the guards were unsure, as to whether they had been tricked. They decided however, that they should continue to wait, and see if anything else would occur. If Loki had not re-appeared by dawn, they would return to their Lord, and Odin and Thor would die.

In the event, it was less than an hour, before they heard an angry splashing from the direction of the falls, and Loki did indeed re-appear. As he climbed up on to the bank, it could be seen that Loki was carrying something.

He was in fact holding a large trout, very tightly, by the tail. So tightly was he holding this trout, in fact, that to this very day, trout have narrow tails, where it was crushed that day, by Loki.

Upon reaching the waiting guards, Loki addressed the struggling fish. “Resume your true form now, Andivari, or drown in air.” So saying, he threw the trout upon the grass.

One of the guards said, “If he does drown, can I eat him?”

At this, the trout transformed into the shape of the dwarf, known as Andivari. He answered the guard with a very vicious look. “No you cannot eat me, drowned or otherwise.

I will disagree with you.”

All of Hreidmarr‟s guards had a good laugh at this. Even Loki smiled. Andivari, however, did not. He stood, glowering, until the guards were quiet, then he looked to Loki.

“So! You have taken me from my home, and you have had a good laugh, at my expense. What do you really want with me, you illegitimate daughter of Surtur?”

“Beware your tongue, dark-elf.” Retorted Loki, “And beware Baldur‟s loving embrace. I want your gold.”

“My Gold? Really? Why?” “That is mine to know, Andivari. All you need know is that I want your gold. All of it, here, now.”

“So be it.” Hissed the dwarf. “I shall bring it.”

“Mind you do not try any of your tricks.” Called Loki. “Or I shall eat you myself.”

Andivari walked back into the river and disappeared. With much ill-grace, he brought his gold up from his hoard, armfuls at a time. As he brought it up, he dumped it on the grass of the bank, by the falls of the river, which was his home.

There was coin and bar, hack gold and many beautiful things. Some was comparatively new, only a few decades old. Some pieces were centuries old, and others old beyond knowledge. It was a worthy hoard indeed, kept safe from the greedy eyes of men, in the calm realm of The Lady.

It took a long time for the gold to be brought up from the depths. By the time it was all piled up upon the shields, it could be felt in the air that dawn was not far off, and the dwarf was getting nervous. For the first light of the new day would be his death.

“Well!” Said Andivari, angrily. “That is it. Every last piece of it. My hoard is now empty.

May you never have any luck with any of it.”

“You lie.” Said Loki. “Your hoard may be empty, but that is clearly not the last piece of your gold.”

“Is it not, indeed? What is then?”

“I see that you are wearing a golden ring.”

“No! Loki, please. I need this ring, in order that I may make more gold. It is the one piece that can draw down the many pieces.”

“That also shall I take. Your power over wealth is broken.” Seizing Andivari by the wrist, Loki did indeed take even the ring. He quietly put it upon his own finger.

Now, Andivari had gone way passed being angry. Though his dark eyes blazed with an unholy glamour, his voice was soft and calm. He called now upon dark powers that were more ancient than the world itself.

“Very well. You have it all. Yet you must take it all, and all that goes with it, and leave not one piece of it behind.”

“I do not intend to leave any piece behind.” Said Loki, as he slipped the golden ring off his finger again and now put it safely in his own purse.

“Foolish child of fire.” Screeched Andivari briefly, before becoming calm and quiet once more. “You take with that ring, my curse. Gold will come to the one who holds that ring, and his wealth shall be uncounted, yet the love of gold shall be his doom, until the ring is returned to me.”

With that, the dwarf leaped back into the falls in the form of the trout, and was gone.

Not a moment before Loki felt the warmth of the first light upon his face.

By the time that the guards had borne the gold back to the Manor of Hreidmarr, it was fully dawn, and Baldur‟s great disk could be seen low over the forest. It came to be one of those very rare occasions, when Odin and Thor were actually very pleased to see, Loki.

During the night, Reginn had removed the skin from the body of his dead brother, Ottar, and it was now cleaned and ready to receive the price of his blood.

As had been arranged, the skin was filled with the gold. It was stood upon end, and more of the gold piled up around it. Finally, all of the gold had been piled up around the skin, and it was hidden from sight.

“Are you satisfied, Hreidmarr?” Asked Odin.

“They have kept to their word, Father,” Added Fafnir.

Hreidmarr looked carefully about the skin, of his lost son. Finally he spoke in answer.

“No. I am not satisfied. The price has not been paid.”

“What do you mean?” Demanded Odin. “Not been paid?”

“It has not been paid, as it was agreed.” Stated Hreidmarr. “I can see that part of the skin still shows.”

“Where?” Asked Loki.

“There.” Said the giant, as he indicated with one massive finger, where part of the skin was indeed still visible.

Loki, Odin and Thor, looked closely. Where Hreidmarr directed their attention, there was one whisker still showing. On the left side of his snout it was.

Loki considered what he should do, and what he could do. Andivari had given him a great power with the ring, but he did not want to use it, so soon. Finally, he took the ring out from where it had been kept. Easing the whisker back against the snout, he placed the ring over it, and all was hidden.

“Hreidmarr?”

“Yes Loki, I will accept that the price is now paid.”

“Oh yes, Lord. The price is paid.” Loki continued quietly. “For your cold heart, I give you this ring from my own purse. For your greed, I give you this final token, and all that is a part of it.”

“What is that then?” Asked Hreidmarr.

“Gold shall come to the one who holds this ring, and his wealth shall be uncounted.”

Spoke Loki, quietly. “Yet the love of gold shall be his doom, until it is returned. Thus is the curse of Andivari. My heart is now free of it. Farewell.”

With that said, Loki, Odin and Thor, walked out towards the forest, leaving Hreidmarr to his fortune. They would not meet Hreidmarr again.

Now Hreidmarr was a sorcerer, and far more powerful than Andivari. He could have used his power to dispel and destroy the curse which Andivari had sworn, before it caused any harm, yet he did not. He could have used his power to send the curse straight back to Andivari, and doom the dwarf with his own words, yet he did not.

It may be that he expected his own power to prevent the curse from having any effect, without his needing to do anything. Pride can do that to any man. It may simply be that he did not believe in the curse. The truth shall never now be known.

What is known, is that the curse started its foul work, fast. Hreidmarr took all of the gold, including the ring, and locked it away in his hoard. Fafnir confronted his father.

“Father, I see that you have locked all of the gold away.”

“I have.” Answered Hreidmarr. “What of it?”

“Will you not divide the gold with Reginn and myself?”

“I will not divide it with any.” Shouted Hreidmarr.”

“And why not?” Demanded Fafnir. “Was not Ottar as much our brother, as he was your son? Why should you gain alone, when all three of us have lost? A part of the gold should, by right, be buried with Ottar. What of his share?”

Fafnir was also now getting angry, yet neither he nor his father could see, that it was the power of the curse.

Reginn had been replacing Ottar‟s skin about his body, and had been making a coffin within which to lay his brother to his final rest. Now, as Reginn joined Fafnir and Hreidmarr in the main hall, his heart was also filled with the power of the curse, and the glamour of the gold.

“Fafnir, what is all the shouting about?”

“Well, Reginn. Our father will not share the gold.”

“Not share it?” Answered Reginn. “What, not one coin of it?”

“Not one coin of it!” Repeated Hreidmarr.

“What do you think?” asked Fafnir.

“I think.” Said Reginn. “That our fair claim must be more strongly made, if it is not to be denied.”

Hreidmarr, sensing the obvious threat, drew his long knife. Quicker than that, Fafnir drew his knife, and charged for Hreidmarr. Quicker still, Reginn drew his knife, and threw it at his father. Hreidmarr, bloodied already by Reginn‟s cast knife, fell beneath the crazed brothers. Fafnir and Reginn, slew their father for the love of the gold, yet neither of the sons could see that it was the power of the curse.

They brought the gold back up from the hoard, and put it in the main reception hall, when they had so soon before held their „guests‟. When they had brought all of the gold up, and set in upon the centre of the hall floor, they stopped to admire it, over a drink. Reginn was first to speak.

“This house smells over much of death.” He said. “Let us leave it to the dead. We should divide the gold, and go, each his own way.”

Fafnir now held the ring, torn from his dead father‟s hand, and the glamour of its power now filled his heart with the love of the gold. In his heart, the gold was all, and it ruled his mind.

“What is this „we‟?” He roared.

“There are, two, of us!” Answered Reginn, who knew that his brother was growing angry again. He knew also that it was no his turn to be afraid, and he was afraid.

“No.” Roared Fafnir, who was growing more angry by the moment. “Yours was the first blood, which slew our father. Go, now, Kin Slayer, before I slay you.”

Reginn backed away. He stood at the main door, and as he looked upon his brother, love and anger fought within his heart, and there were tears once more in his eyes.

As Reginn watched his brother, for the last time, the glamour of the gold filled Fafnir‟s heart beyond that which he could bear, and his own power was broken. He was no longer in control, the ring was.

Fafnir transformed himself into a huge fire drake, dark and terrible. All that he knew was his own strength, and his lust for the gold. He screamed and roared in challenge to any who might come, and he filled the hall with fire. Reginn fled for his very life. Yet, through it all, neither could see that it was the power of the curse.