Mi Contra Fa

October Acorn Poem

War comes to end   warships sail home
For harvest time    and winter sleep
A new-crowned king   and queen so fair
Guard the high hall  from havoc and care
Share out gold rings    spoils of summer
Feast and make merry    amidst our loud calls
Vladimir, King!     Kalisa, Queen!
Will see us safe     to spring's warm days

Another Anglo-Saxon praise poem, celebrating the coronation of Vladimir and Kalisa.  It was supposed to be for the September Acorn, but I missed the earlier deadline (July 25 instead of August 1, because of Pennsic) so this went into October's issue.

For Jehannine de Flandres

Baroness Jehannine de Flandres is my husband's household-sister and friend of two decades.  He held the chuppah at her wedding; she brewed beer and wine for ours. We were told she was being put on vigil at River Wars in the East.  We were further told it was a vigil for her brewing Laurel.

As it turns out, it was for her Pelican.  But we didn't learn that until after we'd composed poems in her honor.

We'll write service poems for her eventual Laureling.

Long winter nights    white with hoar-frost
Dark and cold hall   comfort has fled
Sad are the men   strong-armed warriors
Fire gives light     but little cheer

Tearful the bride  at table in hall
Her wedding feast   frugal and mean
No horn of mead   honey-brew fine
Came to her hand    to carry in hall

Scop's voice is weak    withered his throat
Gold would he give   for a gladdening drop
Mead or good ale   either be welcome
But hall is dry    and harp-strings go silent

Lord does not laugh   on long bench he sits
Watching his bride    weep from her eyes
Sees that the spirits     have sunk in his men
Hears that the scop    can sing no more

Unhappy that man    no mead in his cup
Bee-gold in jars    benefits none
Without skilled brewster    brave-voiced woman
In cauldron makes magic    mix honey and water
Brings forth a brew    no better thing

Makes warriors bold    boasting begins
Men are merry    mirthful in hall
Dry-eyed young bride    horn brings to the scop
Poet drinks deep    prepares a new song
Glad-wood sings out    strings struck anew
Frost still without    but within, joy
Fellowship fine    friends laugh together
Holding at bay    harsh winter cold

Brewster's good work    wild dark tames
Grendel and dragon    denied at the door
No monsters enter    while mead sweetly flows
Pleasure and joy    poured into cups
Brewster's secrets    secure in her breast
Wise is the woman    such wonders can work   

Google Penance: Mi Contra Fa

"Google penance" is a term Carl Pyrdum of Got Medieval? uses to denote when he has written a post inspired by a Google search that brought a reader fruitlessly to his website.

For example, I get a fair number of hits from people looking for "Anglo Saxon riddle kids."  I actually have an article on Anglo-Saxon riddles for children posted, so that's a good hit.  But I also get people searching for "mi contra fa." 

Now, if they're looking for this blog, that's a good hit.  But if they're looking for information on the tritone, they are out of luck.  I have a whole site named "Mi Contra Fa" and I never once explain what it means.

For this oversight, I do Google penance.

It's pretty simple in this case, since there's a Wikipedia article that summarizes most of the relevant information and debunks the "devil in music" thing at the same time.  "Mi contra fa," or "the note mi played against the note fa" is the tritone, an augmented fourth or diminished fifth, the interval between (for example) F and B.  It's dissonant - really dissonant - and it was considered good musical practice in the Middle Ages to avoid it.  However, we don't have a single scrap of evidence to support the idea that people really believed that playing it summoned the devil or was an act of evil.  It just sounded nasty.

Now, someone out there is going through their "Do, a Deer" and wondering how in the world mi and fa can be an augmented fourth apart.  Do, re, mi, fa... that's a major or minor second, right?  They are right next to each other!  In what world does B follow F in a musical scale?

In the world of hexachords, and even then, not directly.  Medieval musical theory wasn't based on octaves and major and minor scales.  It was based on hexachords - six notes long, rather than the octave's eight - and modes.  But yet, the octave was recognized as the perfect interval.  How did you compose music if your 'octave,' this hexachord thing, didn't contain the octave?

You switched hexachords.  There are three of them, see, each one patterned "tone-tone-semitone-tone-tone."  That got you, in a world of mostly diatonic instruments:

CDEFGA
FGA(Bflat)CD
GABCDE

Now, when you sing "Do, a Deer," you don't necessarily know what key you're in, right?  You do know that the tonic, the base note that structures the piece, is going to be "Do."  That's its name, no matter what note you're actually singing.

The same is true for each of the three hexachords.  If I'm in the natural hexachord (the one starting on C), C is do.  if I'm in the soft hexachord (the one starting on F), F is do.

Note that in the natural hexachord, F is fa.  And in the hard hexachord (the one starting on G), B is mi.

Mi contra fa - augh, the tritone!  There it is!  And that's why in the soft hexachord, the only one that would naturally contain an F and a B, the B is flattened (or softened, and hence the name of the hexachord).

Birthday Poeta Report

The "Legendary History of Storvik" competition was as successful as the Sapphire Joust one.  We had three entries, all excellent:

• A runo from Sir Axel's Atlantiavala concerning the Assessment Battle in '81, between Storvik and Sacred Stone.  Most historical, and in a northern European (although not Nordic) meter.
• An edda from Lady Swannoc about how Storvik was formed and populated by maggots-turned-to-men from the rotten hand of the giant Storverk.  Very much rooted in Norse mythology with a staggering number of allusions and kennings, although related in the style of an English translation rather than in metered verse.*
• Another edda from Master Igor about Sir Volodimir of Cambion's battle with and consumption of the Midgard Lobster up in Carolingia.  Sprinkled with modern allusions but applied some kennings and did use fornyrðislag meter.

A panel of judges consisting of her Majesty Queen Kalisa, her Excellency Baroness Janina and myself, after much gnashing of teeth, settled on Sir Axel as the winner of the day's prize.  But Baroness Janina had on hand some handsome stoneware mugs and goblets we offered to the other two performers in view of their excellence.

No, seriously.  Atlantia can really write itself some poetry, folks.  I'm not just tossing around "excellent" because That's What You Do.  As a perfectionist, authenticity geek, poet and performer, I was Seriously Impressed.  (All three poems were performed aloud for the judges, with Master Igor doing a stunning Sir Axel impression.)

I darted off-site for an hour and a half to make copies of all of the entries and put them into nice report covers.  All the contributors got/will get a copy; the office of Poeta Atlantiae will keep one; and the others were passed out to Storvik's baronage, past and present.  The poems were recited again at feast.

For the record, I generally dislike feast performances, but court was too busy.  I think they were as well-received as a feast performance is likely to be.

*I still often feel like medieval poetry should sound like free verse, because I've read so many free verse translations of medieval poetry!

My first comment spam!

"not a very nice love dances a lifestyle waive thank style good."

It's... it's almost like a demented haiku.

Storvik Poem: Documentation

I got most of the documentation done last night, hurray!  Writing the "Results" section brought a few inelegances in the poem to my attention, and I hope to deal with those before the weekend.

Yes, I'm writing documentation even though I'm not entering the poem into competition.

Update: Behold, the revised lay and also the documentation!

Storvik-poem-thing: Documentation

I'm not really sure "kvitha" is the right name for what I've written (although "Storvikkvitha" sounds mighty cool).  This list of poems in the Poetic Edda suggests that it would be hard to go wrong with "mál" instead... or less pretentiously, just call it "The Lay of Storvik's First Ruler" or some such.

Wikipedia on Old Norse Poetry:

"The Eddaic poems have the following characteristics.

• The author is always anonymous.
• The meter is simple, fornyrðislag, málaháttr or ljóðaháttr.
• The word order is usually relatively straightforward.
• Kennings are used sparingly and opaque ones are rare."

I'd say (apart from not being anonymous) I'm good with these.

Wikipedia on Fornyrðislag:

"A verse form close to that of Beowulf existed in runestones and in the Old Norse Eddas; in Norse, it was called fornyrðislag, which means "past-words-made" or "way of ancient words". The Norse poets tended to break up their verses into stanzas of from two to eight lines (or more), rather than writing continuous verse after the Old English model. The loss of unstressed syllables made these verses seem denser and more emphatic. The Norse poets, unlike the Old English poets, tended to make each line a complete syntactic unit, avoiding enjambment where a thought begun on one line continues through the following lines; only seldom do they begin a new sentence in the second half-line... Fornyrðislag has two lifts per half line, with two or three (sometimes one) unstressed syllables. At least two lifts, usually three, alliterate, always including the main stave (the first lift of the second half-line). It had a variant form called málaháttr ("speech meter"), which adds an unstressed syllable to each half-line, making six to eight (sometimes up to ten) unstressed syllables per line."

I think I mostly avoid enjambment; I need to vet the poem for that and to count stresses.

Arnaut and Karkur's Prosody Guide:

"Fornyrðislag : This metre, along with málaháttr is the most common in ancient German, Anglo-Saxon and Norse-Icelandic poetry. Fornyrðislag verses have four syllables. The original Germanic metre was not strictly syllable-counting, but followed rules that were distinct from those of verse in the classic and modern languages of the rest of Europe. These metres have lived to the present day in Iceland, but have been affected in various ways by developments in pronunciation.

The metre fornyrðislag is known from 700 A.D. in England: Beowulf is an example; it's also found in German poetry from the 8^th century and in Swedish runes from the 9^th century. At first it was rather unclear, but in later poems the form is more strict, each stanza having eight lines (in German and English poetry it has four lines).

Two lines are connected by alliteration to form pairs: .... That creates the base unit of the metrical structure. In the a-line two syllables may alliterate with one syllable in the b-line.... It can also be just one syllable in the a-line: ... But in the b-line readers always find a second non-alliterating syllable to put stress on, matching the second stressed syllable (often alliterating) of the a-line." (emphasis mine)

This rule is not the same as that in the Wikipedia entry.  Lacking as I do firsthand experience with the eddas, I tend to lean towards the Wiki version.  It mirrors the structure of Anglo-Saxon alliterative poetry more closely, and that makes more sense (given the other borrows between the cultures, particularly in the realm of myth, legend, poetry and so on).

Storvikkvitha: Draft

Still needs reworked, meter checked, etc.

When Seanan was king
Seagate his shire
In Eastern kingdom
Keeping at bay
Tithe-taking monster
Marauder in April
Strong baron needed
To needle this foe

Why compete?

Yesterday, the lovely and talented Lady Patricia of Trakai dropped by the blog to leave a comment.  And it got me to thinking.

First, for the record, although I am writing an eddic-style poem on early Storvik history, I'm not competing in the competition I'm sponsoring.  It's for display only, and if their Excellencies have the time and inclination, for the amusement of the populace at court.

But past that... why compete?  In general, it's a good bet that there's someone better than you entering the competition, just because we have so many awesomely dedicated and talented artisans in the SCA.  Unless you know yourself to be the go-to person for a particular art or science, there's the distinct possibility that you could be up against the go-to person.

1. Winning really isn't everything.  I give our fighters, heavy and rapier, and our archers a lot of credit here.  Newbies or old pros, they compete in tournaments where, by luck of the draw, they could be up against someone with decades more experience.  But they do it because it's fun.  Hopefully, doing and exhibiting your art is fun, too.

It's absolutely intimidating to take your first sally into an art or craft and show it off to everyone.  But honestly, most people in the SCA don't bite.  We have a few meanies, but you are much more likely to find someone who will congratulate you on what you did right, offer you resources to continue your work, possibly want to start a local interest group with you (!), and will gently point out areas for improvement.  The artisan community is usually full of bright and curious people who are a lot of fun, and competitions are a good introduction to meeting them and having more fun.

2. Competitions can be goals.  Goal-setting, and follow-through, is one of those magical life skills that's supposed to help you solve all your problems.  Well, that's asking a lot of it, but it sure does help sometimes.  And for many people, an externally-set goal, with an external, hard deadline, is more real and compelling than one they set for themselves.  Preparing for a competition can be the kick in the pants that gets you to finally finish a project and finally write up your documentation.

3. Feedback helps growth.  The Flying Butt Monkey Institute of Statistics calculates that 90% of all A&S competitions provide those little feedback sheets to competitors.  The quality of the feedback can vary, but I've never received another point of view that I just tossed aside as worthless.  Even if you don't agree with the assessment, it's good to know how your work is being viewed by others.

4.  If a stitch is embroidered in your house, does anybody else see it?  If you are hoping for recognition in your field - not necessarily awards, but just a general awareness in your local area that you do Craft ABC and might be interested in working groups, or could talk to a newcomer about it, and so on - it helps to actually put examples of Craft ABC with your name on them out on a table so people can see it.  (And it does help with awards.  They can't give you one if they don't know about your skills.)

5.  Win your own personal contest.  Sometimes, you might know if you took second or third place in a competition.  Sometimes, you won't.  Always, you can compare your scoring sheet to your previous one.  Did you address the judges' concerns from last time? Make improvements?  Maybe just entering the contest is a personal win, or you set a goal to provide more than basic documentation and did it.  You can use competitions as motivators to your own goals, not necessarily the obvious goal of winning the blue ribbon.

Why Not to Compete

1.  Less than perfect feedback depresses you.  If you know you don't want to hear about your own shortcomings, if that will send you into a week(s)-long funk... it's not worth it.  Arguably, being able to accept constructive criticism is a good trait but... that's for you to work out on your own.  If right now, today, it would deeply upset you, don't go looking for that.

2.  You're already strongly goal-oriented, and the competition does not further your goals.  You can spend a lot of time chasing competition themes and not make any progress on the work that interests you.  Plan accordingly.

3.  You're not strongly goal-oriented, and the competition does not further your goals. This is harder to diagnose.  If you feel like you've been doing Craft ABC for a few years now, but you're not much better at it and you don't know where you're going with it, sit back and see if chasing competitions has made other, unstated goals take a backseat.  See if you can state those goals that you really feel that you want to pursue, and ignore the competitions that would deny you the chance to work on them.

4.  Your entry is nowhere near complete.  It's one thing to show a work in progress; that can be kind of neat.  It's another to enter some design sketches and a Wikipedia entry and call it "research in progress."  If your project just needs hemmed or sanded or otherwise have a few finishing touches done, I'd say go ahead and enter it.  If it's barely started, it's really not ready yet.

Poem draft done!

Not online yet, but done.  And about the right length.  I don't get to chat up the horrible April tithe-collecting monster that Storvik keeps in check as much as I'd like to, but c'est la vie.

I've almost finished reading The Sagas of the Warrior-Poets, which are prose.  They frequently feature the legal arbitration that was a part of Icelandic life.  (If the arbitration failed, there was usually a duel instead.)  That's a nice mirror of the story I'm telling, in which the king must decide between two candidates for baron without inciting bloodshed.  (Of course, I think the Icelandic arbitration comes partly out of them not having a king to lay down such decisions autocratically, but...)  Rather than the tit-for-tat calculus featured in the sagas ("This insult counters that insult, and this attack is offset by that seduction of his wife, but you killed his pig so fork over an ounce of silver"), there's a coin-toss, but hey, that's how it happened!

I found out that my copy of the Prose Edda (the softcover version of this edition) is abridged!  It doesn't include the types of meters at all.  I will have to go out and hunt down something more complete.