Mi Contra Fa

Kalevala Runo 3: The Singing Contest

My resolution to practice my harp again has mostly been working.  Keeping it very very limited in scope seems to have helped me actually do it.  So hurray!  Now to see if I can keep it up through the rest of the holidays.

My approach was to take one new period (or in this case, period appropriate) song to learn, and one of the ap Huw song structures to learn.  And the song I picked was "Vaka vanha Vainamoinen," from Lani Thompson's My Kantele Is My Teacher.  (I sneakily thought that a 5-note kantele tune on harp might then also get ported over to lyre.)  It's a Kalevala tune.

The Kalevala is the national folk epic of Finland.  It was collected and collated in the early 1800s.  No single singer ever sat down and performed the Kalevala, start to finish. Rather, Elias Lönnrot (the collector) gathered the songs of many poem singers and shaped them into a single coherent whole - sort of like what Thomas Malory did for the Arthur legends.  

Thompson helpfully included some of the lyrics for the tune - in Finnish.  I Googled them, and came up with... more Finnish lyrics.  But a touch of Google Translate helped me correlate the runo to John Martin Crawford's 1888 translation over at sacred-texts.com.  It appears to be Runo 3, about a young hotheaded rune singer who challenges the hero-god figure Vainamoinen to a musical duel. The translation isn't alliterative, like the original, nor rhyming, but it does scan in the original meter.  So I could sing it to the music that I have.

Now it also happens that I have The Kalevala Heritage, which contains old recordings of Kalevala singers (some were recorded on wax cylinders!).  And track 9, "The Singing Contest," is the same tune as the kantele tune I have.  The lyrics are not identical with the "official" Kalevala, but I'm not surprised by that.  Lönnrot included one "authoritative" version of the runo, but naturally it exists in different forms and lengths in the wild.

So I'm fairly well convinced that I've correctly matched the tune to the poem.  Next problem: Thompson gives three lines of a melody, each line 32 notes/syllables long.  Each line matches a Kalevala verse.  So I could sing three verses to the music I have.  Do those three verses have to all be part of a larger uber-verse?  That would really limit the ways in which I could cut down and re-organize this for performance.

Facebook to the rescue!  The Atlantian Bards and Performer's Guild page got me in touch with Hakon of Ponte Alto, who has also been studying Kalevala performance.  He said his impression was that you'd just keep cycling the verses through the available melodies, without worrying about matching groups of three verses.

After that, reading some of the liner notes to "The Kalevala Heritage" and also the notes on "From the Land of the Kalevala," I learned some more about the performance of the runos.  They were performed by pairs of singers, a master and an apprentice (more or less - a more and a less skilled performer).  The master would sing a verse, and the apprentice would repeat it - giving the master time to recall the next verse and possibly plan variations on the melody (as is done in other folk oral epic traditions, and I really need to write up my references for those). I listened carefully to my recording of "The Singing Contest," and it actually seemed like the three lines of music collapsed into one or two lines of music by the end.  I'll have to listen a few more times, but it may be the first verse Thompson gives was only sung once, at the very start of the runo (at least, by this particular singer for that particular performance).

Finally, lyrics.  The Crawford translation ran 16 pages when I put it into a Google doc.  I began cutting.  There was a definite tension - repetition is a huge poetic feature of the Kalevala, and yet repetitions are also the easiest things to cut!  I tried to leave a few in for flavor, but removed most.  I removed most of Joukahainen's lame attempts at wisdom (because that seriously went on for pages); I removed his mother warning him not to fight Vainamoinen; with sad heart, I removed the verse where Vainamoinen pretty much calls him a little punk and a bad driver, and to get off his lawn/road.  But after I got it down to 45 verses that I thought told the whole story, I went back with a razor and managed to get it down to 30.  That's about where my "Matty Groves" comes in.

Aaaand that's when I realized that this had gone well past "harp practice" and was becoming "major performance development project" and thought I should put up a few notes on what was going on. 

Hall-Builders

Written when Badouin and Grielle stepped down from the thrones of Storvik in July 2016. They had overseen several upgrades to the baronial infrastructure, including heated showers and the purchase of new thrones.

 

Ancient barony old and honored

High hall raised up long ages ago

The gold-gleam dimmed the gables worm-eaten

Glory dressed in garments faded

 

Badouin and Griele have built their fame

Storvik’s hall stands strong, well-timbered

Dragons guard doors grand and iron-banded

Thick walls of oak ward against winter

 

Tapestries tell the tales of our land

Bold heroes’ deeds high-hanging in hall

Firelight flickers fine fellowship calls

 

Our lord and lady on ash-hewn high seats

A lasting legacy left for their heirs

For bold Badouin And gentle Griele

New hall on high hill brave one’s bright beacon

Pennsic XLV: Bardic report

It was a good War for bardic for me.  I want to remember what happened, when, and what I learned, so I am writing it down.  I'm not going to brag, but I am going to note what I accomplished.

Saturday: I taught my 'Developing Historically-Informed Performance' class. It was reasonably well-attended (10-12 people?) and the students were engaged. Two people (including Master Efenwealt) told me they'll be stealing the class notes to teach students of their own.  Sweet!

Saturday night may have been the night Lord Richard Wyn requested 'To Put the Devil Into Hell.'  That would be the first time someone has asked me to do one of my period pieces, I think. Yay!

I stopped in to visit Mistress Dervila, who unfortunately and unfairly broke her ankle at War.  Her husband Thomas Drum-Maker and Baron Talorgen were there as well, and we had a bit of a mini-bardic for a while.  Along the way, I mentioned the Irish saint and the otter story I wanted to put together, but was having a hard time getting to gel.  She asked when the last time I read the source material was; I guessed a few months. She said that was about the right amount of time to get some distance from it, so I could re-imagine it as the story I wanted to tell.  What was the point?  I protested that figuring out the point was my problem, but after a few days of ruminating on it (with 'permission,' as it were, to deviate from the source), I feel like I'm making progress. So it was really very good and helpful advice.

Sunday: I did 'Beowulf challenged by the coast guard' for the Atlantian Royal Bardic circle. I used my lyre (not the harp, which I've practiced with more), and the sleeve of my red cote kept buzzing against one of the strings (which at least two people noticed).  Anyhoo.  Master Rhuaidhri suggested that, although many people at this circle got the reference and where this was from, and that it was really cool, I might want to go with a more visceral battle scene to grab the attention of the non-English majors in the crowd.  We spoke more on Tuesday, and he had very good advice on appealing to the kinesthetic learners in the crowd.  I respond well to images (I am hugely visually oriented) and also sounds, so that's where I tend to go.  But there are people for whom images are just a big pile of 'meh,' and they need to hear how things feel in the body.  "Show, don't tell," in other words, but a much more targeted take on it.

A lady performed a song she later told me was for the Gulf Wars War Bard competition.  Not being a fighter but rather a waterbearer, she wrote a piece from the point of view of a female camp follower, a medic.  She sang it as a fight song - fighting to save soldiers' lives - with as much passion and determination as any war song might have.  I got shivers.  We get some songs about service and kind deeds, but not generally ones that make it so outright heroic.  I hurried over afterwards to let her know how much I liked the song, and gave her the pin suite I was wearing.  Alas, kinda useless if you're not wearing 7th century Kentish, but I was out of other tokens in my bag.

I also took Magistra Fiona of Clare's class 'Introduction to Old English.'  Excellent class - not only did she hit the expected notes of how to pronounce which letters and such, but she explained some of the tricks you need to navigate the glossaries.  That's gold, right there.  I did not get to attend her poetry class, but I mean to email her to ask for the handout.

Monday: Southwind bardic was this night.I read "The Saga of Fishflinger" early, cold out of my book, for the heck of it.  It got some laughs, but I got reminded why I shouldn't perform things I haven't practiced. I'm good, but I'm not that good.  The performance was adequate but not really skilled.  As the evening went on, the atmosphere got a little downbeat. There were many quite excellent performances of new material people had composed, but there was nothing for the audience to do.  So, after checking that this would please my host and Pelican, I did 'The Rattlin' Bog.'  On Tuesday, I learned that this effort had garnered me a nomination for sainthood. XD  The past two nights of bardic brought me to a new theory of Pennsic bardic:

The Internet and associated technologies have made it easier than ever for bards to write and share new material.  Bards who have written their own material, or learned interesting new material, are generally justifiably proud of this work, and they want to display/perform it.  Add to this a large bardic circle, where you may only get one or two chances to perform, at the largest event in the Known World, with many Notable People in attendance.  You will, naturally, reach for these pieces you've worked so hard on that you want to share.  And there is nothing wrong with that.

However, if you're one of the audience members who wants nothing more than to shout "MacIntyre!" at odd intervals, this is not going to be very entertaining.  More on this under Wednesday.

Monday was also Poetry Day in Artisan's Row.  I stopped by and chatted for a bit with Lady Katarzyna Witkowska (who was organizing it), Master Cerian Cantwr, and Master Olivier de Bayonne. It was good to finally put a face to Master Olivier's name.  The Known World Poetry Competition was canceled on account of mine being the only entry, but we sat and chatted for a while.  Lady Katarzyna requested a poem from those departing; Master Cerian warned us of the dangerous Polar Cow.  I recited 'I Drank of Mnemosyne,' which I had printed out from the replacement for Mystic Mail, so that I could perform it at the Depressing Song Competition.  Master Olivier gifted me a token, which greatly lifted my spirit.  The pieces I write for competitions frequently don't turn out so well (because they're written to spec rather than from the heart) so it was heartening that this one was well-received.

Tuesday: I ran through 'Mnemosyne' in my camp a few times, trying to see if I could get the music out well enough.  It didn't settle down to a single tune,  but it seemed to have a pretty solid musical idea that I was improvising on fairly well.  I waffled on whether or not to go ahead with it, but - I'm the one who wants to go toward improvisational music and even poetry composed on the instant.  Let's see how it goes!

 So I took the Pennsic Main Stage for the second time (I thought it was the first time, but no - I did my 'Beowulf' for the KW Harp Celebration last year) and improvised away. I had the lyrics in my hand, but only needed to consult them occasionally.  There were one, maybe two phrases where the music didn't land as solidly as I would have liked, but overall - I felt like it went very well.  I think I emoted and gestured without overdoing - easier on such a downer piece than the peppy ones, where I can get spastic pretty quickly.  I thought I saw at least one person wiping away tears.  A friend was in the audience, and afterwards, he asked if that was "Alzheimer's, but for the SCA."  So that aspect of it is getting through.  I made 4th place (in a field of eight or nine entrants)!  But even more squee-inducing - the 3rd place winner was a lady from far Lochac with a stupendous voice and fantastic presence.  She accepted the accolade, but couldn't take her actual physical prize on her return journey - so she turned and  gave it to me.  So very sweet of her.

Snake and coffin

 

I also learned an important lesson in discernment at the Windmaster's Bardic and Peep Sacrifice. 

Wednesday: Children's Fete. Two and a half hours of performing in a huge noisy barn. Master Rhuaidhri and Mistress Fevronia undoubtedly carried the afternoon with their amazing projection skills.  I think I managed some volume and managed to not destroy my voice. I really need to get some classes for improving projection and volume.

Wednesday was also the Bardic Symposium session where I was a panelist: Authenticity.  The two-hour discussion seemed to come down to Don't Be A Jerk, Stop Jerks from Jerking, and Lead By Example.  'Don't Be a Jerk' covers any and all performers who poop all over other people's performances - for being too period or too not-period - to make themselves feel better.  'Stop Jerks' encouraged bystanders who might be witnessing the Jerk in the process of pooping to step up and intervene.  And 'Lead By Example' meant that, whatever your feelings on performance and authenticity, you should do the thing you want to see done and do it so well it looks cool.

There was a second strain that ran through the conversation.  At first blush, it was the old 'fun vs. authenticity' problem, but Lady Lorelei of Skye clarified it. In addition to bardic being an art that we can re-create in a historical fashion, it is also a social function.  Like at the Southwind bardic, the general non-performing public wants certain things from bardic circles. If we stop providing them, we risk marginalizing the bardic community.  On the other hand, we are an educational organization, and as artists with an interest in historical performance, we want to do those things, too.  There was much talk of 'proper performances in their proper places,' implying that 'fun' and 'authenticity' have to stay in their separate boxes.

Nothing wrong with focused bardics.  But I think I'd like to see general bardics with better balance.  Old standards plus new art. The thing there is, this isn't like putting together an album or even a playlist for a singalong, where one person engineers the tempo of fast/slow, fun/serious performances.  You've got a mixed group of performers. If the circle is big and the performances are long, you get everyone pulling out their Most Impressive Piece, which will generally tilt the thing toward the serious and slow, and away from the Old Chestnut Standards.  Keeping it smaller and faster-moving, and you'll have more room for variety.

Thursday: The humidity was making the heat just unbearable, and I left War early. I had to cancel the Lyre Roundtable, which I regretted, but I was feeling pretty miserable.  In the car, I thought some more about St. Kevin and the Otter (currently entertaining a version of Goose that Laid the Golden Egg, or else a parable on the hazards of self-denial).  I was also struck with the thought to write a song about the frankly amazing ability the fighters (of all kinds) have to tolerate said evil heat and humidity.  I got a draft refrain figured out somewhere on I-79.

I'm icky and I'm sticky, I'm sweaty and I'm hot
The dew point's up to eighty and my energy is shot
Wearing armor in this weather is really no mean feat
Fighters, can you tell me, how have you beat this heat?

 

Beowulf at KASF

Huzzah for Lady Sophia the Orange, who arranged to videotape the entire KASF Performing Arts exhibition!

This here's my bit of Beowulf.  I got up my courage to watch it, and hey - I'm pretty good!  (Need to learn not to watch the harp so much.) The entire thing is worth watching, but if you click the video below, it'll start right at Beowulf.

 

Alliterative poetry as mnemonic

Bit of a realization in the car today -

Among other features, Old English poetry has two things that show up sometimes:

• Enjambment is when an idea doesn't complete in a single poetic line and rolls down to the next line.  The Anglo-Saxons were fond of it, much moreso than, say, Continental folks composing in rhyming couplets. Most couplets are self-contained ("end-stopped"). 
• I don't know if this has a name, but I'll call it 'line-linked alliteration.'  In OE verse, the first OR second stressed syllable of the line MUST alliterate with the third, but everything else is up for grabs. However, sometimes the fourth and final stressed syllable is alliterated with one of the initial stresses of the next line.

I have a ten-minute chunk of Beowulf I've performed from memory, and you know - these two things are immensely useful in performance.  Lines that are both end-stopped and not line-linked can get detached in memory, sort of floating as independent, self-contained objects.  Sometimes the action helps to sort them out (enjambment at a macro, narrative level: the ship has to land before the sailors can meet the coast guard), but if I'm in the middle of one of those long, descriptive passages that's going on about elements of war-gear or something, it's really easy to forget if it's stout shields and glittering mail or glittering mail and stout shields.

It doesn't have to be both - either works as a mnemonic aid.  Either the alliteration helps disambiguate which of several possible lines comes next ('this line ended with 'high-crested helmets shining', so the next line must be the 'stout shields') or the enjambment creates a logical connection. 

That is slightly weird, since when I'm doing 'To Put the Devil into Hell,' it's the lines with enjambment that always throw me.  But that's a rhymed poem, where the mnemonic is enhanced when the end-of-line sound and the end-of-line meaning coincide.  Maybe?  Yes, I think that's it. Here, an example:

Until one day some men did come
To see where Abilech had run
Her home had burned and family died
And she was now a rich young bride
A man of power wished to wed.
They took her to that town she'd fled,
To Rustico's profound relief.
But Abilech wailed out her grief:
"However shall I serve God now?
I'll never take a wedding vow
It keeps the devil out of hell."
"Oh Abilech, you don't sound well,"
Said all the ladies of the town.
So she explained, with sigh and frown,
About her favorite holy work.
And all the ladies' ears did perk!

The first two couplets? No problem.  I start to get into trouble at the third (fled/wed) but can usually handle it - they can almost stand alone, after all.  But the next couplet, where we resolve Rustico's thoughts and open up Abilech's? It always feels so weird when I get there.  The thought is supposed to end on the rhyme!  And this doesn't! It's just all hanging there, waiting for the next couplet.  And then again, with hell/well - Abilech's words end, and the ladies of the town start talking in the middle of Abilech's couplet!  And then it switches again in town/frown.  And again, with work/perk.  I always get a little tense at this point in the performance, and it never resolves until after "ears did perk," because strong end-stopping starts again after that point.

I guess it's the difference between linking things by initial and ending sounds.

In Service to the Dream

A poem in ballad form, written on the occasion of the Fiftieth Year of the Society, on the theme "Threads of Gold," as requested by Lady Katarzyna Witkowska, Poeta Atlantiae, for entry into the Knowne World Poetry Competition at Pennsic XLIV (August 2015)

 

The queen called in her steward good

Before the queen he stands

It’s many years he’s served her well

And heeded her commands

 

“It’s fifty years ago,” she said

“When first you did find me

Alone there in darkened wood

As lost as lost could be.

 

“You took me in and raised me up

A lady of me made

This hall you built and peopled it

The best of souls have stayed.

 

“An empress I, of kingdoms wide

That reach from East to West.

You got them all for me, my lord;

Of stewards, you are the best.

“You won them not by force of arms

Instead by strength of heart,

In all my lands, we have no war

There’s peace in every part.

 

“For fifty years, you’ve served me well

And brought me golden fame

All o’er the world, my praises sung

Now many know my name.

 

“You are the one who told my tale

And made sing all the bards

For this, today, my faithful steward,

I’d give you a reward.”

 

The steward made to answer her,

“I ask for nought, my queen,

It’s been my honor and my joy

To serve yourself, the Dream.

 

“I am no soldier, conquering far -

Those kingdoms, East to West,

Looked on your face, and knew at once,

To serve you was their quest.

 

“I do not prompt the bards to sing

With harp and joy and mirth;

They simply see, with their own eyes,

Your beauty and your worth.

 

“In serving you, I have found honor

And treasures of the mind,

But the pay that I’ve loved best

Are folk both good and kind.

 

“They gather in your service,

All these kindred souls,

Their company I’d not exchange

For silver or for gold.”

 

The queen, the Dream, she smiled down,

“So good and humble, too;

But my steward, it would me please

To give a gift to you.”

 

“If it please you, lady,

I shall not say you nay.”

“Then come here, my gracious steward,

Come here without delay.”

 

She’s made a banner for the steward

All made by her own hand

It gleams with threads of purest gold

Sewn down with silken bands

 

A field of gold with greeney leaves

All in a laurel wreath

It hangs from off a standard tall;

The steward stands underneath

 

“I’ll treasure it, my lady fair,”

Replied the valiant steward,

“No gemstones I’ll prize more than this;

Your flag I’ll keep and guard.

 

“I’ll keep and guard your flag, my queen,

In darkness and in sun,

For fifty years, then fifty more

Til all our days are done.”

 

Documentation (Such as it is)

 

My muse, my skill, and my timeline couldn’t agree on this one.  I did an A&S project on Anglo-Saxon goldworked pennons back in October, and I’m good with Old English verse.  But the lady/steward conversation, and particularly the steward’s initial refusal of reward, doesn’t fit with the mead hall ethos.  It felt like it would work better as a troubador lai.  But then I got to be in a hurry to write it for the deadline, and when I sat down, a ballad came out.

 

Ballads, rhyming poems in English with an ABCB scheme and (roughly - there are many exceptions) 8-6-8-6 iambic meter, date back to the 15th century.

 

I scoured Master Gregory Blount’s Sixteenth Century Ballad site for some references to back this piece up.  Ballads cover a lot of ground - love songs, songs about Queen Elizabeth, bawdy songs, anti-papist songs.  Without pretending to do a survey of common tropes or themes, I did find one example of a dialogue between a lord and lady, and an example of two abstract ideals conversing.

 

“A handful of pleasant delights, containing sundry new sonnets and delectable histories in divers kinds of metre &c,” originally published in 1584 by Clement Robinson and “divers others,” was edited and republished by Edward Arber in 1878.  On pages 7-8, it includes “L. Gibsons Taranta, wherin Danea welcommeth come her Lord Diophon from the war.”  The husband and wife heap mutual praise on each other, much like my steward and his Queen Dream.  It also serves as an example of sketchy meter, with lines taking the 8-6-8-6 syllable count more as guidelines than rules.  (It also features a chorus of onomatopoeic horn sounds.)  An extract from the middle of the poem serves as an example:

 

“...A ioifull sight my hearts delight,

    my Diophon deere:

Thy comely grace, I do embrace,

    with ioiful cheere:

Tantara tara tantara,

    what pleasant sound this is,

Which brought to me with victorie,

    my ioy and onely blisse.

        Tantara tara tantara, &c.

Diophon.

 

My Queene and wife, my ioy and life

    in whome I mind:

In euery part, the trustiest hart,

    that man can finde.

Tantara tara tantara,

    me thinks I hear your praise,

Your vertues race in euerie place,

    which trumpet so doth raise.

        Tantara tara tantara, &c.

[Danea.]

 

Now welcome home to Siria soile,

    from battered field:

That valiantly thy foes did foile,

    with spear and shield:

Tantara tara tantara,

    me thinks I heare it still

They sounding praise, abroad to raise,

    with trump that is most shrill,

        Tantara tara tantara, &c.

 

Thomas Deloney lived in the 16th and 17th centuries, and the next example comes from one of his slightly post-period publications.  “The Garland of Good Will” was originally published in 1631.  Master Gregory makes available a scan of a transcription of the 1631 original printed in 1912, edited by F. O. Mann and published by Oxford University Press.  One of the ballads in it is “A pleasant Dialogue betweene plaine Truth, and blind Ignorance,” which shows two allegorical figures having a conversation.  Since my ballad is largely a conversation between two allegorical figures (The Dream and The SCA), I include an excerpt from it as documentation.  (The transcription has some odd spellings; I’m not sure if that’s a feature of the original, to make Ignorance talk in dialect, or if it’s an attempt to render old fonts (like the long ‘s’ that looks like an ‘f’ to us) in modern type.)

Truth.

God speed you, aged Father,

and giue you a good day:

What is the cause I pray you,

so sadly here to stay:

And that you keepe such gazing

on this decaied place:

The which for superstition

good Princes downe did race.

 

Ignorance.

Chill tell thee by my vazonne

that sometime che haue knowne   

A vaire and goodly Abbey,

stand here of brick and stone:

And many holy Friers,

as ich may zay to thee:

Within these goodly Cloysters

che did full often zee.

 

Golden Banners

 

At least three goldworked banners are mentioned in Beowulf: burned for Scyld’s funeral, given to Beowulf by Hrothgar, and in the dragon’s hoard.  The famous French standard, the Oriflamme, literally means “golden flame,” and is depicted in art as a red banner with a golden sun or flame upon it.  Most extant examples of opus anglicanum, English goldwork, are ecclesiastical accoutrements, such as the Maniple and Stole of St. Cuthbert. It reached its height as an art form in the 12th-14th centuries, but ballads frequently dealt with antique subject matter (such as the ballads of Robin Hood).  

 

Goldwork is either done by surface couching gold threads to fabric (early) or using couching stitches to pull a small bubble of gold thread to the reverse of the fabric, creating a joint that makes the finished piece more flexible (later).  It’s a legitimate period embroidery using threads of gold.  

 

Sources

 

Greg Lindahl (Master Gregory Blount of Isenfir).  “Sixteenth Century Ballads.” http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/ballads/  

This is a collection of links to transcriptions or scans of extant ballads, or 19th century reprints of 16th cen. manuscripts.

 

A link to Master Gregory’s page for “A handful of pleasant delights, containing sundry new sonnets and delectable histories in divers kinds of metre &c”:

http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/ballads/handful.html

 

A link to the Archive.org scan of the book, open to the page where I got the poem:

“L. Gibsons Taranta, wherin Danea welcommeth come her Lord Diophon from the war.”

https://archive.org/stream/handfulofpleasan00robiuoft#page/16/mode/2up

 

The 1912 transcription of the 1631 “Garland of Good Will”:

http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/deloney/goodwill/

 

My Chalice of the Sun God documentation on goldwork banners is at:

http://moeticae.typepad.com/files/star-spangledbanner.pdf

Jill Ivy. Embroideries at Durham Cathedral. Robert Attey and Sons: Sunderland, England, 1992.

Pennsic Report

It was a good war.  A bit odd for me - not one class given or taken!  But a good war.

Food Experiments Report

Bread: There are beehive ovens popping up all over Pennsic!  I was aware of at least three.  I did not get to the open Bread Day at Aethelmarc Royal, alas.  My own bread went fairly well.  I brought King Arthur bread flour, and it made a huge difference.  The loaves baked up much higher.  Loaf One sat directly on the coals and the bottom burnt to a crisp.  However, it was easy enough to cut pieces off, and it was tasty.  

Fresh baked bread at Pennsic

Loaf Two used foil balls inside the Dutch oven to elevate the springform bottom.  It rose so high it touched the lid, burning the top slightly.  The bottom only had a few scorch marks and was largely edible. Morgan felt this one was not as good as the first, although  I couldn't tell a difference.  Loaf Three used large (2") foil balls to support the oven above the coals, and this seemed to work the best of all.

I learned from Meisterin Johanna that when you thump bread, it should be on the bottom of the loaf.

In all cases, I used more coals than the recipe book called for - essentially, ALL the coals I used for the preheat.  I did arrange them in open circles, to prevent a central hot spot, but I did have ~15 on the bottom and ~30 on the top.

One-Pot Stews: My Eadric the Potter bowls worked great!  I did a (canned) chicken stew with fresh onion, carrot, potato, sage and parsley, and it was super-delicious.  Also surprisingly good was the bean dish - cannelloni beans, tomato paste thinned with enough chicken stock, onion, garlic, chopped summer sausage, and I think more parsley.  The Italian-accented shrimp and grits was the least good, but I still ate most of it - canned shrimp with lots of garlic, onion and some summer sausage (standing in for bacon) sauted in a lot of olive oil in one pot (on the Coleman stove - the others were done on coals) and then polenta cooked up and grated Parmesan cheese stirred in.  Put shrimp on top of polenta, stir in and serve.  The canned shrimp sort of shredded into a onion-y, garlicky protein gloop with occasional grits of sand.  There was too much polenta.  It wasn't bad, but it wasn't particularly good, either.

Espresso: I am currently of the opinion that a 2-cup espresso maker is the ideal camp coffee maker for one.  Strong coffee, fast!  Not so good if one were brewing for an entire camp.

Lunch Salads: Several days, I made salads of cold chopped stuff.  I brought a jar of "Sun of Italy" marinated mushrooms, and one of kalamata olives, and they were worth three times what I paid for them.  'Shrooms, olives, cannelloni beans, sausage, sharp cheese, and basil made a filling lunch.

Ice: For future reference: When it was warm-to-hot, the little cooler needs one 7-lb bag of ice per day. It was just big enough to hold a quart of milk, some bits of cheese, my yeast, and some leftovers (unused onion, beans, sausage).

Eaten/Uneaten:
Used up: 4-6 oz cheese, 1 summer sausage, 1 jar each mushrooms and olives, 1 can beans, 1/2 small can tomato paste, 1 onion, several carrots, 2 cans chicken, 1 can shrimp, ~6 garlic cloves, 1 'juice box' chicken broth, 1 quart milk, 1 lb. hazelnuts, 1/2 bag Post Shredded Wheat, 1/3 can Melitta coffee, most of a 5-lb bag of flour, yeast, salt, pepper, fresh herbs, 1/2 c. oats, cinnamon, 1/2 c. polenta, 3 snack bags of Cheez-Its.  Plus assorted snacks from Cooper Store.  1 32-pack of water.

Brought home: 1 can black beans, 1 can corned beef hash, 1 'juice box' vegetable stock, all the bulgur wheat, the rest of the oats, polenta, and bread flour, all the lentils, all the canned fish (sardines and anchovies - not brave enough to try them), unused coffee, cereal, extra lb. hazelnuts.  The other 32-pack of water.

Verdict: Overpacked on grains, but all told - not bad! Particularly pleased the cheese - which was carefully measured out as "whatever is in the fridge the day we leave" - lasted.

Special note: I never used the honey, and the ants found it.  Ziploc!

Camp Life Experiments Report

Bowl and Pitcher: THIS WAS THE BEST.  Simple, effective, not messy.  The sump was close enough that I just emptied the bowl each time, didn't use the slops bucket.  For modern hygiene purposes (e.g., hand washing after every bathroom trip), the sink with running water was easier/better.  But this worked well for morning/evening wash-ups in my own space.  Also good for washing the veggies!

Camping Pad: The Exped MegaMat 10 LXW only needed topping off once - the patch held all war.  (Huh, I didn't realize they had a 25" wide version.  That would have probably been enough for me.)  It does need a natural fiber layer between mat and me - a sheet did not cut it, so I used a folded-over length of wool.  One layer of Army blanket would do it.  The fitted sheet didn't really stay well-tucked, and the top sheet kept pulling up.  I think I should make some items with elastics to secure them, and/or which are sewn to each other.

Sleeping on the floor still works, but it is starting to get old.  A cot or rope bed might be something to look into.

Washing:  The microwave bacon tray made a reasonable washboard.  I only did a load of small items; this War wasn't sweltering, so I was able to re-wear big garments without stink.  Bras, I rinsed out in the shower each day, and that seemed to work.  It wasn't that much work, and I would do this again as a way to pack smaller.

Cooler Covers: Reed mats were meh.  Wooden hidey-boxes would look the best, but fabric covers (with that shiny insulation stuff?) would pack the best.  Or go Full Cariadoc and go without.

Stuff!: I could have left at home: mazers, glass drinking horn, cow drinking horn, 1 cloth drape (of 4 brought), RenFest chemise, violet tunic that doesn't quite fit, 1 or 2 fewer small baskets, most of the veils, some of the kitchen utensils

The pop-up and zero-g chair took the most space in the car, along with clothes; however, they contributed greatly to my comfort at War, and I am glad I brought them.  Kitchen stuff and fire stuff took the next most space; I can probably skinny that down, but not by more than 10-20%?  (Linkage to single-burner butane stoves and single-burner propane stoves. Only one burner on the ancient Coleman really works anyway - the other's more of a warmer.)

I am having vague ideas of multiple smallish A-frame canvas tents - one for adults, one for kids, one for gear? - and a tarp.  Have to see what can fit in a reasonable footprint.  Then we have a camp that's modular for our family - just me (one tent), me and Husband (sleeping tent + gear shelter), entire family (+ kid tent).

A&S Report

I was pressed into service to calligraph a poem for a young lady being taken as a squire.   First time I've actually used calligraphy for anything other than practice! (Or a really short dedication.)

Bardic Report

Beowulf: Crammed it all back into my head in time for performance on Wednesday at the Harp Symposium.  I felt it went really well!  I also did it, in parts, at the Atlantian Royal Bardic, and for Master Dolan Madoc of Calontir, in camp.  He had participated in other readings of Beowulf in the SCA, so one of my camp-mates brought him over to hear me.  In return, he told a wonderful story of William Marshall.  We really need more tales of history, and of the big period legends.

Southwind Bardic: We had a really great bardic in camp.  Yaakov kicked it off with his long-form story, which was very well-told and a lot of fun.  Then around and around we went.  We had everything from tales of Ye Olden Days in the SCA to some filks to period stuff to original compositions.  I got to take... 4 turns?  Which was enough that I didn't feel stifled, and not so much that I felt like I was running roughshod over it.  

Atlantian Royal Bardic: Great performers!  Most splendiferous site at War!  (See 'Their Majesties' New Camp,' below.)

Known World Poetry Competition: I got the days confused and thought this was on Tuesday, not Monday, and so missed it.  Master James informed me that he really liked my entry, but it lost by 4 points.  Considering how lousy my documentation was, I think that's fair!  Poeta got 4 entries, which sounds like a number similar to what I got when I did it, back in 2009ish.  Why can't poetry get more traction?

Known World Harp Symposium: Enjoyable as always.  Mistress Linette did a great job of wrangling the scheduled performers and the ad hoc sign-ups.  We had pure instrumental music, accompanied song, wire and nylon harps - and one great carbon-fiber harp! - and my recitation.  Some of the performers snuck in a bit of education/lecture, too.  Mistress Fevronia did 'Queen of Air and Darkness,' which I remember hearing at my first Pennsic.  Still gives me shivers.

UnLove Songs: At the Southwind Bardic, one storyteller commented that "the theme of the evening seems to be love."  And I thought about it, and no, it wasn't.  It was "Women as Reward" pieces - women who marry a man so he doesn't die of love, women handed out as prizes by their fathers.  (And I don't except myself from this theme, as I did 'The Perilous Bed,' wherein  the maiden is given to Sir Gawain by her father.)  So I think I want to write something poking at this.

Their Majesties' New Camp: We camped across from Atlantian Royal, the most glamorous and ornate encampment at War.  Knights in full regalia guarded the gate, which stood, turreted and tall, with archers upon it for defense.  Within lay carefully planned paths through a garden sprung up as if by magic, with picture-perfect pavilions flanking it.  An enormous camp kitchen housed a long trench of a fire, over which entire hogs and legs of beef turned on spits, while six Laurels prepared subtleties to amuse the eye and the tongue.  A full staff of heralds, trumpets in hand, announced each visitor flawlessly, with their complete and most accurate title and name, no matter where in the Known World they hailed from.  Before the thrones, perfectly well-behaved children, adorable in their tiny garb, played merry games while a consort of musicians played the songs of long ago.  Wandering minstrels recited poems and told stories, each a masterwork, neither too short nor too long, neither too dull nor too unseemly.  All this, and more!

You saw it too, didn't you?  Of course you did.  They say that such wonders could only be beheld by those true to the spirit of the Society, so I am sure a fine gentle such as yourself looked upon these marvels with a glad heart.

Oh yeah. This is gonna be a song.

Personal News

For my work as Storvik Chronicler, I was recognized with the Opal at Royal Court.

More importantly, on Tuesday evening, Meisterin Johanna accepted me as her protege.  

This might seem somewhat odd, as it did to me when she first suggested it.  After all, I do more art than service, I think.  But I am not looking for a Laurel.  Not because I think I have nothing left to learn - far from it! - but because I feel confident charting my own path on the voyage of learning it.  She proposed a more general mentoring relationship, and as I find much admirable about her, I thought it best to accept.  

I deeply, deeply hope this does not bother any of the other Peers whom I respect and admire.

 

AOI

In "The Song of Roland," after many (but not all) of the laisses, there comes a puzzling marking: AOI. I've seen it explained in several ways, out there on the Internets:

1. An exclamation like the joyful medieval "Eya!", although (given the number of different emotional contexts it occurs in) I would think it would have to be something like our modern "Oh!" which takes on many meanings depending on inflection.
2. A mistaken writing of "Am", short for "Amen." 
3. A notional relating to music.
4. A notation relating to performance (e.g., perform only the AOI laisses for a slightly shorter performance).
5. An exhortation to the audience to "Listen!"
6. A copyist's mark noting which laisses came from a version considered canonical by the copyist, and which came from other versions.

I have one more possibility to add.

If you sing "AOI" as "aou-EEE," on a rising fifth, it sounds very much like a horn.  You know, like the most famous medieval fictional horn, which features exactly in this chanson.

I think this ranks as more plausible than someone mis-spelling "Amen" dozens of times, but not as plausible as a copyist's or performer's notation. 

Roland for BotB

The theme for Battle on the Bay 2015 is "Normans," so I started poking around for a good verse translation of "The Song of Roland."  My copy from college is nice, and even poetic, but the poetry is free verse-like.

The first one I came across was this new translation, which comes in "normal edition" and "performance edition" - with the text broken up by speaker, for multi-person staging.  I looked at the Kindle previews and it seemed okay.  But in the course of looking for some reviews of it, I came across a mention of the poetic edition that preceded it.

Dorothy Sayers, it turns out, before inventing Lord Peter Whimsey, had an advanced degree in Old French.  And her verse translation of "The Song of Roland" is the Penguin Classics edition!  Some reviewer dinged it for the archaic terms she uses on occasion.  Now, I don't have any problem with "bliaut," but I admit that using "County" instead of "Count" (e.g., County Roland) threw me.  But you know what? That's readily fixed by changing "County" back to "Count."  It may throw off the syllable count of the line, but since there's no fixed meter, the audience will never know.

I've taken laisses 128 - 138 and edited them way down, to about 780 words.  (My 10-min "Beowulf" is 830 words, so this should be a reasonable length. We'll see how it goes as I rehearse it.)  "Roland" uses a lot of repetition as an emphasis device, so I cut a good deal of that out (but not all of it).  I edited out other references that didn't seem critical to get the word count down.

This part of the text is toward the end of the great battle, when all but 60 knights of France have fallen.  Roland asks Oliver how they can possibly inform Charlemagne of what's going on, and Oliver tells him off. (At the start of the battle, Oliver had suggested they signal the king, and now it's too late).  Archbishop Turpin reconciles them, and Roland blows Oliphant three times.  Each time, we cut away to Charlemagne, who hears it, but treacherous Ganelon downplays it.  Finally, another advisor tells Ganelon to cut the crap, and Charlemagne's troop (in a really scenic set of laisses) turns around and heads back - but they will not come in time! 

I am thinking harp accompaniment for this one - more appropriate for Norman era than the lyre.  A vielle would be the best, but I don't do bowed strings.  Maybe I'll try a tune to sing it to.  Something to work on at Pennsic!

Epics

I have this idea that I should do a big old series of story-songs.  Choosing the subject matter is the hard part.

• A few years ago, I wanted to do a Love Story cycle composed of translations of existing poems (Veni delectissime, Wulf and Eadwacer, Deor, Love's Longing, and The Husband's Message). They're all lyrics (I think), not narratives, but they look kind of like a story if you line them up and squint.
• Parts of the Heaney Beowulf.
• Eustace the Monk.  He's a swashbuckling monk-pirate-sorcerer-mercenary, and some version of him actually existed.
• Ditto on Hereward the Wake.  He was Robin Hood before Robin Hood was Robin Hood.
• I've already done a prose version of part of the Nibleung.  That whole cycle has tons and tons of stuff.
• Oh my gosh, I've been reading about the Merovingian Franks and they're like a freaking soap opera.  Even if you figure Brunhilde and Fredegunde were made 50-100% more villainous than they actually were by the churchmen they pissed off, they're still pretty amazing.