The Kidnapping of Badrielle

By THLaird Colyne Stewart, January AS 49 (2015)

Badrielle was stolen at Septentria’s Twelfth Night;

Adrielle’s eyes were burning with a vengeful fire.

Badrielle was stolen at Septentria’s Twelfth Night,

Stolen from her husband, the ducal northern knight;

Her students knew the matter to be of utmost dire;

Across the land soon many knew of the puppet’s plight

And friends and OAFs and strangers picked up weapons for a fight;

The duke set out to searching, sending forth his squire,

Who searched the hall and field and keep, the basement and the spire;

And guilty parties felt compelled to put to pen and write,

For they had taken her to drinking around a hearty pyre,

They prayed her Grace’s anger would therefore be slight,

Adrielle’s eyes were burning with a vengeful fire.

A fatras simple, halfway between being a fatras possible and a fatras impossible. Based on an event that occurred at Septentrian 12^th Night 2015. A well meaning prankster “kidnapped” Adrielle’s puppet alter-ego Badrielle, but failed to return her before the event ended. To say this made Adrielle’s hair stand on end would be an understatement. Badrielle is so well loved in Ealdormere (and in lands beyond) that many people were beginning to be upset. Thankfully, the “kidnapper” contacted Adrielle, and all was again well with the world. 

For Ysemay Sterlyng, on Becoming a Vigilant of the Order of the Laurel

By THLaird Colyne Stewart, January AS 49 (2015)

From Eastern lands

Glad tidings flow around the knowne worlde spann’d

For Ysemay Sterlyng’s deft and graceful hands

Glad tidings flow around the knowne worlde spann’d

For Eastern royals

Will glad increase the standing of Their Laurels

With Ysemay Sterlyng, both kind and loyal

Will glad increase the standing of Their Laurels

With Eastern grace

She stands a Peer, forever in her place

Bright Ysemay Sterlyng of the smiling face

She stands a Peer, forever in her place

Notes on the Piece

You’ll have to bear with me on this one. Ysemay is being made a Laurel for her knowledge of 16^th century Germany (an era I know nothing about). So, I looked into what kind of poetic traditions were common in that time and found the Meistersingers, guilds of professional poets and singers who lived by dozens if not hundreds of rules (Die Kunstausdrücke der Meistersinger, a rule book written in 1887, is almost 300 pages long).

I could only find basic information about the Meistersingers in English, so my attempt at writing lyrics in their style may be WAY off. Further research will have to discover how close or far I got.

Meistersingers apparently wrote their verse in three strophes (or stanzas). I could not find out what kind of strophe they used (as there are many kinds), so I based mine on a piece of musical notation I found for Veilchenweise by Hans Folz. The lyrics were not included so I could not see the rhyming scheme, but it did allow me to see exactly how the strophe was constructed from its parts. I decided to go with an AAAA BBBB CCCC rhyming scheme.

Each strophe was divided into two stollen (confusingly also referred to as stanzas, and collectively known as an aufgesang). They were followed by an abesang (the after-song). It was apparently not uncommon for the stollen to be of different lengths. Melodically, the abesang would mirror the end melody of the aufgesang. I have included this mirroring by repeating the second stollen as the last line of the abesang.

So, deconstructed, here is the first strophe of my poem:

Aufesang

[Stollen 1] From Eastern lands

[Stollen 2] Glad tidings flow around the knowne worlde spann’d

Abesang

For Ysemay Sterlyng’s deft and graceful hands

Glad tidings flow around the knowne worlde spann’d

Technically, this should be written to music, but I know next to nothing about writing music.

For HE Catherine Townson upon being named a Vigilant of the Order of the Laurel

THLaird Colyne Stewart, December AS 49 (2014)

There is a dame quite skilled at loom,

Whose work in garden makes herbs bloom,

Whose art and knowledge are quite clear,

And so the Royals name her Peer.

Kind Catherine Townson she is named,

In Ealdormere her work is famed,

By hoe or shuttle, thread or shear,

And so the Royals name her Peer.

With weft and weave and warp and sley,

She labours each and every day,

And students hands she can now steer,

And so the Royals name her Peer.

On knee descended, rises bold,

A ring of leaves on hand to hold,

For her the Laurels raise a cheer,

And so by Royals she is Peer.

Written as a kyrielle.

For Asa Gormsdottir upon being elevated to the Order of the Laurel

THlaird Colyne Stewart, December AS 49 (2014)

For some are masters of an art,

They practiced each and every day,

To hone their skill, find their way,

And in the kingdom play their part,

For some are masters of an art.

One of these was blessed by her Queen,

For skill with needle, thread and cloth,

Who people in fine garb were swath,

Whose art was ‘mongst the greatest seen,

One of these was blessed by her Queen.

Now Asa, Dame of Ordered Laurel,

Sworn by faith, worthy scholar,

Wearing leaves about her collar,

In our kingdom of the boreal,

Now Asa, Dame of Ordered Laurel.

Since Asa does both Old Norse and Venetian I had a choice to make about what kind of poetry to use. I decided to go with an Italian form and settled on a ballata. Ballate were often accompanied by music and dancing, but not always. And since I can’t write music or choreograph a dance, simple words it is!

For Gann upon his Elevation to the Order of Chivalry

THLaird Colyne Stewart, December AS 49 (2014)

I invoke the name of Gann:

Gann who stands on fields of battle,

Battle, wherein he forged his name,

A name based on honour and right,

Right on his side, high his banner,

Banner steady and preaux,

Preaux is this man, word-bound,

Bound to justice and service,

Service to his King and land,

Land of the north, which he defends,

Defends with blood free spilled,

Spilled in protection of the weak,

Weak are his foes when they see him,

Him, from Éire’s northland,

Northland’s son this warrior,

Warrior for Queen and wolf-born,

Born to the lance and sword,

Sword dipped to touch his shoulder,

Shoulders a burden from high-lord,

Lord names him worthy knight,

Knight is this man, and I,

I invoke the name of Gann.

Written as an amra (a praise poem) using the technique known as conachlonn (where the last word of each line is the first word of the subsequent line). Partially inspired by Amergin's invocation of Ireland.

On Generosity

By THLaird Colyne Stewart, August 2014 (AS 49)

Words of wisdom,

Sung in song,

Of faith and justice,

Of right and wrong,

Of virtues and

The virtuous,

Of folk giving

And courageous.

Like golden apples

Give their flesh,

Like the bulls,

Like fish in mesh;

So chief among

The virtues true,

Is giving like

The knightly do.

Sir Cleges and

Sir Amadace

Were renowned

For art and grace;

For helping those

Who needed aid,

With ne’er a thought

To be repaid.

Like Beowulf,

In Viking hall,

Rewarding carl

And freeing thrall;

Like Roland blowing

On mighty horn,

And giving succor

As he had sworn;

Like Saladin

Who a babe bought,

Returning it to

Mother o’erwrought;

So great and good

Are those that give,

And by their deeds

Will be outlived.

Praise be to them

And all their kind,

Who to others woes

Are not turned blind.

Friend, with thanks,

I bless your name,

And hold it forth

For fond acclaim.

For Varakii Varenko Vlkovitch upon being Elevated to the Order of Chivalry

THLaird Colyne Stewart, December AS 49 (2014)

In Ealdormere, in famous Ealdormere,

There lived a man adept at sword and spear,

A leader of men on the field of War,

Who carried out all deeds to which he swore.

Varenko was this stalwart valiant man,

A founding member of MacLachlan clan,

Trusted to lead the gusars [1] in battle,

Spears to fly and brilliant swords to rattle,

But of this Ktetstvo [2] more was expected,

Much more glory was to be collected.

So to the far-off foreign war he went,

To sleep on hard ground in cold darkened tent,

And in the morning, stand before his troops,

And bravely survey the foe man’s grim groups.

So to win word-fame, glory for the Tsar,

Varenko’s warriors from near and far,

The vlastèla [3], followed him on the field,

With armour bright, sword, dagger, spear and shield,

To face enemies from across the world,

Whose weapons bristled and whose banners furled.

The northfolk met their monstrous fearsome line,

Strived, fought to send them down to hell to dine,

While arrows, darts, fell down from August sky,

And comrades dropped in the dark mud to die,

Bashtinik and voynici [4] who had come

To follow Varenko in grevious scrum.

The scarlet line faltered under the foe,

And determined faces gave way to woe.

Fear strode forth from the enemies’ front rank,

Wielding weighty cudgel and face-plate dank,

The army of the north fell back in fright,

But Varenko met Fear in forthright fight,

And though Fear was a dreadful giant born,

Ktetstvo brave blew on his battle horn,

And weapons clashed and clanged and bit soft flesh,

And giant in his arms tried to enmesh

Brave Varenko, who struck off its dark head,

And left it on the trampled ground quite dead.

But before the army regained its heart,

Doubt waded out and wove its darkest art,

Turning strong souls weak, making stout faint,

Felling the brave without care or restraint.

‘Til Varenko with sword heavy with faith,

Faced his Doubt and slew the dark-hearted wraith.

The army, renewed, surged forth to the fight,

Defeating the foe ‘fore coming of night.

In Ealdormere, in famous Ealdormere,

The vlastèla returned with bloodied spear,

Hailed brave Varenko who stood at their head,

Dripping with sore wounds, the ground turning red,

Varenko, they shouted, won them the day,

Defeating the monsters loose in the frey.

Wise King and Wise Queen, then told him to kneel,

And touched his wide shoulder with royal steel,

Named him a rystar[5], a Peer of the realm,

And put their blessing atop of his helm,

He stands now exemplar of all that’s right,

Guardian against all evil and blight.

Written in the form of a bylina, a traditional East Slavic poetic form.

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[1] Light cavalry forces.

[2] A term used for the best warriors in the Novogrod chronicle in the year 1181.

[3] Noble cavalry armed with bows and lances.

[4] Feudal land holders who had to perform military service.

[5] An accepted SCA alternate title for a knight with a Russian persona.