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I should probably explain that these columns appeared in It Cometh in the Mail, the newsletter of the Barony of Bryn Gwlad (Austin, TX), and were at first published anonymously.
The Knightly Knotebook is dedicated to Lady Madeleine la Suele, who, as Chronicler of Bryn Gwlad, first gave Sir Knightly a chance, and gave me a lot of encouragement. And who got reprimanded at least once for this.
And now another edition of How to be Knightly. Today lesson number 1,462.
So you're on the field, and you realize that the opponent stepping out to face you is female. Being a truly knightly fellow, you prefer not to hit ladies, and you certainly don't like to take advantage of a girl who's smaller and weaker than you. But how can you express to her your discomfort at her taking on such a non-traditional role in a suitably knightly manner? Follow along in your Knightly Knotebook, page 7,264, and repeat after me:
By using one of these sensitive, concerned expressions, you can be sure, as Master Conor pounds enough dents out of your helm for you to remove it, that she will know just how knightly you really are. Until next time, this is Sir Knightly, saying " Be Knightly, and good morrow."
And now another edition of How to be Knightly. Today, lesson number 1,026.
Suppose you're fighting on the field, and your opponent isn't defending his leg very well. Naturally, you hit him there. But he doesn't react; so you hit him again, and again he doesn't call the blow. You hit his leg one more time, a blow sure to be effective, but he doesn't call it. You desire to bring his attention to this failure to properly call his blows, but how can you do this in a suitably knightly manner? Follow along in your Knightly Knotebook, page 6,934, and repeat after me.
If you use one of these clever lines, as the gathered members of the Chivalry take careful note, you can be sure that your opponent -- and everyone else in earshot -- will know just how knightly you really are. Until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, " Be Knightly, and good morrow."
And now, another edition of How to Be Knightly. Today lesson number 2,034.
It's here! The Christmas season, bringing with it the seemingly unavoidable winter feast events, the Sixth, Twelfth, and Twenty-Third Nights, the Candlemases, Michelmases, and all those other nights and masses. Showing off your knightly gentility, you have eschewed your traditional sweat pants in favor of tights, showing courage such as others only dream of. Some may wonder what a truly knightly fellow such as yourself would be doing, attending such a crowded, bustling, yet unexciting event, filled with those twin banes of knightliness: arts and politics. But your answer is simple: There's a list tomorrow. As far as you're concerned, the tourney season starts the Sunday morning after Candlemas. It'll be a small list, just for you to dominate the field. This small glory will be the perfect jumping-off point for your glorious summer. This could well be the year you take them all: Steppes Warlord, Kingdom Warlord, Namron Protectorate, fall Crown! Who knows? Maybe even ... Elfstomp!
But your thoughts of glory are suddenly interrupted when the lady walking in front of you suddenly stops cold. Your quick warrior's reflexes allow you to both stop, avoiding collision with her, and also determine the cause of her sudden halt: you have stepped on the train of her gown. But how can you excuse yourself from such an embarrassing situation in a suitably knightly manner? Follow along in your Knightly Knotebook, page 8,243, and repeat after me:
By using any of these cordial and considerate remarks, you can be sure, as your lady treats what appears to be one large bruise covering your entire torso caused by at least two dozen sword blows all thrown in the three seconds between the call of " lay on" and the contact of your helm with the sun-drenched lawn of the list field, that Duke Jeff will have no doubt as to just how knightly you really are.
Until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, be knightly, and good morrow.
And now, another edition of How to be Knightly. Today, we answer more reader mail. Today's letter comes to us from a young man in the Barony of Deepindaharta, Ansteorra, who writes:
Dear Sir Knightly, I am a fighter, aspiring eventually to knighthood. I live to fight, at least during the day, and I am the best fighter I know who's not a squire, and I'm better than many squires. There's also one knight here I can usually beat, and he's my problem. He doesn't seem to me like much of a knight. He seems like a wimp. He doesn't drink, but he talks a lot about boring things like loyalty, history, and honor. He's short, doesn't hit very hard, he fights with a small shield, and I wonder how he ever got knighted, even ten years ago when it was easier. Up until now, I've pretty much ignored him. But recently, he asked me to be his squire. For me, this would be embarrassing beyond belief. But how can I decline in a suitably knightly manner? Yours for knightliness, Lord Jeff.
Mmmmm, Jeff, you do have quite a problem there. In the East Kingdom, they recognize two distinct types of knights, which they call " stickjock knights" and " fagot knights". The first kind, like yourself, recognizes that the two most important substances in the world are rattan and alcohol. You are obviously dealing with this second kind, the sort who writes poetry, or applies for offices, or likes heraldry. Clearly, this is no proper example of true knighthood, and you are right to decline his offer. As his squire, you would have to register a device, and paint it on your shield, you'd have to learn to make pretty speeches on the field, and even wear a shirt under your surcoat when you're fighting. I would suggest that you tell him something like, " That's not necessary! I'd be happy to teach you to fight even without the belt! The first thing is to get you a bigger shield!" or maybe, " Gee, that would make me look good, wouldn't it, being squire to a knight who has nothing to teach me!" or even, " I'm sorry, but I was listening to what you were saying last week about how the knight-squire relationship should be based on mutual respect, and I have none for you!"
Good luck, Jeff, and let me know how your career goes. You understand, of course, that he'll always have a vote in the circle, and maybe he won't share your views of knightly conduct. But you'll at least have the satisfaction of having maintained your standards. And thanks for writing, Jeff.
Readers, as always, should you or someone you know have a knightly question or be in need of knightly advice, please address your questions to me in care of this newsletter. And until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, be knightly, and good morrow.
And now, another edition of How to Be Knightly. Today lesson number 3,642.
It's Saturday again, and that means tourney day! Butch and Studly as you are, you are engaged in that activity which brings more enjoyment than any other requiring clothing, and many which don't. In your war tabard, belted with your kidney belt, you look just the picture of a sixteenth century Scottish knight. You are fully armed and ready to go when you hear the herald calling you to the field -- and he is mispronouncing your name. Now, " Llewelen ap Grufydd" is easy enough to pronounce, but this herald said something like " Lew-len ap Groofid". Now all your buddies are laughing at you and calling you " Groofid". You want to correct the herald and motivate him to never again embarrass you in such a fashion. But what can you say to him to achieve this in a suitably knightly manner? Follow along in your Knightly Knotebook, page 11,264, and repeat after me:
By using any of these piercingly witty ejaculations, you can be sure, as you're facing the herald on the field of honor -- him having challenged you -- and noticing for the first time his white belt, and the fact that his second is the King himself (heralds, of course, are the Voice of the Crown and therefore inviolate), that this knight-who-is-also-a-herald will have no doubts as to just how knightly you really are.
Until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, " Be Knightly, and good morrow."
And now, another edition of How to Be Knightly. Today lesson number 4,011.
Tourney day again, and you have again taken to the field of chivalric honor to win glory for your name. In your spun-steel helm and kneel & elbow cops, leather vambraces, work gloves, tooled-leather kidney belt, sweat pants, modified desert boots and plaid tunic, with your 2' x 3' rectangular plywood shield painted with your unregistered heraldic device, you look just the picture of an llth century Norse Viking warrior. As you step out upon the sun-drenched lawn of the list field, there by the parking lot, you feel confident and ready to face your opponent. You didn't recognize your opponent's name, but it was announced without titles, so you figure he probably hasn't been in the SCA too long, or if he has, he's no kind of serious fighter. As he steps out onto the field, you observe that he is wearing a very late-period style of helm and a padded doublet, apparently with its kidney belt underneath. His shirt is white with puffy sleeves, and his boots come up to his thighs, and are folded back down to accommodate his knee armor. He has a small round shield and a broadsword with a thrusting tip ... and a white scarf around his left shoulder. You are up against an effete, wine-sipping, limp-wristed, swishy-poking Don! Obviously, he thinks his success with such an effeminate form of "combat" will help in the butch and studly competition he has now entered. But how can you express to him your disdain for his duello combat experience in a suitably knightly manner? Follow along in your Knightly Knotebook, page 6,993, and repeat after me:
By using any of these camaraderie-filled quotations, you may be sure -- as your opponent's thrusting tip puts two inches of bend into your cup -- that His Lordship will have no doubts as to just how knightly you really are.
Until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, " Be Knightly, and good morrow."
And now, another edition of How to be Knightly. Today, we answer still more reader mail. Today's letter comes to us from a fellow in the Shire of Knokownt, Kingdom of Ansteorra, who writes:
Dear Sir Knightly, I am a Master of the Laurel who specializes in brewing. Naturally, many of my best friends are knights and fighters in my area. Despite this fact, I have only recently myself taken up arms to try fighting for the first time. Although the experience went smoothly, and I was told by my teachers and by my opponent that I had done quite well and had shone much potential, I found I simply didn't enjoy it. I'm not interested to practice combat. Is something wrong with me? And what can I say to discourage those who pester me to do it again? Yours for knightliness, Master Bob.
Well, Bob, taking your first question first, I must say that yes, there is surely something wrong with anyone who doesn't enjoy fighting, or who isn't interested in it. And being a Laurel won't make up for it, either. Everyone knows that although all the peerages are equal, knighthood is more equal than the others. But don't despair, most larger baronies have remedial fighter training programs to teach you a proper appreciation and enjoyment of the glory of chivalric combat. Most are three-practice-per-week programs. The Earl Marshal's office can give you information on the nearest one to you; there's bound to be a good program within a few hours' drive. Don't give up! The man who brews " Knokownt Dark" understands in his heart of hearts the true soul of knightliness. As for your second question, if you don't want to tell people about your remedial training, then simply tell them you're working out at a duke's private fighter practice, and you're not at liberty to say which duke, nor to demonstrate what you're learning until Crown Tourney. Of course, no one will believe this, because they'll have read this column, and they'll drag you out to the field anyway. But good luck, Bob, and I hope that your arthritis flare-up subsides soon. Readers, as always, should you or someone you know have a knightly question, or be in need of knightly advice, please address your questions to me in care of this newsletter. And until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, " Be Knightly, and good morrow."
And now, another edition of How to Be Knightly. Today, lesson number 4,163.
War! The encroaching, ravenous barbarian hordes of Trimaris have invaded -- well, Meridies, but you're still going to go out there to do battle for the honor of your kingdom. Besides, it should be a good party!
So, well-provisioned with your knightly store of beef jerky, giant economy-sized packages of Pop-Tarts, and three cases of Lone Star Lite, you make your way across Louisiana to the Gulf War.
It is your first out-of-kingdom event. The first thing you discover is that, no matter how much these Trimarians and Meridians may seem like good ol' boys, they still think they're too good to drink your Lone Star. But on the field, you notice something even more disturbing. Many of these guys actually wear metal plate armor. You haven't seen so much shiny metal since the wedding sequence in Excalibur (two and a half stars -- Da'ud Bob says, " Check it out"). Everywhere you look, breastplates, tassets, cuisses, vambraces, rerebraces, gorgets -- even sabatons! -- all made of stainless steel and aluminum.
Before you have time to wonder why, if their heat and humidity are just as bad as ours, they can stand to wear plate and we can't, you hear one of them asking his buddy why your side doesn't wear any body armor.
Now, you're proud of that kidney belt that your surcoat is tucked into; you tooled it and painted it yourself, and you know darn well that it IS armor. But how can you express this to your Trimarian opponent in a knightly manner? Follow along in your Knightly Knotebook, page 7,002, and repeat after me:
By using any of these diplomatic phrases intended to foster understanding (if not affection) between kingdoms, you may be sure, as his full armored weight steps on your foot, reducing the bones to powder, that this well-armored Trimarian will know just how knightly you really are.
Until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, " Be Knightly, and good morrow."
Welcome to another edition of How to be Knightly. This is to remind you Readers that if you have a question, or need advice on any knightly subject, you can simply write to me in care of this newsletter.
Well, here's some mail now! Let's read the first one:
Dear Sir Knightly, These can't be our real letters -- you got them much too quickly! How do you explain that? (signed) Dubious in Dun Lea
Dear Dube, I guess there's just no fooling Sir Knightly's readers, is there? Here's another letter:
Dear Sir Knightly, I am a squire, in service to a knight who moved away last year. I've hardly seen him since then, as he seems to have dropped off the face of the earth, quit fighting, and goes to almost no events. I don't want to stop being a squire, but what can I do? (signed) Anonymous, squire to somebody--not Sir Galen)
Dear A, You DO have a problem. You basically have a couple of options: You could quit as his squire and try to find another knight. You could keep the squirebelt and simply work with whomever will teach you what you can learn (I'm sure Sir Not-Galen would appreciate anyone's help). Sir Knightly's advice to you, however, is this: Deal with it.
Dear Sir Knightly, I am a local officer, and lately I've been getting flack from my Kingdom-level superior, which I feel is unjust. I've been repeatedly threatened with removal from office, as near as I can tell because he doesn't like the things I'm doing. But my local group is very happy with my performance. What should I do? (signed) Yum Me
Dear Yum, Way back when Sir Knightly was a Kingdom Officer (Earl Marshal or something), he got a rude awakening about just how much influence Kingdom Officers have in local groups. It's easy to lead when there's a consensus of opinion, but it's very hard to lead volunteers where they don't want to go, and even harder to remove somebody who's doing what everybody else wants done. On the other hand, Sir Knightly has also had his share of rude awakenings about just how popular he really was (or wasn't). In Sir Knightly's opinion, it might be time to call on your fellow officers and your high-ranking and influential friends to intercede on your behalf. Of course, you could just keep on as you have, and be publicly removed, and see what fall-out results, or who applies to take your place. Or you could just go along to get along; central control of local matters is the trend in this country these days.
Dear Sir Knightly, Why is it that your column isn't as funny as usual this month? (signed) your biggest fan, Dave Barry
Dear Dave, First, let me thank you for not stealing my jokes anymore. But second, to answer your question, it's because Sir Knightly has become a wholly-owned subsidiary of Ex Tempore.
That's all for this time! This is Sir Knightly saying, be knightly, and Good Morrow!
Hello, and welcome to another edition of How to be Knightly. Today, lesson number 1,467.
Once again, you've loaded it all into that poor abused little car, and just barely made it to the tourney. Putting aside your nagging fears that you won't be able to make it home without breaking down again, you make your way to the side of the list field. In your tan moccasin boots with the fringe around the top, your t-tunic painted with celtic knotwork around the hem, neck and cuffs, black denim pants, and your squirebelt, made from a red karate belt, you look just the picture of a young llth century Norse Viking.
You've just picked out the perfect spot for your blue nylon list pavilion, when you see the most curious figure approaching. This person looks like she just stepped out of an episode of Elizabeth R; at 9:30 in the morning she is wearing a hoop skirt with an elaborately beaded forepart, a brocaded bodice with the most amazing sleeves, cut so as to display quite a bit of cleavage, and with sleeves that are nearly hypnotic in the intricacy of their decoration. Just as you are thinking that if this woman is really shaped the way her costume seems to require, you'd like to get to know her better, you belatedly recognize her as Mistress Laurel Seamchecker (tm) -- If you'd spotted her sooner, you wouldn't have been there when she arrived.
She begins to speak. " I just want you to know that your garb is so bad as to be amazing! I have yet to see any convincing evidence that painting was done on clothing in any period! Those boots are about 200 years out of period, and -- by the Virgin! -- are you wearing jeans!?!" You would like to find a suitable response to this buttinsky, but what can you say that will make her hesitate to conduct herself in such fashion again? Turn to page 1,849 in your Knightly Knotebook, and repeat after me:
By using any of these guaranteed-to-shut-her-down responses, you may be sure, as you meet her lord, Sir Rhino Helmsmasher (who does wear gothic plate armor on the field) in the first round, that this self-appointed member of the authenticity police will have no doubts as to just how knightly you really are.
Until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, " Be Knightly, and Good Morrow!"
Hello, and welcome to another edition of How to be Knightly. Today, lesson number 5,291.
It's spring again, and time to turn our trails southward to that strange land where they all act of one accord, staging events like period setpieces, like choreographed stageplays, with such sharply-focused clarity of vision, and at which all elements come together like well-fitted pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Weird. They should argue more, like normal SCA people.
Anyhow, somehow it's happened that you actually managed to send in a carefully calligraphed " letter of intent" (as though just walking out on the field with your sword isn't enough), executed in blue ballpoint on a piece of spiral notebook paper. Somehow, it's happened that a lady of grace, gentility, and even noble rank has agreed to have you fight in her honor. You've gotten a couple of your buddies who have broken fingers to carry your shield and helm in the processional; both freshly re-painted, three tournies ago, too! Your shield proudly emblazoned with your arms, which you cannot, yourself, blazon, but the background is blue, with a white stripe going across from an upper to a lower corner, and a Warner Bros. (tm) cartoon character executed in red, standing in his trademark pose.
So, with your lady and your entourage, you get to the front of the line, and it's your turn to make the first of what will be many flowery speeches through the day. Only one problem. You've left behind the list of flowery speeches you paid a cadet to write for you. What to do? Follow along in your Knightly Knotebook, page 4, 862, and repeat after me:
By using any of these speeches, worthy of Shakespeare's pen indeed, you may be sure, as these ladies watch gleefully whilst you are about the task of amassing the greatest collection of bruises ever on one day, that their attention is on your opponents, as they have already assured themselves most completely of just how knightly you really are. Until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, " Be Knightly, and Good Morrow!"
Hello, and welcome to another edition of How to be Knightly. Today we answer more reader mail. The first of today's thoughtful missives comes to us from a young lady in the Shire of Aggieford, who writes:
Dear Sir Knightly, I just wanted to
tell you that I think you are wonderful, and I agree with everything
you say. I think you should have your own nationally-syndicated
radio talk show. You could call it the 'Excellence in Chivalry'
network, and tell the whole country about how to be Knightly.
Never go away!
Totally Yours,
Lady Cupcake Gaolbait
Well thank you! I'll give that " EIC Network" idea some thought. Our next letter come to us from a fighter in the northern half of the eastern section of the Western Region, who writes, Dear Sir Knightly, First, I'd just like to pass along a big 'Ditto' to everything that previous letter said!
Second, I have a question that requires
your chivalric excellence. We had a guy knighted here recently
who's been a squire since, like, before I was born! I've always
wanted to be a squire, and I figured this might be my chance,
so I asked him if I could be his squire. Well, that sure was a
mistake! He sat me down and pretty soon he was into this long
lecture about knighthood, and chivalry, and courtesy, and authenticity,
and armor, and all. And I'm figuring, yeah, right, I'll kinda
do this stuff when he's around, and forget about it when he's
not there. But then he comes out with this thing about nobody's
ever chivalrous enough. Everybody's always gotta be, like, trying
to do better. Well, I don't think that's right. I'm chivalrous
enough. I just need some work on my defense, and I'm ready for
my belt. What do you say?
Yours in Knightliness,
Lord Jeff
Well, Jeff, you may be overconfident about your fighting, but your point is right on target. I'm sure that you are chivalrous enough. Most of us are. To most SCA people, chivalry just comes naturally. But nobody can be perfectly chivalrous and honorable all the time, so there's really no point in trying, is there? The only people who really try all the time to be chivalrous are the people who aren't really honorable anyway. For them it's all just an act. For people like you and me, our honor is in our hearts. Whether we show it outwardly or not, we know it's there. That's why somebody can behave like the most obnoxious, odious, unchivalrous oaf, and still get knighted; because he's honorable in his heart. How do we know? Because he says so. And how can you doubt the word of a knight about something like that? Don't worry about this new knight you talked to. His fighting probably isn't quite up to par, and he's trying to make up for it. Remember, it just doesn't matter what individual knights think of you -- unless you're trying to become one.
Readers, as always, should you or someone you know have a knightly question, or be in need of knightly advice, please address your questions to me in care of this newsletter. And until next time, this is Sir Knightly saying, " Be knightly, and Good Morrow."
And now, another edition of How to be Knightly. Today's lesson, number 2,164.
" Oyez! Oyez, the court of His Royal Majesty, Bud the Wiser, King of this grand realm of Bierez, is now in session! Let all draw nigh and pay heed!"
With the cry of the herald announcing the opening of morning court, the grim reality of the situation is brought home to you. You are actually in attendance at an Arts Event.
There will be no tourney today, no fighting. No grand clashing of arms, no cries of " hold!" from the marshals, no heralds calling you to the field or announcing your victories, no one calling chirurgeons to attend your opponents, no frenzied smashing of shields or clattering of basket hilts into faceplates. No bruises, no sweating, no mystery injuries. Just the judging.
The long, drawn-out judging. It seems to go on for hours. In fact, it does go on for hours. What are you doing here? For that matter, what's a self-indulging stick-jock king like Bud doing here? Well, the Queen's off at some tiny little event in a tiny little shire at the far end of the kingdom, and so the king is here. And he told you that if you had any hope of ever being a squire -- to anyone -- you would be here, too. With an entry, no less!
So you've done your best. Your entry is as good a piece of work as you've ever put together. You've made one of the finest-looking swords you've ever laid eyes on. The rattan is shaved perfectly to the limit of the armor regs, and the duct tape has been applied without a wrinkle. The balance point of the sword is two inches up from the hilt, just where you like it. The basket hilt is beautiful, especially for your first welding job. So your documentation is a bit weak (a handwritten piece of paper that reads " Duke Outremer says that the Romans had spun steel" ), it's still a damn fine piece. You can't wait to get into combat with it.
And look, here comes one of the judges now. You've never bothered to learn her name, but you seem to recall she was an apprentice to Mistress Laurel Seamchecker or somebody, before she got her own laurel.
She asks you where your display is, as though she can't see it sitting on the table right in front of her. Mentioning that you're only there because the King wanted you there, you show her. When you point it out to her (duh!), she rolls her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then launches into some sob story about how rattan swords aren't period, they weren't used before the late 1960's etc.
But how can you express your disinterest in this lecture in a suitably knightly fashion? Follow along in your Knightly Knotebook, page 904, and repeat after me:
By using any of these indulgent phrases, each sure to reflect your eagerness to learn, you may be sure, as this person whose rank really is equal to knighthood complains to the king about how you've dishonored his desire for your participation, that this Mistress of the Laurel will have no doubts about just how knightly you really are.
Until next time, this is Sir Knightly, saying " Be knightly, and Good Morrow!"
