First of all, thank you Delia and Elphin for an amazingly fun afternoon at Try It Day. The day was a huge success and I think it's safe to say a good time was had by all.
Several people asked about songbooks, and we proceeded to completely drop the ball on that. I forgot to bring them...which wouldn't have been a problem if I'd remembered that Delia had some at her place already. I'm sorry about that.
I can mail them out if you'd like to email your address to johnnyfaa@gmail.com. If you already know my regular email address, you can certainly use that, but to avoid the spam bots I think I should probably avoid posting that one here. Books are 5 dollars apiece and I think it will be around 1.50 or something to mail. I'll go to the post office Monday and find out exactly.
Anyways, it was a fun jam with everyone who played with us, and also everyone who just hung out and listened. Hope we can do it again soon!
Dulcy
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
“Try It” Day and Potluck Revel is only two and a half weeks away!
“Try It” Day and Potluck Revel is only two and a half weeks away!
Saturday June 27 from 1pm to 9pmAt Elphin and Delia’s house in Chapin (directions available on Cyddlaine Downs and Nottinghill Coil yahoogroups, or leave comment if you need to be contacted.)
Please wear garb if you have it. We plan to have some loaner garb here,so we should be able to outfit most people. It is going to be hot, so be comfortable.
Outside we will have rapier demonstration/instruction, armored combat demonstration/instruction archery and atlatl. If you have equipment youare willing to share for any of these activities, please bring it.
I plan to have a tentative schedule of classes together for the PopulousMeeting on the 17th.That said, I have already scheduled the Newcomer 101 class for the firstsession of the day at 1pm. If you are a newcomer to the SCA, especially if you have never been to an event, please try to be here by 1pm for this class.
Here is a brief outline of planned classes
Newcomer 101- 1pm - led by Baroness Morwenna
Persian Dance- led by Lady Gwyneth of Crownehawk
Cooking Raviels – Lady Marie Helene
Nalbinding- Lady Emma Lena
Pine Needle Basket Weaving- Lady Emma Lena (if you have access to longpine needles (12” or longer), please break off a few branches now sothat they can dry out by then or gather some to bring)
Making a Rattan Sword- Lord Wilhelm
Intro to the Arts &Sciences- Lady Etain of Sutherland
PLEASE NOTE: The herbal first aid class has been cancelled.
In addition to the classes, we have a few other things in the works:
(new!) Children's activities led by Genovefa and Genevieve (Tracy andJennifer) Note: This is NOT to be construed as all day baby sitting!They will need help and they will want to participate in some adult activities too. We will discuss this more at the populous meeting.
(new!)A silent auction of arts and crafts made by our good gentles and other SCA-oriented items as a fundraiser to help Duchess Arielle with her medical expenses. Donations are Welcome!
(new!) Kumpania Painted Wheel is planning to come and play music.
A heraldic consult table (for help with your name and device)
An Arts &Sciences display area and library. Please bring yourhandiwork (in any level of completion) to display and any books youwould like to share for the day (please put your name on your books somewhere)
A gaming area with period games. Please bring your period games to addto the fun.
Make your own leather mug-holder for your belt.
Period dancing after the pot-luck feast (weather permitting)
Please bring a dish, snack or beverage to share at the pot-luck feast. This is what people have told me they are bringing so far:cold cuts and sandwich fixin’s , bread and hummus, three savory pies,salad, broccoli salad, macaroni and cheese and raviels (from the cookingclass), herbed bread and two miscellaneous desserts. Let me know whatyou are planning to bring and I will continue to post updates.
Please plan to come whether you are new to the SCA or not- we hope to have something for everybody. You may e-mail me at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cyddlaindowns/post?postID=3SZhASqJ3PHm6GIfUPtkqx8aGdQ6kxbNhmQd5X4vA4UsivRGVZXJSA0M0-QGUtLJBira5gJa1UHM8Q with any questions, concerns,contributions to the feast or generous offers of assistance.
Your friendly neighborhood MoAS Delia the Flammable
Saturday June 27 from 1pm to 9pmAt Elphin and Delia’s house in Chapin (directions available on Cyddlaine Downs and Nottinghill Coil yahoogroups, or leave comment if you need to be contacted.)
Please wear garb if you have it. We plan to have some loaner garb here,so we should be able to outfit most people. It is going to be hot, so be comfortable.
Outside we will have rapier demonstration/instruction, armored combat demonstration/instruction archery and atlatl. If you have equipment youare willing to share for any of these activities, please bring it.
I plan to have a tentative schedule of classes together for the PopulousMeeting on the 17th.That said, I have already scheduled the Newcomer 101 class for the firstsession of the day at 1pm. If you are a newcomer to the SCA, especially if you have never been to an event, please try to be here by 1pm for this class.
Here is a brief outline of planned classes
Newcomer 101- 1pm - led by Baroness Morwenna
Persian Dance- led by Lady Gwyneth of Crownehawk
Cooking Raviels – Lady Marie Helene
Nalbinding- Lady Emma Lena
Pine Needle Basket Weaving- Lady Emma Lena (if you have access to longpine needles (12” or longer), please break off a few branches now sothat they can dry out by then or gather some to bring)
Making a Rattan Sword- Lord Wilhelm
Intro to the Arts &Sciences- Lady Etain of Sutherland
PLEASE NOTE: The herbal first aid class has been cancelled.
In addition to the classes, we have a few other things in the works:
(new!) Children's activities led by Genovefa and Genevieve (Tracy andJennifer) Note: This is NOT to be construed as all day baby sitting!They will need help and they will want to participate in some adult activities too. We will discuss this more at the populous meeting.
(new!)A silent auction of arts and crafts made by our good gentles and other SCA-oriented items as a fundraiser to help Duchess Arielle with her medical expenses. Donations are Welcome!
(new!) Kumpania Painted Wheel is planning to come and play music.
A heraldic consult table (for help with your name and device)
An Arts &Sciences display area and library. Please bring yourhandiwork (in any level of completion) to display and any books youwould like to share for the day (please put your name on your books somewhere)
A gaming area with period games. Please bring your period games to addto the fun.
Make your own leather mug-holder for your belt.
Period dancing after the pot-luck feast (weather permitting)
Please bring a dish, snack or beverage to share at the pot-luck feast. This is what people have told me they are bringing so far:cold cuts and sandwich fixin’s , bread and hummus, three savory pies,salad, broccoli salad, macaroni and cheese and raviels (from the cookingclass), herbed bread and two miscellaneous desserts. Let me know whatyou are planning to bring and I will continue to post updates.
Please plan to come whether you are new to the SCA or not- we hope to have something for everybody. You may e-mail me at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cyddlaindowns/post?postID=3SZhASqJ3PHm6GIfUPtkqx8aGdQ6kxbNhmQd5X4vA4UsivRGVZXJSA0M0-QGUtLJBira5gJa1UHM8Q with any questions, concerns,contributions to the feast or generous offers of assistance.
Your friendly neighborhood MoAS Delia the Flammable
Monday, June 15, 2009
Aysha's Journal
By Aysha
December the 30
Jeffrey cornered me in the barn today, but I managed to fend him off. I can not let William find out that Jeffrey is after me, for I fear that William would kill Jeffrey.....and then they would hang him. I can not let this happen. I have so far managed to fend of Jeffrey's advances. I do not know why Jeffrey wants me when he can have any regal woman he wanted, or bar-maid, for that matter. But I doubt his father would like that.
His father, Nero the Drake, is very wealthy and someday all that wealth will be Jeffrey's. I guess Jeffrey wants what he can not have, for I am happily married to William four years now. William and I serve Nero like my father before me, who died five years ago. Nero seemed sorry to lose my father and he looked after me until I met William. I fear that Nero knows his son has been chasing me because he has become cold towards me. I know he would not approve and I threaten Jeffrey that I will tell his father, and so far he has done nothing drastic. I would not do this though, for William would surely hear of this from someone. Oh, pray tell, what am I to do?
January 12
I write my entry today with a heavy heart, and the stains you see are my tears. Today I lost my beloved William. They told me it was a hunting accident, that William fell down a steep hill and broke his neck. I do not believe it was an accident. I think Jeffrey killed my husband. He came by this morning and invited William to go hunting. He never asked William to hunt before. He never spent time with William. He hated William. I asked William not to go, but he said he could not refuse Jeffrey. I know it was not an accident, for when I was crying over my husband, Jeffrey put his arm around my shoulders. But it was not an act of condolence....it was a sign of possession. He was telling me I was his.
January 14
We buried my husband today. It was a simple ceremony. All the workers were there and Nero and Jeffrey. After the ceremony, when the people were leaving, Jeffrey came up beside me. "You are mine now." He whispered. "There is no one to stop me now."
I looked him in the face and told him that I would jump off of a cliff first.
"You will marry me." He replied and walked away.
I dropped to my knees and put my face in my hands. What am I to do? I have no family to help me and no money, but I cannot stay here. Tonight I will leave here using my husband’s clothes as a disguise. It will be easier to travel as a man.
I will call myself Forrest.
April 6
It has been tough going, for I had little money when I left. Food has been hard to come by. Some I have had to steal, and some I was given by other travelers such as myself. I have had to switch my identity from man to woman and back. It is easier to get food as a woman.
When I was two days gone, I heard from a fellow traveler that Jeffrey had men looking for me. I kind of expected that. But I also learned that Nero had men looking for me. They are to be sure that I do not come back. I have to be even more careful now.
June 1
Tonight I find myself in the company and protection of a band of gypsies. Today I overheard some men talking about attacking the gypsies and running them away from their town. They did not want the gypsies anywhere near them. I did not think this to be right, so I warned the gypsies and they left before any incident occurred.
They were grateful and said I could spend the night with them. I revealed to them that I was a woman and told the woman, whom I believe to be the leader, my story. I asked if I could travel with them for protection. She said that although I was a "gadjo", I showed a good heart by warning them. I thanked her and settled in for the night.
I let my gaze wander around the group. The leader’s name is Dulcinaya, a striking woman with long black hair. There is one other gadjo, a man called Elphin. I think he is in love with Delia - they are sitting off by themselves.
I had heard stories about gypsies, and I believe that these people have been misunderstood, but then I have only been with them one day. Only time will tell, I guess. I am just grateful that I now have someone to travel with and someone to watch my back.
August 15
I have been with the gypsies for a few months now. I am really beginning to like these people. They are not at all like the stories I had heard about them. Elphin is teaching me how to fence and protect myself. I hope that I do not run into any of Nero’s men, but I want to be prepared if I do.
We have traveled to a large gathering at the Pennsic War. I have never seen so many people in one place before. We stayed in the "Court of Miracles" with other gypsies. We had a problem with thieves (and they call gypsies thieves!).
Anyway, there were all kinds of tournaments going on for light fighters, heavy fighters, and archers. Dulcinaya and I dressed up as men and registered so we could fight. I was so afraid we would be caught, but Dulcinaya had done this before and showed me what to do. We participated in a melee but lost.
That night, we went to the barn and danced. I like to dance! I danced with Alwyn Feather the Foolish, the tribe’s jester...he knows many dances!
The next day, we did some shopping. We didn't’t have much money,. but it is fun to look, anyway. That night we went to the square so Dulcinaya and Delia could tell fortunes and Alwyn could juggle and hopefully make some money. Tsigane, Dulcinaya’s sister, kept a watch out for guards, for it is illegal for gypsies to tell fortunes. We were sitting next to where Alwyn was juggling fire.
He came over to soak his sticks in oil, when all of a sudden, a fireball erupted out of his oil pot. Alwyn jumped back and Tsigane and I rolled out of the way very quickly! We think the fumes ignited when he reached to put the hot stick into the oil. No one was hurt, but he cleared the square! Alwyn threw water on the small fire before it caught a vendor’s tent on fire. The vendor started yelling for the guard, so we quickly left! But we stayed on a few more days without another incident.
September 25
Elphin gave me a blue scarf today. I also noticed that he gave everyone a gift. I found out at feast why. He asked Dulcinaya for Delia’s hand in marriage. Dulcinaya granted his request. There is to be a wedding!
October 9
We stopped at a village today. All day long, we were harassed by a constable named Oengaes. He was convinced that we were gypsies on our way to Jerusalem. Dulcinaya had me write up some passes and sign King Logan’s name to them. She then smudged, smeared, and tore the papers where Logan’s name was so you couldn’t quite make out his name. Oengaes wanted to search our belongings. Santiago, Delia’s cousin, told him to leave us alone, but mocked Oengaes’ Scottish accent. I thought we were dead! Dulcinaya turned her head to hide her laughter, but fortunately, the constable didn’t notice. He gave us a warning and left.
Later that night at feast, Constable Oengaes again accused Dulcinaya of being a gypsy. Baron Corwin came over and swore on his honor that Dulcinaya was not a gypsy. But when he removed his hat to swear the oath, coins fell out! The constable called out "Bribe!" and started after Dulcinaya! She jumped up and ran from the hall. We blocked his way just long enough for her to escape. Then we ran out the other direction. We lost them in the woods, and met up with Dulcinaya a little ways out of town.
We waited till just before dawn and snuck back to our small camp and gathered our things. I can not believe they did not have someone watching our stuff. What luck!
October 29
We came to a village today that was having fun and games and a To The Point Tournament. Some of us too part in the tourney. We lost badly! Oh, well, great swordsmen we may not be, but we keep practicing.
November 3
Dulcinaya’s reputation preceded her at the next place we came to. We found wanted posters nailed to trees leading to the village. They had a very good drawing of her. Dulcinaya did not want to risk getting caught, so she stayed in camp while we checked out the village.
Elphin and I were watching the fencing tournament when Dulcinaya’s brother Kazimir came running up and told us that Delia had been arrested for stealing. We followed Kazimir to the interior of the village. There we saw a constable leading Delia away! We waited until there was not one around and we snuck up behind the constable with swords drawn. Elphin hit him on the back of the head. He fell to the ground in a heap. We grabbed Delia and ran off to gather up every body to flee the village. This is beginning to happen on a regular basis, us running out of town.
We met up with Dulcinaya and told her what happened. We hid in a thicket for a while and made sure no one was after us. No one followed.
August 12
We made our way back to Pennsic this year. We met another gypsy there who’s name was Rachel the Goatwoman. She has a really nice vardo with two beautiful horses. We camped with the Winged Wolf Tribe down by the stream in the Court of Miracles.
I still can not believe how many people are here in one place. That many people make me nervous!
We had heard that Stephan, the King of Atlantia, had been away taking care of some skirmish, but had returned before the Queen had had her baby (which was only four days ago!) We wanted to congratulate them on the birth, so we made a request to see the Queen, which was granted. We presented her with a gift box shaped like a shell, with a smaller box inside that contained what little salt we had left. She said that she was glad we came because she had been thinking about us traveling through her kingdom with the old torn passports that we had. So she gave us one of the King’s rings, one of only six that he had commissioned. This ring would provide us with safe passage. She also gave us one of her paternosters, saying she had prayed for us. We thanked her and left with her blessing.
That evening all the gypsies got together and we traveled around to different encampments and performed for the people. Sterling dela Rosa, from Tribe Winged Wolf, told stories, Emerald, a friend of Sterling’s, danced, Santiago sang songs, and Ivar (Dulcinaya’s cousin) and I drummed. We had a party of our own one night, and Delia and Elphin told fortunes and earned some money.
August 13
Today we went to the royal encampment to see a friend of ours. The guards gave us some trouble and did not want to let us in. Dulcinaya showed them the ring the Queen had given us. One of the guards accused us of stealing the King’s ring, but Dulcinaya assured them that we did not! The greeter came up and told us we would have to wait to see our friend and for us to come in and take a seat and have a drink. We stepped inside to wait. We got tired of waiting and decided to come back another time. Dulcinaya picked up a chair, Santiago picked up a bench, and I took the pewter goblets and we walked out. The guards had changed right before, so the new guards did not know we were inside. We walked right past them with our goods.
We got a good way down the street when the greeter came back and noticed the things missing. He looked out of the tent and started calling us back. We asked him what was wrong. He said we were stealing the furniture! We told him we must have misunderstood him when he said "take a seat and have a drink." We apologized and put the things back.
All in all, it was a good Pennsic!
The Following Year
August 13
Here we are at Pennsic again. It’s becoming an annual event. We camped with two other gypsy tribes. The leaders of each tribe got together and named the camp Court of Miracles. They are good people.
We sought out Rachel the Goat Woman and the Drunken Mariners and had a gypsy-pirate party. Rachel took Dulcinaya aside and said she had a gift for her. She gave Dulcinaya a length of rope. Someone said it was a leash for Santiago, but it was a lead rope for a horse. Rachel presented one of her horses as a gift to the clan Painted Wheel. Her name is Silvermist. She is very beautiful and is our most prized possession. We were so proud of our new horse that we paraded her through the streets and the merchants area. We had to convince a few people that she was ours and that we did not steal her.
Thursday, The Same Week
We had our gypsy party tonight. There was drumming, dancing, singing, and someone juggled fire. We were having a really good time until a man from the next camp came and told us we had to be quiet. He said if we did not stop drumming he would call the guards. We told him to go back to his camp. He called the guards and they threatened to arrest us if we did not quiet down. We did not want to leave Pennsic yet so we complied with their wishes. We will have to find a way to get rid of this man who complained. He made a lot of enemies this night.
Friday, The Same Week
I had a fright today. While we were out walking today, Geldemar heard some men asking about me. This is as close as they have been to me. I did not know if they were Geoffrey’s men or Nero’s men. If they were Geoffrey’s men they would not hurt me. If they were Nero’s men, they would kill me. Geldemar told us to go hide while he tried to find out who they were. Later, he told us he followed them to the Crafty Celts booth and asked Vortigern if he had seen me. Vortigern asked them “Who wants to know?” They replied “Nero the Drake.” Dulcinaya decided it was time to leave. So we packed up and left Pennsic until next year.
So far they do not know that I with the Painted Wheel gypsies. And I pray that they do not find out. I dod not want to put Painted Wheel in any danger. I have cut my hair and I dress like a gypsy, so I am hoping that no one will associate me with the person they are looking for. Only now, I need a gypsy name. I will ask Dulcinaya for a name.
I am so excited. We were having dinner tonight when Dulcinaya called me over. She agreed that I should have a gypsy name. From now on, I will be known to the outside world as Aysha. I think I am starting to fit in with these people now. I feel a little bit more at ease, but I still have to keep my guard up. They are still looking for me. Will they ever stop?
Well, an uneventful year has gone by. We have managed to stay away from any of the men looking for me. We have made it to Pennsic XXX. There are more people here than ever before. They had a hard time finding places to put everyone. Fortunately, we were able to get our old spot by the stream. It was very hot the week before we arrived but has cooled off a bit.
Monday 13th
Today we went in search of our friends the Drunken Mariners and found them in their old spot. We were all happy to see each other. They told us they were lucky to be there. On their way to Pennsic they were attacked by some highwayman. They fought them off with little difficulty, but Max’s wagon caught fire. They lost a lot of their supplies. One thing they did bring with them was the is strange, big box that keeps cold on the inside.* They would not tell us how it worked. They said it was magic. It kept their food from spoiling. I have never seen anything like it before. We thought this magical box to be most wonderful. We gathered around the box to examine it. The pirates drew their guns and told us to stop away from the box. We backed away telling them we were just looking at the box. We were not going to take it. We are your friends,” we told them. They lowered their guns and said they were sorry. They were still very nervous. We all had a good laugh about the whole thing.
Wednesday 15th
For a few days now I think I have been followed. I keep seeing a certain Frenchman every where I go. I am not sure if he is following me, but he makes me very nervous.
Thursday 16th
We were out walking our horse Silvermist when we were stopped by the constable. He said that Silvermist belonged up on the Serengeti. What were we doing with her?** We told him that she was a gift from Rachel. He did not believe us at first but this nice lady named Katherine came up and told him we were telling the truth. He still looked skeptical, but he let us go, warning us to stay out of trouble. Dulcinaya was thanking the lady when the Frenchman I had seen came walking up. Katherine introduced him as her husband Vincent. Katherine asked if they could walk with us and Dulcinaya agreed.
Vincent said “That is a very fine horse. You could get a lot of money for her.”
“Oh, we would never sell Silvermist.” Dulcinaya told him.
I do not trust this Vincent. After all, he is French.
Note* These hedonistic people had a propane-powered refridgerator, complete with a freezer, delivered to their camp. And they filled it with popsicles. At Pennsic. This is so wrong.
Note** Even at Pennsic ya get hassled by The Man……
December the 30
Jeffrey cornered me in the barn today, but I managed to fend him off. I can not let William find out that Jeffrey is after me, for I fear that William would kill Jeffrey.....and then they would hang him. I can not let this happen. I have so far managed to fend of Jeffrey's advances. I do not know why Jeffrey wants me when he can have any regal woman he wanted, or bar-maid, for that matter. But I doubt his father would like that.
His father, Nero the Drake, is very wealthy and someday all that wealth will be Jeffrey's. I guess Jeffrey wants what he can not have, for I am happily married to William four years now. William and I serve Nero like my father before me, who died five years ago. Nero seemed sorry to lose my father and he looked after me until I met William. I fear that Nero knows his son has been chasing me because he has become cold towards me. I know he would not approve and I threaten Jeffrey that I will tell his father, and so far he has done nothing drastic. I would not do this though, for William would surely hear of this from someone. Oh, pray tell, what am I to do?
January 12
I write my entry today with a heavy heart, and the stains you see are my tears. Today I lost my beloved William. They told me it was a hunting accident, that William fell down a steep hill and broke his neck. I do not believe it was an accident. I think Jeffrey killed my husband. He came by this morning and invited William to go hunting. He never asked William to hunt before. He never spent time with William. He hated William. I asked William not to go, but he said he could not refuse Jeffrey. I know it was not an accident, for when I was crying over my husband, Jeffrey put his arm around my shoulders. But it was not an act of condolence....it was a sign of possession. He was telling me I was his.
January 14
We buried my husband today. It was a simple ceremony. All the workers were there and Nero and Jeffrey. After the ceremony, when the people were leaving, Jeffrey came up beside me. "You are mine now." He whispered. "There is no one to stop me now."
I looked him in the face and told him that I would jump off of a cliff first.
"You will marry me." He replied and walked away.
I dropped to my knees and put my face in my hands. What am I to do? I have no family to help me and no money, but I cannot stay here. Tonight I will leave here using my husband’s clothes as a disguise. It will be easier to travel as a man.
I will call myself Forrest.
April 6
It has been tough going, for I had little money when I left. Food has been hard to come by. Some I have had to steal, and some I was given by other travelers such as myself. I have had to switch my identity from man to woman and back. It is easier to get food as a woman.
When I was two days gone, I heard from a fellow traveler that Jeffrey had men looking for me. I kind of expected that. But I also learned that Nero had men looking for me. They are to be sure that I do not come back. I have to be even more careful now.
June 1
Tonight I find myself in the company and protection of a band of gypsies. Today I overheard some men talking about attacking the gypsies and running them away from their town. They did not want the gypsies anywhere near them. I did not think this to be right, so I warned the gypsies and they left before any incident occurred.
They were grateful and said I could spend the night with them. I revealed to them that I was a woman and told the woman, whom I believe to be the leader, my story. I asked if I could travel with them for protection. She said that although I was a "gadjo", I showed a good heart by warning them. I thanked her and settled in for the night.
I let my gaze wander around the group. The leader’s name is Dulcinaya, a striking woman with long black hair. There is one other gadjo, a man called Elphin. I think he is in love with Delia - they are sitting off by themselves.
I had heard stories about gypsies, and I believe that these people have been misunderstood, but then I have only been with them one day. Only time will tell, I guess. I am just grateful that I now have someone to travel with and someone to watch my back.
August 15
I have been with the gypsies for a few months now. I am really beginning to like these people. They are not at all like the stories I had heard about them. Elphin is teaching me how to fence and protect myself. I hope that I do not run into any of Nero’s men, but I want to be prepared if I do.
We have traveled to a large gathering at the Pennsic War. I have never seen so many people in one place before. We stayed in the "Court of Miracles" with other gypsies. We had a problem with thieves (and they call gypsies thieves!).
Anyway, there were all kinds of tournaments going on for light fighters, heavy fighters, and archers. Dulcinaya and I dressed up as men and registered so we could fight. I was so afraid we would be caught, but Dulcinaya had done this before and showed me what to do. We participated in a melee but lost.
That night, we went to the barn and danced. I like to dance! I danced with Alwyn Feather the Foolish, the tribe’s jester...he knows many dances!
The next day, we did some shopping. We didn't’t have much money,. but it is fun to look, anyway. That night we went to the square so Dulcinaya and Delia could tell fortunes and Alwyn could juggle and hopefully make some money. Tsigane, Dulcinaya’s sister, kept a watch out for guards, for it is illegal for gypsies to tell fortunes. We were sitting next to where Alwyn was juggling fire.
He came over to soak his sticks in oil, when all of a sudden, a fireball erupted out of his oil pot. Alwyn jumped back and Tsigane and I rolled out of the way very quickly! We think the fumes ignited when he reached to put the hot stick into the oil. No one was hurt, but he cleared the square! Alwyn threw water on the small fire before it caught a vendor’s tent on fire. The vendor started yelling for the guard, so we quickly left! But we stayed on a few more days without another incident.
September 25
Elphin gave me a blue scarf today. I also noticed that he gave everyone a gift. I found out at feast why. He asked Dulcinaya for Delia’s hand in marriage. Dulcinaya granted his request. There is to be a wedding!
October 9
We stopped at a village today. All day long, we were harassed by a constable named Oengaes. He was convinced that we were gypsies on our way to Jerusalem. Dulcinaya had me write up some passes and sign King Logan’s name to them. She then smudged, smeared, and tore the papers where Logan’s name was so you couldn’t quite make out his name. Oengaes wanted to search our belongings. Santiago, Delia’s cousin, told him to leave us alone, but mocked Oengaes’ Scottish accent. I thought we were dead! Dulcinaya turned her head to hide her laughter, but fortunately, the constable didn’t notice. He gave us a warning and left.
Later that night at feast, Constable Oengaes again accused Dulcinaya of being a gypsy. Baron Corwin came over and swore on his honor that Dulcinaya was not a gypsy. But when he removed his hat to swear the oath, coins fell out! The constable called out "Bribe!" and started after Dulcinaya! She jumped up and ran from the hall. We blocked his way just long enough for her to escape. Then we ran out the other direction. We lost them in the woods, and met up with Dulcinaya a little ways out of town.
We waited till just before dawn and snuck back to our small camp and gathered our things. I can not believe they did not have someone watching our stuff. What luck!
October 29
We came to a village today that was having fun and games and a To The Point Tournament. Some of us too part in the tourney. We lost badly! Oh, well, great swordsmen we may not be, but we keep practicing.
November 3
Dulcinaya’s reputation preceded her at the next place we came to. We found wanted posters nailed to trees leading to the village. They had a very good drawing of her. Dulcinaya did not want to risk getting caught, so she stayed in camp while we checked out the village.
Elphin and I were watching the fencing tournament when Dulcinaya’s brother Kazimir came running up and told us that Delia had been arrested for stealing. We followed Kazimir to the interior of the village. There we saw a constable leading Delia away! We waited until there was not one around and we snuck up behind the constable with swords drawn. Elphin hit him on the back of the head. He fell to the ground in a heap. We grabbed Delia and ran off to gather up every body to flee the village. This is beginning to happen on a regular basis, us running out of town.
We met up with Dulcinaya and told her what happened. We hid in a thicket for a while and made sure no one was after us. No one followed.
August 12
We made our way back to Pennsic this year. We met another gypsy there who’s name was Rachel the Goatwoman. She has a really nice vardo with two beautiful horses. We camped with the Winged Wolf Tribe down by the stream in the Court of Miracles.
I still can not believe how many people are here in one place. That many people make me nervous!
We had heard that Stephan, the King of Atlantia, had been away taking care of some skirmish, but had returned before the Queen had had her baby (which was only four days ago!) We wanted to congratulate them on the birth, so we made a request to see the Queen, which was granted. We presented her with a gift box shaped like a shell, with a smaller box inside that contained what little salt we had left. She said that she was glad we came because she had been thinking about us traveling through her kingdom with the old torn passports that we had. So she gave us one of the King’s rings, one of only six that he had commissioned. This ring would provide us with safe passage. She also gave us one of her paternosters, saying she had prayed for us. We thanked her and left with her blessing.
That evening all the gypsies got together and we traveled around to different encampments and performed for the people. Sterling dela Rosa, from Tribe Winged Wolf, told stories, Emerald, a friend of Sterling’s, danced, Santiago sang songs, and Ivar (Dulcinaya’s cousin) and I drummed. We had a party of our own one night, and Delia and Elphin told fortunes and earned some money.
August 13
Today we went to the royal encampment to see a friend of ours. The guards gave us some trouble and did not want to let us in. Dulcinaya showed them the ring the Queen had given us. One of the guards accused us of stealing the King’s ring, but Dulcinaya assured them that we did not! The greeter came up and told us we would have to wait to see our friend and for us to come in and take a seat and have a drink. We stepped inside to wait. We got tired of waiting and decided to come back another time. Dulcinaya picked up a chair, Santiago picked up a bench, and I took the pewter goblets and we walked out. The guards had changed right before, so the new guards did not know we were inside. We walked right past them with our goods.
We got a good way down the street when the greeter came back and noticed the things missing. He looked out of the tent and started calling us back. We asked him what was wrong. He said we were stealing the furniture! We told him we must have misunderstood him when he said "take a seat and have a drink." We apologized and put the things back.
All in all, it was a good Pennsic!
The Following Year
August 13
Here we are at Pennsic again. It’s becoming an annual event. We camped with two other gypsy tribes. The leaders of each tribe got together and named the camp Court of Miracles. They are good people.
We sought out Rachel the Goat Woman and the Drunken Mariners and had a gypsy-pirate party. Rachel took Dulcinaya aside and said she had a gift for her. She gave Dulcinaya a length of rope. Someone said it was a leash for Santiago, but it was a lead rope for a horse. Rachel presented one of her horses as a gift to the clan Painted Wheel. Her name is Silvermist. She is very beautiful and is our most prized possession. We were so proud of our new horse that we paraded her through the streets and the merchants area. We had to convince a few people that she was ours and that we did not steal her.
Thursday, The Same Week
We had our gypsy party tonight. There was drumming, dancing, singing, and someone juggled fire. We were having a really good time until a man from the next camp came and told us we had to be quiet. He said if we did not stop drumming he would call the guards. We told him to go back to his camp. He called the guards and they threatened to arrest us if we did not quiet down. We did not want to leave Pennsic yet so we complied with their wishes. We will have to find a way to get rid of this man who complained. He made a lot of enemies this night.
Friday, The Same Week
I had a fright today. While we were out walking today, Geldemar heard some men asking about me. This is as close as they have been to me. I did not know if they were Geoffrey’s men or Nero’s men. If they were Geoffrey’s men they would not hurt me. If they were Nero’s men, they would kill me. Geldemar told us to go hide while he tried to find out who they were. Later, he told us he followed them to the Crafty Celts booth and asked Vortigern if he had seen me. Vortigern asked them “Who wants to know?” They replied “Nero the Drake.” Dulcinaya decided it was time to leave. So we packed up and left Pennsic until next year.
So far they do not know that I with the Painted Wheel gypsies. And I pray that they do not find out. I dod not want to put Painted Wheel in any danger. I have cut my hair and I dress like a gypsy, so I am hoping that no one will associate me with the person they are looking for. Only now, I need a gypsy name. I will ask Dulcinaya for a name.
I am so excited. We were having dinner tonight when Dulcinaya called me over. She agreed that I should have a gypsy name. From now on, I will be known to the outside world as Aysha. I think I am starting to fit in with these people now. I feel a little bit more at ease, but I still have to keep my guard up. They are still looking for me. Will they ever stop?
Well, an uneventful year has gone by. We have managed to stay away from any of the men looking for me. We have made it to Pennsic XXX. There are more people here than ever before. They had a hard time finding places to put everyone. Fortunately, we were able to get our old spot by the stream. It was very hot the week before we arrived but has cooled off a bit.
Monday 13th
Today we went in search of our friends the Drunken Mariners and found them in their old spot. We were all happy to see each other. They told us they were lucky to be there. On their way to Pennsic they were attacked by some highwayman. They fought them off with little difficulty, but Max’s wagon caught fire. They lost a lot of their supplies. One thing they did bring with them was the is strange, big box that keeps cold on the inside.* They would not tell us how it worked. They said it was magic. It kept their food from spoiling. I have never seen anything like it before. We thought this magical box to be most wonderful. We gathered around the box to examine it. The pirates drew their guns and told us to stop away from the box. We backed away telling them we were just looking at the box. We were not going to take it. We are your friends,” we told them. They lowered their guns and said they were sorry. They were still very nervous. We all had a good laugh about the whole thing.
Wednesday 15th
For a few days now I think I have been followed. I keep seeing a certain Frenchman every where I go. I am not sure if he is following me, but he makes me very nervous.
Thursday 16th
We were out walking our horse Silvermist when we were stopped by the constable. He said that Silvermist belonged up on the Serengeti. What were we doing with her?** We told him that she was a gift from Rachel. He did not believe us at first but this nice lady named Katherine came up and told him we were telling the truth. He still looked skeptical, but he let us go, warning us to stay out of trouble. Dulcinaya was thanking the lady when the Frenchman I had seen came walking up. Katherine introduced him as her husband Vincent. Katherine asked if they could walk with us and Dulcinaya agreed.
Vincent said “That is a very fine horse. You could get a lot of money for her.”
“Oh, we would never sell Silvermist.” Dulcinaya told him.
I do not trust this Vincent. After all, he is French.
Note* These hedonistic people had a propane-powered refridgerator, complete with a freezer, delivered to their camp. And they filled it with popsicles. At Pennsic. This is so wrong.
Note** Even at Pennsic ya get hassled by The Man……
Ivar's Story
By Ivar
I came into the world as the son of a dancer named Keomi Boshengro, and a Scandinavian, probably a Dane, named Turin Ulfsson. The Rom are usually exclusive, keeping to their own kind in such matters, but sometimes these things do happen between people. I do not know how they came to meet, or how they came to part.
I remember peering out of the wagons at night after bed time, watching my mother and the other women and girls dancing in the moonlight at the fire, and falling asleep listening to the music and the drums. I eventually learned to drum too, as many of the older boys did, because then we could stay up late on party nights.
Maybe I should have told her I was leaving, but we'd had yet another fight. Our tribe was getting too large and quarrelsome to dodge unwanted notice easily, and I was not favored among the relatives, being born out of wedlock as I was; so I left as soon as I had my first beard hairs and could claim to be a man and go my own way.
I set out to the North, more or less, in the Spring to find my father's people, and by Summer I met the chieftess Dulcinaya and her small clan. She said she knew my father from long ago - indeed I seemed to remember her as well, but as a younger child who I did not notice very often - and she recognized the Norse medallion that I wore, and still wear, that was once his. She told me that Painted Wheel could use more defenders, and she offered to hire me on. Fall was coming and my progress North was too slow, so I accepted.
The pay is a joke - barely enough to afford a pint at the Chalkman now and then - but their food and wine and company is always plenty and good, and what is gold anyway but one more step toward these, the finer things in life? Even by Romany standards I am not large, and I am only a fair swordsman on the best of days; I think she just wanted me to have an excuse to stay with them because I make her laugh, and because I would have probably gotten myself killed before I ever reached the north sea. We were friends almost at once because it seemed so natural.
At first, I thought to care for her, but her heart was elsewhere. I heard news that Ari Bosh was close by, and so I left again, to the West this time, to learn what I could of my mother, to whom I had tried to send word a number of times but got no answer, and perhaps my father. My clearest memory of him is his teaching me how to move the chess pieces in the shade of the wagons when I was a very small boy who could barely walk, and his booming laugh when I would get it right. He smelt of elderberries.
In my travels I discovered that he may have been a lesser nobleman, and there may be a claim of arms for me, perhaps even some land, or at least some kind of citizenship, if he were to recognize me as an illegitimate son. This I pieced together from some I met who knew of Ari Bosh, but they had moved on and I never found them or my mother.
I traveled East again and caught up with Painted Wheel. Dulcinaya hired me back on immediately, but it is more than a job now. They have become my adopted family, and it has grown larger. We have taken to performing music for the gadje, which is more profitable and much less dangerous than stealing from them, and they are more inclined to let us be. I fear I may be more valuable now as a drummer than as the bold young fighter I once thought myself to be. Either way, I have been one of Painted Wheel ever since Dulcinaya found me that first day, and there is gray in my beard now. They feel like family more than Ari Bosh ever did. Santiago is like a brother to me, and we have had many adventures and narrow escapes. I know some runes, but Vosh is helping me to learn letters and numbers, and Kazimir and his brother Geldemar teach me courtly manners. These things are useful when facing bailiffs and constables and sherriffs and the like. Unarmed and outnumbered, an educated man can still bargain better than one who is not.
Perhaps one day I will have some land, and we may settle there and finally have a place to call home. Meanwhile, my rapier grows rusty, and Dulcinaya pretends not to notice.
I came into the world as the son of a dancer named Keomi Boshengro, and a Scandinavian, probably a Dane, named Turin Ulfsson. The Rom are usually exclusive, keeping to their own kind in such matters, but sometimes these things do happen between people. I do not know how they came to meet, or how they came to part.
I remember peering out of the wagons at night after bed time, watching my mother and the other women and girls dancing in the moonlight at the fire, and falling asleep listening to the music and the drums. I eventually learned to drum too, as many of the older boys did, because then we could stay up late on party nights.
Maybe I should have told her I was leaving, but we'd had yet another fight. Our tribe was getting too large and quarrelsome to dodge unwanted notice easily, and I was not favored among the relatives, being born out of wedlock as I was; so I left as soon as I had my first beard hairs and could claim to be a man and go my own way.
I set out to the North, more or less, in the Spring to find my father's people, and by Summer I met the chieftess Dulcinaya and her small clan. She said she knew my father from long ago - indeed I seemed to remember her as well, but as a younger child who I did not notice very often - and she recognized the Norse medallion that I wore, and still wear, that was once his. She told me that Painted Wheel could use more defenders, and she offered to hire me on. Fall was coming and my progress North was too slow, so I accepted.
The pay is a joke - barely enough to afford a pint at the Chalkman now and then - but their food and wine and company is always plenty and good, and what is gold anyway but one more step toward these, the finer things in life? Even by Romany standards I am not large, and I am only a fair swordsman on the best of days; I think she just wanted me to have an excuse to stay with them because I make her laugh, and because I would have probably gotten myself killed before I ever reached the north sea. We were friends almost at once because it seemed so natural.
At first, I thought to care for her, but her heart was elsewhere. I heard news that Ari Bosh was close by, and so I left again, to the West this time, to learn what I could of my mother, to whom I had tried to send word a number of times but got no answer, and perhaps my father. My clearest memory of him is his teaching me how to move the chess pieces in the shade of the wagons when I was a very small boy who could barely walk, and his booming laugh when I would get it right. He smelt of elderberries.
In my travels I discovered that he may have been a lesser nobleman, and there may be a claim of arms for me, perhaps even some land, or at least some kind of citizenship, if he were to recognize me as an illegitimate son. This I pieced together from some I met who knew of Ari Bosh, but they had moved on and I never found them or my mother.
I traveled East again and caught up with Painted Wheel. Dulcinaya hired me back on immediately, but it is more than a job now. They have become my adopted family, and it has grown larger. We have taken to performing music for the gadje, which is more profitable and much less dangerous than stealing from them, and they are more inclined to let us be. I fear I may be more valuable now as a drummer than as the bold young fighter I once thought myself to be. Either way, I have been one of Painted Wheel ever since Dulcinaya found me that first day, and there is gray in my beard now. They feel like family more than Ari Bosh ever did. Santiago is like a brother to me, and we have had many adventures and narrow escapes. I know some runes, but Vosh is helping me to learn letters and numbers, and Kazimir and his brother Geldemar teach me courtly manners. These things are useful when facing bailiffs and constables and sherriffs and the like. Unarmed and outnumbered, an educated man can still bargain better than one who is not.
Perhaps one day I will have some land, and we may settle there and finally have a place to call home. Meanwhile, my rapier grows rusty, and Dulcinaya pretends not to notice.
First Meeting
By Elphin
Every seaport I have ever been in has always sounded the same. Shouts of sailors in a multitude of languages intermingle with the cries of seagulls. The planks of the docks creak and the ships boom against their moorings. And underneath it all is the unceasing pounding of the waves. I was waiting in this particular port for a friend to arrive.
David of York and I had been friends since the Master at Arms had paired us when we first began learning the art of swordplay. A close friendship was built out of beating each other black and blue. We were inseparable for a time; prowling London, drinking and carousing. We learned to watch each other's backs through the turbulent times of Our Queen's early reign.
I had received word that David was bringing with him a purse from my brother to replenish my much depleted funds. Ever since we were fostered to the royal court my older brother has protected me. Whether it was bigger bullies or vicious gossips, he has always tried to shield me from the worst of human nature. I had decided it was my turn to protect him by staying as far away from the royal court as possible.
I tried once again to think of some way to stretch my resources. Money had a distressing way of disappearing and my training to be a courtly gentlemen left me little in the way of marketable skills to sell. My dancing abilities were poor at best, my proficiency at chess and witty conversation were not likely to gain any gold, and my abilities with the written word were poor enough to drive the good brothers who had taught me to distraction. I could sell my sword arm, but I lacked the stomach for putting a price on my loyalty. I am passing fair with a rapier, perhaps someone would pay for lessons for a son, or sons.
Someone sweeping me into a bear hug interrupted my musings. Gasping for breath, I opened my eyes to see that David of York had arrived. We pounded each other's backs and said the things one usually says when one meets an old friend one haven't seen in some time. I suggested a drink to celebrate the occasion. David heartily agreed.
On the way I inquired as to the health of his father. David struck a pose and in his best imitation of the Chamberlain's haughty tones, "The Duke and His Lady are Resting at His Summer Palace."
I laughed, David always had a way of ridiculing the most irritating of people. I asked after his mother. "She is also doing well," he replied, "She sends you her love."
Without my asking, David slipped me a heavy purse saying, " Your brother sends this as well as his love.
"He is adjusting well to his new title," David continued, "Even the Queen has made comment.”
"It gladdens my heart to hear it." I said, tucking the purse away.
After several ales at a nearby tavern, we decided to search for more interesting surroundings, as the establishment was lacking the area of feminine accompaniment. Not too steady on our feet, we wandered the back streets, looking for a more entertaining place of business when a tall figure dressed in tattered rags rushed around a corner and plowed into me. I tried to push the mendicant away, but was shocked to discover my hands had encountered a very obviously female form. I looked at her face and fell into the most soulful, dark eyes I had ever seen. They seemed to implore me for help in some way.
I would likely be there still, gazing into her eyes but for the appearance of four burly men carrying clubs. They shouted in a language unknown to me and rushed forward. The maiden in my arms stiffened and whirled around. As she did so I was shocked a second time as I felt my rapier being drawn. The raggedly dressed woman had snatched my own sword from its sheath as she stepped away! I stared at the maiden's hand holding my blade incredulously, uncertain of what was going on.
I noticed a heavy broken chain dangling from a manacle around her wrist. A look at her other wrist revealed a matching manacle. Both her wrists showed the blisters of long wear. These men were definitely not from the local constabulary. She would have to be their slave; no doubt escaped from a ship moored in the harbor. I felt my mouth tighten. Slavery had been rightly outlawed in my homeland for years and no right thinking man espoused it. I didn't know who she was or what was happening, but no gentleman, even the son of a Welsh scoundrel, could stand idly by and allow a damsel to be harassed, even if she had stolen his blade.
Drawing my dagger, I stepped beside the maiden. David, as I expected, drew his rapier and stepped beside me. The four men did not look very happy with this situation. Judging from the men's dress and heavy beards, I took them for Poles. I did not know what language was spoken in Poland. I did know a little German, and hoping that at least someone knew the speech of the German Principalities, I tried it. One of the men stepped forward and spoke in a tongue with which I was unfamiliar. I glanced at David. He shrugged his incomprehension. In succession I tried French and even Latin to no avail.
The man who had stepped forward looked at his companions, when they offered no assistance he said in halting Greek, "What do you want?" My grasp of Greek is very poor, but I tried to respond in the same language, "What do you want with this girl?" Actually, I think I said, "What do you do with your grandmother?"
The four men took exception to my words, or at least decided that the time for diplomacy was past. They charged, flailing with their clubs. I stepped inside one man's swing and tried to parry with my dagger. Instead of catching his club, my dagger caught his forearm. Recognizing an opportunity when I saw one I drew with the edge of my blade, opening his arm to the elbow. He grunted and dropped the club. He sent me sprawling with a powerful blow from his left hand, then leaped on top of me. I had to bash him several times on the head with my dagger pommel before I could get him off of me. I struggled to my feet and took stock of the situation. After sending one of his opponents running for his life, David was stabbing another in the leg. Unfortunately as the ruffian went down he gave David a good blow in the ribs.
Hearing a loud gasp of pain I whirled around, fearing for the maiden. I should not have worried. The damsel I was so concerned for had run a man through with my rapier. The ruffian groaned and collapsed as she withdrew the blade. I noted by her stance and the way the girl held the sword as she looked for another enemy to skewer that this maiden knew her way around a blade. I also made note of her rather pleasing form her rags tried and mostly failed to conceal.
Seeing no one threatening her, the damsel lowered my rapier and relaxed. Thinking this was a good time to make friends, I stuffed my dagger in my belt and approached her saying, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
"'Don't worry,' you said, 'I won't hurt you,' You said " mocked David.
"Shut up and tie the bandage." I grumbled.
Every seaport I have ever been in has always sounded the same. Shouts of sailors in a multitude of languages intermingle with the cries of seagulls. The planks of the docks creak and the ships boom against their moorings. And underneath it all is the unceasing pounding of the waves. I was waiting in this particular port for a friend to arrive.
David of York and I had been friends since the Master at Arms had paired us when we first began learning the art of swordplay. A close friendship was built out of beating each other black and blue. We were inseparable for a time; prowling London, drinking and carousing. We learned to watch each other's backs through the turbulent times of Our Queen's early reign.
I had received word that David was bringing with him a purse from my brother to replenish my much depleted funds. Ever since we were fostered to the royal court my older brother has protected me. Whether it was bigger bullies or vicious gossips, he has always tried to shield me from the worst of human nature. I had decided it was my turn to protect him by staying as far away from the royal court as possible.
I tried once again to think of some way to stretch my resources. Money had a distressing way of disappearing and my training to be a courtly gentlemen left me little in the way of marketable skills to sell. My dancing abilities were poor at best, my proficiency at chess and witty conversation were not likely to gain any gold, and my abilities with the written word were poor enough to drive the good brothers who had taught me to distraction. I could sell my sword arm, but I lacked the stomach for putting a price on my loyalty. I am passing fair with a rapier, perhaps someone would pay for lessons for a son, or sons.
Someone sweeping me into a bear hug interrupted my musings. Gasping for breath, I opened my eyes to see that David of York had arrived. We pounded each other's backs and said the things one usually says when one meets an old friend one haven't seen in some time. I suggested a drink to celebrate the occasion. David heartily agreed.
On the way I inquired as to the health of his father. David struck a pose and in his best imitation of the Chamberlain's haughty tones, "The Duke and His Lady are Resting at His Summer Palace."
I laughed, David always had a way of ridiculing the most irritating of people. I asked after his mother. "She is also doing well," he replied, "She sends you her love."
Without my asking, David slipped me a heavy purse saying, " Your brother sends this as well as his love.
"He is adjusting well to his new title," David continued, "Even the Queen has made comment.”
"It gladdens my heart to hear it." I said, tucking the purse away.
After several ales at a nearby tavern, we decided to search for more interesting surroundings, as the establishment was lacking the area of feminine accompaniment. Not too steady on our feet, we wandered the back streets, looking for a more entertaining place of business when a tall figure dressed in tattered rags rushed around a corner and plowed into me. I tried to push the mendicant away, but was shocked to discover my hands had encountered a very obviously female form. I looked at her face and fell into the most soulful, dark eyes I had ever seen. They seemed to implore me for help in some way.
I would likely be there still, gazing into her eyes but for the appearance of four burly men carrying clubs. They shouted in a language unknown to me and rushed forward. The maiden in my arms stiffened and whirled around. As she did so I was shocked a second time as I felt my rapier being drawn. The raggedly dressed woman had snatched my own sword from its sheath as she stepped away! I stared at the maiden's hand holding my blade incredulously, uncertain of what was going on.
I noticed a heavy broken chain dangling from a manacle around her wrist. A look at her other wrist revealed a matching manacle. Both her wrists showed the blisters of long wear. These men were definitely not from the local constabulary. She would have to be their slave; no doubt escaped from a ship moored in the harbor. I felt my mouth tighten. Slavery had been rightly outlawed in my homeland for years and no right thinking man espoused it. I didn't know who she was or what was happening, but no gentleman, even the son of a Welsh scoundrel, could stand idly by and allow a damsel to be harassed, even if she had stolen his blade.
Drawing my dagger, I stepped beside the maiden. David, as I expected, drew his rapier and stepped beside me. The four men did not look very happy with this situation. Judging from the men's dress and heavy beards, I took them for Poles. I did not know what language was spoken in Poland. I did know a little German, and hoping that at least someone knew the speech of the German Principalities, I tried it. One of the men stepped forward and spoke in a tongue with which I was unfamiliar. I glanced at David. He shrugged his incomprehension. In succession I tried French and even Latin to no avail.
The man who had stepped forward looked at his companions, when they offered no assistance he said in halting Greek, "What do you want?" My grasp of Greek is very poor, but I tried to respond in the same language, "What do you want with this girl?" Actually, I think I said, "What do you do with your grandmother?"
The four men took exception to my words, or at least decided that the time for diplomacy was past. They charged, flailing with their clubs. I stepped inside one man's swing and tried to parry with my dagger. Instead of catching his club, my dagger caught his forearm. Recognizing an opportunity when I saw one I drew with the edge of my blade, opening his arm to the elbow. He grunted and dropped the club. He sent me sprawling with a powerful blow from his left hand, then leaped on top of me. I had to bash him several times on the head with my dagger pommel before I could get him off of me. I struggled to my feet and took stock of the situation. After sending one of his opponents running for his life, David was stabbing another in the leg. Unfortunately as the ruffian went down he gave David a good blow in the ribs.
Hearing a loud gasp of pain I whirled around, fearing for the maiden. I should not have worried. The damsel I was so concerned for had run a man through with my rapier. The ruffian groaned and collapsed as she withdrew the blade. I noted by her stance and the way the girl held the sword as she looked for another enemy to skewer that this maiden knew her way around a blade. I also made note of her rather pleasing form her rags tried and mostly failed to conceal.
Seeing no one threatening her, the damsel lowered my rapier and relaxed. Thinking this was a good time to make friends, I stuffed my dagger in my belt and approached her saying, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
"'Don't worry,' you said, 'I won't hurt you,' You said " mocked David.
"Shut up and tie the bandage." I grumbled.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
The Curse of the Flaming Skull
This story was told to Painted Wheel at Twelfth Night. 1/5/2002
By Robert, Rachel, Max and Yela
It was one of the finest mornings we'd ever seen at Camp Bodrum. Our pirate contingent was merrily conducting a land raid while the Bodrum gypsies enjoyed a pleasant visit from their friends in Painted Wheel. The shadows lengthened and bottles of meade began passing through the company. Songs were sung. Some well, some loudly. Jokes were told, drums were beaten, and dancers whipped about in splendid fun.
But across the road, there was trouble sneaking through the shadows. Though at the time we'd no notion of it, we later learned that a man was watching our goings on with sinister purpose. Petrel Demetria, a veteran and ruthless mercenary retained by Nero the Drake, had spent many long months in pursuit of his elusive quarry, the fair Aysha, and must have been well pleased to spot the runaway dancing among us, oblivious to the malignant danger he represented.
Every member of our household is familiar with Aysha's tragic story. However, if any hearing this tale are unfamiliar, suffice to say, Nero meant Aysha terrible harm, and this assassin was to be the instrument of his will. Presumably preferring the cover of night, Petrel slipped quietly away to take a meal and wait out the sun's final moments. Fortunately, as we would soon discover, Petrel was a man generously capable of error, and it was during his absence that the members of Painted Wheel chose to collect themselves and head for their own camp, Aysha among them.
It was also at this time that the stalwart Mariners returned triumphant, laden with all manner of ill-gotten goods from their raiding. They greeted, and then wished fond farewell to the departing gypsies, and immediately set about distributing and packing their loot aboard their grounded ship, the Twilight Mistress. With practiced efficiency, ammunition, food, and clothing were packed away. Coins and jewelry were divided and stored, principally in secret places, and the bolts of cloth were quickly claimed by Trina the sailmistress. The pace slowed considerably however, with the large and myriad supply of stolen ale and liquor. As the variety and quality of these spirits sunk in, a lethargy for work settled over the male members of the crew, until WyteRaevyn, the ship's carpenter, suggested that each and every bottle should be carefully sampled to insure there was no poison. "For safety" he quickly added.
The matter was settled and the sailors began doing what they do best. Soon they wandered into the cool interior of the ship. Not long thereafter, all that could be heard was their sharp staccato snores drifting into a darkening sky.
After a few exchanged smiles, the women of camp had turned to the business of settling in for the evening, when Demetria returned. His eye was steady. His hands drifted across the weapons concealed about his person. Slinking through the gate, he moved to circle the edge of camp. While a stealthy entrance might have served him well on someone else's property, it was just the sort of thing to catch the eye of the wily harbormistress Elayne. In short order, she stood before him, coolly demanding to know his business. With a growl of warning he shoved past her and immediately saw Rachel assisting Ven Droma's beloved Shuvani to their Vardo after a long day's fortune telling. Mistaking the frail old woman for...a frail old woman, Petrel was upon her in three long strides, grabbing her by the arms. "Where is Rebekah?*" he hissed. "I know she is here among you gypsies."
Shuvani's eyes narrowed. She pursed her lips and said nothing, which angered the man. He shook her violently. Rachel began moving toward him, but was stayed by a sharp look from her grandmother. Rachel had long known to respect that temper and remained at arms length. Glancing quickly about she noticed Yela quietly hurrying into the Twilight Mistress. Oblivious, Petrel repeated with greater venom, "Where IS she?"
Shuvani leveled her eyes at him and began speaking in Romany--sharp, ancient words in rhythmic cadence. Not a patient man in the best of circumstances, the mercenary brought a knife to her throat. Rachel, unable to remain silent any longer gently gripped his arm pleading, "Please don't hurt my grandmother, she doesn't speak your language. The woman you seek is inside the ship, you will find her there."
Smirking at her, Petrel sheathed the dagger and shrugged her hands aside. Shuvani was flung toward the ground and would have fallen if not for Rachel's quick hands, correcting her balance. Through it all Shuvani's litany continued.
The burly hunter advanced toward the ship with confidence. Just before he reached the opening Maeve lunged from the shadows, wrapping her arms around him, a look of fear on her pretty face. "Please, don't hurt Rebekah!" she begged. "She has done no wrong to you!" Impatiently, he pushed her away and, finally entered the Twilight Mistress.
But Yela had not been idle within that broken hull. Petrel Demetria, veteran mercenary, stared down a broadside of five well-oiled, but quite unsteadily aimed, flintlock pistols. A sixth gun was held in the Captain's limp fingers as he remained unconscious, heedless to Yela's desperate howling into his ear. "The ship is under attack!" she screamed.
Morgan remained inert.
Petrel quickly deemed the sergeant at arms his most dangerous foe. With practiced speed his right hand stole beneath his cloak, and with a single, fluid motion, he unsheathed and struck Joad in the heart with...a delicate branch that snapped harmlessly against the sergeant's massive chest. Irritated, Joad quickly fired at point-blank range. The ball planted squarely in the ship's hull three feet to the left of the assassin's head.
Joad later insisted that he had seen two identical attackers, and he had hit the one on the left directly between the eyes.
The first pangs of fear in his heart, Petrel reached for his backup dagger, and quickly produced...a ripe banana. Bewildered his head snapped left and right, seeking his absent arsenal, and there, through the entrance, was Maeve, playfully swinging his custom rapier to and fro. Behind her Rachel smoothly tucked his jeweled, curved dagger into her belt, and began idly thumbing through the contents of his belt pouch. Both ladies wore a wry smile.
A second blast echoed within the pirates' grounded ship as the Naviguesser, with a muttered curse, opened fire on a harmless lantern. In his hungover condition, the bright light it cast was a greater threat than ten armed killers.
Still trying to rouse their slumbering leader, Yela violently shook Morgan, and shrieked into his ear, "A killer! He's trying to kill us!"
There was a slight twitch of the Captain's nose.
Cross-eyed and perhaps the least lucid of all, WyteRaevyn nevertheless drew perfect aim. Sadly he had selected the Captain as his target, and only the quick action by his wife, Trina nudged the weapon aside in the nick of time. The ball passed harmlessly, though noisily, through one of the ship's few remaining glass portholes.
Petrel's confidence returned in a rush. These men were roaring drunk! He pulled from his boot a weapon not stolen by the quick-fingered gypsies; a small derringer style pistol. Typically ineffective, the pirates realized it could be deadly in this small space and backed away.
Suddenly, Arduina the Captain's Booty, who had hitherto escaped Petrel's notice reached from the darkness and gripped Morgan's shoulder. She said simply, "He's stealing the booze."
Bolt awake, the captain immediately sat upright, drew an unswerving bead on Petrel's head and squeezed the trigger faster than the eye could see. It was only the mercenary's quick reflexes that kept him from certain death, but he yelped in pain when the ball grazed his ear. Once again the ship endured its crew's well intentioned marksmanship as Morgan's shot bored into her battered hull. Wounded, Petrel staggered back out of the ship, and was momentarily panicked when Angus emerged from the opening. He was angry, he was armed, he was nearly sober. Petrel began to run. The compact Mariner leapt neatly from the opening and gave chase, screaming madly. To the huntsman's bewilderment, his pursuer quickly outdistanced him, running faster and faster until he disappeared into the woods. Soon, all that could be heard was a far away howling as Angus chased shadows in the distance.
Petrel galloped madly around the tents, trying to find a way out. He took a wrong turn and discovered himself with his back to a wall. Two newcomers approached the scene. Max, pistol in hand and, in marked contrast to the rest of the crew, sober, stalked forward slowly, holding the man in his sights. Robert atte Quill, raced to his wife Rachel's side and asked, "Who the devil is he?" "I don't know," she replied, "but he's trying to kill Aysha." Then in a whisper she added, "And I think grandmama put a curse on him." Not taking any chances, Max fired at the panicked assassin, but by bizarre chance, the bullet ricocheted off the target's wide belt buckle and shattered a neighboring jug of 20 year old, 80 proof rum. Renewed howls of anger bellowed from the ship as the mariners impacted and tumbled against one another in a fervent but ultimately doomed effort to all get through the opening at once.
A strange smile on his face, Petrel stood straight and took careful aim at Max's heart with the derringer still clutched in his hand. Max looked for cover, but found none and slowly realized, he could do nothing but wait. Robert, looked on worriedly and said to his wife, "That's strange. Shuvani's curses are usually a lot faster-acting than this."
Lips curled in a sneer, Petrel pulled the trigger. Incredibly, his small pistol exploded, severely burning his hand and hurling burning wood and bits of metal in all directions. Petrel had time to scream and grab his wounded hand, before the shower of sparks ignited the pool of rum in which he was standing. His whole body suddenly engulfed in pitiless flame, he ran for a few steps, then squarely struck a neat stack of large barrels with a small cask balanced on the top. Petrel's impact dislodged the barrel, which promptly fell onto his head, cracked and detonated its contents of black powder, which in turn detonated the dozen large barrels filled with the Brewmistress's finest meade.
Max quickly felt his chest and abdomen, checking for holes while the rest of the household slowly approached the sudden bonfire burning in our camp. Joad, Raven and Wyte Raven were distracted, keeping a tight hold on Morgan who was pushing with all his strength towards the fire. "Don't be a fool, man!" screamed Wyte Raven, "He's beyond our help!"
"The meade, you idiot!" our Captain shouted back. "We must save the meade!"
Quietly, Rachel turned and walked to her beloved grandmother, who was sitting on her wagon steps. Cocking her head, Rachel asked, "Grandmama, what did you say? What curse did you give that man?" A glint in her eye, Shuvani replied slyly,
"May the curse of Painted Wheel fall upon your head."
After the story was completed, Max and Yela presented the skull of Painted Wheel's enemy, in a chest, surrounded by gold and silver coins. Its purpose is to be a fire charm, to keep the household from setting themselves on fire.
How Bardulf and Morwenna Came to Join the Kumpania
By Bardulf & Morwenna
How was I was kidnapped by the gypsies? Did I say kidnapped? Well, not really kidnapped…. It’s a bit more complicated than that.
Have a seat my friend, and for the price of an ale, I’ll tell you a tale…..
By nature, I’m an ordinary seaman with just enough talent to be a second mate. While not a lavish life, it was tolerable enough. Tolerable enough until I happened to take a shine to a Cornish lass.
That girl had a mind for merchanting. ‘Tis known that not many need a keg of nails and fewer yet have the money to buy a keg of nails - but everyone needs a few nails now and then.
It wasn’t long before she discovered that when you sold nails by the dozen, you could earn more than the money it cost to buy the same number of nails by the keg. Pretty soon, we had a profitable ship chandler business.
What does any sailor with too much money buy? No, not whiskey - a ship! We bought a run-down, old merchantman that brought us a tidy profit in trade with the Dutch - which of course we used to buy another ship - and in turn, another!
Do you remember that splendid little war we had with the French a few years back?
I do.
Some sorry Frog man-o-war boarded my ship and stole my cargo!
Facing ruin, I did what a man had to do. I turned privateer - I was not a pirate you understand; all my vessels had a proper letter of marque - signed by the King himself! We showed the damned French what happens when you steal from an Englishman!
That privateering was rather rewarding made the revenge sweeter. Riches and honors came in abundance. My lady & I were proclaimed Baron & Baroness by the King - however, with no Baronial lands they were perhaps empty titles….
So far, so good. ‘Tis said however, that good fortune will test you as surely as any adversity.
Well, the old king (God rest his soul) dies and his idiot son marries a French princess, and just like that, the French are now our allies! -
And just like that, French ships are no longer fair game and I’m now a pirate! How’s that, you ask? When the they steal your cargo, it’s a “prize of war” - when you return the courtesy, well, that’s piracy!!
It seems the damned Frogs were also a bit upset that I sank a few of their ships.
How many? - perhaps a dozen, maybe more…..
Not finding a gallows to my liking, we hid from the French in the only place a Frenchman would never look…..
France.
One dark and stormy night, the Baroness and I took our comfort in what might be generously deemed a tavern - it was “The Old Brown Cow” - or some such name. While the ale was tolerable enough, the port sherry truly pleased my palate and I indulged more than a gentleman should. That’s the only excuse I have for what follows….
The “entertainment” on that evening was an odd lot of gypsies. One woman danced and tried to coax a few coins from the patrons. Three others tried to coax a danceable tune from instruments that had clearly seen better days.
The dancer might have succeeded were it not for a man that sat close by. He seemed pleasant enough, but would always favor any patron that paid too much attention to the dancer with a deadpan glare that warned any man to keep his distance. That he also kept a rapier within arm’s reach didn’t help her income a bit.
The Baroness yawned, looked bored, and excused herself.
Moments later, ‘twas then that six men entered…..
By the look of them, they were the Sheriff, four bailiffs, and a somewhat aggrieved-looking farmer.
“That’s her! - That’s the thieving wench!”
The dancer froze but a moment, then ran for the kitchen door - and right into the arms of a waiting bailiff. He spun the woman around, seized her by the scruff of the neck and pinned one arm behind her back.
“Release her.”
It was the fellow with the rapier who spoke. It was a simple, dry, matter-of-fact command that a prudent man would heed.
Prudent men were in short supply that night.
“Or what?”
May the Gods save us from such idiots. The idiot in question was the youngest bailiff. The youth compounded his lunacy by drawing a sword and turning to face the seated man.
With a speed I would not have credited to a mortal, the man rose, and unsheathed the rapier. One fluid blow stuck the sword from the bailiff’s hand and the return stroke pinned the fool against a wall.
When everything stopped moving, the room was full of bared steel.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the blond gypsy woman that had played the fiddle had chosen her targets and was quietly readying two throwing knives.
“Gentlemen…..”
I stood and walked to the center of the room, clearly unarmed and brandishing only my purse.
“….there’s no need for this to end badly.”
I held out the purse to the farmer and shook it so that all could hear the coins inside. I saw no reason to reveal that those coins were but a handful of coppers.
“What was taken? A few eggs - perhaps a chicken or two? Surely those things are not worth a man’s life.”
“The first man who moves, I’ll kill you where you stand.”
A familiar feminine voice - the Baroness had returned. She stood in the kitchen doorway brandishing a wheel-lock that I had given her some time ago.
“Put the pistol down, my dear - there’s no need for that. I’ll explain later.”
“I step out for a moment to visit the loo and when I come back you’re surrounded by armed men while holding your purse out! And this is the thanks I get? I’ll be damned if I ever save your sorry Saxon arse….”
She never finished the tirade because a deafening report filled the room. The Sheriff’s hat was shredded, but thankfully the head below it was spared.
I really did intend to have the pistol repaired someday. Whenever the clockwork was over-wound, the trigger pawl had a nasty habit of slipping, causing the gun to fire without actually pulling the trigger.
In truth, I can remember but snippets of what followed - things did happen faster than the most even-tempered of men could observe.
I’ll give the gypsies credit for being a quick-witted lot - everyone of them seized whatever opportunity the confusion provided.
The dancer broke free when she came down hard on her captor’s toes with her heel. She then wheeled about and settled a private debt. While I didn’t witness what she did to his nethers, his bulging eyes bespoke the result.
I don’t recall which of them grabbed the Baroness & I pulled us out the door.
We were guided along a path through the woods that I could not have found, let alone followed in the dark. Presently, we entered their encampment and were given food and drink and a place to rest.
“The Sherengro wants to meet you two. Address her as the ‘Rani Bari’. She’s been told what happened at the tavern.”
The woman sat at the edge of a campfire and barely took note of our approach. Her attention centered on some cards that were spread out on a small carpet.
“You two are bit old for brawlin’, eh?”
“I fear we’re at the mercy of your hospitality, Rani Bari. Everything we had is back at the Tavern. We dare not return for it.”
“This Kumpania honors its debts and its friends.”
The woman fell silent and scowled at the cards. She gathered them up and laid them out again. Whatever was divulged did not please her, for she quickly gathered them up again. Suddenly, her face brightened - as if seeing something obvious for the first time.
“Well damn me for being a fool! The cards can’t reveal unless I know your names!”
“We are Bardulf and Morwenna, Baron and Baroness at your service.”
The Sherengro paused. Clearly she suspected the vagabonds before her were of a couple of loons. She then favored us with a gently tolerant smile that is used in the company of small children.
“Baron? Baroness?? Forgive my lack of manners! I’m Dulcinaya, The Queen of Egypt! Welcome to my royal court!
Dulcinaya shuffled the cards one more time and laid them out.
“The cards say you’re going to stay with us for a while.”
Horsey Dorveys
To make Halloween more special for trick or treaters this year, let us give them a taste of some quality gourmet French cuisine for a change. I have an excellent recipe for Horsey Dorveys, a most delightful morsel that goes well with any fine chocolate and champagne. With your help we can give the youngsters something they cannot get just anywhere. The recipe takes a bit of work, but with everyone pitching in, we can pull it off.
It is basically a hand pressed fresh horse pate', wrapped in a crispy frog skin crepe, then lightly accented with a drizzle of a rich, creamy, snail shell sauce. Yummy. Nothing else like it.
Given how Silvermist hardly drinks, I am sure that she is not in need of her entire liver. In all likelihood, it is conceivably possible that eventually she would somewhat heal from the procedure. I shall need some help holding her down, but if I am not mistaken where the liver is, all should go fairly quickly.
What we will need:
A wooden meat grinder (to avoid that unpleasant metallic taste)
4-5 large frogs (or toads if none are available)
1 large Vidalia onion
Thick fresh cream
Mushrooms (Dulcy, whatever you have handy)
leftover escargot shells (hang on to any you get between now and then)
2 cases Dom Perigon
French Tarragon (fresh stuff, not the dry store stuff, preferably shipped in that day from Paris)
Silvermist
rope
sharp knives
1-2 horse tranquilizers
sutures
If you get another horse this year, we can make this an annual tradition!
IMPORTANT! For best results, Silvermist needs to be on a strict diet of oats only for the next few weeks. She will like that.
Truly in Service,
Vincent
It is basically a hand pressed fresh horse pate', wrapped in a crispy frog skin crepe, then lightly accented with a drizzle of a rich, creamy, snail shell sauce. Yummy. Nothing else like it.
Given how Silvermist hardly drinks, I am sure that she is not in need of her entire liver. In all likelihood, it is conceivably possible that eventually she would somewhat heal from the procedure. I shall need some help holding her down, but if I am not mistaken where the liver is, all should go fairly quickly.
What we will need:
A wooden meat grinder (to avoid that unpleasant metallic taste)
4-5 large frogs (or toads if none are available)
1 large Vidalia onion
Thick fresh cream
Mushrooms (Dulcy, whatever you have handy)
leftover escargot shells (hang on to any you get between now and then)
2 cases Dom Perigon
French Tarragon (fresh stuff, not the dry store stuff, preferably shipped in that day from Paris)
Silvermist
rope
sharp knives
1-2 horse tranquilizers
sutures
If you get another horse this year, we can make this an annual tradition!
IMPORTANT! For best results, Silvermist needs to be on a strict diet of oats only for the next few weeks. She will like that.
Truly in Service,
Vincent
A Wake At The Wheel
A Wake At The Wheel is Vincent, Katherine, Ivar, Aysha, and Dulcinaya.
Okay, it's almost here. We have recordings. No, no, I'm not messing with you. I'm just waiting for them to be sent to me so I can post the suckers.
But yeah, we actually made some nice recordings. I'll give everyone a heads up when I post them.
Okay, it's almost here. We have recordings. No, no, I'm not messing with you. I'm just waiting for them to be sent to me so I can post the suckers.
But yeah, we actually made some nice recordings. I'll give everyone a heads up when I post them.
Dmitri
http://www.flashbackuniverse.com/
Long years ago, Dmitri frequently camped on the lands of House White Phoenix, the household that took in Dulcinaya when she was orphaned. Dulcy told her guardians he was her older brother.
Well, he wasn't older, and he wasn't her brother.
One day, Dmitri was shanghaid in an alley and pressed into service on a pirate ship, where, suprisingly, he learned to read and write (and make lots of copies). He eventually won his freedom and returned to his lover and her new tribe, Kumpania Painted Wheel.
A talented guitarist and storyteller, Dmitri has the gift of knowing how to make anyone feel welcome at his fire.
Iago
Iago Gallago (James the Gallician) is (so far) a traveller, based in the north west of Spain in the 16th C. He plays gallician pipes for dancing, and to keep his spirits up, and earns his money entertaining villagers by music, juggling, fire -eating and a little careful legerdemain (take that how you will :).
He travels with Zelda, who is "the Most Powerful Witch in the North", as well as being a lovely singer/songwriter/drummer and various family members. There are a pack of dogs with two stupid spaniels "Zebediah" and "Tobias" as leaders.
Mundane note: Martin is our most far-flung member, residing in Australia.
He travels with Zelda, who is "the Most Powerful Witch in the North", as well as being a lovely singer/songwriter/drummer and various family members. There are a pack of dogs with two stupid spaniels "Zebediah" and "Tobias" as leaders.
Mundane note: Martin is our most far-flung member, residing in Australia.
Thia
Thia is originally from Kumpania Ari Bosh, (which is the same tribe that raised Kazimir and Tsigane after the original Painted Wheel was decimated by soldiers.)
She and her brother Robert the Quill arrived at the camp of the Ven Droma one afternoon after The Twilight Mistress was shipwrecked, intending to visit with some friends they had there. This is when she met the stranded ship's pilot. Yela and Max have been smitten with each other ever since.
Macksi
http://www.drunkenmariners.com/
"Max" is the Romany pilot of the Drunken Mariners’ wrecked ship, the Twilight Mistress. After his family was driven from the land of a noble French household when he was a child, he was found and adopted by that same French household. Growing up, he made his way in varied trades, eventually becoming a shipper for a clothing merchant.
This is what led to him joining on with The Twilight Mistress, a pirate vessel that raided his sloop. These pirates were notorious drinkers and carousers, and one fateful morning, after a month long binge, they went on a raid.
Being drunk, thinking one can conquer anything, and sailing don't usually mix well. The crew failed to notice the signs of foul weather ahead. They sailed headlong into a massive gale. Raven the Naviguesser directed Max (who, ironically, is a tee-totaler, and the only sober man aboard) to steer the ship out of the storm. Unfortunately, he guessed wrong, and the ship ran aground hard!
The bulk of the crew scattered but a small group managed to keep together on shore. As fate would have it, the Kumpania Ven Droma, Painted Wheel’s relatives, were camped in that very spot.
They gave them shelter from the storm that destroyed their ship and in return, the group of gadje who came to burn them out a few days later were surprised to discover a gang of drunken but ferocious pirates protecting them!
"Max" is the Romany pilot of the Drunken Mariners’ wrecked ship, the Twilight Mistress. After his family was driven from the land of a noble French household when he was a child, he was found and adopted by that same French household. Growing up, he made his way in varied trades, eventually becoming a shipper for a clothing merchant.
This is what led to him joining on with The Twilight Mistress, a pirate vessel that raided his sloop. These pirates were notorious drinkers and carousers, and one fateful morning, after a month long binge, they went on a raid.
Being drunk, thinking one can conquer anything, and sailing don't usually mix well. The crew failed to notice the signs of foul weather ahead. They sailed headlong into a massive gale. Raven the Naviguesser directed Max (who, ironically, is a tee-totaler, and the only sober man aboard) to steer the ship out of the storm. Unfortunately, he guessed wrong, and the ship ran aground hard!
The bulk of the crew scattered but a small group managed to keep together on shore. As fate would have it, the Kumpania Ven Droma, Painted Wheel’s relatives, were camped in that very spot.
They gave them shelter from the storm that destroyed their ship and in return, the group of gadje who came to burn them out a few days later were surprised to discover a gang of drunken but ferocious pirates protecting them!
Robert
http://www.vendroma.com/
http://www.robertquill.com/
Robert the Quill is Thia’s artistically talented brother. He and his sister Thia showed up in the Ven Droma camp shortly after the arrival of the shipwrecked pirates.
Upon seeing that Rachel the Goatwoman was quite the hottie, he decided to stick around for a bit. They eventually married, and the two of them are now an inseparable pair.
Robert can often be found at Pennsic, in the booth with the sign that reads “Please Disturb The Artist.”
Awards
AoA 7-20-02
Rachel
http://www.enslin.com/rae/pages/stume.htm
http://www.vendroma.com/
Rachel the Goatwoman is the head of Kumpania Ven Droma. She met Painted Wheel while we were admiring her horse, Silvermist, who was grazing outside her vardo one morning.
Her warmth and friendliness endeared her to us immediately, and it is through her hospitality that Painted Wheel became friends with the Drunken Mariners.
Rachel is known as "The Goatwoman" because of the large herd of various livestock* she carts around with her when she travels; notably the very life-like goats she uses for shopping carts in the Pennsic marketplace.
*Note: The Australian Shepherd out in front of the vardo isn't alive and never has been alive. The fake fur and plastic it's made of has never been alive. Anyone accusing her of animal cruelty may well get themselves run over by a large, Ledge-style, white and green vardo.
Tsigane
Dulcinaya’s and Kazimir’s sister, Tsigane is the level head, the reliable shoulder, and the healing hand of the Kumpania. Usually content to pursue more quiet pastimes than her tribesmen, Tsigane is often the calm eye in the storm.
Raised by her Aunt Savina, Lochlann’s mother, she, like Kazimir, was reunited with their sister as an adult, and the three siblings are fiercely protective of one another.
Awards
AoA 9-1981Order of the Coill's Tripaliare
Baroness Morwenna
How were we kidnapped by the gypsies? Did I say kidnapped? Well, not really kidnapped…. It’s a bit more complicated than that.
Have a seat my friend, and for the price of an ale, I’ll tell you a tale…..
By nature, I’m an ordinary seaman with just enough talent to be a second mate. While not a lavish life, it was tolerable enough. Tolerable enough until I happened to take a shine to a Cornish lass.
That girl had a mind for merchanting. ‘Tis known that not many need a keg of nails and fewer yet have the money to buy a keg of nails - but everyone needs a few nails now and then.
It wasn’t long before she discovered that when you sold nails by the dozen, you could earn more than the money it cost to buy the same number of nails by the keg. Pretty soon, we had a profitable ship chandler business.
What does any sailor with too much money buy? No, not whiskey - a ship! We bought a run-down, old merchantman that brought us a tidy profit in trade with the Dutch - which of course we used to buy another ship - and in turn, another!
Do you remember that splendid little war we had with the French a few years back?
I do.
Some sorry Frog man-o-war boarded my ship and stole my cargo!
Facing ruin, I did what a man had to do. I turned privateer - I was not a pirate you understand; all my vessels had a proper letter of marque - signed by the King himself! We showed the damned French what happens when you steal from an Englishman!
That privateering was rather rewarding made the revenge sweeter. Riches and honors came in abundance. My lady & I were proclaimed Baron & Baroness by the King - however, with no Baronial lands they were perhaps empty titles….
So far, so good. ‘Tis said however, that good fortune will test you as surely as any adversity.
Well, the old king (God rest his soul) dies and his idiot son marries a French princess, and just like that, the French are now our allies! -
And just like that, French ships are no longer fair game and I’m now a pirate! How’s that, you ask? When the they steal your cargo, it’s a “prize of war” - when you return the courtesy, well, that’s piracy!!
It seems the damned Frogs were also a bit upset that I sank a few of their ships.
How many? - perhaps a dozen, maybe more…..
Not finding a gallows to my liking, we hid from the French in the only place a Frenchman would never look…..
France.
One dark and stormy night, the Baroness and I took our comfort in what might be generously deemed a tavern - it was “The Old Brown Cow” - or some such name. While the ale was tolerable enough, the port sherry truly pleased my palate and I indulged more than a gentleman should. That’s the only excuse I have for what follows….
The “entertainment” on that evening was an odd lot of gypsies. One woman danced and tried to coax a few coins from the patrons. Three others tried to coax a danceable tune from instruments that had clearly seen better days.
The dancer might have succeeded were it not for a man that sat close by. He seemed pleasant enough, but would always favor any patron that paid too much attention to the dancer with a deadpan glare that warned any man to keep his distance. That he also kept a rapier within arm’s reach didn’t help her income a bit.
The Baroness yawned, looked bored, and excused herself.
Moments later, ‘twas then that six men entered…..
By the look of them, they were the Sheriff, four bailiffs, and a somewhat aggrieved-looking farmer.
“That’s her! - That’s the thieving wench!”
The dancer froze but a moment, then ran for the kitchen door - and right into the arms of a waiting bailiff. He spun the woman around, seized her by the scruff of the neck and pinned one arm behind her back.
“Release her.”
It was the fellow with the rapier who spoke. It was a simple, dry, matter-of-fact command that a prudent man would heed.
Prudent men were in short supply that night.
“Or what?”
May the Gods save us from such idiots. The idiot in question was the youngest bailiff. The youth compounded his lunacy by drawing a sword and turning to face the seated man.
With a speed I would not have credited to a mortal, the man rose, and unsheathed the rapier. One fluid blow stuck the sword from the bailiff’s hand and the return stroke pinned the fool against a wall.
When everything stopped moving, the room was full of bared steel.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the blond gypsy woman that had played the fiddle had chosen her targets and was quietly readying two throwing knives.
“Gentlemen…..”
I stood and walked to the center of the room, clearly unarmed and brandishing only my purse.
“….there’s no need for this to end badly.”
I held out the purse to the farmer and shook it so that all could hear the coins inside. I saw no reason to reveal that those coins were but a handful of coppers.
“What was taken? A few eggs - perhaps a chicken or two? Surely those things are not worth a man’s life.”
“The first man who moves, I’ll kill you where you stand.”
A familiar feminine voice - the Baroness had returned. She stood in the kitchen doorway brandishing a wheel-lock that I had given her some time ago.
“Put the pistol down, my dear - there’s no need for that. I’ll explain later.”
“I step out for a moment to visit the loo and when I come back you’re surrounded by armed men while holding your purse out! And this is the thanks I get? I’ll be damned if I ever save your sorry Saxon arse….”
She never finished the tirade because a deafening report filled the room. The Sheriff’s hat was shredded, but thankfully the head below it was spared.
I really did intend to have the pistol repaired someday. Whenever the clockwork was over-wound, the trigger pawl had a nasty habit of slipping, causing the gun to fire without actually pulling the trigger.
In truth, I can remember but snippets of what followed - things did happen faster than the most even-tempered of men could observe.
I’ll give the gypsies credit for being a quick-witted lot - everyone of them seized whatever opportunity the confusion provided.
The dancer broke free when she came down hard on her captor’s toes with her heel. She then wheeled about and settled a private debt. While I didn’t witness what she did to his nethers, his bulging eyes bespoke the result.
I don’t recall which of them grabbed the Baroness & I pulled us out the door.
We were guided along a path through the woods that I could not have found, let alone followed in the dark. Presently, we entered their encampment and were given food and drink and a place to rest.
“The Sherengro wants to meet you two. Address her as the ‘Rani Bari’. She’s been told what happened at the tavern.”
The woman sat at the edge of a campfire and barely took note of our approach. Her attention centered on some cards that were spread out on a small carpet.
“You two are bit old for brawlin’, eh?”
“I fear we’re at the mercy of your hospitality, Rani Bari. Everything we had is back at the Tavern. We dare not return for it.”
“This Kumpania honors its debts and its friends.”
The woman fell silent and scowled at the cards. She gathered them up and laid them out again. Whatever was divulged did not please her, for she quickly gathered them up again. Suddenly, her face brightened - as if seeing something obvious for the first time.
“Well damn me for being a fool! The cards can’t reveal unless I know your names!”
“We are Bardulf and Morwenna, Baron and Baroness at your service.”
The Sherengro paused. Clearly she suspected the vagabonds before her were of a couple of loons. She then favored us with a gently tolerant smile that is used in the company of small children.
“Baron? Baroness?? Forgive my lack of manners! I’m Dulcinaya, The Queen of Egypt! Welcome to my royal court!
Dulcinaya shuffled the cards one more time and laid them out.
“The cards say you’re going to stay with us for a while.”
Baron Bardulf
http://bordervalekeep.com
How were we kidnapped by the gypsies? Did I say kidnapped? Well, not really kidnapped…. It’s a bit more complicated than that.
Have a seat my friend, and for the price of an ale, I’ll tell you a tale…..
By nature, I’m an ordinary seaman with just enough talent to be a second mate. While not a lavish life, it was tolerable enough. Tolerable enough until I happened to take a shine to a Cornish lass.
That girl had a mind for merchanting. ‘Tis known that not many need a keg of nails and fewer yet have the money to buy a keg of nails - but everyone needs a few nails now and then.
It wasn’t long before she discovered that when you sold nails by the dozen, you could earn more than the money it cost to buy the same number of nails by the keg. Pretty soon, we had a profitable ship chandler business.
What does any sailor with too much money buy? No, not whiskey - a ship! We bought a run-down, old merchantman that brought us a tidy profit in trade with the Dutch - which of course we used to buy another ship - and in turn, another!
Do you remember that splendid little war we had with the French a few years back?
I do.
Some sorry Frog man-o-war boarded my ship and stole my cargo!
Facing ruin, I did what a man had to do. I turned privateer - I was not a pirate you understand; all my vessels had a proper letter of marque - signed by the King himself! We showed the damned French what happens when you steal from an Englishman!
That privateering was rather rewarding made the revenge sweeter. Riches and honors came in abundance. My lady & I were proclaimed Baron & Baroness by the King - however, with no Baronial lands they were perhaps empty titles….
So far, so good. ‘Tis said however, that good fortune will test you as surely as any adversity.
Well, the old king (God rest his soul) dies and his idiot son marries a French princess, and just like that, the French are now our allies! -
And just like that, French ships are no longer fair game and I’m now a pirate! How’s that, you ask? When the they steal your cargo, it’s a “prize of war” - when you return the courtesy, well, that’s piracy!!
It seems the damned Frogs were also a bit upset that I sank a few of their ships.
How many? - perhaps a dozen, maybe more…..
Not finding a gallows to my liking, we hid from the French in the only place a Frenchman would never look…..
France.
One dark and stormy night, the Baroness and I took our comfort in what might be generously deemed a tavern - it was “The Old Brown Cow” - or some such name. While the ale was tolerable enough, the port sherry truly pleased my palate and I indulged more than a gentleman should. That’s the only excuse I have for what follows….
The “entertainment” on that evening was an odd lot of gypsies. One woman danced and tried to coax a few coins from the patrons. Three others tried to coax a danceable tune from instruments that had clearly seen better days.
The dancer might have succeeded were it not for a man that sat close by. He seemed pleasant enough, but would always favor any patron that paid too much attention to the dancer with a deadpan glare that warned any man to keep his distance. That he also kept a rapier within arm’s reach didn’t help her income a bit.
The Baroness yawned, looked bored, and excused herself.
Moments later, ‘twas then that six men entered…..
By the look of them, they were the Sheriff, four bailiffs, and a somewhat aggrieved-looking farmer.
“That’s her! - That’s the thieving wench!”
The dancer froze but a moment, then ran for the kitchen door - and right into the arms of a waiting bailiff. He spun the woman around, seized her by the scruff of the neck and pinned one arm behind her back.
“Release her.”
It was the fellow with the rapier who spoke. It was a simple, dry, matter-of-fact command that a prudent man would heed.
Prudent men were in short supply that night.
“Or what?”
May the Gods save us from such idiots. The idiot in question was the youngest bailiff. The youth compounded his lunacy by drawing a sword and turning to face the seated man.
With a speed I would not have credited to a mortal, the man rose, and unsheathed the rapier. One fluid blow stuck the sword from the bailiff’s hand and the return stroke pinned the fool against a wall.
When everything stopped moving, the room was full of bared steel.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the blond gypsy woman that had played the fiddle had chosen her targets and was quietly readying two throwing knives.
“Gentlemen…..”
I stood and walked to the center of the room, clearly unarmed and brandishing only my purse.
“….there’s no need for this to end badly.”
I held out the purse to the farmer and shook it so that all could hear the coins inside. I saw no reason to reveal that those coins were but a handful of coppers.
“What was taken? A few eggs - perhaps a chicken or two? Surely those things are not worth a man’s life.”
“The first man who moves, I’ll kill you where you stand.”
A familiar feminine voice - the Baroness had returned. She stood in the kitchen doorway brandishing a wheel-lock that I had given her some time ago.
“Put the pistol down, my dear - there’s no need for that. I’ll explain later.”
“I step out for a moment to visit the loo and when I come back you’re surrounded by armed men while holding your purse out! And this is the thanks I get? I’ll be damned if I ever save your sorry Saxon arse….”
She never finished the tirade because a deafening report filled the room. The Sheriff’s hat was shredded, but thankfully the head below it was spared.
I really did intend to have the pistol repaired someday. Whenever the clockwork was over-wound, the trigger pawl had a nasty habit of slipping, causing the gun to fire without actually pulling the trigger.
In truth, I can remember but snippets of what followed - things did happen faster than the most even-tempered of men could observe.
I’ll give the gypsies credit for being a quick-witted lot - everyone of them seized whatever opportunity the confusion provided.
The dancer broke free when she came down hard on her captor’s toes with her heel. She then wheeled about and settled a private debt. While I didn’t witness what she did to his nethers, his bulging eyes bespoke the result.
I don’t recall which of them grabbed the Baroness & I pulled us out the door.
We were guided along a path through the woods that I could not have found, let alone followed in the dark. Presently, we entered their encampment and were given food and drink and a place to rest.
“The Sherengro wants to meet you two. Address her as the ‘Rani Bari’. She’s been told what happened at the tavern.”
The woman sat at the edge of a campfire and barely took note of our approach. Her attention centered on some cards that were spread out on a small carpet.
“You two are bit old for brawlin’, eh?”
“I fear we’re at the mercy of your hospitality, Rani Bari. Everything we had is back at the Tavern. We dare not return for it.”
“This Kumpania honors its debts and its friends.”
The woman fell silent and scowled at the cards. She gathered them up and laid them out again. Whatever was divulged did not please her, for she quickly gathered them up again. Suddenly, her face brightened - as if seeing something obvious for the first time.
“Well damn me for being a fool! The cards can’t reveal unless I know your names!”
“We are Bardulf and Morwenna, Baron and Baroness at your service.”
The Sherengro paused. Clearly she suspected the vagabonds before her were of a couple of loons. She then favored us with a gently tolerant smile that is used in the company of small children.
“Baron? Baroness?? Forgive my lack of manners! I’m Dulcinaya, The Queen of Egypt! Welcome to my royal court!
Dulcinaya shuffled the cards one more time and laid them out.
“The cards say you’re going to stay with us for a while.”
Kazimir
Kazimir is actually the adoptive son of Dulcinaya’s and Tsigan’s Uncle, their father’s twin, but the girls will call him nothing but phral, or brother. He was raised with Tsigane and Lochlann, his cousin, by his Aunt Savina after his parents were killed in the raid on their camp. Sly, charming, and a skilled and graceful dancer, Kaz is as popular with the ladies as his late adoptive father was.
Kaz’s father (and his wife) had no children, so he who took in the illegitimate half-French son of his younger sister. Kaz has a half brother, the French court jester Geldemare LaFacaeur. The two appear to get along, but always seem to be missing one another. The resemblance between the two is uncanny. Both Kaz and his brother can fence, and are also skilled archers.
Awards (Geldemar Le Farceaur)
AoA 10-21-95Nottinghill Coill- Baroness' Award of Courtesy1-12-02Order of the Gordian Knot 1-18-97
Kaz’s father (and his wife) had no children, so he who took in the illegitimate half-French son of his younger sister. Kaz has a half brother, the French court jester Geldemare LaFacaeur. The two appear to get along, but always seem to be missing one another. The resemblance between the two is uncanny. Both Kaz and his brother can fence, and are also skilled archers.
Awards (Geldemar Le Farceaur)
AoA 10-21-95Nottinghill Coill- Baroness' Award of Courtesy1-12-02Order of the Gordian Knot 1-18-97
Miguel
www.craftycelts.com
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Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam nonummy nibh euismod tincidunt ut laoreet dolore magna aliquam erat volutpat. Ut wisi enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exerci tation ullamcorper suscipit lobortis nisl ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat, vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla facilisis at vero eros et accumsan et iusto odio dignissim qui blandit praesent luptatum zzril delenit augue duis dolore te feugait nulla facilisi.
Ivar
Ivar is the son of one of Dulcy’s favorite foster uncles (Turin Ulfsson, of the Truly Tasteless Ulfssons, a Scandindavian rowdy) and a gypsy girl named Keomi Boshengro.
He is a Chess wizard, is quite competent with both rapier and bow, plays drums and pennywhistle, and can also be found around a drum circle at night.
Some of Painted Wheel’s funniest stories involve Ivar, including the time he bobbed for beer without getting wet, and the time he passed armor inspection using a plumber’s helper for a cup
Katherine
“It all began nine long years ago. The people who had raised me told me their dark secret. I had a sister somewhere!They told the story of how my parents had been poor and sold their children to different families to get money to live.
My parents were Scotch/Irish, and the family I had lived with most of my life was Irish.
Since I was returning home to stay with them after the death of my husband, they thought it was a good time for me to try to find my siblings. I suspect they were just trying to get rid of me.
“I eventually learned that my younger sister had also been widowed, and had run off with Gypsies a few years back; at least, that’s what I had told by her late husband’s family. I was told her name was Bekka, or something like that, they couldn't remember exactly. She was running from a man she feared and despised, so they begged me not to tell anyone else where she might be hiding. I decided to take off on my own to try to find my sister.
“I traveled across the country till I met a Frenchman named Vincent D’Orleans in a pub one night. He was kind. I told him of my quest to locate my sister. He listened intently, offering in the end to be an escort, to protect me from the perils of the road. He had a nice voice, and strong kind hands. I thought I would trust him and travel with him. We traveled together for eight long years and grew quite fond of each other. Finally, while waiting in a small ocean village for the Gypsy troupe to make their annual pass through the town, we were married.
“Just this last year we have joined with a traveling Gypsy group, after some initial tribulation. I think one of them, who calls herself Aysha, could be my sister. Vincent thinks so too.”
Vincent D'Orleans
Vincent D’Orleans is French. This is why we don’t let him be alone with Silvermist.
Seriously.
He is always trying to either sell her, or worse, serve her for supper. Look at this recipe he came up with.
Sick.
On the upside, Vincent is an amazingly talented songwriter. He sings, plays the djembe, and has created and arranged the Painted Wheel Song, to name just one of what is an impressive collection of tunes.
He is also the beloved husband of Katherine D'Orleans.
Denys
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam nonummy nibh euismod tincidunt ut laoreet dolore magna aliquam erat volutpat. Ut wisi enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exerci tation ullamcorper suscipit lobortis nisl ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat, vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla facilisis at vero eros et accumsan et iusto odio dignissim qui blandit praesent luptatum zzril delenit augue duis dolore te feugait nulla facilisi.
Baroness Delia the Flamable
Delia is a skilled fortune-teller, be it by reading palms or using a dukkering tambour. She is highly artistic and nimble-fingered.
She is married to Elphin ap Daphid, an outsider. This rankles Dulcy no end, as she really does not feel that he is worthy of her. The only reason Dulcy had tolerated him is for fear of losing Delia, who is an excellent source of income for the tribe. Delia is a skilled archer and dancer as well, with a quick, light wit and a merry disposition.
Awards
AoASpirit of the Mountain 1-25-03
Awards
AoASpirit of the Mountain 1-25-03
Aysha
Aysha is a woman who, at great risk to herself, tipped the tribe off that they were to be arrested at one of their stops. It was soon revealed that she was desperate to escape a forced marriage to a man she despised and feared.
The gypsies promised her what protection they could offer in return for her brave act of kindness toward them. She is quiet and no-nonsence, but friendly, with a wry wit and an independent spirit.
At night, she may well be drumming away with Ivar, Vincent and Kaz around the campfire.
The gypsies promised her what protection they could offer in return for her brave act of kindness toward them. She is quiet and no-nonsence, but friendly, with a wry wit and an independent spirit.
At night, she may well be drumming away with Ivar, Vincent and Kaz around the campfire.
Elphin
Elphin, who is not Romany, married into the tribe at the extreme chagrin of Dulcy. Having originally failed to pay a suitable bride-price, his later offers were repeatedly turned away as being insulting, until he got smart and bribed everyone in the tribe with gifts before making his next offer to Dulcy. With the rest of the tribe behind him, Dulcy had no choice but to grudgingly accept his offer for Delia’s hand.
Elphin is easygoing and quiet, with an acerbic, deadpan wit that runs from mildly smart-alecky to hilariously abusive. He usually starts out any note he might send to Dulcy "Dear Black-haired Wretch."
He is a very skilled fencer, and has attained the rank of Provost.
Awards
Companion of the Sword Knot 3-6-97Companion of the Coill's Champion 3-4-00
Awards
Companion of the Sword Knot 3-6-97Companion of the Coill's Champion 3-4-00
Rani Dulcinaya the 'Gypcian
http://www.fivedollarmail.blogspot.com/Literally, "Big-lady Dulcinaya" is the sherengro, or chief of Kumpania Painted Wheel. The oldest Romany primary persona in Atlantia, Dulcy has been around since the days they could fit all the merchants into the barn at Pensic and still have room for dancing.
She is a fortune-teller, primarily reading cards and tea-leaves, and also an authorized fencer.
In her childhood, she was a ward of Lady Bronwyn of House White Phoenix, a household of dubiously-gained wealth, after being rescued from a burning vardo during an attack on her tribe. She has managed to find and reunite the descendants of her scattered kin.
Awards
AoA 9-8-84
Companion of the Gordian Knot 9-14-02
***
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