Background

John E. Rhodes writes:

It was the age of the Minnesingers (literally ”singers of love”), who, like the French troubadours, sang of courtly love and chivalric themes. The greatest among them and one of the best of the Middle High Herman, Walther von der Vogelweide (1170–1230)—a favorite of the Hohenstaufen rulers—also wrote political poems, staunchly antipapal and in support of German grandeur and unity. Around the turn of the century, epic poetry reached its zenith. An unknown author composed the Niebelungenlied, freely mixing twelfth-century concepts with earlier legends. Probably inspired by a French narrative, the German troubadour Gottfried von Strassburg (around 1200) described the famous legend of Tristan und Isolde. Another lyric poet, Wolfram von Eschenbach (1170–1220), depicted the romance of the Holy Grail in Parsifal; and Hartmann von Aue (around 1200) developed themes from the Arthurian legends in Iwein and Erek, as well as strongly mystical ideals in Gregorius on the Stoneand The Unfortunate Henry. This literary flourishing gave a strong impact to the development of the German language and furnished a substantial heritage of themes to later German literature.[1]

Origins and Early Travels

Much as he would like to believe that his works had such an effect on the lives of his contemporaries and descendants, Ulrich von dem Schweinestall (1228–1142?) was destined to obscurity. Perhaps his fate was determined by the environment of his youth. Ulrich was the ordinary son of an ordinary swineherd. He lived in a small fishing and pig-farming village in Mecklenberg on the coast of the Baltic Sea, an area of Germany mostly known for its absence in most important events in German history.

Ulrich Deconstructed

Ulrich is a fictional character. He and the other denizens of this tale bear striking resemblance to actual persons, mostly still living. Identities have been changed to protect the guilty.

Johan Ellenwegen, Karl von Mecklenburg

Ulrich's older brother Karl, who later gained notoriety in knightly tournaments all across the continent[2], and their friend Johann von Ellenwegen, used to practice for the yearly pig-pitching contest by throwing young Ulrich into the North Sea. Stories of Karl and Johann's feats of strength at these fairs soon reached the ears of certain knights, who invited the pair to participate in their tournaments. Thus the two headed off to higher—and drier—ground. Ulrich was drafted as a draft animal, and carried their belongings on his back.

Excellent pig-pitchers as they were, Karl and Johann were not the best load officers or knotsmen. As a result, Ulrich's burden distributed itself evenly along the road from Mecklenburg to Brandenburg. Ulrich didn't notice the lightening of his load at first, but by the time it became obvious to him what was a foot, he knew better than to tell his brother. Ulrich knew that although by this time they were much too far from the North Sea for Karl to throw him into the North Sea, it was likely that he would nevertheless try.

Eventually they arrived at the site of the tournament. Johann and Karl were drawn directly to a pig-pitching contest. Because of their exemplary skill, the other contestants soon lost interest in the game. (The current general lack of interest in the sport of pig-pitching is widely attributed to the fact that wherever they went, Karl and Johann soundly trounced all their opponents. Interestingly enough, during the Twentieth Century the sport gained unprecedented popularity in the English Colonies of the New World.)

Ulrich, while Karl and Johann where pitching pigs, was set to work pitching camp. Since “camp” was now spread evenly along the route they had traveled from the north, Ulrich set himself to the task of finding suitable substitute materials.

In this modern day and age we are generally unaccustomed to the methods and implements used by our Medieval ancestors to furnish themselves with suitable living spaces. While we haul our belongings with us in Winnebagos, the Mediaevals preferred a lighter, if much more complicated, camper: an arrangement of ropes, poles, and heavy cloth that would provide inadequate privacy, leak in the rain, and, in a particularly poignant premonition of Bob Dylan, blow away in the wind. A crucial development of these Zelten[3] was the stake—generally an undersized twig driven into the ground and expected to provide anchorage against gale-force winds.

Ulrich had finished gathering stakes (much to the surprise and apparent consternation of people sleeping in several Zelten nearby) and was pounding them into the ground when he noticed that one of them had been inscribed with writing:

Wer diesen braten von dem boden heraußrupfet, er sei den gerechtige coenig von [4]

Unable to read, and noticing that he had neglected to provide for certain building materials crucial to his task, Ulrich grabbed the stake and ran off in search of canvas.

He found a suitable Zelt and, with a heoric downward sweeping motion, dragged the stake along one corner. No sooner had he completed his first sweeping cut than he heard a woman scream. Immediately a burly man running quickly through the opening Ulrich had made widened it. Curious, Ulrich looked inside the tent and saw a ravished young lady and a pile of armor. Characteristically, Ulrich was at a loss for words.

“Uhm, ah, uhm…”

“Oh! You are my hero! You gallantly the canvas of my imprisonment have shredded! Tomorrow for my honor you will to fight!”

“Uh, who was that?”

“The hooligan is the betrothed one I don’t want to marry.”

“Err… You want I should kill him for you?”

“That would be fortuitous.”

“But what shall I use for armor?”

“Much harnessing and arms lies about here.”

“Use your boyfriend's armor?”

“He is a poltroon and impotent.”

“What about his shield? I can't fight him in his own colors!”

“I am inspired!”

With skill and great coordination of eye and hand, she deftly removed Ulrich's Kabeljaustück[5] and attached it to the shield. Thus Ulrich would have a distinctive and easily recognizable design to use in battle[6].

That evening the two engaged in hearty bumsen[7]. In the morning Ulrich did set out to find the betrothed one she did not want to marry, lance in hand, sword at reach, and codpiece on shield.

[3] Not to be confuse Dwightselten, commonly translated into English as “seldom,” or with Kelten, commonly translated into English as Celts.

[4] “Whosoever pulleth this Stake from out the Ground, he shall be the rightful King of." The translation, especially the third word, is uncertain.

[5] “Cod-Piece” Translation uncertain.

[6] The recent discovery of this unusual heraldic charge will undoubtedly have the effect of causing the Community College of Harolds to rewrite its unpublished rules concerning what is decent and acceptable period practice. The author takes no responsibility yet apologizes in advance for any inconvenience caused caused by further delays in the processing of pending submissions by that august body of stalwart scholars.

[7] “Thumping” Translation uncertain.

Barony of Dornail

The King’s Infant Daughter.

Cedric, Fils de Guillaume became King and his wife and Lady Alainn Admoira BeanLarren was crowned Queen. As the King business is a full-time job, they enlisted the aid of a close family friend to act as nursemaid for their infant daughter. A visitor from another barony, upon meeting the young lady, complimented her.

“Milady, what a beautiful baby!”

“Thank you, Milord.”

“May I ask who the father is?”

“Cedric.”

The man’s eyes dropped and his jaw spread wide as he learned that the baby was fathered by the King! He could hardly contain himself, and ran off before the nursemaid could tell him that the infant's mother was the Queen.

Dinner at The Low Table—Serving the High Table.

Ulrich found that helping to serve dinner was one way to avoid getting pressed into heraldic duties, and to be noticed doing things more useful than just standing around and being decorative. At one Pewter Spoon Tournament, the king noticed him standing around and being decorative, and, being bored, requested some bread.

Ulrich went to the kitchen and there requested some bread for His Majesty. An ornate serving tray was found and some luscious garlic bread was placed upon it. This Ulrich brought back to the King.

“Thank you, Boy. This is good. But do you have any plain bread, without butter or garlic?

So Ulrich returned to the kitchen and explained the King's needs to the Feastcrat. Together they searched through the larder and found a loaf of Rainbow bread. This Ulrich brought before the King.

“Ah, thank you! Perfect.”

“Uhm, Majesty?”

“Oh! Hah. I need something I can wad up and throw at the Low Table. It's really boring up here where I have to look all dignified, and they're having far too much fun down there. ”

“Ah, Yes, Your Majesty. Pleased to be of service.”

Knowing that he would be in the line of fire, Ulrich beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

“What did he want the bread for?” asked Mistress Gwendolynne.

“He’s bored and wants to start a food fight.”

“Now you know why I didn't want to sit at the High Table! It's always so boring!”

Selanne

Selanne was a lusty wench well-known for her taste for boys and certain other indiscretions. Apparently in her mundane life she kept her list of telephone contacts on her computer accounts at work. This habit of hers was discovered after she switched jobs and several months later various Kingdom officials got telephone calls from puzzled mundane government officials demanding to know why their names and telephone numbers would be stored on government computers.

The Shire of Carpetlawn hosted a Twelfthnight celebration, and one of the attractions was the showing of a videotape of the Coronation held a few months earlier. The Crown Prince proceeded into the Court, accompanied for some reason by six women and a man singing George Friedrich Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus from the Messiah. Perhaps someone forgot to explain to them that though it was a pretty piece, it was quite out of period.

The sound of the recording was typical for a tape made with a portable Handycam. That is to say, abysmal. Only the altos and sopranos were audible, and the counterpoint of the bass lines was lost to the acoustics of the hall and the recording medium.

“That's not a very well-balanced choir. One can hardly hear the basses at all!” someone said.

“Oh, give her a break,” someone replied. “Selanne was singing as loud as she can.”

Coming out Forsoothly.

I hoped it wasn' t Qoir,g to be another boring, depressir,~p weekend. That c ould have been a contradictior' in terms$ because~ any weeker,d spent ir, medieval constuMes and watching men in~ s;hining armor beat or' each c~ther with swords cc~uldn't possibly bep boring or depressing--unless you' ve seer, it al 1 before, which I~ had, rnany t imes.

In the last few years these weelkend events had for sorne8( reason become boring and depressing. The only reasor, I kept coming to thern was that the "mundane" world was even more boringp ar,d depressing, what with its unchivalrous ruffians and bcors--~ you would cal 1 them rednecks.

Ply problem wa;; girls, or, tc' be precise, the lack c~f them. I Now, the Society for the Reenactmer,t of Medival Chivalry did have~ its fair share of young daMsels, but I never seemed to find JUstp the right one to call my lady. Several had hinted and some had~ rrore than hinted--within the limits allowed by courtly~flirtation, of course--that they were ir,terested ir, closerl relationship with me, but for some reason I never felt~ comfortable with them. Sc' because I was always without thep intimate companionship that my older friends seemed so much to~ en~oy and to value so highly, I l:,ecarne depressed about the whole~ affair. The quest for a lady to cal 1 mine own became an al 1-~ consuming obsession, but the harder I tried, the more I failed.

Unt i 1 that fateful eve of the Sable Cast le Tourney. . . .

I was mul 1 ir~g over these thoughts as I was pul 1 ing on the8( pair of suede boots I had made for this weekend when one of the~ ot her peop 1 e who wc>u 1 d be s 1 eep i ng i n my cab i n wa 1 ked i r,. Rbout p sixteen years old, he had short black tousled hair and a young~ ang u 1 ar f ace t hat was ~ U5t f i n i sh i ng i t s growt h i nt o manhood. I sul lenly returned to lacing up my boots. In a friendly voice he asked if I needed ar,y help with my boc.ts.

Not wanting to argue with help freely offered, I said, !'Yes, p thar,k you, " and moved over on the bed so he could sit on it. He~ sat down cross-legged before rne, placed my foot within his leg5~ared begar~ to lace, slowly and careful ly. I

"What's your name~" he asked, not very formally.

"Herr Michael vor' L8wenburg," I replied, trying to sound impressive with my recently awarded title. 8~-

"I'm Eric. ~ pleasure to make your acquaintance." ~-

I saw mc.re than a glint of friendship in his eye andp shuddered as my heart skipped a beat. I was terribly embarrassed~ at what I analyzed to be a sexual attractior, to this young man, something I had never felt towards any womar, in my twenty-one8~years. I hoped that my trousers hid the evidence of my arousal.

They did not. p

The boy did not fail to notice, could not have failed to~ notice the effect he was having on me by slowly lacing up rny~ boots, by his very presence. He looked up at me ar,d asked, "Do8( you ever think about girls?"

"011 the time," I said. p

"Do you have any girifriend=~?" ~

"No, I've never had any."

"; haven't=. either~",f~i" ~ ~' I

" It bothers me an awful lot: everyene else seems to have a lady-friend, ar,d i'm the only cr,e who doesn't. "

"I don't have that probleM. "

"Hunh? I thought you said you don't have lady-friends. "

"I don't. I fool arour,d with other guys. "

"What? ! " I said as I drew back from this boy. ~

"Oh, I dor,'t thir,k of it as gay, it's JUst fooling around, O you kr,ow--p 1 ay i ng. "

"C)h, " I said, somewhat relieved, thoush I felt as if ~ ~omebody had let loose half of a butterfly collection ir, rny. bel ly.

"You wanna go for a walk and talk at~cut it?" I

"Ye=, letts, " I said, shakily, for someone had let loose the.

other half of the butterfly collection in my belly. ~

"Is this tight enough?, " he asked, returr,ing me tc. the. real ity of my boot.

"Yes, " I replied, "Thar,k you. "

I tidied up the rest of my gear and took out my cloak so I ~ could keep warm. We stepped outside for a ~walk through the woods: to the rnain revel hal 1.

I felt his hand on my groin as he grabbed rny manhood which ~ was by this tirne rather firm. I rnoved to hold his hand. He Jerked} his hand away and asked, ":Did I hurt you? I'm sorry. " .

Shakily I replied, "Nc., . ~ . It's all right. I ~ust never;

"It's l:l.K., " he said. "It's O.K. I JUst want to make you feel good. " ~

Rs he said this he touched my extrerne lower back, making me shudder. The strange thing was that it did feel good. .

"I never thought of it as 'gay,'" he said. "I mean, we're Just fooling around. " I

That was the lie I needed. I drew him close. He put his arm'at'4ut my wa i st . - ~

We wa 1 ked on t hrough t he forest arm i n arm, newfound . frier,ds, one of whom didn' t kr,ow unt i 1 then that he wanted such friends. ~

Qt the revel hall we did the sort of things one does or, a, friday night at the revel hall: greet old friends, hopefully make~ new ones, ignore old enemies, hopefully not make any new ones. . The rnemory of exact detai ls fai ls me, for I was thinking ~onstant ly of my new friend and what he might have in store for~ ~ne. I went distractedly through the rnotions of courtesy as I kept. an eye out for the boy. He soon grew as bored as I was of the 3 small talk and took me by the hand and led me out of the hall. Dnce out of sight of the reveler6 he turned me to face him ar,d: kissed me on the rnouth. I drew back in startlement, not expecting} this; from ar,other man, but he pul led me close and forced his. tongue into my mouth. ~ I had learned to kiss quickly enough after Joining theO group, for kissing is the mair, "ocial activity: the cloved fruit' was everyhody's favorite game. But never had a kiss affected me} as d i d t h i s yout h f u 1 ora 1 assau 1 t. I ret urned h i s ernbrace and . held him clc.se to me: he could have al 1 4f me he wanted. W~th one hang he he~d the b~ack of rny hea~ while he excloredl his lips on rny lips, his breath hot in my luregs; the pressure of] his hand or,rny staff excited me into returning the kiss, the hug, the ernbrace. ~ We returr,ed to the cabin and sat on my bed, looking at eacht other, smiling. My smile broke into a grin and I embraced the. boy. He grabbed me ar,d pushed me down onto the bed and lay down; on top of me, once again forcing his tongue into my mouth. I feltO the firmness of his manhood pressir,g against mine, so I reached' between us and took hold of it. It was folded downward, so I} gently unfurled it so it might star,d fully, proudly erect. He. groaned a bit but his assault on rny mouth continued unabated, his; tc.ngue exploring every feature of my mouth: teeth, gums, thatl place between the front teeth and the lip. ~ I held his perfectly shaped orgar, in my hand to assess its; size: somewhat larger than mine own but not frighteningly so.. Just then when we heard the sounds of heavily-booted feet walking: up the way. In surprise, startlement, and fear we disentangled~ ourselves and sat up on the bed. By the time the owners of the. boots arrived we were engaged in anirnated conversation.

"Good evening, milord'" I said.

"Good evening," said the squire who walked in.

"Nice we're having weather, isn't it~" ~

"Yes, isn't it. Looks like good weather for the tourney. tomorrow." |

The squire then busied himself with unpacking his gear. ~r,d~ ~nuch gear there was, all the trappings cf a noble squire aspiring: to knighthood: armer, costumes, dishes, armor, goblets,} tablecloths, armor, a pillow, blankets, more armor, and finally,. what he was looking for all this time, his red belt. He tied it; about his rather considerable qirth, made sure it was neat and~ ~traight, and sauntered out the door. ~

"Good evening!" I called out to him as he left. I looked at| Eric with my best ir,nocent face and said, "We will have to find a. better place than this, somewhere more private. How about the: fighting field?"

"Sounds good to me," he replied, grinning slyly. ~

We gathered up cloaks and blarkets and set out toward the, field. We walked arm in arm through the darkened woode, hearts~ racing in anticipation. He stood beside me with his har,d in the: front of my pants, gertly stroking my excitement. I could hardly' contain myself, what with having to carry heavy blanket 5 and. cloaks on my back while this beautiful lad held a part of me that; no one save my mother ar,d myself had ever touched. I am quite~ certain that Eric knew the effect he was having on me. ~

We arrived at the field and lear*ed quickly that we had done} so too late: all the good spots at the edge of the fielJ ahd. already been taken. Even the places of second choice were; occupied, as evidenced by occasional laughter and giggles we~ could hear.

"What do we do now?" I asked. ~

"Well, no one will expect us in the middle of the field," he. replied. ''Let's try that."

"/ 9~n't kr,ow. ~ . What if . ~"

"I don't want to go back to the cabin, ts I told him.

"Then here it shal 1 be. (3ive rne that. "

He tc.ok my cloak and laid it on the ground, and covered it, with the blankets and other cloaks we had brought. He crawled} into the irnprovised bed and, from what I could see in the dim. half-rnoon light, began to take off his clothes.

"Well, dcr,'t JUst stared there, milord, come to bed or you' 11 catch cold. "

"l:1f course, " I replied, feeling like a fool. ~

I clirnbed beneath the covers and felt a tightening ir, my. bel ly as Eric begar, to gent ly rernove my clothe~ one by c.ne. I lay; back and allowed hirn to do with me as he would, for I felt atl peace. He slowly unt ied the lacing of rny shirt and pul led it cver. my head. He kissed me gent ly as he laid it aside.

"Boots in the bed, mi lord? Sharne thyself ! " he said.

"I' 11 have a servant remove them. Eric! "

''Yes, rnilord, right away, milord. " ~

He moved to the other end of our bed and slowly unt ied the. lacing he had so careful ly laced ar, hour before. Gent ly he pul led: off the boots and laid them aside. He returned tc the head end cf~ the bed and kissed me again. I basked in the luxury.

"Is everything all right? You're so quiet, " he asked. ~

"Everything is perfect. I thought I would never ha~ve such a. lover. I(iss me again and tell me it's real. "

"It's real enourgh, " he said, and rciled on top of rne and~ kissed me on the lips, gently. Then he let loose with a ferocious, attack, forcing his tongue intc. my mouth, holding my head betweent his hands. I struggled, holdin; him close to me and hopir,y the. r,i ght would never end.

The ni ght had or,ly bequn. I

He kissed my eyel ids and my cheeks, ni bbled my ears, and, licked rny throat. He kissed the hollow of my collarUc.ne and I| felt the roughness of the beard he had shaven this mornir,g. I. felt him unt ie the points of my codpiece and fold it down. |

"What have we here?" he asked as he 1 if ted the modesty vei 1¢ and brought my staff proudly to bear. "Do we keep sweetmeats ir,. our codpiece9"

I felt his tongue 1 ick the head of my cock and groar,ed ir~ excitement: such pleasure I had never expected from another man. ~

"Yes, we certainly do, " he replied to his own c uestior'. hndi his whole mouth descended upon rny cock, hot and wet. His head. begar, to rise and fal 1 over my cock as he sucked. I moaned and; gasped fcr an eternity of pleasure as he moved faster and faster. ~ W i t h a burst of ecst acy I had never ach i eved c n my owr, I can~e and, came and came. I was spent. ~

EEric crawled on top of me again and kissed me, del iverir,g. the fruit of his labors into my mcuth, the bittereweet tasiite of; my owr, seed. I swal lowed grateful ly.

"Yes, we certainly do, " I said.

" Hur,ho "

"Caarry sweetrneats in our codpiece, of course. " .

Eric groaned and replied, "Such words can't gc. un-pun-ished,; car'

"50mething special, milord. "

He reached out s i de i nt o h i s c 1 ot hes and ret urned w i t h a ~ ar~ c f sweet-smel 1 ing ointmer,t.

"What have you there?" I asked. ~

"Since it is your first offense, milord, I wish to rnake the. pun-ish-mer~t 90 easier. It's only fair. "

"Thank you. You are so kind, " I replied. "Be gentle. "

" Yes, m i 1 ord. " ~

He removed my trousers and kecsed rny cock. He ger,t ly stroked} it and brought it to life again. He ther, placed a gooey fir~ger on. my most private orifice and began to rnassage it slowly. I relaxed; and felt it relax as well. He pushed his finger withir,, expiringl me from inside. He found what he was looking for and pressed, ~ send ing rne into realms of pleasure I had never before traveled. I; was ready. I knew it wouldn't hurt, but would be pleasure beyrnd. my dreams. Eric had me spread my legs as he crawled atcp rn~ again. I felt him apply the ointment to his rod and press it=~ head against my dark portal. I relaxed ar,d opened the door and, gasped for breath as I felt his tool enter my body, but it felt~ good. I leaned back and took its ful 1 length, groaning with~ p 1 easure. ~

He begar, to move his hips in the ancier,t rythm. I felt' pleasure from his movemtnts and his thick penetrat ing presence. within my body. He pul led out and reentered, in and out, and with; each thrust he pushed deeper unt i 1 he could go no further. He~ leaned forward and kissed my mouth lightly. I reached up for rnore: with my head but he 1 if ted his head back a bit, teasingly.

"Greedy, arer,, t we, mi lord~" he asked.

"Yes, yes, kiss me! " I half-shouted. ~

I grabbed his ass with one hand, pushing him further inid myself, and pulled his body down with the other, brtr'~ing his' rnouth to mine. ~

Eric got the idea and began another frontal assault on my. mout h

"Ravage me, " I managed to sray between his lips and teeth.~ His tongue forced its way into my mouth while at my other end his,' shaft moved within my Journa1 1 ike a piston, bringing me close to yet another spasm of ecstacy. Soon he could no longer! concentrate on my mouth with his, and his driving became stronger: and faster. I held his head beside mine and turned to nibble at' his ear. He let out a series of grunts ar,d I felt a t ightening ir. my bel ly: I knew that cl imax was near.

Eric reared back and with ecstacy on his face del ivere~ three tremendous thrusts that brought both of us to cl imax: I, felt him del iver his essence in great heaving torrents as I sent} my own seed shoot ing paCt my face onto the grass behind me.

Eric col lapsed atop me and I could feel his member shrink; within me. We were spent. With his ches~t on mine I felt Out~ heartbeats intermir,gle as they slowed their frantic pace. Our' breaths were becc ming shal lower and more relaxed. We fel 1 asleep} as we lay: two newfound lovers on the grass beneath the star=. .

Ulrich Helps a Hapless Harold

That evening, a Harold was screaming at the top of his lungs, “Oyez, Oyez, Oyez!” but the crowd steadfastly ignored him. Something about the Harold’s manner hinted to Ulrich that perhaps he wanted to make an announcement, so Ulrich motioned to the Harold to be silent. Ulrich stood on a stool and, in a voice made hearty by weeks of study, spoke and was heard:

“Meine Damen und Herren; Mesdames et Messieurs; my Lords and Ladies! Your attention please!”

People in this ramble had never heard anyone speak to them in so many languages, or so politely, or so clearly. Either that or, unable to understand what he was saying, figured they were missing an important announcement. Silence reigned in that hall, and all eyes were upon Ulrich

“Thank you. Your Harold has an announcement. Please listen.”

Ulrich grabbed the Harold and had him stand on the stool next to him. The Harold made his announcement—and was surprised that he didn’t actually have to scream at all; people were, for once, actually paying attention to him.

No good deed, however, goes unpunished. Having finished his announcement, the Harold chastised Ulrich

“What were those words you used? You may be a visitor from some far-off realm, but I’ll have you know that that is not how we begin announcement in this Realm!”

“My Lord, It seemed you were having trouble getting people’s attention. I merely helped you achieve your aim.”

“Well, you should keep in mind that we have certain … traditions in this Realm. Important traditions. Traditions which must not be violated.”

“Ah, I see. My Lord, you are of course correct. I apologize for trying to help.”

A Laurel Ceremony.

Thank God I’m a Nobleman.

The Red Horde and Dead as a Dornail Harold.

The Oxcart Years

The Barony of Oxcart of the Province Ramble had a long and honorable history, but that was long ago, and now the Barony’s chief concerns were how to keep too many newcomers from joining and what to do about the dozens of splinter groups that were forming all over the place. The members with the longest standing had long since tired of rotating through all the positions of importance—some had been Seneschal four times already—and were happy when someone came along to take over the job of Treasurer. They were not so thrilled when a few months later the Treasurer ran off with all the money. By the time they had straightened out that mess, they were all so tired from this exertion that they were happy when someone else came along to take over the job of Treasurer. They were not so thrilled when a few months later the new Treasurer ran off with all the money. And so the Barony of Oxcart instituted a policy of fear and suspicion of any newcomers, especially ones from other parts of the Knowne Worlde.

The Barony of Oxcart followed all the usual rules and regulations for attracting newcomers, but did it in such a way that an astute observer might be fooled into thinking that they were only pretending to recruit newcomers while actually trying hard to scare them away. For instance at the annual Rocky Hill Speculative Fiction Faction Fair they always reserved a con suite. In it they set up a TV set and VCR, and set chairs in a circle around it. There they sat, shoulder-to-shoulder and backs to the doors and windows, watching Pennsic War videos. Visitors interested in the Society for Grating Anachronism were confronted with an impenetrable wall of furry tabards, wooly tunics, and shaggy backs of heads. They would go into the room, snag platefuls of party food, and go back to other, more entertaining places. The SGA members duly filed reports of their recruiting activities and reveled in the stability of their Barony.

Into this detritus stepped our hero Ulrich

Harolds were not well-regarded in the Barony of the Oxcart, and, being at the bottom of the heap, Harolds had precious few people to mistreat. So when Ulrich arrived, they welcomed him with all the enthusiasm and camaraderie any middle school bestows upon the fat kid with glasses made from coke-bottle-bottoms.

The double fiasco of the treasurers actually happened, and was used as an excuse to be rude to me by members of the Barony of Caerthe, Denver, Colorado

The tale of recruiting was inspired by the barony’s hospitality suite at MileHiCon in the early ’90s.

Ulrich Interrupts an Important Meeting

Fifteen fighters had entered the Warlord Tourney, and the Harolds and Knight-Marshals were hidden away in a tent having an Important Meeting to discuss how to deal with the problem. It turns out that of all the numbers of entrants in a double elimination tournament, fifteen is the most difficult, for it requires bye-fighters at all stages of the game, and seriously complicates calculating the tournament standings. Just one more fighter would solve all the problems and make everybody happy.

He showed up. He signed up for the sixteenth spot on the list. All the slots were filled, there would be no need for bye fighters, the grids were balanced, the tournament would be a breeze to run … if anybody could find the Harolds and Knights-Marshal. Ulrich knew were they were! So he went to their tent and waited for a lull in the conversation.

“My Lords, good news. A sixteenth fighter has entered the list.”

A shadow passed across the sun, an owl hooted, and in the distance a wolf howled. Six angry pairs of eyes glowered and glared angrily at Ulrich The harolds reached across to hold the arms of the Knight-Marshals, who were set to draw weapons on this miscreant who had dared to interrupt this Important Meeting. It dawned upon some of them that not only had Ulrich interrupted the Important Meeting, he had committed a further unpardonable sin: he destroyed the very reason for holding the Important Meeting. Now, instead of sitting in secret, wailing their newfound woes and forebemoaned moans, scheming and plotting a fifteen-man tournament, they would have to go out and announce the first fight.

The Baronial Harold reprimanded Ulrich for his insolence, his incorrigible rudeness, his insubordinate obstreporosity in interrupting an Important Meeting.

“But, my Lord, I was bringing good news—news which enabled you to finish the meeting and get on with the tournament. Are you not glad that I enabled a positive outcome?”

The Baronial Harold hemmed and hawed.

“That may be so, Ulrich, but the manner in which you presented your report was not standard. You should have followed proper protocol.”

Ulrich suspected that the Harold was simply attempting plausible opprobrium.

“Yes, my Lord. I apologize for trying to help. In future I shall think twice before contributing my services.”

Ulrich, being the young and naive Pursuivant that he was, promptly forgot his promise to withhold help, and lived to regret it.

Lord Ulrich’s Name and Title are Challenged.

“ ‘Lord’ … ‘Ulrich,’ ” she sneered, managing by tone of voice and roll of eye to express those disdainful little single quotation marks. “You should know that ‘Ulrich’ is dead common as a name, and in the SGA we reserve the title ‘Lord’ to those who actually deserve it, which is frightfully few nowadays.”

“I can’t begin to thank you for the advice, m’lady,” he replied with a deliberate lack of capitalization. “In my Kingdom, where I served as Pursuivant, duly registered my name and badger, and earned an Award of Alarums, we did not make a habit of questioning the names and titles of our guests from other kingdoms. I see that traditions are different here.”

“Hmpf!” she hmpf’d. “I earned my Award of Alarums in Anus Societatious Eighteen—that’s two years ago. You must have earned yours rather more recently.”

“Year fifteen.”

“Oh. So have you been to may other events here in the Province?”

“I was thinking of traveling south to the Big Provincial.”

It was as though someone had attached a helium balloon to her nose. “Oh, none of us are going to the Big Provincial. It’s too … primitive, too … provincial. You know. They’re not Our Kind of Folk. ”

So Ulrich decided at once to go.

Big Provincial

At the Troll Booth Ulrich was asked where he was from.

“Barony of Oxcart, milady.”

“Hmmm,” she hmmm’d suspiciously as she and the other Trolls eyed him with suspicion, hands falling casually to sword-hilts and mice scurrying into hidey-holes.

“Well … not actually from the Barony of Oxcart as such … more like from around that Barony … not really near there at all, actually, I just…”

“Ah, I see.” She smiled. “Welcome to the Big Provincial Tournament.”

Ulrich paid his fees and found a place to pitch his tent. After watching him complete that chore, his new neighbors invited him over to share his food.

“So, neighbor. Where are you from?”

“The Barony of Oxcart …”

A sudden wind sent a chill into the air and Ulrich watched with dismay as hands surreptitiously fell to swords and daggers.

“… Is far away from where I live. I’m actually from Kerguelen.”

It was as if the clouds rolled away to reveal a sunny day and all seated at the table smiled and welcomed me.

“Please, have a seat and grab a bite to eat. We don’t truck with Oxcart folk here. They’re too … ahm …”

“Hoity-toity?” Ulrich suggested with a smile.

“Yes, that’s it! Hoity-Toity. But that’s all right, they don’t like us much either.”

Newcomer’s School

The Harold’s Oath

The Baronial Herald took her office and the duties of her reports much too seriously. I owe her my undying gratitude for inspiring the Oath.

The Fairport Years

Ulrich arrives in Fairport, a town sans Pursuivant.

Ulrich brings fame and glory to the once quiet little town.