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Words from the Warlord

February A.S. XVII

In the previous issue, I promised to speak on chivalry, gallantry, and honor. I feel that I fairly covered honor and chivalry (although there is always more to be said) but I fear I gave gallantry short shrift. So this episode of Rambling from the Warlord (I bet you will be relieved if the next Warlord is less verbose) will speak more to the subject of gallantry.

Gallantry is defined in Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary as, among other things, "spirited and conspicuous bravery" as well as "an act of marked courtesy”.

More to the point, in 20th century warfare, where warfare is ugly, brutal and, of course, deadly, gallant often equals dead, usually not pretty. Furthermore, we have seen an erosion in morale over "why?" Many said we fought in Vietnam so that Shell oil could get access to the oil deposits off the Vietnamese coast. Who wants to risk life, limb, or even comfort for that? Essentially, war as we know it has become very pedestrian and boring. One might even say mundane!

On the other hand, let me contrast warfare as I have seen it at numerous SCA wars in which gallant acts were plentiful, and where gallantry was something to be emulated and goals were worth dying for.

For example, during the 1982 Burro Creek War, in the Resurrection battle, I and others from Southern Shores and environs (this is short for Chateau Du Gryphon and Douglas Archer) were blocking the road and acting as bait to draw the enemy forces into a trap we had set. (it didn't work.) We were repeatedly assaulted by one man, Duke Choris of Atenveldt, who fought in Florentine fashion. He would stay at a distance, dash in for a few blows and quickly retreat, trying to entice an eager soul to break ranks and get it. We declined the challenge and lost no one as A) we were disciplined to do otherwise and B) we could see he was good.

This went on for some time, or so it seemed. Then during a hold, as we knelt, he performed a noble and gracious act. He walked up to us and complimented us on our fighting and introduced himself. We complimented him on his skill, introduced ourselves, and all in all, enjoyed a very chivalric and pleasant encounter. It was like something out of a medieval romance.

Then of course, there was the famous last stand at the end of the same battle. For those of you who have not read the account of the battle (somewhat embellished) in last year's March issue, let me briefly recapitulate. After a long and hot battle, a small determined knot of West, Caid, and Antirian fighters defended our kingdom banner on a tiny knoll. We faced the entire Atenveldt army and were finally overwhelmed, but only after repulsing seven assaults. Even though they were at least outnumbered five to one (later it got worse) they sang "Men of Harlech" in defiance. It stirs my blood to think back on it.

And there were small gestures, such as the informal truce during the Castle battle at West-Caid II so that pikes could be exchanged for one another. Or talking to a fighter from the other side before the battle and wishing him good luck before joining your respective side. Or one fighter seeking out a fighter whom he had killed and apologizing as he felt that he should have spoken more courteously when killing him from behind.

And these sorts of actions and gestures are not rare. I have seen them often and everywhere and have participated in a few myself. And it is this sort of thing that adds an extra enjoyment for me.

I will confess that when I was growing up, I read and took to heart a book in which things such as the anecdotes I have related took place. The book was The White Company by Arthur Conan Doyle. In telling you this, I am giving away more than you realize, but I grew up wishing to God that there was some way I could do these noble things. To me, it was a tragedy that there was no such place. Now there is a place. And if I waxed emotional in the last issue, it is because for me, this is a dream come true. While I see it threatened by 20th century barbarism, the acts of nobility and courtesy which I have seen give me hope. And they make the gallantry all the more sweet.

Thomas Buttesthorn

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