A Year in the Life . . . Season's SwansongThe climax to my first Regia season turned out to be, by far, the most enjoyable and the most fulfilling. Arriving on Saturday morning, after a ninety minute journey, I arrived at Battle in East Sussex at around half ten. The light smattering of mid morning shoppers in this small picturesque country town, was sprinkled with the occasional Saxon or Viking strolling up and down the high street. Very amusing. Moments after erecting my tent, and in a similar vein to my Wareham visit, I discovered that training was soon to commence. Training? That wasn't mentioned in the blurb sent to me earlier in the week! However, eager to gain more experience, and hence more training stamps in my membership book, I speedily changed into my Regia gear and raced to the field where it was supposed to happen. There I met the two Simons and various other persons from other areas whom I knew by sight. They had come down the previous evening and had set up camp at the Living History Encampment (LHE) site.
"Treefrog", the National training officer, soon joined us and organised the training session which lasted for the next two hours. No games were played this day, but training was centred around good, old fashioned separating the group into teams and simply beating each other up.
One minor variation was introduced towards the end of the training session, where we were divided into two teams. One third of each team was allowed to use only a shield and no weapons, one third was only allowed the use of a spear, and the final third, allowed only the use of a short weapon, be it an axe, sword, whatever. This worked surprisingly well and made each side work together with their respective other two thirds, that is; the shield bearer was forced to work in tandem with the swordsman and the spearman.
A cunning ploy was conceived by one of the Simons, whereby the shield bearers would charge up and grab the enemies spears, whilst being backed up by the armed warriors who would attempt to cut down the now defenceless fighter. By the end of the training, everyone was completely knackered from their exertions and training stamps were given out. It was then that I was informed that the following day I would be allowed to take my spear test. AH! I thought. "At last"! From then on, all my thoughts were directed to improve my skills that weekend, so I would be able to start using my sword in the next season.
But first, I had to go find my fellow Sceaftesige members down at the LHE site. This was the first time I had been to the English Heritage site, and had I known the distance to and the energy required to travel there, I wouldn't have bothered. Of the all the locations; the Battlefield, the 20thC camp site, the LHE site and the training ground, all required walking uphill to a degree. This is one of the reasons that by the time the weekend was over, I was a complete, physical wreck. I think that from now on, I shall copy the behaviour of our group leader, and take every opportunity to collapse in a heap and rest.
But that is now - back then I was ignorant about such topographical matters . To say that the site was sprawling would be an understatement. I didn't even have time to explore the entire location, as I was never really given the time. Only half an hour after the training session had finished, we were expected to muster for the first battle of the day. Stamford Bridge.
So swiftly saying my hellos to Kev, Liz, Andy, Marnie, Paul, the two Simons and Steve Ethridge, who whilst not a part of Sceaftesige, is well known by most of the group, I had to trot all the way back up the hill and submit myself to the master at arms check. This time (unlike Kirby Hall) my shield passed with flying colours. My Scram scabbard was criticised for being shabby yet again, but it was allowed onto the battlefield. I didn't actually us it during the entire weekend, and may not, once I start using my sword, bring it on at all in the future, or at least until I have made a new scabbard..
During this battle, Kevin was portraying Harald (or Harold, depending on which side of the fence you sit on) Hardrada, the leader of the Norwegian host. Consequently I was forced to portray a Viking. I was doomed to be on the losing side of the four "planned" battles that weekend. I never saw the Fulford Gate re-enactment, as I was undergoing training at the time. Next year I might take time out and watch it! It all depends how I get on with my sword. (....thoughts start straying to my next weapon purchase. An axe I think! ...shakes head and returns to writing!!!)
I shalln't go into every specific of who was where, what they did and when, as no amount of narrative could capture the entire proceedings. You had to be there. Besides, I told you all about it in the previous diary entry! In effect, it was supposed to be a replay of the script used at Kirby Hall. It didn't quite work on the first day, as the Saxon army had their backs to the spectators. Not a pretty sight.
By all accounts it wasn't supposed to happen that way, there had been a misunderstanding between the two line commanders. In any case, I was placed amongst the left flank on the upper part of the sloped battlefield. There began the usual exchange of insults between the leaders; Tostig, Hardrada (Kevin) and Harold, while they were waiting for the narrator to start commentating over the micro. It didn't come.
You could see their consternation as they struggled to pad out their verbal ripostes, but eventually a voice rang out over the microphone ending their torment and we could get down to the serious matter of battling each other. Don't ask me what the commentator said, as I wasn't listening, but all I remember of the first day, was that once the initial, noise making, shield beating and shouting was over, and we all started taking hits, I looked around me to find that my entire flank had run away!?
They later told me that they had seen large numbers of armoured Huscarls advancing on our flank and had decided that discretion was the better part of valour and they all buggered off without a thought to tell me!
I swiftly totted up the pros and cons of dying under a mass of Saxon armour, and elected to join my brethren in their hasty retreat up the hill. I survived that first day, even though a chappy on horseback and an archer, attempted to harry me on the way. But the archer's aim was off, and the horseman, who I think may have been Harold, elected that he didn't stand too much of a chance against a solitary spearman, turned and fled. The following day's event flowed much more smoothly. The two sides were better situated side-on to the majority of the audience, and the commentary was well timed and apt. Myself and all the Vikings died as they ought to. Everybody was happy. Even the audience.
This was the biggest battle I had ever been in. A total of three societies fought side by side; Regia, Conquest and The Vikings.
At the end of Saturday's proceedings, Kim summed up his opinion on how things went with "I've been to many Battle of Hastings and this was one of them"
Whilst it could have flowed better than it did, and wasn't the totally gob smacking spectacle I had thought it was going to be, I had a fine time with a good, high body-count, before I, myself was overrun by Normans. In the back of my mind, I was thinking that I should merely provide a token resistance, but the majority of my conscience thought "bollocks to the Norman scum, kill the whole bloody lot of `em". So I tried. I killed about five Normans, mostly twits in chain who thought their armour would scare the "squishies". I keep myself warm at nights by remembering their look of surprise as a mighty thrust of my spear caught them squarely in the guts.
A number of people have likened my fighting techniques to Kevin's, in that I am an exceedingly aggressive user of the spear. I my humble opinion, defence has its place, but it wont make the buggers fall over in the long run!
On Sunday, the mounted Normandy warriors and the Archers were in greater number and were by far, much improved as a fighting unit compared to the day before and the whole atmosphere of the day was that of being much more relaxed and free and easy. People weren't expecting much, and because of that, they were generally pleasantly surprised on how it turned out. Myself included. I fact the whole of Sunday made the entire weekend "perfect" and was an excellent way to finish the year.
But the year wasn't over yet! I had to pass my spear test. Treefrog and two other miscreants collected those other poor victims and proceeded to terrify and harass them in unison for what seemed like an age.
It was not one of my most favourite experiences, I can tell you, but like going to the dentists, the build up is worse than the actual process of having your teeth looked at. Of course, if you need a filling the whole experience can leave you slightly traumatised and nervous the next time. But not for me, as I passed. Hurrah!
My secret to passing the spear test (and don't blame me if you fail, when heeding what I am about to suggest) is as follows;
Finally, whatever you do, even if you fail miserably, don't argue or disagree with `em, even if you think their opinion sucks. It will do you no favours in the long run. Laugh your failure off and try again ASAP. They'll probably admire that. Nobody likes a bad loser.
Case in point: I heard that a prospective member of a new group had acted in what was apparently a dangerous manner and proceeded to disagree vehemently with Treefrog. He was subsequently banned. Plonker
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