Man at Arms

Miach left on Tuesday night for the usual Mountain's Gate fighter practice, and came back a Man at Arms.
From what he told me, Viscount Gunther gathered his squires and presented Miach the opportunity due to a conviction that someone else would snatch Miach up soon. I kinda suspect that was a distinct possibility.

He's pretty stoked about it, and he went back up to Three Moons again tonight to work on his shield, because he will need it on Thursday when he goes with the squires to the BART practice.

Gunther was the best choice and it's an honor that he actually asked Miach, and honestly it was probably the only way Miach was going to make a choice. I do kind of grieve for the uncertainty and tension of the process, though. It added a lot of drama and intrigue to life, especially when the Misty Knights and Uther joined in.

See, I was right. The end of the beginning and the beginning of something much bigger.

Renown, sort of

A very weird thing happened to me yesterday, and that's saying a lot in my case. Miach and I attended a Tribe Rot Mahne fighting practice held out at Viscountess Juliana and Vicount Gunther's place, 3 Moons Farm (or possibly Ranch) in Cool. Sigurgata, the fighting household of Duke Uther, attended also. The weird thing was that a woman introduced herself to me by announcing, "I know who you are, Sciatha."
No one usually knows who I am. Even if they've seen me before, and at times even if they've spoken at length with me before. I've often puzzled over that, because I'm not a shy type and I don't normally go places and sit in the corner. My girth is also hard to overlook. But the SCA is an odd place full of odd people, many of them very self-conscious to the point that they actually are not conscious of anyone other than themselves. The NORM is for people not to know me.

So, we had a very pleasant day. I chatted with Duchess Eliana, who bestowed my AoA several reigns ago, and learned a bit about pattern knitting which she seems to have picked up very quickly in the last 4 months. I chatted with Lady Isolde, the Princiapality Chirurgeon, about period plastic surgery. I chatted with Viscountess Bronwyn and another Lady about Feminine Mysteries. At the gloaming, we all moved outside and there was a huge potluck feast and we ate until we were bursting and some folk drank until they were falling over -- but Miach and I had a couple and then switched to tea, because we were driving home. And on the way home, we discussed the Byzantine politics of household and knightly alliances, and how best to maintain good relationships while meeting Miach's need for advancement in his martial arts skills. And it occured to me that we are finding ourselves much more comfortably than I would ever have imagined in the company of Royal Peers, without our being Peers ourselves. This has caused changes in the way we are playing the game. Because once you start seeing things from the perspective of that level in the SCA, it makes it more difficult to be content with hanging out in your local group exclusively.

Just a few short months ago, I was in love with our Shire, collectively. And I still love the folks here. But I am finding myself frustrated with them more frequently, also.
Most of our Shire prefers to spend time in the Shire, and view their SCA involvement as local: they put on local demos for the Scouts, or for the local college, or add "color" to local events such as the Christmas Parade or Ladie's Night Out. They put on events hoping to draw people up the hill to the Shire, such as the Emeritus Feast or the Viking Tourney. They are absolutely wonderful at doing these things, and they pull together well as a group to do them.

The problem is, there is a huge SCA world out there. And it is a world in which one of the stated goals of the Shire was to gain renown. And there just isn't much Shire presence in that greater world, aside from Miach and myself and the two local Knights and Viscountess Juliana. The Shire is very well represented amongst the local mundane community, and very scantily attends any SCA events. Including events held in nearby locations, such as Golden Rivers and Danegeld Tor.
Lord Geoffry and Lord Eoin are finding themselves unable to attend these things, and Baron Wylowen is often physically unable to attend. Unless one, or all, of these good gentles attend -- no one else aside from our household (which includes Michaell and Miriam) or the Knight's households will show up.

We have gained so much and gotten so much joy from our time in the Shire, but we never intended that we would give up our membership in the West. And especially after being on Viscount Daniel and Viscountess Aeschine's court, for me at least, by necessity new bonds were formed with folk around the Principality. Miach has even larger circles, of bonds to fighters all over the West and to the Court of Titus and Eiles, and to the members of his fighting household as well as to Gunther and Richard personally and their squires. From an improbable beginning nearly 3 years ago, Miach has emerged as the only unbelted fighter in the Shire to consistently show up at not only Mountain's Gate's official practice, but the Golden Rivers gather and he is now probably going to start going with Gunther to the practice in the Mists that Uther runs. He has also attended, and gained valuable insight from Richard's practices.
There are those who are better armorers, and those who are more historically accurate in their kit, and those who have been fighting much longer. But there is absolutely no one in our Shire who has been more consistent and dedicated to learning the art and putting in the time on Court and at events than Miach. Of course I say this as his Lady, but any objective observer would agree with me. And it has paid off. Miach now has quite a bit of renown, has drawn the attention of not only the two local Knights, but also some of the more prominent Royal Peers in the West and in Cynagua. Fighters that Miach feels would have been on a par with the most famous Knights and Kings of the medieval world, due not only to their awesome fighting skills but also their mundane educations and professions, and their innate sense of self, honor and responsibility. In many ways, he is pulling me along with him, because I would be content to hang out with Lady Miriam and Lord Michaell and plot on how to increase our local An Tellach Mor members -- a goal that I still aspire to, but one that I suspect Miach often overlooks.
I am feeling this is the end of the beginning, and the beginning of something much bigger than I would ever have believed likely back when our Cheiftain, Morgan, was sitting at our table and convincing Miach to make the journey to Great Western War. It would not have happened if it had not been for the Shire, and that is a fact. Everything that has brought us to this point can be traced back directly to the Shire, and yet it seems like our natural progression is to begin to identify more with the very larger SCA world in which once we were beneath notice. Like all good mythic journeys, perhaps this one will end up in the future back where it started, but for now, it appears we are gathering the Fellowship and setting off.

Night of Exploding Mead

Back in April, in preparation for the Viking Tournament that Mountain's Gate hosted, I made two meads: a quick mead and a regular one. The quick mead was AWFUL. The regular one fermented energetically for a couple days, then slowed down. Now, let me explain my brewing philosophy: I like to keep it simple. I don't generally measure specific gravity and figure out how much alcohol potential a brew has, because that requires futzing around with tools that I'm pretty sure period brewers lacked. I strive for cleanliness and make a real effort to either sterilize or disinfect everything that comes in contact with my cooled wort, but I'm not really into the trappings of modern brewing. I made a mash tun out of a large round Home Depot 5 gallon water cooler, which is as much futzing as I can tolerate. I like making a mash, instead of using malt extracts or dried malt extracts, because I'm pretty sure that period brewers didn't use extracts. I strive to recreate the brews that my ancestors might have made.
Therefore, it is only with extreme reluctance that I measure specific gravity, which Miach consistently measures with his brews. And as with many things, Miach does have a good point: if you don't measure the specific gravity, how will you know when the brew has finished fermenting? However, I also believe that my own point is good: specific gravity won't necessarily go to "1.0" due to the yeast going dormant if the alcohol content reaches a certain percentage, and the mash perhaps being heavier than usual with sugars.

So, the regular mead -- which actually is a metheglin, since I added a few teaspoons of Heather extract to it -- just didn't do much after a couple days. I racked it into a new carboy, and put it in the garage (Meads like warmer fermentations) and every so often I'd go out and sniff over the airlock to see if it was still putting off CO2. When I racked it, I tasted it because Miach insisted that we measure the specific gravity and I humored him. It tasted REALLY good, and I felt that was a bad sign. Too much honey not fermented yet. So, I let it sit out in the garage for another 3 months. Finally, it seemed like it wasn't doing much of anything at all any longer, so I decided to bottle it. Miach again insisted that we measure the specific gravity, and then he became quite huffy and insistent that it was not ready to bottle. But really, it wasn't detectably fermenting AT ALL to my senses of smell and vision. So, of course, I disregarded his advice and bottled it.

Last night, just before dinner, we heard a loud "POP" and fizz. For a brief moment, I wondered what it could be, but then I realized with some alarm and a sinking sensation that it had to be my mead. Sure enough, a bottle had blown it's cork. About half of it had shot out all over the dining room carpet, and scared Maggie the Nervous Yorkie into the furthest corner of the house she could find to get away from it. Miach was again insistent that we put all the mead back into a clean carboy to avoid disaster, and I really didn't want to do that because it aerates the mead and that is not good once fermentation has started. So I drank the rest of the bottle, which was very sparkly and fizzy and sweet. As we were finishing dinner, "POP" and "POP". Frenetic activity ensued, with Miach cleaning the dining room carpet and me carefully opening the remaining 15 bottles of mead and pouring them into a disinfected carboy. All of the bottles gave a nice "POP" when I de-corked them, and at least half of them gave a very hearty "POP" and the cork popped out with only a bit of help, and then they fizzed out like champagne onto the kitchen floor. After I got the mead into the carboy and re-sealed the bubbler on top (that's the picture at the top; the Belgian Monk's Ale is wearing a pink T-shirt to the left of it, in a bucket fermenter), I also got to mop the kitchen floor down.

That mead is sooooo good. It will break my heart if it is ruined from aeration. Updates to follow.
Not for the first time, Miach is irritatingly correct in his reasoning.