Calontir Family News

Nesscia’s Missives 15 March AS LIV

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Image from Huntington Library Ms HM 60, f°7, 15th C.

Written this 15th day of March
Anno Societatus LIV
Being 2020 of the Common Era

My Dear Daughter Caroline,

I send my love upon the wings of the geese flying towards the thawing lands where you now toil for the good populace of Northshield.

The Ides of March conspire against me, and the stars and planets wheel in misalignment.

My wagon packed, I stood ready to once more trek south toward Ansteorra and your estate. Clouds, laden with snow, arrived in the night, delivering the bulk of its freight by morning. Howling wind and swirling flakes continued throughout the day. The roads now are slick with mud and melting ice. Methinks I must needs delay my departure.

Fear not, Dear one, time supports your cause even if the stars do not.
The laborers and tradesmen continue their good work in my absence. When the day arrives to move your worldly goods, I shall indeed have trekked south. There I shall remain at your disposal to guide and assist the work until completion.

Rumors and tales continue of the plague spreading throughout the lands.

Heralds and town criers bring news daily of the deaths and horrors gripping kingdoms and baronys and shires across the seas and close to home.

Daily I receive word from my kith and kin. They travel back to their own estates and cottages to assure all is well. There they endure the solitude until the stars align once more allowing all to go forth.

The great conflict in the kingdom of Gleann Abhann has found the gathering armies lay down arms and retreat.

Our good King Lucian and kind Queen Tamar urge great care. They proclaimed the needs of Their people to survive this plague remains paramount. Without Their populace there will be no kingdom. They are indeed good Rulers and True.

I look towards the brighter days of summer full of sunshine and fresh breezes. When the beasts and babies romp on the hillside while we sip wine in the gardens.

Indeed I do pray hourly for the safety of all the folk I love and hold dear. Mayhaps the halt of travel and revels and gatherings will halt as well the spread of this malady bedeviling our homes.

Know fully that the humours and health of our house and beasts and land here in the Hills of Ponca hold firm and well.

Until the day I once more gaze upon your countenance and have the opportunity to tell you, know that you are held dear to me.

Ever with love,
Your mother.

Nessicia’s Missives, 10 March AS LIV

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Image from Huntington Library Ms HM 60, f°7, 15th C.

Letters from Home
Being the 10th day of March
of Anno Societatus LIV
known as 2020 of the Common Era

My Dearest Cristina,

Your duties have taken you exceedingly far away across the seas, and slow traveling missives vex me, my friend.
I will attempt to put pen to parchment and bring you news.

Our King has called for the Army and the good citizens of Calontir to travel to the Southern reaches of Gleann Abhann on campaign to the Great Gulf War. Troubles there seem to ebb and flow like an expansive tide, ever reoccurring.

As you recall, I have oft journeyed south to give ease and aid to our kinsfolk in their mighty efforts. While there, I commonly break bread or bend the elbow with friends made during these campaigns. My heart fair sings, in the midst of the misery of battles, to encounter others I thought long gone.

My wagon was nearly packed in plan to travel with kith and kin to the war when I received word from my daughter in Ansteorra. She also has need of aid at her estate.

The distress in her words lay plain upon the page in every letter of every word. Oh! to be torn between loyalties! Duty to King and kinsfolk or faithfulness to blood of my blood.

In truth, I knew my answer before I spoke it. Choices are few in response to needs of clan and tribe.
Yet, my heart ached for commitments uttered then broken.

As a consequence, I trek still to the south, though not toward the great war.

I whine enough of mine own concerns. How goes your work in Drachenwald? Has spring yet arrived to the English countryside?

Rumours have reached my ears of an extensive plague ravaging the lands. Do take care, my friend. I pray you are well.

Spring mocks us here. One day fair and sunny the next day windy and snow covered. The geese fly, tempting us with thoughts of summer to come.
Our lands are rich and the gravid cattle waddle in expectancy.

I look to your return within the month and know not if this missive will reach you prior to you departure. We shall bend the elbow and feast on the last of the winter’s stores and tell tales of our adventures!

Ever your friend,
Nesscia

Memories of Master Eadweard Boicewright

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Nearly a month ago, my lord husband told me that Master Eadweard Boicewright, one of my dearest mentors and friends, had passed away. He said that he had suffered a cardiac event.

It broke my heart.

Papa, as those who learned from him call him, was a pillar, not just in our kingdom, but in the Society at large. He was a keeper of our memories, he dispensed wisdom to kings and peasants, and he gave of himself whenever and where ever he saw a need, without any expectation of praise or reward.

The first time we met was at Valor, in 2011. I was mending a friend’s trousers when he sat down across from me at the table. We talked about my SCA name, about trouser seam stability (he told me how his trousers were split when he was called into court to receive a Calon Cross), and mundane things. In retrospect, I see now how he was sizing me up and getting a feel for the kind of person I am.

I guess he liked what he saw because a few months later, he sponsored me in my first Queen’s Prize Tournament and introduced me to Marcella (Mama), his lady wife. She taught me how to make cloth buttons, finger loop braid, lucet, and heddle weave.  It became a habit during my first year in the SCA: I’d go hang out in Papa’s wood wright shop and make tools then go upstairs and ask Mama to teach me how to use them.

Since I moved away, I’ve missed that bond and rapport. Not many people will drive twenty-thirty minutes to take a broke college student out for a nice lunch because she spent the bulk of her much-need Spring break bedridden with Strep Throat, but Papa did. Not many laurels would steer apprentices that could be stars in their belts toward other peers because they see how they could flourish in that relationship, but Papa did.

To be clear, Papa was not the sort of man who brandished his title. I still remember the grin that spread across his face when he finally told me he was a laurel and saw my face pale as I shrunk away a little. I was still new enough to have Peer Fear and had been talking easily  with him for over an hour at that point, so I was a more than a little intimidated. More importantly, though, what he said to me about being a laurel gave me the first inkling that it was something I could aspire towards. He told me that being a laurel meant being a teacher and teaching is something to which I have always been drawn. That seed has remained with me eight years later.

Papa was also one of the most insightful people I have ever known and the most honest. He was the man he always aspired to be, like the Kipling poem he was fond of quoting: a man who talked with crowds without losing his virtue and walked with kings without losing the common touch. I wasn’t done learning from him and I’ll always miss our talks.

GoFundMe for Constanza and Conal

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On December 1, while working on the roof of their home, Conal slipped and fell. He suffered a number of injuries, including four spinal fractures, crushed pelvis, wrist and chest injuries and more.  He has been transfered to different hospitals twice before coming to UAMS Medical Center in Little Rock, where he has undergone two surgeries so far, with more, and lost of rehabilitation work on the horizon.

A GoFundMe site for the family has been set up. (Conal and Constanza’s modern names are Tom and Karen Park)

http://www.gofundme.com/HelpTomandKaren