XX

It was twenty years ago this summer that I started fencing in the Society. I'd been introduced to the SCA two years ago and played to the very limited extent that my meager funds would allow. I think I'd been to maybe 3 or 4 events and I was pretty much hooked. But I wanted to fight.

There were a couple of problems, though. The first was that I was an under-employed college student and the second was that the SCA in Helena at the time consisted of two people: me and Christian la Sable, another under-employed college student. Christian had been in armor a few times, but didn't have a set of his own. But he did have a set of fencing gear. But that still left us one set of equipment short of what it takes to learn to fence.

And then one day, I was in my favorite second-hand store when I found a well-used mask and foil for $15. I spent most of my spare funds and we were off. Since Christian had taken a few years of college fencing, he was the instructor and I, the student. I learned foil, epee and saber that year.

Then, both Christian and I moved down to Eir Dun, where we found a ready supply of eager fencing students. So we trained, and we learned and within a year we held our first tourney. I don't remember who won, but the damage was done: fencing had been unleashed on Northern Artemisia. Whenever there was two or more Eir Dunis at an event, there was fencing (whether they wanted it or not).

We were even entering into the big leagues, making the transition from foils to epees as our main weapons. And we started to notice fencers popping up in other groups, too. The one group that sticks in my mind as being an early adopter of fencing in Northern Artemisia was Stan Wyrm.

And then, a group of us made a pilgrimage to Loch Salaan for an event and we discovered Albert Sanford and the Schlager. We were, for the first time, authorized fencers. This was the start of the golden age of fencing in Northern Artemisia.

It seemed like every group started sprouting fencers. It wasn't uncommon for a group to have a half-dozen fencers and event stewards began planning tournaments for us, rather than us having to steal time from the stewards. The Fencers of Northern Artemisia was a force to be reckoned with. The culmination of this golden age was Albion's becoming the premier Gold Scarf of the Kingdom of Artemisia.

Times were good.

But then mundanity stepped in. Over a period of 6 months, three of the driving forces in northern fencing (Albion, Antoine and I) were forced to withdraw for various reasons. And our departures were followed by several other fencers we'd pegged as having "it". When I at last returned, there was but one fencer I recognized who was still playing, and he'd been one that I hadn't held much hope for.

Oh, how times had changed. Fencing in Northern Artemisia was back where it had been a decade before, struggling to find itself once again in the Kingdom of Artemisia. But at least there was some continuity. That one fencer. A man for whom my first memory is of throwing him out of a tournament for bringing an open beer to armor inspection. A man who'd had, shall we say, calibration problems when last I'd encountered him. A man who, in the intervening 4 years had overcome his earlier limitations, and become a beacon of hope for fencing in Northern Artemisia. If Albion had been fencing in Northern Artemisia for its Golden Age, Cormac had readily filled that role during his absence.

And then something happened. Just as Albion, Antoine and I all left within 6 months of each other, we all returned within 6 months of each other. I wish I could say that they'd returned because of me, but even in my most egotistical moments, I can't. It was just fate that brought about this happenstance.

But our return didn't bring about an instant return to the Golden Age. In fact, if there's one theme for the past five years, it is one of rebuilding. When I returned in 2006, there was a sense in the kingdom that Northern Artemisians were a bit of an oddity. They were there, but no one was really sure why.

For the most part, we were only seen by our Southern brethren at our yearly pilgrimage to Uprising, and then only as more troops to fill the line or another kill in the next tourney. We didn't stand out, either as a group or individually. Yes, there was Cormac, but he was the exception that proved the rule.

But over the past five years, we have begun to see that change. More and more of the Northern fencers are being recognized. There's Duran and his beautiful cast aluminum mask, Alric and his not-so-beautiful buckler, and so many others. And yes, there's Antoine, Albion and I, each making our presence known in our own way.

And, in fact, it was Antoine and Albion who suggested that I should celebrate my 20th year of fencing by fighting a prize. And the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. Who says Prizes should just be for awards? Why can't they be for celebrations?