(The following story is Humor Enhanced for your protection.)
I sat the Throne of Drachenwald for two reasons. Well,
three if you consider that first, I won the tourney
and was therefore somewhat obligated. Second, I
really, really, wanted to win a crown of gold
for my lovely wife, Katharina. We were practically
newlyweds and I was so much in love it seemed like the
perfect gift.
(Tangent-- I feel sorry for fighters who pooh-pooh
the whole notion of courtly love as relating to
fighting. I think they're missing
out on something crucial to understanding chivalry as
practiced in the SCA. It is true that I rarely think
wistful thoughts of my lady fair in the midst of a
3-blow combination and I have yet to compose a sonnet
(or even a haiku) during a melee. Yet there is
something powerful-- a manly romaticism, if you will--
about winning the ultimate prize for your love by way
of your own sweat and blood and skill. I gave
Katharina something unique, something from the heart,
something a loooong time in the making. I put my body
in front of all others who were striving for the same
thing. I risked suffering and injury for- what? So
she could be the center of everyone's attention for 6
months. Heady stuff.)
Third, I went ahead and fought the darn thing because
my CO had promised me faithfully that we'd be in
garrison the next 9 months. Our unit was slated for
deactivation-- heck the entire division had already
been written out of the defense budget. We'd be
polishing up our tanks (polished tanks?) and turning
'em in, he told me with calm assurance. He even
patted me on the shoulder.
So Katharina and I talked it over and said, "Hey- now's
the time." So I fought and won.
Then my CO volunteered us to play OPFOR (the bad guys
who get beat up) in a series of exercises for the
benefit of units not getting mothballed.
The reign was hectic but we made it work, somehow.
Katharina… blossomed. The tough, capable, hyper-
efficient, superwoman I knew was making her presence
known to the rest of the world. Which was good,
because Drachenwald covered a lot of square kilometers
and several different languages and her Prince spent
most of his time in the woods playing Red Army
Soldier. We had a lot of Big Plans for the reign, not
the least of which was shepherding Drachenwald's
Kingdom Elevation packet through the Eastern Curia.
We had a good Coronet Tourney and got wonderful heirs
and the workload was suddenly lighter. The packet was
written, the T's were crossed, the I's dotted and the
Crown and Curia were well and truly schmoozed. Life
was looking fairly good. I was so relaxed, I even let
Katharina talk me into Tudor garb for our heirs'
coronation.
Then my CO broke his legs skiing in the Alps.
Suddenly I was in command. My first command.
As a Lieutenant. No way was I going to mess this up.
I started putting in 30-hour days and 9-day weeks.
We went right ahead with all our Big Plans.
One day Katharina stopped by the barracks to see me.
Now, Katharina never stopped by the barracks during
duty hours, so I knew something was dreadfully wrong.
She came in my office (the First Sergeant vacated the
premises after one look at her face) closed the door
and plopped a calendar on my blotter.
"You're going to the field again," she said bitterly,
"Right in the middle of coronation."
I couldn't believe it. But Katharina was in G-3 OPS
down at 5th Army HQ. Thanks to her security
clearance, she usually knew my orders before I did.
A few unnecessary phone calls confirmed the worst:
I was going to miss my own devestiture.
We spent that night running up our phone bill talking
to the Principality and Kingdom Officers, the Crown,
and even our Board ombudsman. I would have to
abdicate, no way around it. Drachenwald had feared
for years that they would someday have a Sovereign
Prince in just this situation because to date, all
but one of the Princes had been U.S. military
personnel. And, unfortunately, Drachenwald had also
suffered an ugly reign a few years back which
culminated in the Prince being forced to abdicate just
before his final court. The BoD had ruled the reign
"incomplete" and he did not get the Viscounty. So,
there was precedence.
Katharina was miserable but I tried to look at it
philosophically. I had fought primarily to put that
crown on her head, not mine, and that was a
fine thing. She would carry the permanent title as a
momento of what I had won for her and that was fine,
too. The Schwartzdrachen Herald had written a
beautiful alternate ceremony sans Prince which spoke
in sweeping, heroic, terms of how the even a Prince
needs answer to a higher duty… and of going off to
stage a show of might that would surely daunt the
enemy hoards over the eastern hills… and… and all
sorts of neat stuff. I liked it anyway.
(Sort of like reading your own eulogy.) I told
Katharina that it would be a court that the bards
would tell tales of for years to come and that was,
surely, the finest thing of all.
She cried anyway.
At a tourney a few weeks later, I was drumming my
fingers on the throne trying to figure some way out of
all this and Katharina was off commiserating with her
ladies in waiting. Then one of the noble knights of
the realm came to me and said that, maybe, he had an
idea and would I be willing to hear him out?
"Go on", I said, unenthusiastically. I knew this
knight. He was just full of ideas, all right.
Like the Iraqi tank he brought back from Desert Storm
as a lawn decoration.
The noble knight informed me that he was scheduled to
participate in the same exercise that I was during
coronation week.
Big deal. "Go on," I said. So we'd go get a beer at
the PX and feel sorry for ourselves.
The noble knight reminded me that he was an aviator.
Big, fat, hairy deal, I thought. "Go on," I
said. Pilots. He'd probably make me buy the beer.
The noble knight pulled a neatly folded military
planning map out of his belt pouch and showed me that
the event site was practically on a flight corridor
between the training area and his home airfield.
I stopped drumming my fingers. "Go on," I said.
The noble knight reminded me that he was qualified for
night flying and was quite good at NAPE maneuvers
(Near As Possible to Earth) which typically drop him
off radar for minutes at a time and he had to go back
to base for mandatory periodic instrument checks
anyway and hadn't he seen Air Assault wings on
my uniform once?
I guessed I'd be buying the beer after all. I leaned
forward in the Throne. "Go on," I said, dropping my
voice and looking over my shoulder.
Well, a plan was hatched. I made it to coronation and
our final court. I received my Viscounty kneeling
alongside my beautiful Katharina (and a full minute
after-- I insisted). As a bonus, it was announced in
our last court that the elevation packet had been
approved. Me and the Schwartzdrachen Herald were a little
disappointed to skip the really cool ceremony, but
what the heck.
I'd love to share the thrilling details of my, ahem,
dramatic arrival at the site. But I really cannot
give any more details because the noble
knight in question is still an officer in the service
and I wouldn't do a thing to get him in any more hot
water than he typically brings upon himself anyway.
But I will say this: The noble knight was presented
with a Court Baronacy shortly thereafter and the
proclamation read "for extraordinary service above and
beyond the call of duty to the Crown and Coronet."
And camoflage paint is a bitch to get out of Tudor garb.
