It's been ages since we had practice it seems. First the boys all had hangovers after the bachelor party, then one of our guys got married, then it rained enough that the Professor thought we probably shouldn't be standing around outside holding our own personal lightning rods. Finally we had one practice, but then it was vacation time and 4th of July, then Father's Day... it's been crazy.
Since we'd missed so much, we actually had homework. We were each supposed to browse the Wiktenauer or find a play in some treatise, figure out how it worked, and then present our interpretation at practice. Book stuff! This one was right in my bailiwick. Awesome. Except I forgot about work. And this book club thing I'm doing with my ex-sisters-in-law. And choir practice. And then school ending. Summer unemployment beginning. Regardless, I finally found a great play, totally by accident.
I like to cook, and I'd been looking for a recipe for pretzels- I don't really remember why. Apparently I wanted pretzels or something. Anyway, as I researching recipes, I decided to see if anyone had ever made sword-shaped pretzels. And as anyone knows, you can type anything into a Google search and get a hit of some kind. Sure enough, I actually found something useful! It was an illustration in a manuscript, one of many plates that showed static drawings of fighters. It showed two swordsmen with their hands in what seemed really weird positions, and off to the side there was a curly-haired, barefoot guy selling pretzels! Random, right? Apparently it's from Jorg Wilhalm Hutter's fencing manual, which seems to be an interpretation of Lichetnauer's, from which our fathers' fathers' fathers all studied, according to the Professor. Actually, there are several folios in the book that seem to have the swordsmen in the same position, but the other pages didn't have pretzel-guy in them. (http://daten.digitale-sammlungen.de/0006/bsb00064546/images/index.html?fip=193.174.98.30&id=00064546&seite=61 if you're curious)
So I studied the page from this book. Lots of writing, in some language that may as well have been sanskrit for all I could tell. I couldn't really even distinguish some of the letters, let alone the actual language. Actually, I'm pretty sure it's German and that I recognized two words, but that's about it. Depicted on the page is one gentleman in polka dots and vertical stripes, battling another fellow in similarly stripey pants and a diagonally striped shirt. Adding to his look are knee-high black stockings and what appears to be half a pair of black shorts. Both gentlemen are sporting white shirts with lovely lace collars that peek over the spotty and stripey jackets. Upon closer inspection, the two fashion-challenged fellows look to be ending a scheilhau (maybe) while the friendly pretzel seller hawks his wares.
Enter the Professor, who says that maybe pretzel-guy isn't really selling pretzels so much as illustrating a particular cut, in code. That spawns a fascinating discussion on Medieval iconography, and how the illustrations in the margins often tell a whole different story or add to the text. All those killer bunnies in the margins of some manuscripts, trees with odd... fruits, even chubby pretzel-sellers... they could be random scribblings by bored monks, or perhaps a sneaky way to convey how a certain set of sword movements could put a note of finality on that schielhau thing the two gents are illustrating. Kind of like the author Jan Brett uses the margin illustrations in her kids' books to foreshadow what's coming next, the illuminations could give hints as to what plays could follow. Since the different schools of swordsmanship didn't want everyone knowing their secrets, they may have used ribbons and vines and even pretzels to guide manouvers, since such things were pretty commonplace in illuminated manuscripts of other types as well. He demonstrated the pretzelhau move on one of our guys, and we had to admit that the flurry of twists and the final flourish were pretty impressive- and effective, as Deadpool's eyes went kind of huge when he found the Professor's sword at his throat.
Each of us had found a play to try. Deadpool's was an interpretation of kron by Meyer as a way to parry and offset the opponent's blade. I like kron- I think it's my default "OH CRUMBS!" block when I totally blank on what I'm supposed to do next. Then we had one of Fiore's plays, trapping your opponent's blade by the hilt. I missed that one as I got called inside to preview a special video. I came back to an evil little maneuver laughingly called "the crippler," which if I remember was one of the 'dirty Fiorist' moves. It involved taking your boot to your opponent's knee, which even in practice seemed absolutely awful. I apologize enough when I don't even hurt someone with a shot- can't imagine if I actually managed to land that thing. But I can totally see how that crippler would end a fight pretty quickly.
So we tried each of the plays we'd found with partners and got a little correction or translating help as we practiced. I never did figure out the fancy little pretzelhau, though it reminds me a lot of the ribbon exercise we did when we visited otherJake's MKDF practice. The Professor later mentioned that the whole point of the exercise was to illustrate the difficulties inherent in interpreting the sources and why there are so many different versions people have of performing the plays. Point made. I celebrated with chocolate covered pretzels. One of those memory trick things, you know?
Skip ahead a few weeks. Saturday morning we had a demo at the Peter Burr house, which is one of the oldest houses in West Virginia, and was owned by Aaron Burr's cousin. The Professor and some of the other crew had been out last spring, demonstrating Colonial dueling to a bunch of bloodthirsty 4th graders. I hadn't been before, so mostly just enjoyed the show. I wasn't sure quite what to wear to this sort of demo, and wasn't entirely certain that the Professor was telling me straight when he mentioned that historically, women fought topless. Though he pushed the importance of authenticity and historical accuracy, I opted for modesty. Pretty sure if I hadn't, I'd have blushed so red nobody would've notice if I had been 'pinked' or not.
We didn't have very many visitors, but those who dropped by got quite a lesson in historical swordsmanship. The Professor showed off different types of swords, explained their uses, described a few famous duels (the Petticoat Duel I'm going to use with my history classes next school year)... and darned if he didn't expound on that whole 'topless fencing' thing. Who knew? It actually does seem practical- the sleeves on my blouse did catch a time or two. Still though... no. He told the story of Aaron Burr's duel as well, and how Alexander Hamilton's sneaky machinations may have been what backfired on him. He spoke of how the rolling deck of a ship drove the back and forth of shipboard combat. The little lectures were interspersed with mini-skirmishes as he'd illustrate the story with action sequences, and the history geek in me was totally fascinated.
Then he had some of us demonstrate different techniques. There was a review of absetzens, which I actually remember, probably thanks to the doorknob drills. Then he showed off the teleporting duplieren, which we practiced on Monday when we got to visit the wonderful MKDF folks again. He followed that up with durchwechseln, the sneezy-sounding move I practice with my cat, Circe, when I poke at her foot with my finger, then try and circle around and poke from the other side before she slices my hand open with her claws. (The Professor needs to practice that one too, so she doesn't rake him again.) I got to do a short match with sabers while we tried to lure people over to our stand of trees. I like the sabers, but think I'm missing something. And my footwork, as always, is lousy.
Side note: When the Professor and I were talking once, he'd mentioned how he suspected that the reason there aren't many manuals that mention footwork is because everyone already knew how to dance, where the rhythm and timing may have come from, so why bother writing it down? It makes sense. I know they did the same thing with recipes, because several of the Medieval cookbooks I've collected don't even bother with measurements, and for baking that's kind of a necessity. And when watching otherJake and Mr. Montante at MKDF the other night, their movements are so graceful it really looks like a ballet. The Professor seems more energetic and bouncy, more folk dance than ballet. My style seems to be more hokey pokey. With fairy feet.
Back to the demo. Thankfully Deadpool took all the live steel examples. I don't think I'm ready for those yet. All the visitors seemed to enjoy the lecture and the demos, and had some good questions too. Best of all, I think I see a way to incorporate demos into several of my classes' history projects next fall. I know the kids at school will love the idea and I've already got permission from the principal... and I've no doubt my little darlings will get a kick out of their shy librarian wielding a sword amongst the stacks. Maybe they'll think twice about turning their books in late!
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