The Master of the Field
The Master of the Field
Copyright 2005 by Jeff Suzuki
The tune to this is the SCA Maltese Bransle (the actual music is "Schiarazula Marazula" (1571) by Pierre Phalese); I should point out that what most people in the SCA dance as the Maltese bransle (sometimes incorrectly called the Calafian Bransle) is different from a period dance with the same name. It is traditional to accelerate the tempo as the dance progresses, though there is no basis for this practice in SCA period.
That being said, the way the music is played in the SCA lends itself to the story of something growing ever more frantic. I began to write a filk about the event at which everything went wrong (an autocrat's worst nightmare...). I stalled halfway through, since the song became too depressing; I may return to it someday. In any case, I changed tracks and wrote the following.
The music is “Schiarazula Marazula”, often known as the SCA Maltese Bransle.
At the crack of dawn he woke to greet the Pensic morn. To see if there be any truth to rumors of a storm. In the eastern light he saw the sign of red sky in the morning, But he knew not of the lore that said that sailors should take warning. The air was clear, the sky was blue, the sun shone down so bright. So gath'ring up his gear he went down to the field to fight. And on his way he swore an oath that he would never yield, And by end of day, that come what may, he'd be Master of the Field. At noon the wind picked up and brought some dark clouds to the sky. The novice in the studded leather said "I'll bid good-bye. I'd love to stay and fight this bout, but I must not delay. To high ground I must get my gear before it's washed away." At ten past one the rain began to gently sprinkle down. The squire in silk and satin said "See ya!" with a frown. "The rain will surely turn this field of honor into mud. And my lady said if this gets stained that she will have my blood!" The knight was next to leave the list he left in a great huff. He said "Against this rising wind I must secure my stuff. At Pensic last it wasn't done, and many things did fly. I went to bed in my tent of red and woke to open sky." The king, the Duke, the foresworn man were all that remained there. The king said "It's real bad that I can smell the ocean air. Been there once, don't want to go back, I think I'll leave real soon. These type of skies often precede tornadoes and typhoons..." The sky turned green and black and then the wind began to roar. The Duke said "I've not seen the like since Pensic Number four. In sweaty steel and leather is a place I'd best not be, Since in the list I taunted Leif, shouting 'Odin's a sissy!' " Off his helm the hail did bounce, it went rat-tat-tat-tat. The lightning flashed across the sky, it went zat-zat-zat-zat. But the wind and hail couldn't make him quail because of the oath he swore. And the rain came down, but he stood his ground, in the Great Pensic downpour. Deep breath and slow down for the final verse... When at last the skies grew clear we walked across the grass. To see the man the storm had surely knocked on his...cuirass. And we found him there, in a field of mud, in water past his shield. And he kept his oath, and in all truth, he was Master of the Field...