Wychurst at War

This past weekend was the highly-anticipated Wychurst at War training, with over 50 fighters descending upon the burg and hacking each other to pieces- safely. Øst Centingas has the privilege to practice at Wychrust, Regia's Anglo-Saxon longhall, every week, but for one weekend it became home to Regia members from all over the country and it was amazing to see it come alive in a different way.

Friday night, as more and more people came in from all over England and even as far as Scotland, the grounds began to bustle. The long hall glowed in the firelight and the usual din of voices grew to a lively and thunderous chorus. For some, this was the first time they had come to the site and seen it in all its glory. At the Folcgemot, an ØC show we did at the Dover Museum, the cultural significance of a meadhall was talked about at length. One of the scholars talked about Bede's metaphor of life being a mead hall, when he wrote that,

The present life of man upon earth, O King, seems to me in comparison with that time which is unknown to us like the swift flight of a sparrow through the mead-hall where you sit at supper in winter, with your Ealdormen and thanes, while the fire blazes in the midst and the hall is warmed, but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad. The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry tempest, but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter to winter again. - Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English People 

The hall meant warmth and safety against whatever else is in the world, and it is still a place of community and celebration. In our case, I'm pretty sure there were no sparrows in the hall, maybe a few bats though. Everyone there shared in the joy of the evening and the anticipation for the weekend. Most people had opted to sleep in tents or in the forge since those of us in the hall had no set bed-time, however, knowing the sheer amount of fun that was planned for the following day, it wasn't long before the embers were smouldering and the sounds of gentle snoring filled the rafters. 

Once the light cut through the high windows, everyone was up and ready to start. The day was a flurry of line fights, team fights, capture the flag between the gates, wooded ambush fights, and respawning team battles. The archers were set loose on us and added another level to battlefield awareness, especially after I took a beautiful shot right in the chest. It was a scorching hot weekend, and I eventually had to abandon my mail or risk melting. Sun cream was applied hourly.

The main attraction of the weekend were the multiple attacks on the burg. Everyone there was divided into Saxons and Vikings, teams that remained throughout the weekend, and would take turns defending and attacking the burg. These fights were incredible. We had massive gate clashes, divided strike teams, tactical strategies, people climbing over the walls, which all resulting in a close but conclusive Viking victory. It had been tied for most of the day, but the decisive win came when we were on the defensive and despite their massive direct attack, our shield wall held the Saxons back. 

We also had the inaugural champions tournament of Wychurst, gathering outside the burg, near the memorial cross, for a series of one-on-one fights to determine the winner, whose prize would be fame, glory, and bragging rights- good for one year. It was an impressive show with very closely matched pairings. The luck of the draw set my first and only fight against Matt Town, who would go on to win the entire tournament, so at least I lost to the best. To honour his victory, Townie also won an arm band and a bottle of mead - the later didn't last long. 

After having my sword for less than a year, I have now passed my sword test, and after I get my kit signed off for authenticity, I will have achieved warrior status in the group. Time to paint some swirls on my shield! 

For our evening meal, ØC dragged a few tables out of the longhall, over to the camping area and set up a long community table for our pasta dinner. However, many of us had not considered that spoons were not made for eating pasta, which lead to an amusing spectacle of many re-enactors trying different strategies to eat spaghetti. As the sky darkened, the party again moved into the hall. 

Since Sunday was July 1st, Canada Day, Katya and I had wanted to do something. We misguidedly enlisted Malcolm to help, mainly by supplying his Canadian flag for us to use. Our plan was to change Katya's phone alarm to and orchestral version of 'O Canada,' set it for midnight, and then stand, sing the anthem, and unveil the Canadian flag. The plan was foiled. The first part went smoothly, however, upon unfolding the flag, we realized that Malcom had instead given us the Union Jack. He had carefully folded the flag so that only the white and red were showing and I, being the trusting fool that I am, had not thought to check. The surrounding Brits were very pleased at our continued alligence to the flag, despite it being our "Independence Day." His joke a success, Malcolm then handed Katya and me proper Canadian flags, which we wore as capes for the rest of the evening. 

The next morning was a bit slower but we still managed to pack a lot of fighting in before people began to head home. We had another group breakfast of eggs and bacon as people slowly emerged bleary-eyes and bed-headed from their tents. I did my battlefield-safe test on a two-handed spear and did a few gate fights with that. I'll be sticking with sword for the most part but you do feel a lot more useful in a gate fight if you have the reach advantage a spear gives you. 

Turns out Malcolm wasn't done with the flags either. We began a new fighting game, "Ultimate Flag Death Frenzy," which, as the name suggests, was just a bit hectic. Essentially, Katya had the Ontario provincial flag, I had the Albertan flag, and you had to capture the other teams flag. The catch being, that if you came back and touched your team's flag you could resurrect, or in the second version we played, the flag person had to run and revive the dead people with the flag. Remembering who was on your team became the main trick since it was hard to tell if people were running at me to be healed or running at me to try and kill me. Either way, the Albertan flag was taken both times, much to my eternal shame.

It was getting increasingly hot and people had long journeys ahead of them, so the fighting stopped in the early afternoon and people began packing up and heading out. I was bruised, bug-bitten, and blessed beyond belief to be involved with this weekend and this group. 

Thanks to Lauren Roberts, Alison Offer and whoever else I stole photos from :)