Okay – for all you non-SCA readers, keep those fingers in your ears.  Same song.  Second verse.

Your rant-of-the-day is going out to the men.  It will (and this should be obvious, as it is coming from ME) apply to a few women out there, but I am going to function on the premise that the vast majority of the armoured combatants in the Society are men.  And I am pretty sure I won’t fall too far off the mark.

Guys, we hit each other with clubs until we bruise.  That’s the bottom line.  The only thing that separates us from a bloody, pugilistic, underground, backyard, bare-fist fight clubs is the general lack of bleeding and how we choose to dress it up.

Unfortunately, too many of us take the term “dress up” far too literally.  Oh, we certainly look the part, all right.  We spend hundreds and thousands of dollars on brass-chased helmets, linen surcotes, custom leather boots and hand-made maile.  Don’t get me wrong, there is a certain level of self-respect demanded by this game, and you can tell how seriously a man takes himself by how he presents himself on the tournament field.  I don’t have much admiration for those who, given enough time and acculturation to our little game, present themselves in slabs of plastic pickle bucket. 

But I think far too many of us spend too much time perfecting the outward without so much as a glance inward.  And that is where we fail.  That is why I said that we where poor inheritors of the virtues of Chivalry. 

It is true that Prowess is a virtue in the Knightly class.  But prowess was meant to be pursued in the service of all of the other virtues of chivalry.  Prowess pursued exclusively for it’s own glorification progresses into the sin of vanity.  And vanity, at its worst, turns us into bullies who prey on the easy mark to rack up our scorecard and our reknown in our own eyes.  We avoid anything that could prove a challenge to our own self-conceit.  And what should be glory descends into infamy.   Prowess pursued in isolation becomes, not a virtue, but contemptible and cruel, the precise thing the code of Chivalry evolved to prevent.

Oh, we carry our favors upon the field, but too many do not carry them in their hearts.  When you do honor to your lady before a fight, do you think upon all those things she represents, the sacrifices she has made, the gift of attention she gives to you?  Do you fight with honesty and strive, knowing that she is there, watching you with pride and love?  Do swear to yourself to perform no act upon the field that will dishonor you, bringing whispers of disdain upon yourself, and by extension, the lady you represent?  Do you temper the brutality of the tournament with control, or do you vent your anger and frustration at defeat by throwing your helmet upon the ground and speaking ill of your opponent, so that the eyes around you turn away in embarrassment and disgrace? 

Do you leave your virtues upon the field?  When outside of the tournament, do you honor the gentle dedication and sacrifices of the ladies that strive with arts more gentle to gild your fierce appearance?  They, who with nimble fingers and bent heads, stitch the banners that proclaim our presence in the wind, who quilt the linen that cushions our blows, who keep the children safe from harm while we are pursuing our name upon the field.  How many of you offer the choicest portions to your lady at the table before taking your own?  Do you refill her glass when it is empty?  Do you carry her burdens and defend her against those that speak ill of her?  Do you praise her beauty and her diligence in your best voice?  Or do you criticize her and defame her in front of your fellows, thinking this enhances your image of manhood?  Do you speak harshly to the children and the elderly in her care?  The man who does not recognize the equal importance of women’s work denigrates his own.  He disgraces his Queen and his Kingdom.  He is worthless in the eyes of civilized society.

These words are harsh, but I am saddened by the lip service that so many give to the honor of our consorts.  Their behavior shows that they place the favor of their ladies on their sleeves, but they do not write their honor on their souls.  They are nothing above the savage brutes swinging clubs of bone and living in squalor, and deserve no more notice.