Camelot Lives

The battle was straight from the pages of the Morte d'Arthur. In a heavily wooded field, two armies of armored knights lunged and hacked at each other with battle-axes, broadswords and spears. The bodies of fallen warriors littered the ground as beautiful damsels cheered their champions on to victory or wept when they met defeat. At last, the forces of the Middle Kingdom, led by their sovereign, King Andrew of Seldom Rest, burst into the stronghold of King Cariadoc of the Kingdom of the East. Cariadoc fell to the ground, mortally wounded by King Andrew's spear, and the triumphant army gathered round King Andrew to celebrate their victory and plot an invasion of the Kingdom of the West.*

In truth, King Cariadoc is a Columbia University physicist named David Friedman, and the valiant knight who "slew" him is a male nurse from Toledo named Andrew Holly. The clash of their armies near Waterford, Pa., last weekend was brutal but bloodless. It was merely another lovingly re-created medieval spectacle staged by the Society for Creative Anachronism, a six-year-old organization whose 3,000 members are in love with the Middle Ages. They like nothing better than dressing in replicas of medieval clothing, adopting such names as Sir Thorvald the Grim and playing Knight for a Day.

Potent Brew. The excursion into the past is not confined to a single event. Many society members belong to Associated Guilds that year-round practice medieval arts and crafts: calligraphy, armoring, needlepoint, medieval dance, heraldry and the brewing of mead, a potent alcoholic beverage fermented from honey. All the skills come together at tournaments--staged several times a year by the society's four "kingdoms" --where the guildists hawk medieval wares, including such products as "dragon's blood," a fine powder used in magic potions.

These activities, however, are merely a backdrop for the main business of the tournament: fighting. As in Round Table days, the combat gets under way after some flowery challenges. At last week's tourney, for instance, King Cariadoc said to his opposite number: "Gentle coz, it is a good day to die," offering a grave to each of the Middle Kingdom's warriors. Replied King Andrew: "It is also a good day to kill, and we keep a garden too."

Then the knights got to it, hacking away with wooden weapons in individual duels, melees with nine men on a side, and a violent game of chess in which each piece is represented by a human warrior who walks out the moves dictated by his king. But instead of merely capturing an opponent's piece, he must "slay" the occupant of a contested square.

In all the matches, the decision about whether a contestant has been "killed" by his opponent is made by an earl marshal, who also enforces strict safety rules. The marshals decide if a particular stroke, had it been delivered with a real weapon, would have lopped off an arm or a leg; if so, the "wounded" soldier must continue to fight with an arm behind his back or while resting on his knees.

Surprisingly, there are few serious injuries, probably because of the protective armor, which includes helmets made from steel gas canisters and body coverings ranging from football shoulder pads to chain-link suits that weigh as much as 50 lbs. Each outfit is embellished with the warrior's personal coat of arms; one knight wears a Volkswagen emblem, the "VW" symbolizing his title as Vice Warlord of the Maryland Medieval Mercenary Militia.

The duels are taken very seriously by the society's male members, partly because their rank--from page to king --is determined in true medieval style: trial by combat. To be sure, some of the knights simply like to fight. "Everyone needs some way of letting aggression out," explains the Emir a la Mar (in reality, a Chicago confectioner named David Gelushia), whose favorite weapon is the two-handed ax. "It's a thrill to fight with weapons forbidden by society." Some members, like William of Hoghton, deputy seneschal (historian) of the Kingdom of the West, have even turned their homes into medieval arms factories, manufacturing everything from helmets to menacing-looking maces with Styrofoam-covered balls.

Pedestal. Although they cannot take part in the fighting, women have a special place of their own in the society's feudal social structure: on a pedestal. "When you go out on the field of battle, you are fighting for the honor of your lady," explains Seneschal William (alter ego of Richmond, Calif., Computer Analyst William Rolls). Says his wife, Lady Donna: "We're looked up to, worshiped."

For most of the creative anachronists, the society's main appeal is the opportunity for a temporary escape into a mythical time when causes were just, everybody knew his fixed place in society, and the air was filled with romance. "What's important is that I have the chance to be someone else for a little while," says Seneschal William. Sometimes, however, the transition back to reality is difficult. "When I went back to work on Monday," admits King Andrew, "I was pretty grumpy." Adds his wife, Martha Ann: "When I got home and saw the dishes, I realized that I wasn't queen any more."

* A fourth kingdom, that of Atenveldt, covers the Southwestern U.S.

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