In June, I traveled from Caid to Ealdormere, to attend the Known World Heraldic Symposium. As I had just stepped up as Crescent Principal Herald, I asked Their Majesties Caid if they wanted me to carry a message or a gift to the Queen of Ealdormere, who was to hold a court at the event. Yesterday, at Festival of the Rose, I presented the following poem explaining how it went.
Song of Sigri∂r | this now must I sing, |
who longed to Li∂r | to send laud and love. |
Take heed and hearken, | hear how both these Queens |
well-matched in merit | in memory should live. |
Fresh crowned, Caid’s Queen | called forth Her herald. |
Both herald and bard | oath-bound to serve Her. |
To Her he came quick | heard clear Her command: |
“Gifts must be given | when gone to the North. |
“For in Ealdormere | abides royal kin |
Long Line of the North | leads now to Li∂r. |
For cousins We care, | Convey now to Her |
what wealth is best shared | with wolf, wild, and will. |
“Thus this We give you | with this you are tasked, |
Chosen and charged | to choose a good gift. |
But as bard you are | be sure to bear too, |
with what you bring Her | bring worthy words, too.” |
With this writ ringing | with Her wish spoken |
Her herald went forth | Her will then to do. |
Such is Sigri∂r | to serve Her is sweet. |
This work not weighty | but willingly borne. |
But what gift to give? | Gilt-silver or gold? |
Though this burden light | the bard lost in thought. |
So, haughty herald | went humbly hunting. |
All Caid’s corners | he combed in his quest. |
Carreg Wen’s white rocks | washed by the blue sea, |
Gyldenholt’s green groves | in golden fruit garbed, |
Dun Or’s desert plain | dappled red and brown, |
Starkhafn’s stillness | night strung with silver. |
And then thinks the bard | this desperate thought: |
“Is not Ealdormere | always snow-covered? |
Blanketed and bathed | beneath white frost bound? |
Caidan colors | these they must crave.” |
With haste picked and packed | the pigments were found. |
From Venice, Verona, | rich earth red and vert. |
Lapis lazuli | and lead-tin yellow. |
Mighty vermillion | malachite and more. |
As each was arranged | he was elated. |
East to Ealdormere | he eagerly went, |
Thinking his Queen’s quest | quickly completed, |
Bringing back honor | with boast-worthy work. |
But boast not before | bold deeds are well done. |
Upon arriving | in fair Ealdormere |
Our haughty herald | beheld no white snow. |
All Caid’s colors | the North calls its own. |
At this his thoughts raced: | “How could this be so? |
What wound will this deal? | What close bonds unwind? |
Surely I must shield | my Queen from this shame. |
Failing at foresight | the fault is mine own.” |
Before Li∂r led | his life seeming lost |
For his faults, he thought, | herald’s head forfeit. |
His doom, his downfall | he felt it draw nigh. |
But high hope returned | when Her face he saw. |
In Ealdormere’s Queen | in eyes and in mien |
Vibrance and virtue | verses inspiring. |
The same as he saw | in Queen Sigri∂r. |
Both must be most wise | and merciful, too. |
Indeed, true insight | from ignorance born. |
By fortune favored | was this foolish bard. |
Painter of pages | Proud Ealdormere’s queen. |
Despite his design | his deed was well done. |
Requested this queen | of quick-witted bard |
to Her true cousin | Her token to bear |
to give Her great thanks | for gifts well-given. |
And for worthy words | the bard was well-paid. |
Forget then the faults | of foolish heralds. |
Rather remember | these royal cousins. |
Let scribes with their skills | on scrolls deftly paint |
kinship’s true colors, | both kingdoms grow close. |
Song of Sigri∂r | this now have I sung, |
who longed to Li∂r | to send laud and love. |
Heeded and hearkened | heard how both these Queens |
well-matched in merit | in memory will live. |
Notes:
- The poem is written in alliterative málahátrr, an Old Norse poetic meter found in the Poetic Edda. Each hemistich (“half-stave”) has five syllables. Two syllables in the first half-stave of a line start with the same consonant sound; that sound repeats at least once in second half-stave of the line. These alliterating syllables are given stress when the poem is read aloud.
- When I presented the pigments and the poem to Queen Li∂r, I had not yet written the fourth- and third-from-the last stanzas. (Starting with “Indeed, true insight” and ending with “the bard was well-paid.”) I had no idea what her reaction was going to be, so I emphasized her positive qualities (“and merciful, too”) and then moved on (“Forget then the faults”). When I reported back to Queen Sigri∂r, I added those two stanzas to explain how it turned out.
- Unbeknownst to me, Queen Li∂r is an avid scribe, so when we presented the box of a dozen period pigments (selected by Master Martin FitzJames), she was overjoyed. Sometimes it is better to be lucky than good, I guess.
- Queen Li∂r asked to take one of her pewter tokens back to Caid to give to Queen Sigri∂r in thanks for gift (which I did at Festival of the Rose). The one pictured at the top is the one she gave me as thanks for my verses.