Thank you to those who contributed to this issue. In addition to the normal stuff, I hope everyone enjoys the articles and tidbits about Pennsic. If anyone is inspired to write down their own story of Pennsic or perhaps another memorable event, please pass it along for future issues.
     As always, if you have any submissions or suggestions or artwork for the cover or as inside filler, please contact me, Cait (aka Kathleen) at 724-238-0114 (if you get the answering machine, please leave a message) or bogchronicler@yahoo.com.

In service to crown and bog,
Lady Caitilin "Cait" ni Mhaolconaire

The Bear's Tale

Scipio Juda sat silently awaiting
  Gazing out at the ice clogging the harbor
  Warming his hands over dying fires embers
  He mumbled to himself in solemn reflection
Winter holds no joy for a bear hearted warrior
Who hungers for battle's bright flashing blades

Ras-a-gul walked in, bear-son by adoption
  Happy and laughing - as ever his way
 "Why then so glum, oh father-of-valor?
Why sit you in silent bane filled reflection.
The ice will soon brake and open our path
  And lesser men will flee before us in terror."

Juda looked up and paused before speaking
Meeting his son's eyes with a hard cold stare
 "A man's days are limited, His understanding less,
And his strength bleeds out of him, with each graying day. . .
I fear that my best days, may lay behind me
My days of full glory, and saga worthy deeds."

Ras-a-gul laughed,
 "You’re best days are before you,
  But tell us then bear-father, a story of battle,
A tale of full wonders, of past glory days
That we may inspired, strive thus to mimic
On the field of red battle, the test ground of the gods."

Juda sat silent for a hundred heart beats,
Then smiling looked up and spoke these bold words:

.........................................................................

On the battle field of Pennsic I stood with St. Swithin's Bog men,
Their deeds light the world with heroic bright stories
Saga worthy fellows, ‘friends of the Bards,’
Sage and war-sturdy, they whirled their red weapons
And swore oath to war's glory, carnage and comrades,

Three bridges were blocked by a steadfast enemy,
We stood on the left most, held in reserve...
The enemy host dwindled, their last men-thrown forward,
 "Aquila!" cried Juda, "Bring up your men. . .
The path to glory lies before us,
At the end of that bridge, held by those dogs!"

Juda stepped forward and swift killed two men,
And the St. Swithin's heroes poured through the new gap
The enemy broke and were driven before them,
Like dogs before lions, like sheep before men
Playing the song of axes on helms,
Brandishing swift blows, they made meat of the foe,
Such deeds of violence as are beyond the god's protection
But lie beyond the line of those same gods laws
The Bog men forged thus the song of full battle
  Deeds that Valhalla gods both love and need.

The foe was driven from the bridge’s far end,
And attempted to form in the field there beyond,
 "Aquila," cried Juda, "reform your men!"
  But there was no answer from that best of men.
A hurtling ballista bolt, fired at Juda,
Sped past and transfixed the fierce Bog Lord
Six feet of oak, transfixed his chest
And hammering pinned him the bridges upright timbers.

Rage overflowed Juda, purple his anger,
Black his need for full formed revenge,
 "Blood for Aquila!
Revenge and no quarter!
Form here before me!
  And we will kill these dogs.
Aquila is dead but his finger points forward!
These dogs who have killed him will taste our sharp blades."

The enemy reformed, thirty three strong, snarling and bold
10 brave bog heroes - hearts filled with anger
Stepped up to the line to claim their name place
 "For Aquila!" cried Juda,
 "Get ready to take them!"
For three to one seems fair enough fight
Von Halstern swept by the foe --passing their right flank;
And the foe faltered, suddenly full-feared

Their leader stepped forward - to rally his men,
And Juda stepped up and sent him to hell
 "Blood for Aquila! No Quarter! For Vengeance!"
 "Blood for Aquila!" The Bog men cried and charged.
We hit them; they shattered-Iike a water-filled-clay-vessel,
Pouring its contents out onto the ground
Eight of them fell and the rest broke and ran;
Three more falling as they tried to give ground

At the second bridge the enemy reforged their line,
 "Form here!" cried Juda, and the 8 remaining Bog-men, swiftly obeyed
 "Once more for Aquila, Blood and no quarter!!"
And they took up the cry with a scream come from hell
  The enemy stopped and in a thing rarely seen
Turned and ran, dropping their shields
  Some say the Valkaries are a fool’s fair invention:
But on that day I could hear their rides song!
We drove them before us, screaming in blood lust
  Riding down on them to the final held bridge.
One Bog man was wounded, another slain,
But at battles end, 31 foes were slain.

Juda gathered the Bog-men spoke then these words:
 "The Norsemen of old, were warriors such as you,
  Men who carved kingdoms and laughed at red darkness,
  You are true men, hardy harnessed heroes,
  Warriors famous by this same deed, this day is nothing less than
A worthy hearth story, to speak of in your gray years,
With pride and remembrance.
Come; let us gather the body of Aquila
  And drink well his death feast and tell of these deeds."

They formed up to collect Aquila the Openhanded
But could not find his body, on the field of red battle
They found him instead laughing, and sitting in comfort,
Surrounded by maids, who passed him ale and sweet mead
Juda was stunned by this miracle becoming. . .
And stammered his amazement for all to bold hear
"What is this miracle, oh Aquila my friend,
How can this be, that you have survived?
The deep piercing blow- caught you chest center
Protruding three feet from your breast and your back!"

"Oh Juda my Friend, T'was but a flesh wound,"
Aquila laughed loudly and swigged on his mead
 "Normally friend, such a blow would prove fatal,
  Piercing the pump that lies in the breasts
  But I am a baron, Your Excellency by title
And it is well know, that such baron’s are heartless..."

Thus ends my tail of valor and glory,
Such ends my tale of a miracle unfolded
You who are clever hear what I would teach you:
Recognize the truth of such deeds of battle...
Bite now with blades and brandish your spears,
  Seek now with hunger the hot test of battle
  Seek out the friendship of mighty men of valor
Men filled with god’s blood, eager in war
For Old age come creeping, a grudge filled dwarf,
That bears us all down with withering claw
This is the crisis that calls out for action,
This is the warning I carry to you.

Our next gathering will be October 12th at Adams Memorial Library in Latrobe (1112 Ligonier St., Latrobe, PA; 724-539-1972.) Everyone is welcome!!!