Greetings Calontir, from HL Ingeborg.
Are you afraid of paintbrushes, but still want to get in on a largesse-advancing contest? Maybe you'd love to write a scroll text, but don't love the idea of a short deadline? I'm giving you a month to write three AoA-level preprint texts to enter or send to a competition at Cattle Raids.
Your three texts should be based upon the literature, letters, or legal texts of a similar time and place. For documentation, say which piece(s) were the inspirations, and include part of them if possible. Keep in mind attention span of the audience; AoA texts should be much shorter than Grant or Peerage texts would be. Try to leave no more than one or two blanks for name, him/her, he/she, lord/lady so that there's less for the scribes to have to fill in.
Because I also want this to be a learning experience, Dolan and Rhodri are willing to offer peer-reviews and suggestions for beginning or improving your pieces if you email them, or catch them at an event prior to Cattle Raids. Ask, and I'll send you their email addresses.
As samples, here are some of the AoA texts I wrote for the reign of Lucian and Conna:
Senators, tribunes, citizens: Where is the man who possesses, or indeed can be required to posses, greater abilities in war than (name)? who has fought more pitched battles than others have maintained personal disputes; carried on more wars than others have acquired by knowledge of reading; reduced more provinces than others have aspired to even in thought?
Truly, such a warrior as this deserves the honor reserved in our land for those whose prowess is exceptional. We, august Lucian and gracious Conna, have deemed it most fitting, even necessary, to induct (name) into Our distinguished Order of the Iren-Fyrd. This we do today, (date), in Our (place).
(first paragraph is from Cicero's letters)
With gleaming fletching soaring high,
arrows ascend into the sky.
They scorn the earth, they leave its clay,
and speed into the realms of day.
Does it please God to see them pass,
as outward-bound they glide en masse,
Then fall from blue of heaven's vault,
and at their target finally halt?
But who has shot the arrow here
that strikes the center without fear
of missing? Lucian, warrior bold,
and Conna, with her hair brown-gold,
proud King and Little Dove proclaim
new Boga-Fyrd: (name here) by name.
Glad to teach and glad to learn,
no question that this honor's earned.
In arrows shooting, axes' toss,
Proudly wear the bows and cross!
From “The life of Saint Columba, the apostle of the Highlands” BY
JOHN SMITH, D.D. 1824 (pp. 178-179)
TRANSLATION OF A HYMN USED IN THE OFFICE FOH THE
FESTIVAL OF ST. COLUMBA, ON THE 9TH JUNE.
WITH snowy pinions soaring high,
The Dove* ascends beyond the sky ;
He scorns the earth, he leaves its clay,
And perches in the realms of day.
There his refulgent colours shine,
Reflecting back the light divine.
But here his tender brood he left,
Of their dear parent now bereft.
Yet, ere he mounted to the skies,
With many prayers, tears and cries,
Their charge he gave to Christ his Lord,
To guide them by his gracious word,
And bring them to the same abode
In which their father lives with God.
O God ! who didst our father hear,
Be to his children ever near ;
And grace vouchsafe to lead us on,
Until we meet him ut thy throne.
The Father himself sharpened mortal minds by giving people troubles, so that his kingdom should not doze in senile stupor. He gave venom to the black serpents, bade the wolf go prowl, and the ocean toss, that by thought and industry we might forge the various sciences, win corn from the fields, and strike out fire from the flint’s heart. Then humankind grew and thrived, giving birth to individuals who rejoiced to toil in field and forge, who gloried to create and learn not merely for themselves but for the good of others. Such a great soul is (name here), whom august Lucian and sweet Conna, rulers of Calontir, therefore name a member of the Order of the Leather Mallet on (date) at (place).
(adapted from Vergil's Georgics, book 1)
Sovereign Lucian, Conna bright,
Who rule our land in dark and light,
Speak: this we know: there comes a day
while Rome's great ages hold their way,
that from our lands shall one arise
the limits of whose victories
are ocean, of h(is/er) fame the skies;
enduring mountains' constancy,
great as the plains in courtesy,
as well befits nobility.
(name), proud that style to bear,
is now a (Lord/Lady) of Calonitr.
Done this day (date) in Our (place).
(Third through seventh lines are from Vergil's Aeneid)