Siegfried the Immane

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In the spring warmth of the tavern, the sunshine streams in through the open door. The windows are unshuttered and from above, the merry singing of tavern staff wafts through the air as does the dust from the rugs and bed linins that are shaken out of the upper windows.

The Cathedral square is crowded and busy as this weather evaporates the winter puddles as well as the 'closed in' winter blahs. Merchants cry their wares and haggle the price while children of all ages, freed from their lessons and chores, add to the frantic swirl of movement throughout the square and steps.

Into this melee rides a travel worn hospitalier on a weary steed. He pauses on the fringe of the activity and drinks in the wonder of life renewing itself after winter's hardships. Standing down from the saddle, the monk removes his coif and helm hanging them from a strap on the saddle. Removing his cloak, he reveals an old, worn script hanging from a shoulder strap. Throwing the cloak over his arm the monk gathers up the reins and walks slowly towards the tavern stable. As he passes through the crowd, voices call out greetings and offers of bargains, but as his sombre demeanour is noticed the voices quiet and a slow but steady flow of step's denizens begin to head for the tavern.

In the stables the monk's horse is handed over to the ostlier with a request that the faithful beast be treated to the best the stable has to offer as he has served long and well on this and other journeys. The wash basin at the rear of the stable serves next as the monk removes as much of the travel stains as he can from his body and cloth.

Then, squaring his shoulders, he heads for the now packed tavern where unfortunately the cheer has stopped, and the folk of the steps await his coming with untouched drinks in hand.

Upon entering, a wench hands the monk a cup of his 'dark' and gestures to the corner table with it's bench that is the monk's place in the common room. Nodding his head to the assembly, the monk seats himself and opens his script. Upon the table, he places the black ribbon, ink, pen and knife that are the tools for the duty he will do this day.

After inscribing the ribbon, he rises and carefully attaches it to the Scroll of Honour that hangs alone on the western wall of the tavern. Back to his table for his cup, then to the assembled folk who still await his words. The gentle buzz of conversation dies as the monk raises his cup and says.

"Siggy, safe journey and renewed health in the heaven of your choice." Some of the folk understand the name but some do not and show their confusion in their face's and glances at each other.

"My friends," says the monk," I have received the sad news that Siegfried the Immane, husband and father, marshal and constable, a tireless worker for our Kingdom has succumbed to the many ills that he had suffered in these past years. Siegfried was a large presence our Kingdom and a man of staunch beliefs that he lived with a sense of honour that all who knew him respected." The monk bows his head, then continues "The one who knew him best, the one who shared Siggy's life these last years is the one who can speak best as to the kind of man Siggy was. Melissa Kendal of Westmoreland, Siegfried the Immane's Lady Wife."

Aaron then turns to a small lady seated beside him and gives Siegfried's wife, Melissa, a hug. Although tears glisten in her eyes, Melissa remains on her feet and speaks.

Gentle Lords and Ladies,

On June 12th, Baron Siegfried the Immane, Master of the Pelican, thirteen years the Kingdom Constable of An Tir and many more a constable in our Kingdom, journeyed to the realm of stars, to be with his protégé Lady Eowyn Carrick, my Lord Father Gerhard Kendal, Master Robbin Greybeard, Colonel Evan Grahame of Montrose, our beloved Dowager Princess Janeltis, and many others.

He was the strongest man I ever knew, and I have known many, strong men. Just as he served his country in mundane life as a member of the Armed Forces, and the public as a police officer, so did he carry that service through to the SCA. He had a natural gift as an investigator, and that gift was his greatest strength as a constable in An Tir. People would tell him things that they would never dream of telling anyone else, and it saved An Tir from problems on many occasions. For him, being a constable was as natural as breathing, and we were blessed to have him watching over our tourney fields and halls.

He brought his ability to "speak truth to power" to the office of marshal, and while it may not always have been comfortable for those hearing his views, they could not ignore his words.

For the last two years he has been very ill but in spite of the bad days when he felt horribly sick, he journeyed to many events, some at great distance, because he wanted to serve An Tir. I would gasp to see what it cost his strength, but he was determined and I couldn't deny him his heart's desire.

His need for special medical treatment necessitated his traveling south on an almost daily basis. A need that wouldn't have been met but the people of Lions Gate stepped forward in an effort unparalleled in this Kingdom. For two straight years they took him back and forth from Lions Gate to Shittimwoode three days a week, at an ungodly time of the morning, and never groused about it to him or me. Those amazing generous souls included: Baroness Amanda Kendal of Westmoreland (a more amazing Mom there couldn't be), Baron Gerhard Kendal (just as amazing a Dad), His Lordship Kenneth of Shaftsbury, Her Ladyship Genevieve Barbota of Griffinshold, Sergeant Rodrigo de Cordova, Baroness Aurora Argentius, the lady Leah of Surrey, Her Ladyship Rosalinde McAllister, Lady Safiye Konstantiniyye, Lady Brigitte die Arrogante, His Lordship Curtiss of Rum, Lady Aislinn Fiona of Rum, Lady Tille Sparewe, Mistress Elizabeth Braidwood and others that I'm sure have temporarily slipped my mind. Please know that each and every one of you have Siegfried's and my love, and respect, and gratitude. There are not enough words in the English language to thank you for what you have done. It will ever burn bright in my heart; it was such a source of joy and wonderment to my husband and myself.

Please tell his tales throughout An Tir and the Known World, that such a man, huge in his heart, iron in his will, rock in his convictions, and bountiful in his service, once strode the lands of An Tir, and helped to build it into the Kingdom it is today. He would treasure that legacy.

When we married I promised to love him and cherish him until the day we were parted by death, but I can't keep that agreement; I will be helplessly in love with the man who changed my life in so many more ways than I can count forever."

As the Lady seats herself the folk in the common room mutter their condolences and support.

Next, a large man dressed in the garb of the Norse now stands and clears his throat. Then with a voice that show great emotion Mikill-Óláfr Bjarnarson, inn Hersir speaks.

"My good friend, Master Siegfried the Immane took his last breath this day in the arms of his son, Fred. Master Siegfried passed rather suddenly without suffering. As many of you know, he has been plagued over the years with complications from diabetes. His heart simply gave out. Efforts to convince it otherwise were to no avail.

Siegfried should be remembered as one who tried to do much for many. He served An Tir for thirteen years as Kingdom Constable. As I watched his health fade, he often spoke of regret for not being able to contribute more. His heart, though physically worn out, was spiritually enormous. He offered counsel and wisdom to all who would ask. He traveled this kingdom far and wide for many years, teaching constabulary and marshalling classes. He instructed countless minions in the trivia and protocol of the SCA. He was a wonderful resource for history of our kingdom's origins, it's traditions and various reigns. He was an advocate for many whom he recommended for awards and titles. He had courage of his convictions, holding firm to what he believed to be true. He exuded peer like qualities, including the ability to admit errors and apologize, when appropriate.

In my eyes, he was one of my heroes. He was a champion. He was a mentor. He was one of my very best friends.

I shall always love him.

I shall always miss him.

I shall always remember him.

Siggy, Save me a seat at court. I'll be along shortly my friend."

The monk nods in agreement and support, then with tears in his eyes the monk raises his cup to the heavens and offers the toast to Siegfried.

"To Siegfried the Immane, may he have all the joy, health and peace that heaven can give, and may that heaven hold the tourneys and feasts that give gladness to his soul!"

Throughout the tavern cups are drained and the toast is echoed with such additions that each of the throng adds for their personal friendship with Siggy.

Then as the stories of Siegfried's deeds begin, the monk leaves the tavern for the quiet of the Cathedral where once again he'll hold the office for the departed.

In the square, the sun still shines, the birds still sing and the empty steps hold silent witness to the passing of a good man.

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