ANST - FW: Musing on July 12: Wonderin' Where the Lions are

[j'lynn yeates]

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- -----Original Message-----
From: Ellsworth Weaver [mailto:astroweaver at yahoo.com]
Sent: Tuesday, July 11, 2000 23:55
To: 2thpix at surfari.net
Subject: Musing on July 12: Wonderin' Where the Lions are


Dear Folk,

On this day July 12, 1174 a cowardly lion was captured, a
lion-hearted
father was spanked, and a flying lion was lost.

William the Lion became king of Scotland when his brother Malcolm IV,
known as "Malcolm the Maiden," died at the tender age of 24. Okay the
name was for real, Malcolm was a pious and effeminate youth, grandson
of the mighty King David I of Scotland. Malcolm was the cousin of
England's ruler, Henry II, father of Richard the Lionheart. Small
matter that Hank II had promised – during  his knighting ceremony at
the hands of King David, for heavens sake – to never, ever mess with
Scotland. Hank with his shark-like appetite wanted all that land
above
his kingdom. So Hank talked, bullied, cajoled, whatever, poor Malcolm
the Maiden out of all Scottish possessions in England and even the
Scottish principalities of Cumbria and Northumberland. Needless to
say,
Malcolm was not well-liked at home after that.

William was known as William "the Lion," not because he was some
brave
hearted fellow (no Mel Gibson he), but because he had the distinction
of putting a lion rampant on the national standard of Scotland as a
substitute for the dragon which had formerly been there. William sort
of wanted to do the right thing: he resolved to get back the lands
that
Hank II had swindled brother Malcolm out of. He decided to invade
England across the border and just do a little sacking, burning,
raping, pillaging, and slaughtering. Test the waters, so to speak.

Willie’s army was just outside of Alnwick. There are two stories as
to
where Hank was at the time. The best histories show that he was off
fighting in France; the most poetic one says he was doing penance,
including being lashed by some monks at Canterbury, for having Thomas
a
Becket whacked. You decide. The English barons heard about the border
raids and met together in York (NE Britain). The barons knew they had
to do something right smartly before the Scots got to liking raiding
and killing Englishmen. That sort of thing gets out of hand quickly.
There were only 400 knights and barons at York but they decided it
might be enough. They rode all night long to Alnwick. They got there
just at daybreak. It was a misty, moisty morning that 12th of July
and
the English were afraid they might ride right into the middle of the
Scottish camp by mistake. That would be embarrassing.  They halted.

The mist suddenly cleared. There on a meadow before them the English
army saw a small party of horsemen tilting – just kind of horsing
around. The English wasted no time in riding down and taking a
prisoner. He looked a little cleaner than the others and he sure did
try to resist.  After the barons got this struggling knight back onto
English soil, imagine their surprise when they found out they had
snagged Willie the Lion, King of Scotland. Oh, there must have been
medieval high-fiving and shouting and all sorts of cavorting when
they
opened that dude’s lid and looked in. "Got ourselves a king there,
Dudley!"

Hank was overjoyed. He had some slick lawyers draw up papers
essentially saying that to get the king back, Scotland had to be
deeded
over to Hank. Almost to Hank’s surprise, Willie signed the papers. To
seal the deal, Willie gave up castles of Edinburgh, Sterling,
Berwick,
Roxburgh, and Jedburgh. All of those fortresses were then staffed by
Hank’s English troops. Willie got to go home but it wasn’t to a free
and independent land anymore.

There is an old Scottish saying "Tis sweet to die for one’s country."
Willie the Lion just never believed it. He traded his country for his
life. The Lion Rampant which flew so proudly for a short while was
surrendered to a king who let some monks whip him.

Any lessons here? Don’t let your maidens go wrestle with sharks? It
is
one thing to claim to be a lion, it is quite another to act like one?
Dungeon stones with English cooking and beer can be strong
persuaders?
How about: no matter who you are, horse-play leads to tragedy?

I’ll tell you how Scotland got its land back sometime soon. As
always,
forward these musing to whomever you think will like them and laugh.
Leave my name and sig on them lest you be made to eat English
cooking.

You can’t hide those lion eyes,
J.  Ellsworth Weaver

SCA – Sir Balthazar of Endor
AS – Polyphemus Theognis
TRV – Sebastian Yeats


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