To this merry gathering of the Society for Creative Anachronism we had been invited by Nicolaa de Bracton, Archery Champion, whom I had met in our home canton (Eoforwic is what they call Toronto.) The revellers, with much generosity, clothed us in their traditional garb. I was reunited with my high school friends, Eeva the Restless and Anneke the Furious, now a Baroness indeed, who introduced us to many a character and accompanied us to a fine archery field.
On his own bow, Lord Godfrey pulls 120 lbs., working toward a militarily authentic 150, and his arrows are thick like jumbo novelty pencils to fly truly and powerfully through the armour of one's enemy, though I believe they do not recreate that bit faithfully.
Lord Godfrey shewed to us the marking that denoted the place to hold the bow and how to tilt it to nock an arrow on the string, which had not yet been fitted with a nock locator. I aimed, fired, and the bow leapt from my hand and plopped on the field to the delight of all.
In two weeks, read the continuance of this tale but do return next week to hear of Bavarian bow revelry at Oktoberfest.