Letter of Intent: THL Donal Oneal and Lady Milicent Shiveley

Unto the Their Royal Majesties Vladimir and Kalisa, Their Excellencies of Nottinghill Coill, Geldamar and Etain, SC/GA Regional Seneshal Baroness Bessenyei Rozsa, and the populous of our fair Barony, do we, THL Donal Oneal and Lady Milicent Shiveley send greetings.

Please know that it is our desire to be included in the polling for the next Baron and Baroness of Nottinghill Coill. In our years in this wonderful Barony, we have served as officers, event stewards, feast stewards, and have lead many workshops in the field of Arts and Sciences. We have formed many long lasting and valued friendships and learned more than we could have ever  imagined in the process.

Our goals are simple. We will act as an advocate for the populace by supporting and encouraging the growth of the martial arts, the A&S community and the guilds they have established including increasing the archery presence in our fair Barony. We would seek to increase teaching and learning activities at events and through workshops and collegiums throughout the Barony. We work well together, giving each other support and we believe the strength that we share will help Nottinghill Coill and it's Cantons continue on a positive path of growth.

Should we be chosen, we would happily put aside all personal pursuits in order to properly serve the Barony while promoting all activities and events and the great and varied skills of the populace in all areas. We would consider it a great honor and privilege to serve the populace of Nottinghill Coill, the fair Kingdom of Atlantia and the Society.

THL Donal Oneal
MKA: Donny O'Neal DRO322 {AT} aol.com
843-917-4511

Lady Milicent Shiveley
MKA: Robin O'Neal Hagatha819 {AT} aol.com
843-917-4511

Events, Demos, and Gatherings

2-4	Fall Coronation (R,H)	Marinus	Spring Grove, VA
10	Chalice of the Sun God	Ponte Alto	Leesburg, VA
14-18	War of the Wings X (R)	Sacred Stone	Boonville, NC
24	Dun Carraig Baronial Birthday	Dun Carraig	Waldorf, MD
24	Marinus Baronial Birthday and Investiture (R)	Marinus	Portsmouth, VA
31	All Hallows XXXV	Berley Cort	Courtland, VA
31	Harvest Border Wars	Bright Hills	Westminster, MD

For more event information, please visit the Kingdom of Atlantia Calendar of Events Page

Luminaries Illuminated: The History of Jonathen Hawke

I was born on Dec 2, 1159 to a Lady-in-Waiting to Eleanor of Aquitaine. My father was a Knight who refused to acknowledge my birth. Upon hearing the news of the betrayal, my young mother immediately then threw herself from a parapet. 

My maternal grandfather, who himself was a Baron in Brittany, agreed to take me, then hours-old, home to raise as his own. I was taught to read and write as well as the art of the sword and the lance. My grandfather loved me well from the first, creating a strong bond between the old warrior and myself. I learned all I knew from the knee of the Baron, and we would often spar until late into the evening.

By the age of 13, I was well-accomplished at sword and lance and knew much of the outer world. One day out hunting boar with my grandfather, I caught the notice of a young Prince Richard. Invited to join the Royal Hunt, Prince Richard and I spent several days together and eventually became life-long friends. We two often spent hours hunting and sparring together, each matched equally well.  

In 1175, I helped my friend and Prince put down a formidable revolt, exacting homage from the court of Toulouse.

I was yet again with the young Prince when Young Henry invaded Aquitaine, staying at Richard’s side - unlike those whose names I will not mention.

In June of 1191, I left with my King for the Crusades for the Holy Land. At Acre, we joined with the other Crusaders and we reduced it to rubble. Sometime later the same year, we met the Devil himself in the form of Saladin. At Arsurf, twice we fiercely fought and won, but in that second battle I was severely wounded, an arrow to the shoulder and two more – one in each leg. Dragged from the field, I regretted my wounds that prevented me from continuing the fight. As I lay bleeding, the King Himself came into the tent of the hospitaller tent to comfort me and to tell me of the outcome to the battle. He told me they were going to have to take their leave, but before going, He had a few gifts for me as a sign of our friendship and my loyalty over the years preceding. One, he granted me my Award of Arms. Two, upon the death of my beloved grandfather, I was to be granted his familial lands and property. Only then did my friend and companion bid me farewell.

I spent the next four months recuperating with the Knights Hospitallers, and at last was then sent homeward.

Upon my arrival home in August of 1193, my grandfather had a lavish banquet prepared for me in my honor. Later that evening, I was introduced to a couple and their young daughter from the Black Forest. Grandfather had arranged a marriage between the young Katyn and me. Three years later, we at last were wed on a clear and bright morning in June.

Over the next twelve years we were gifted with five children, three of whom were boys and two girls, but the last birth was especially difficult. Two days later, my beloved was gone. The babe, however, lived and thrived.

Life was not the same after 1208. My friend and benefactor, King Richard died merely a year later. Things just kept getting worse for me. We had a terrible blight that year, and a drought the year that followed. Finally, in 1211, my neighbors came raiding. My oldest saw them first, riding over the fences. He took to horse and rode in sounding the alarm. We had no time to gather in crops or livestock. It was close quarter combat. I saw my middle son go down with an arrow in his neck. The next thing I remember is having two of the enemy upon me. Daniel, my eldest, yelled for me to hold on for he was coming toward us. I keep on fighting for dear life, my arms getting sorer, my legs tired. I feel a slice burning into my right arm and the ground rising to meet me. I sense a second, cutting deep into my stomach. My blood spills out, pooling around me as my guts spew forth. As the light leaves my eyes and the very life force seeps from my body, I hear a hawk screaming high above as he circles the field below. Alas, the Hawke will fight no more.

War Stories

I was walking past Beggars Row one afternoon, doing some shopping, and saw a little Mime trying to earn a six-pence.  There were also two girls attempting to bellydance, but they kept bumping into the Mime. Having had enough, the Mime turns to the two girls -- here I expected a strong gesture, but instead heard, “Do you two freaking mind! I’m trying to mime here!” a man walked up and gave the Mime a dollar, and I walked away laughing!

Lady Frida

The Orange by Rani Dulcinaya the 'Gypcian

This was written many years ago for a tribemate who wanted a creative way to ask Atlantian Royal if they were willing to indenture him for Pennsic.  It was sent to Queen Niobe, and I just found it in a forgotten drawer, long after I’d given it up for lost. Anyways, it gave me a nostalgic chuckle and I thought I’d share, so hope you enjoy it.

Your Majesty,

Please forgive the length of this missive. I have a bit of explaining to do, I’m afraid.

My name is Lord Edmund of Canterbury, and I believe I have something that may belong to You, and with the Great War approaching, I feel You may be in need of Your property in Your camp.

I must needs confess, my Sovereign, that my great vice is gambling. I was involved in a riddle contest one evening with some of my fellows, in which we made bets on who could come up with the best riddle based on some object that could be found on one’s person.  I am afraid, my dear Queen, and for this I beg Your forgiveness, that for this purpose I borrowed an orange-fruit from Your table without Your leave.

When it came my turn I came up with a riddle so funny, so clever, and so inappropriate that I could not help but win. I will forego repeating it here for the obvious reasons.

The next day, while enjoying the fruits of my wit in a local public-house, I attracted the ire of a young bravo of the sort that gives Your own good Rapier scholars a bad name. I became involved in a duel with this villain. Majesty, I had no quarrel with this boy, and the whole thing had unsettled me. I was not at my best, and ale had made my opponent bold. He thrust at my chest.I sloppily parried the thrust down into my own side. I felt it connect, then penetrate, but oddly felt no pain. My opponent fled, fearful the constables would find him over my corpse. I looked down at myself. Orange juice dribbled out of my doublet. Your orange-fruit had saved my life!

A few days later I found myself indulging in my vice once again in a game of Whist.  My fellow and I were evenly matched in our wager, until I upped him the orange-fruit.  He looked at me as if I had gone mad and declined to accept it. I said to him, “Wait! This orange-fruit is charmed. It saved my life!” Then I told him how my luck had changed since gaining the fruit.

He thought about this and agreed that indeed, it must be a special thing indeed, but he wished to match my bet and call my hand. “How about I put up my indentured man, a jongleur and musician of some skill?” says he. I did not like that idea. My orange was charmed by the Gods of Luck, after all. I did not wish to bet against lesser value.

“But no,” says my fellow, “my jongleur once stole my dinner from the kitchen. It was revealed the food was tainted, and he grew grievous sick from it. He almost died. Had he not stolen my dinner, it would have been me that almost died. So he almost saved my life. He’s very nearly as good as your orange!”

So, true to my luck, I did indeed win the game of Whist, and with it this Jongleur, who is named Alwyn Fether the Foolish. But alas, my guilt at robbing You of so valuable a prize as that orange-fruit gnawed at me like a worm. I set about plans to return Your property to You at once and beg Your mercy and forgiveness.

Majesty, I am horrified and in much anguish to have to report to You that this Fool, which I have won in this game of Whist, has eaten Your orange-fruit. May pestilence rain down on me all the days of my life for this to have happened  in my house, especially when it may have served You so well during the War.

So I humbly ask if Your Most Gracious Majesty will accept this Fool Alwyn Fether the Foolish as an indentured servant to lieu of Your irretrievably lost property. He is in fact very talented. He is an unequaled dancing-master and can teach and lead court and country dances of all variety. He is a skilled musician. he is a fine juggler, drawing gasps of wonder from one and all as knives and flames whirl around his head. He can do miraculous feats with burning flame, lighting torches with his bare hands and with his mouth as would a very dragon! All this, and he is terribly useful in a kitchen or encampment, making himself valuable to your own servants. He is a skilled cook! He is of agreeable temperament and fair of face and form. In all, my friend spoke true- he is indeed nearly as good as Your orange.

Do beware, however, that he wears about his neck on a cord a small red wagon wheel painted round with the yellow gilly-flowers. If I am not mistaken, I believe that is the mark of the local tribe of ‘Gypcians around here in Cyddlain Downs, although I am convinced the man is not of the black blood himself. Perhaps under Your guidance he could be salvaged from the vile life of a vagabond before he ends up in prison or at the end of a rope.

I realize that it is a bit of an expense to carry such indentured servants in one’s entourage, but it would be a small price to pay to gain a bit of entertainment and personal help in one’s kitchen or encampment.  I understand that he has some experience being indentured at past Wars, so your Steward would hardly have to train him at all.

If you are interested, I would be honored if Your Steward would contact my Steward. And I again thank You for Your mercy regarding my most dishonorable theft.


Your Humble and Devoted Servant,
Lord Edmund of Canterbury