Aunt Æthel and I would like to thank the Ærtisans who devoted their time and creativity to the Fake Research – Real Writing challenge. If you have not read the entries, please head over to the Æthelmearc Gazette and take a gander. In fact take two ganders. We have too many ganders; take as many as you want.
So, our entries were:
“Were Medieval Nobility Hunting with Birds – or Spying on Their Subjects?” by Elska á Fjárfelli.
“The Sutton Hoo Textile”, by Mord Hrutsson
“The Fair Youth of William Shakespeare’s Sonnets” by Maggie Rue
“Roman Dodecahedrones: To Hear or Not to Hear” by Éadaoin Ruadh
and “London Destroyed by Kaiju” by myself, which I entered just for fun.
There was a submission that was entered but rejected: “It’s Gooshy Food O’Clock and My Horrible Hooman Is Nowhere to Be Found.” by Deckster. The requirements of the challenge was to limit the paper to around 1000 words and keep it family friendly, and Deckster did neither.
My paper was, of course, not judged. Elska’s high flying paper about falconry used to spy on peasants was fun. Mord’s paper about an unexpected historical find really cleaned up. Maggie’s paper on the secret friend of Shakespeare was a delight. (Although, the requirements of the challenge stipulated that you could not use Leonardo da Vinci, you did through the Kevin Bacon principle. I would remind you that in “The City of Death”, we are told that The Doctor was a good friend of Leonardo.)
But, Aunt Æthel and I agreed that Éadaoin’s paper on the true purpose of Roman Dodecahedrones is the winner of the AS56 April Fool’s writing challenge. Your paper made us laugh out loud more than once. Aunt Æthel enjoyed the puns and I hit your reference to “What Does the Vox Say?” like a bag of soup hitting a wall. I can never watch a gladiator movie again without thinking of what does the Vox actually says. “Citizens of Rome, what say you?” “Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!”
Lord Éadaoin. You stand… Well, you’re probably sitting as you read this. Lord Éadaoin, you sit before the Virtual Kingdom as our winner. Your prize is bragging rights for the next year. And I owe each and every one of the entrants a token.
Thank yous go out to Elska and the entire Æthelmearc Gazette for collecting, formatting, and posting these papers. And I would like to remind the populace that the Gazette is always looking for content.
One of the more romantic sights of the Middle Ages is that of nobles riding horses, sporting birds of prey on their wrists to hunt small prey (anyone who has seen Ladyhawke knows exactly what I mean). The sport of falconry, or hawking, could be found throughout Europe but was reserved for those in power. Depending on their rank, different nobles were allowed to sport different species of birds:
An Eagle for an Emperor, a Gyrfalcon for a King; a Peregrine for a Prince, a Saker for a Knight, a Merlin for a Lady; a Goshawk for a Yeoman, a Sparrowhawk for a Priest, a Musket for a Holy water Clerk, a Kestrel for a Knave.” Selected from the Boke of St. Albans, 1486, and a Harleian manuscript – (1)
Falconry was a popular sport and status symbol among the nobles of medieval Europe, the Middle East, and Mongolian Empire. In this sport, the nobility would – supposedly – hunt small wild animals in their natural habitat with the use of a trained bird of prey. It is the common conception that falconry was largely restricted to the noble classes because of the commitment of time, money, and space. (2)(3) But what if there is another, more ominous, reason?
Fig 1: Detail of two falconers from De arte venandi cum avibus, 1240s (4)
While at first this might be a bit far-fetched, the recent discovery that birds are not real sheds a different light on this nobility-only restricted “hobby.” Instead of hunting for small game – a suspicious activity for those in power with access to the best of the best foodstuffs anyway – what if instead the nobility were using their falcon-drones to keep a close eye on their subjects? We now know birds are not real; they are, in fact, drone replicas installed by the government to spy on their citizens, and thus this would be a viable conclusion.
The Birds Aren’t Real movement, started by Peter McIndoe from Memphis, US, posits that “birds don’t exist and are really drone replicas installed by the U.S. government to spy on Americans.” Hundreds of thousands of young people have joined the movement, wearing Birds Aren’t Real T-shirts, swarming rallies and spreading the slogan. (5)
Technology has come a long way for modern people to not realize this at once – modern bird-drones are so well done they are nearly indistinguishable from real animals. Really, it makes much more sense that homing pigeons are computer guided; of course, they do not find their way home by themselves, flying rats that they are! But back in medieval times, bird-drones were still in development – often, hoods or caps were used to hide any glitches in the software otherwise visible in their optical lenses.
Fig. 2 – falcon-drone prototype as captured in stone dating back to the Viking age (7).
Fortunately for this paper, even though the medieval government, like it’s modern counterpart, did its best to hide any and all evidence of fake birds and falcon-drones (falcrones? faldrones?), one Viking age warrior saw through the ruse and went medieval to bring down an early prototype with his spear. (6) Thanks to him, we now have proof, literally written in stone (7) as was the custom of recording history at the time (8), that falcon-drones are real! And birds are not. Or are they?!
The Viking-Age Rune-Stones: Custom and Commemoration in Early Medieval Scandinavia (2003) by Birgit Sawyer, published by Oxford University Press
Many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen. – Caleb
Keeping track of all the objects stored in an institution like the immense British Museum is a daunting task. The store-rooms of this museum are brimming with stuff that evan a hoarder trepidation. It is perfectly natural that some objects have been, sadly, misplaced.
Such was the case when intern Agnes Hald (1) was exploring one of these storage rooms instead of having lunch at the pub. Upon opening a cabinet whose pad-lock was so corroded some thought it an artifact, this intern found an whole series of objects that hadn’t seen light since they were put in there.
On the second shelf was a dust cover shoe box. Hald carefully took the box off the shelf. On the top cover faded writing in pencil said:
C W P; S. Piggot: Sutton Hoo: June 7, ‘39
Hald has said she could not believe her eyes. Still, the intern just as carefully put the box back in its place, closed the cabinet, and went to see her supervisor, Angela Carver.
Curator Carver understood that interns were allowed to “putter” about the museum storage rooms, so long as they were careful. For this reason, Hald’s report to Carver did not excite her. Conversely, taking a look would be a welcome respite from writing expense reports, which the Philistine Administrators demanded. Carver followed Hald to the box in question, read the writing, and made Hald promise to tell no one. After this, Carver opened the box.
Covered in tissue paper was a “scrunched-up” (2) object with a muddy reddish-brown color. The object was thin and torn. Carver concluded that whatever it was, the object was incomplete and very delicate. She also informed Hald that the artifact was either genuine or someone’s idea of a joke, and that she was going to look at C.W. Phillips and Stuart Piggot’s notes concern Sutton Hoo, which were kept in the archive. Hald began doing this the next day.
Meanwhile the object, box, tissue paper, and all were (literally) carted off to the Museum’s Conservation Department. Head of the Department, Mr. H. Maryon Jr. correctly identified the shoe box as being from the late 1930s or early 1940s (3) and was impressed by the writing on the top. As for the contents of the box, he said nothing, but made noises that he was intrigued. Finding a better storage area, Maryon promised “to get to it” as soon as he was done writing a long expense report for the Museum Administrators. He mentioned that figuring how to take the reddish-brown object out of the box was “going to be tricky.”
One month later Maryon Jr. reported that the object was not leather, as first thought, but textile. This was determined after technician’s x-rayed the object, and plainly saw the weave. Further preliminary tests determined the textile was cotton, not linen (which is what the lab-techs originally thought.).
Meanwhile, Hald (4) had been reading through the notes of both C.W. Phillips and Stuart Piggot, who had originally found the item and extracted it. After some time, Hald found the following entry in Phillips’ notes for June 7th.
—Item # 42: found near iron complex. FRAGILE. Leather? Left in situ.—
And on June 8th.
—Item # 42, Leather, extracted into shoe box from Miss Pretty. S. Piggot did excellent job.
Hald made a copy of these entries, and reported her findings to Carver.
The eventual publication of the find (5) caused discussion among the archaeological community in general. Among the textile archaeologists, the find was cause for great deal of argument. A few scholars (dubbed “The Localists”) argued that, despite the burial’s connection with Byzantium, the object had to be made of flax. This debate was summarized by Hald (6), which included what the textile should be called—the “tea towel,” or the “bar rag.” It should be noted that the “surfer theory of migration” was completely rejected (6).
As it stands now, the textile is thought by most to be made of Egyptian cotton, and was a conversion gift along with the spoons found in the burial. The purpose of the textile cannot be discerned, since most believe it is a fragment of the original object. Still, more study is required concerning the trade connections within Europe in the 7th Century.
Notes
Hald, Agnes. “The Rusty Lock and the Cabinet.” Z-Drehen.Zietschrift fur Nerdigtextilvolk. Band 23, #87. (2024) ISSN: 0042-003X.
Carver, Angela, and A. Hald, H. Maryon Jr. “A Rediscovered Item from Sutton Hoo.” Bulletin for Early Medieval Antiquities. Vol. 6, No. 1 (2023). ISSN: 0476-1066.
Maryon Jr. H. et al. “Technical Aspects of Fragility, or How Do I Get This Out of the Box?” Newsletter for Museum Technical Stuff. (2025).
Hald. Ibid.
Carver, et al. Ibid.
The Surfer Theory of Migration states that the cause migration is the continuous search for beach-front property. By the way, this work is a hoax, brought on by the need to buy a 2nd towel, lo these many years ago, when Martin Carver was kind enough to allow volunteers to help at Sutton Hoo. The author is thankful to Professor Carver for the opportunity, and hopes he gets a laugh if he reads it.
Many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen. – Caleb
Much has been researched regarding the identity of the “Fair Youth” of whom William Shakespeare spent a large portion of time extolling the virtues, one that seemed to be an Adonis in physical beauty and amazing in every aspect. Yet this person remains unnamed and unknown, despite the devotion from the great poet and it becomes clear that Shakespeare acknowledged the special aspect of the sonnet subject while keeping that person at arm’s length. Some say this was a platonic love of Shakespeare’s while others insist that this was an actual physical lover. Some believe this was a young man for whom Shakespeare developed a father-son dichotomy or perhaps wanted to mentor.
Given the diversity of suggestive comments in Shakespeare’s sonnets, it becomes clear that the subject is none other than the Doctor, the alias assumed by a millennia-old humanoid alien called a Time Lord who travels through space and time in the TARDIS, and who continued to visit the burgeoning poet, and even perhaps took Shakespeare as a Companion for some time. By the time the Doctor left William Shakespeare back in his own time, the poet had a number of new ideas from which to create his library of works, but continued to eulogize the amazing entity that he had come to know and love.
One example of the Doctor’s influence in these sonnets is seen in Sonnet 3 when the poet states: “Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest, / Now is the time that face should form another”. By this point in their relationship, The Doctor had clearly visited this period of time repeatedly, and William Shakespeare understood that the visage of the Doctor transformed over time. Another example of this acknowledgement of the amazing reincarnating ability of the Doctor comes from Sonnet 6: “If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: / Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart, / Leaving thee living in posterity?” Whilst most people assume Shakespeare was overly obsessed with another man’s reproductivity, it is clear the poet was far more fascinated—and rightly so—with the Doctor’s ever-changing faces.
The Tardis itself received some recognition from Elizabethan wordsmith, notable in Sonnet 7 with the words “But when from highmost pitch with weary car, / Like feeble age he reeleth from the day.” Indeed, it is with Sonnet Seven with its talk of weariness, “burning head” and “new-appearing sight,” one suspects that this was an occasion when Shakespeare went with the Doctor on one of his many adventures resulting in either a transformation or the witnessing of the Doctor’s good works saving the Earth from peril. Regardless of the event, the Sonnet reveals clearly the sound of the Tardis and the results of a wearisome battle. Shakespeare also lauds the journey in which he participated, as seen in Sonnet 15: “When I consider every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment. / That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows / Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.”
Thus, we also see certain personalities come forward. Indeed, the poet as Companion sees how one face may be kind or encouraging, but another be wrathful or fretful. The amazement with which Shakespeare notes his Doctor’s self-doubt and loathing: “But that thou none lov’st is most evident: / For thou art so possessed with murd’rous hate,” in Sonnet 10. This diverse personality change also is noted in Sonnet 117, where the poet states: “And on just proof surmise, accumulate, / Bring me within the level of your frown, / But shoot not at me in your wakened hate.” It is only natural that Shakespeare ask in Sonnet 53, “What is your substance, whereof are you made, / That millions of strange shadows on you tend?”
Lastly, a strong argument for Shakespeare and the Doctor traveling together is seen with the frequent discussion of “time” and how it controls—not the fair youth’s countenance so much as the subject’s very existence. An example is seen in Sonnet 126, the very last of the Fair Youth sonnets: “She keeps the to this purpose, that her skill / May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill. / Yet fear her O thou minion of her pleasure, / She may detain, but not still keep her treasure!” Another example is seen in Sonnet 16: “But wherefore do not you a mightier way / Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time?” Such comments seem more about the Doctor’s attempts to change certain situations in time rather than a silly moment of self-vanity.
And so it appears that Shakespeare comments on his many adventures with the Doctor as a Companion on the Tardis. Certainly, it can be scoffed at that Shakespeare was instead talking of some lover or romantic interest at home living somewhere in England. It is important to add the final piece of evidence as seen in Sonnet 31: “Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, / Which I by lacking have supposed dead.” Talking of the Doctor’s unique anatomy, it can only be concluded that the unnamed Fair Youth in fact needed no name, having only been called The Doctor during their time together. Eventually the Companion and Doctor must depart, and Shakespeare acknowledges this separation in Sonnet 87: “Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, / And like enough thou know’st thy estimate.”
It is clear that William Shakespeare met someone that seemed to encompass the universe for the young poet, resulting in a fascination and obsession for someone who astounded, impressed, and amazed him. From the broad hints and references to time and space, it becomes all too obvious that the Time Lord was a friend of Shakespeare, and saw in him that special something that compelled the Doctor to return on a number of occasions to see him in the 1600s. In that sense, the Doctor helped Shakespeare become something of an immortal himself.
Many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen – Caleb
Although many archaeological projects have been on hold for two years now, a pre-construction cultural resources assessment in a small town in France was able to proceed during the summer of 2021. Thanks to a former graduate-school classmate on the dig, who sent me a few photos of artifacts they uncovered from what may have once been a medieval inn, I have had an opportunity to preview an interesting find. After some study and thought, I have been able to use it as a basis for a modern reconstruction of what it surely was once but a small part.
Fig. 1: The artifact in situ.
Fig. 2: Matching section of the original Bayeux Tapestry (not to scale).
However, as my friend pointed out, this small graphic is obviously copied from the world-famous Bayeux Tapestry.
It does seem rather unusual to reproduce just a tiny portion of such a large work in a different medium, as this artisan has done, so I would posit that this one piece is all that survives of a once much larger set. Further, I suggest that the work as a whole told a story, like the Tapestry does, but probably a different one, a version much closer to its context, and more appreciated by those who would see it up close.
Without further ado, then, is my reconstruction and highlights of portions of its tale. Of course future discoveries may well prove me wrong in my interpretations, but one has to start somewhere. The fact that this item was found on the site of a probable inn strongly supports the idea behind my conjectured result.
The basic story portrayed here seems to be one that would be familiar to many: it’s an epic pub crawl. However, there are some notable differences, such as asides covering the preparation, brewing, and transport of the beer that will be consumed. The main characters do seem to be enjoying themselves for the most part, with entertainment along the way, and a good meal, but what would a pub crawl be without a bit of rough play before the evening ends?
In homage to the Bayeux Tapestry from which this smaller version comes, I have named this reconstruction the Bièresyeux Capestry. (For those not familiar with French pronunciation, try saying “beers-yo” and you’ll be very close.) At some point my reconstruction will be used for its ultimate purpose: capping 261 bottles of homebrew.
Fig. 3: Fully reconstructed capestry; dimensions are 29 feet long by 1 inch wide (8.84m by 2.54cm); compare to the Tapestry, which is 230 feet long by 1 ½ feet wide (70m by 45.72cm). Banana for scale.
Please note that over two dozen enlarged, selected panels from the Capestry are available along with captions from the full story. These can be enjoyed on the author’s website at https://www.FoolsByRobert.com/capestry.
We are taught that London burned down in 1667 because of a fire that started in a bakery on Pudding Lane. When the fire was brought under control, four days later, more than four-fifths of the city was destroyed. Miraculously, only 16 people were known to have died. Was this due to advanced fire-fighting technology or was this because the fire was actually planned to destroy a kaiju? A “dragon”, if you will. Granted, the people of 17th century London would not have used the word “kaiju” as Godzilla movies did not appear in England until the mid 1950s. The natives would have used such language as was familiar to them. And since Jacobean English had few Japanese words mixed in with it, they would have turned to their own legends and used the word “dragon” to describe the giant beasts that roamed the country.
In 1217, there was a beast of a sea monster that prowled the Thames river; some references referred to it at 300 stone in size. The poem “The Dragon of Wantley”, first published in 1685, recounts an legendary monster that ravaged the land in the mid 15th-century.
All sorts of cattle this dragon did eat.
Some say he ate up trees,
And that the forests sure he would
Devour up by degrees:
For houses and churches were
to him geese and chickens
He ate all, and left none behind,
but some stones, dear Jack,
that he could not crack,
Which on the hills you will find. [1]
Geoffrey Of Cambria’s 1455 “The History of Britain” recounts what might have been the same monster.
Then a great dragon began to ravage the country-side with fire and alone did a single knight take arms against it, and in the end, was the victor. All night long did the raging flames swept o’er the land and the water, and all withered and burned at it’s touch. The dragon had burned up the people’s homes and fields. The city did burn as likewise did the ships and the water-skirted land was devastated. Not ‘til the touch of dawn did the dragon end it’s destruction and retreat to its lair. Great faith did it have in the safety of its hiding place, but it’s faith was to be futile.
While stories of giant dragons continued to be written, in England, after the Great Fire, [2] no credible accounts of dragons were recorded. I feel that the last of the great, English kaijus was killed in London, in 1667. While there are many conspiracy theories that have survived even to this day, (Freemasons started the fire to create more work for themselves; French and Dutch agents started it to punish the English for their pie eating habits; Charles II started it as revenge for London’s support of Parliament during the Civil War; Robert Hubert claimed to start the fire in Westminster but it got out of hand when the wind shifted.) [3]
Illumination of an medieval kaiju.
The 200 foot tall monument to the fire might be a clue as to the size of the kaiju that attacked the city. It is possible that the kaiju was lured to the city to destroy it, hence the few fatalities recorded, as the population was told “to remove themselves and Goods into the open fields” [4] for their own safety. “The London Gazette” recounts the fight against the monster with chilling words:
…pulling down houses…”, “Too big to be mastered by any Engines or working near it.” “About the Tower the seasonable orders given …to secure the Magazines of Powder.” “…but all in vain, the [monster] seizing upon the Timber and Rubbish and so continuing it self, even through those spaces, and raging in a bright flame all Monday and Tuesday, notwithstanding His Majesties own, and His Royal Highness’s indefatigable and personal pains to apply all possible remedies to prevent it.
Finally, the monster was defeated. Again, from “The London Gazette”:
…by the falling … upon a Pile of Wooden buildings; but his Royal Highness, who watched there that whole night in Person, by the great labors and diligent [used], and especially by applying Powder to blow up the Houses about it, before day most happily it [stopped].” “On Thursday by the blessing of God it was wholly beat down and extinguished.
London was destroyed, but its citizens lived and the last of the great English kaijus was dead.
Footnotes
[1] “The Dragon of Wantley”, quoted from Thomas Percy’s “Reliques of Ancient Poetry”
[2] Even an opera was written in the 18th-century.
[3] These are all actual conspiracy theories about the fire.
[4] “The London Gazette”
References
Æthel, Aunt. “Models of Dragons Are Not To Scale.” Aunt Æthel’s Big Blog of Baloney. Created on February 31st, 1987.
Anonymous. The Dragon of Wantley, quoted in Thomas Percy’s Reliques of Ancient Poetry (17th Century)
Anonymous. “The London Worm?” Punch Magazine. Unknown Volume. 1891.
Bell, Walter. The Great Fire of London in 1666. New York Bodley Head. 1923.
Jones, Terry, and Alan Ereira. Terry Jones’ Medieval Lives. London: BBC, 2004.
Mortimer, Ian. The Time Traveler’s Guide to Elizabethan England. New York: Penguin Books, 2013.
Moxon, Steve. The Dragon of Wantley. Creative Commons, May 2013
Shorpe, L. Geoffrey of Cambria’s The History of Britain. London: Penguin Books Ltd. 1981
“The London Gazette – Fire of London” The London Gazette. Published by Authority From Monday September 3 to Monday September 10 1666. British Library. Timelines: Sources from History.
The first in the series: many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen – Caleb & Aunt Æthel
By Éadaoin Ruadh
Æthelmearc, Barony of the Rhydderich Hael
I am most certain, dear readers, that you are familiar with the mound of technological ingenuities of the Roman Empire, in both the civil and military theaters. Pieces of ancient history and scientific advancement that we still utilize in our everyday: heated floors, aqueducts, one-use javelins, (1) stabbing tyrannical rulers in groups. But a recent find out of Nouera, Italy could be unarguably the
find of the millennium. (2)
Roman dodecahedron.
These dodecahedra began popping up in archaeological digs since 1739 throughout the modern day countries whose land at some point was part of the Roman Empire. Most were made of bronze or copper alloy, (3) though a couple gold ones were unearthed in Rome itself. (4) Scholars have tried to reason out their use ever since, which became increasingly more difficult given the diversity of features, size, and age via seriation. The eureka moment of the 2020 Nouera dig, headed by Corona Lacticiniis Regina, came out of a well-protected leather case found in the bowels of the dwelling’s bathroom. Regina expressed in her recent publication that while no dodecahedra were found in the house, the precise drawings that accompanied the records left no doubt that these were the same items. (Regina 7)
Simply put, these objects were part of a complicated network of surveillance, maintained by the plebeians. The Nouera writings outlined in detail the stages of development of this endeavor, which began with the solid dodecahedra decorated with etched, concentric circles. The writers, who call themselves Anonymi, (5) attempted to recreate the acoustic physics behind the form of an amphitheater (Armad 24). The 3D etchings would catch tidbits of far-off conversation and reflect them back to an observer standing near the dodecahedron. Anonymi were able to hang these outside their homes without suspicion, passing them off as decoration. (Regina 8-32) Of particular note, the group was so ecstatic at this first iteration that the dodecahedra essentially did turn into decorations for parties in celebration of their success.
Regulus, (6) three cups deep into the evening, almost gave away the plan to a pair of vigiles on patrol. Yesterday, we had overheard that the local fighting dog Numeri was not only his own bookkeeper, but also a scammer in throwing key fights to grab greater purses. Regulus began flailing and reenacting a potential conversation between Numeri and his lackies in the middle of the street. But Regulus’ slurred explanation and apology to the guards was seen as nothing more than drunken ramblings. (Regina 28)
But do not doubt, readers, that the Romans stopped there. Further improvements of these dodecahedra culminated in the final product of the picture above. The hollow center held a round glass orb full of salt water, and the various sizes of circles etched to particular specifications in order to zero in on different distances from its location (Regina 93). The Anonymi needed to dedicate their time to these monitoring tasks more efficiently, and so created the water memory bank. The circles would then transfer their captured data into the water, taking advantage of water’s ability to hold memories. Conversations would be later extracted after ingesting the salt water, and with the aid of hallucinogenics at secret Anonymi gatherings.
The territory over which these objects were found spans nearly all of the Roman Empire, from northern Britain to Vienna and Zagreb. Observations within the Nouera writings credit them with some of the well-known language traits of the time. The particular strain of bronze in Wales, for example, was notorious for its tinny sound that contorted various consonants into y’s and w’s. The style of Andalusian dodecahedra was comprised of at least twice the amount of circles; their dispersal muddled the recorded sounds of z, c, and s to give us the “th” today (Regina 55).
Perhaps the most important fallout of Regina’s project is the new implications this has for research on the rest of the Roman Empire. How will this knowledge change our evaluation of records already uncovered? Did the populace catch wind of the Anonymi and alter their own language as a result? Who was Anonymi, and did they code any of these findings into their writings? Longtime colleague of Regina’s and prolific conspiracy theorist Drew Burymore has published a new podcast to parse out what’s hidden between the lines. A majority of the archaeological community has reluctantly agreed the April 1st episode should be commended for its solid research into the Roman entertainment industry.
…but the intriguing and even interesting segment of Octavia arises as metaphor in Nero’s divorce. The populace thought the move wretched, yet still lauded Poppaea’s beauty. The contradictory nature of these views is undoubtedly a sign that Seneca knew about the unrest within the Anonymi, something they were unable to voice unless in a drugged stupor. Drugged. By. Poppy opium. Poppy, Poppaea. Mic drop. (7) (Burymore “A Fool of Two Cities”)
The Nouera writings are certainly making their own way onto anthropological and archaeological pedestals. But before any SCAdian attempts a recreation of either these artifacts or their audio retention methods, dear readers, I must impart that Regina’s paper warned against this path. Her work with Inglots to cast several replicas of the dodecahedrones has been famously successful, while attempts to reproduce “recordings” has led to three and a half separate hospital trips. Should future trials ever prove fruitful, however, we will no doubt see more archaeologists’ ears on the Anonymi writings, and fewer on the ground.
Notes
Pilums were the inspiration for modern day staples, as highlighted in the flavor text on the corporate website for Staples
Oxford Academics are currently debating whether the six-fingered glove found in Sicily in the 1920s was just as revealing, and are weirdly stuck on debating the label “revealing,” citing that the word doesn’t mean what non-Oxfordians think it means (Montoya et al 4).
Renowned caster and hipster Brag Inglots lists these two compositions separately, but we can infer that the absence of their difference’s explanation is something we should already know (Inglots 54)
The gold dodecahedra, or dodec-Au-hedrons, were discovered in Barcelona, Spain. As all roads lead to Rome, philosophers all agree without appeal that any find on a road within the lands of the Empire was considered to have been located in the city. (Perez 12)
The naming of modern day MI6 agents with a particular first and given name James Bond originated from the very first spy of the Roman Empire, Una Anonymus. The name Anonymi is wittily the nomen’s plural form.
Regina elaborates in great detail the care to which the Anonymi protected their identities, by referring to each other with different names on different days, in a pattern she is still deciphering. Regulus was one of the most frequent choices. (Regina 32-115)
Burymore in fact dropped his microphone at the end of this rant, and ended the episode abruptly due to equipment malfunction
Sources
Armad, Moustafa. “Acoustics: Not Just For Pigeons in Ellipses.” Howton-Muffling, 2008.
Burymore, Drew. “What Does the Vox (actually) Say?” The Truth Unveiled. Bury More Publications. 2021.
Curtss, Jon. Photo of 2nd Century Roman dodecahedron. Corvus Fugit, Feb 28 2021.
Inglots, Brag. “On the Composition of Dodecahedrones.” Forgers’ Monthly, vol. 16, issue 3, May 2 2021, pp. 4-6.
Montoya, Eneego et al. “Council of the Not Nice—Seen!” Oxford After Dark Chocolate, vol. 910, issue 7, August 26 2021, pp. 3-9.
Regina, Corona Lacticiniis. “Holey Feces: The Nouera Writings and the Gaps They Fill.” Diggers, Doers, and Dodgers, vol. 28, issue 9, July 14 2021, pp. 1-219.
Many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen. – Caleb
Aunt Æthel asked me to come up with an April Fool’s Day writing challenge for the A&S peoples of Æthelmearc. The challenge is as follows:
1) Find an image of something unusual from the SCA time period. One image only, please.
2) Write a short paper for the Gazette for April Fool’s Day: one or two pages or around 1000 words. Not about what the image actually is, but what you think it might be. This is for humor. Have “evidence” that a battle was won through the use of interpreted dance? Have “details” about a cookbook for cannibals with recipes for Lent? Want to discuss the extinct species of killer oysters that once roamed Europe? Have “proof” that the Byzantine Empress Ariadne had her drunk husband, the Emperor Zeno, nailed into a sarcophagus and pretended that Zeno had died, even though everyone could hear him crying for help…. Wait, that actually happened. Save that one for a micro-research paper.
3) Please include the sub-title “Fake Research: Real Writing” so that we can sort out these challenges from the regular pieces submitted to the Gazette.
4) “Document” your claims in a professional fashion. Feel free to use as many “sources” or “footnotes” as needed. [1]
5) Please keep your writing family friendly, these will be read by anyone with access to the Æthelmearc Gazette. [2]
6) Leonardo da Vinci is off limits. Too many fake things are accredited to him; let us take the time to give bogus credit to other people from history. [3]
7) No aliens: The History Channel has that locked up and we don’t want to be sued for copyright infringement.
8) Even though this will be for fun and humor, please use the opportunity to practice your writing skills.
9) Submit your image and paper to the Gazette before April 1st. Aunt Æthel and I, and perhaps a few others, will read through all of the articles and pick a winner who will get the prize of bragging rights for the rest of the year. And I will have tokens for everyone who takes part.
Without further ado, here is my example of fake research: real writing:
Medieval Remote Controlled Ship Fake Research: Real Writing. by Caleb Reynolds
Take note of this image of the oldest, surviving, remote controlled vehicle. [4]
The oldest, surviving, remote controlled vehicle.
“This spice cellar, made to hold precious seasonings at the table, is of a typical northern European design. Major trade commodities in ancient and medieval times, salt and other spices were used both to preserve meat and to enhance the flavor of all types of food (often not very fresh). Some spices came from Asia and were very expensive. This whimsical container, in the form of a little ship on wheels, could be rolled from one guest to another.” [5]
This could have held salt in one half of the ship and ground pepper in the other half. This most likely was not made for major royalty; the details from the Museum do not list a maker or an original owner, but it appears to me that this spice cellar was not as valuable as some of the spices that it might have once held (the Museum does not indicate if any traces of spices were found in it during its two cleanings). The cellar is made of bronze and it is very nicely made, but it is not on the high end of such items that have survived. The interesting thing about this spice container, or nef, is not that it is a lovely bronze artifact that has survived several centuries, but that this is a battery operated, remote controlled “executive” toy.
What was once thought of as a third chamber to hold spices, has actually been identified as a battery compartment. The classification took years to make as the batteries required did not resemble modern batteries in shape or size. Electrical batteries can be, potentially, dated to the 2nd or 3rd century AD, with the discovery of the “Baghdad Battery” [6] It is theorized that this nef was designed, and perhaps built by, the legendary French architect and artist Villard de Honnecourt. [7] While this nef does not appear in the 33 surviving pages of his sketchbook, a percentage of the 250 some odd drawings do contain images of mechanical devices and automata, including the design of a perpetual-motion machine.
Unfortunately, the controller has not survived, [8] but we can assume that the nef was controlled by radio waves and not sound waves, due to the lack of visible microphones that would be needed to pick up the clicks and clacks of an audio controller. Such audio remotes were in use well into the 1970s when LED technology began to replace “clickers”. We can also assume that it does not function via Bluetooth as it is not Norse in design or construction. Since this object is a valuable piece of art, as well as of history, no attempt has been made to disassemble the nef to trace it’s circuitry. Furthermore, the device is too rare and delicate to attempt to power it up for fear that it would be permanently damaged. That, and the lack of the appropriate batteries, which we believe were last made in London in 1667, when the factory burned down due to a fire of unknown cause. [9]
While some may think that the idea of a medieval RC car might be in the realm of science fiction, please let me quote the writings of the 13th century Franciscan friar, Roger Bacon:
“Ships may be made to move without oars or rowers, so that large vessels may be driven on the sea or on a river by a single man, and more swiftly than if it were strongly manned. Chariots can be built which can move without any draft animal at incalculable speed… Flying machines might be made in which a man might sit, turning a certain mechanism whereby artfully built wings might beat the air, in the manner of a bird in flight. Another instrument could be made which, although small, will lift or lower weights of almost infinite greatness… Again, instruments might be made for walking in the sea, or in rivers, even to the very bottom… bridges might cross rivers without pier or prop.” [10]
While wholly mechanical devices are represented in greater numbers in museums, indeed there are dozens of examples of wind-up salt nefs from this same time period, and even more from the 16th century, [11] this is the oldest electric nef known to have survived. It is clear from the image that this is not a steam powered device: electricity would be the only, logical, method of propulsion, as there is no wind up mechanism present.
Some might say that this device could not have been remote controlled due to various reasons, i.e.: primitive medieval technology; lack of understanding of radio waves; the device predates Radio Shack; etc. Careful analysis of the nef, using non-destructive methods, have not revealed any controls on the device itself, [12] nor any holes or ports where a control cord could have once been connected to the internal mechanism. The nef is less than 6″ long, [13] far too small for a jacquard style controller. [14]
From a strictly engineering standpoint, it is clear that the remote control would only need a forward and back setting, much like a basic, toy train set, as the wheels of the nef do not turn left or right: the nef could only move forwards and back. Which, for a long high-table, would be most convenient: the host could drive the nef to a guest without the fear of steering it off of the edge of the table. Such a dining faux pas would be most embarrassing, and potentially dangerous as the spilled salt would be too far away to reach before the traditional bad luck stabs one in the back.
While this nef might never be powered on again, we can always hope that other, similar, devices might be found in the basements of museums, complete with their batteries and controllers. Or, perhaps, with new digital X-ray technology, researchers might be able to map out the interior of the device, layer by layer, so that modern day artisans might be able to replicate it’s design.
[1] Please feel free to use as many “bunny ears” as you see fit.
[2] Potentially the entire planet.
[3] There are three other ninja turtles who get zero representation.
[4] Currently in the possession of The Walters Art Museum (54.2501) and dates to around 1400.
[5] Description from Walters Art Museum’s web page.
[6] Actually it was discovered in present-day Khujut Rabu, Iraq.
[7] Gimpel and Barnes, various pages describing what is known about his life and history.
[8] While no radio controllers from this time period have survived, the complete lack of surviving controllers cannot be used to state, equivocally, that they never existed in the first place.
[9] Bell, p170
[10] Mortimer, p77 and other sources.
[11] The 16th century “Mechanical Galleon” is one of the best examples of a clockwork nef, which could roll on wheels, tell the time, play music, and fire tiny cannons at boring dinner guests.
[12] Not even an obvious On/Off switch.
[13] H: 3 3/4 x L: 5 9/16 x D: 2 11/16 in. (9.5 x 14.13 x 6.84 cm) Walters.
[14] While the Jacquard loom is a 19th century invention, the technology that led to it can be traced to 16th century Bruges with their cam-driven carillon bell ringing mechanism. That carillon was inspired by translations of Hero of Alexandria. See Burke, ch. 4.
Æthel, Aunt. “How to Fake It Until You Make It.” Aunt Æthel’s Big Blog of Baloney. Created on February 31st, 1982.
Gimpel, Jean. “Medieval Machine: The Industrial Revolution of the Middle Ages.” New York. Penguin Books, 1977.
Haughton, Brian. “Hidden History: Lost Civilizations, Secret Knowledge, and Ancient Mysteries.” Red Wheel/Weiser. 2006.
Jones, Terry, and Alan Ereira. “Terry Jones’ Medieval Lives.” London: BBC, 2004.
Keyser, Paul T. “The Purpose of the Parthian Galvanic Cells: A First-Century A.D. Electric Battery Used for Analgesia” Journal of Near Eastern Studies, vol. 52, no. 2, pp. 81–98, April 1993.
Mortimer, Ian. “The Time Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England: A Handbook for Visitors to the Fourteenth Century.” New York: Touchstone, 2014.
Scott, David A. “Copper and Bronze in Art: Corrosion, Colorants, Conservation.” Getty Publications. pp. 16–18. 2002
Tattersall, Ian; Nevraumont, Peter. “Hoax: A History of Deception : 5,000 Years of Fakes, Forgeries, and Fallacies.” New York. Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers. 2018
This message is to let you know that His Majesty, King Maynard, has eliminated the high tech pretenders who tried to pass themselves off as “Æthelnet” and “Æthelnators”.
His Majesty wishes to reassure the populace that there will be no takeover by any computer overlords. While events and meetings may remain virtual for a while, our webministers and Zoomerators will continue to do the stellar job they have been doing for the last year, and our leadership will remain human.
Please resume your regularly scheduled activities, secure in the knowledge that our beloved Kingdom is in good hands.
These are different times in Æthelmearc and the rest of the Known World. Postponed events, unusually long royal reigns, and uncertain plans for future changes of leadership are of major concern. Like many aspects of the “new” SCA, tried and true old-school methods are being slowly replaced with new high-tech solutions.
In the early months of 2021, the tech staff began work on a new system designed to provide some relief to the overworked leadership of Æthelmearc (Kings, Queens, Baronage, and Officers). Since many events are now virtual it was postulated that a large portion of the Æthelmearc leadership could be replaced by a virtual, computer generated counterpart. This would provide the Kingdom with required decision-making and oversight, and allow the current seated leadership to return to their normal lives.
Instead of picking one set of leaders to provide the model for this new virtual leadership, advanced computer programing allowed the tech staff to create a linked artificial super mind made up of the collective experience of all of Æthelmearc’ s leadership from beginning to current.
Of course, leadership requires a physical component to conduct in person business such as delivering award medallions, scrolls, or placing coronets on heads. To accomplish this, the tech team, in conjunction with the Steward’s office, constructed a large force of high-tech drones. These drones, or Æthelnators, are designed to perfectly emulate the normal populace and provide a calming, familiar, and personal touch to the new virtual leadership. Additionally, to provide safe-practice partners for the populace each Æthelnator contains a specialized set of combat training programs ranging from heavy to siege.
To coordinate the new virtual leadership, the Æthelnators, and the pre-existing virtual online entertainment, the tech team is creating a new Kingdom website lovingly known as Æthelnet. Æthelnet is scheduled to go live 2:14 a.m., EDT, on August 29. Soon after, the Kingdom can expect a return to the many activities we love.
While this may seem a little out of the ordinary and a first, the tech team encourages the populace to welcome Æthelnet and the Æthelnators. The Kingdom looks forward to the many posts, photos, and stories of this great new age.
Aunt Æthel and I would like to thank the Ærtisans who devoted their time and creativity to the Fake Research – Real Writing challenge. If you have not read the entries, please head over to the Æthelmearc Gazette and take a gander. In fact take two ganders. We have too many ganders; take as many as you want. 
