Page 2
Palm Sunday, April 9th
5.30. Reach for water jug - not frozen as expected…
5.35. Poke head through tent flap - light cloud, much milder than predicted, and no sign of our worst fear, relentless pouring rain. Embers still glowing on fire range; add kindling, blow into flame and get kettle on.
6.00. Revive Mr. Doggett with tea. Both nervy – a big day, and lots to do before public arrive.
6.30. Folk stirring. Keep hot water coming, get breakfast together – first comers bag best dry-cure bacon. Hard-boil pan of eggs for lunch.
8.00. Chivvy stragglers to eat up and kit up. Everything must be authentic by 9 – no vehicles, milk cartons, bin bags or other 21st century intrusions in sight. Hurriedly wash up, hide anachronisms in tent and get into own costume.
9ish. No watch now – I’m medieval. Linen shift, kirtle and coif, woollen stockings, leather boots, azure-and-murrey livery coat, big woolly top coat, thick winter hood – a respectable archery captain’s missus. Camp authentic too – looks fantastic. 16 assorted tents in ‘street’ down field; Ferrers household have brought a forge, and falconer has 20 beautiful birds. We have around 60 re-enactors altogether and everyone’s made amazing effort for first event of season. Good job too – our public are arriving!
9.15ish. Dry weather holding as field fills and walkers gather by gate. Muster re-enactors who want to join our group.
9.30ish. Gulp – here goes. Set off with 40-odd walkers – my second Palm Sunday, and first as official guide - plus medieval company of several women, armoured knight, and archer in padded jack. At stops, Mick interprets landscape and battlefield, I fill in historical background. Weather conditions authentically bleak - am probably warmer in costume than most modern walkers – with little squally showers, but luckily not too slippery underfoot. As ever, people soberly impressed by Bloody Meadow.
11ish. We’ve done it! Walk went down well – lots of questions and interest. Greatly relieved and happy, hasten back to get lunch sorted.
11.30ish. Field and barn buzzing - a good turnout considering weather. Hog roast, beer tent, info stands and traders doing brisk business, falconer enthralling crowds. Set table with realistic medieval lunch: bread, cheese, cold meat, eggs, nuts, fresh watercress and a basket of apples and pears.
12ish. Folk drift by to grab a bite before memorial service.
12.45. Gather on mound behind Towton Hall. Landowner Mrs. Verity says a few words then former TBS Chairman Martin Tarpey reads short service, ending with Lord’s Prayer in Middle English while all re-enactors kneel. Wreaths laid and silence observed – simple, dignified, respectful, moving.
1ish. Tidy lunch things. Walk round camp, watch falconer, then back to arena where ‘Black-Faced Clifford’, our group’s sole Lancastrian, dons armour to fight an archer in padded jack and breastplate. Nimble archer nearly prevails in first encounter, only to be overcome at last minute by knight’s greater weight. Second time, Mick sprints in, pins fallen knight to ground and both archers despatch him with daggers – all pre-arranged, of course, and well-received by blatantly Yorkist crowd.
2ish. Archery displays and bill-drills. Take platters of dainties and beakers of mead to refresh gallant soldiers. Find much hilarity in vicinity of beer tent, thanks to Drunken Monk’s potent nettle ale.
3ish. Pole-arm melee signals last event on programme. Crowd slowly disperses.
4ish. Phew – our public loved us! Went without hitch, everyone had good time, signed up some new TBS members and made about £500 – all delighted and relieved. Congregate round campfire for mutual congratulations and well-earned break in pleasant sunshine.
5ish. Start breaking camp. Cue torrential downpour! Unwelcome timing – tents get soaked and heavy, everyone’s drenched loading cars and vans, vehicles stick in mud, field gets horribly churned... Still in costume, can’t believe am working barefoot – but is less slippery, saves boots getting wet and tracks less mud into tent while packing kit. Oddly, not as unpleasant as one might think – and feet glow like radiators when socks and shoes eventually go back on.
6.30ish. All help to hurriedly pack van, everything in damp and higgledy-piggledy. Say our goodbyes and repair to Billet for snack.
8.ish. Ahh - back home at last. Now for a long, hot bath and a stiff drink - once we’ve done this bit of unloading…!
Helen Dogget