By Lauren Spates

Two strapping men step toward each other, ready for battle. One clasps a sword; the other, a fearsome weapon with a long shaft and a broad, crescent-shaped blade. They wear custom-forged medieval-style helmets and handmade leather armor to lessen the blows. At stake is a future knighthood and a chance to bring honor to their shire – even, perhaps, their kingdom. 

Then a Cessna lands at the Petaluma airport behind them. 

Such is life for a local medieval reenactor with the Shire of Wolfscairn, our local chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism. This international, educational nonprofit is devoted to research and re-creation of pre-17th-century skills, arts, combat, and culture. 

The North Bay chapter’s approximately 40 members meet Sundays at 10:30 a.m. at Wiseman Park in east Petaluma. One minute they’re “heavy fighting” as if it were the 14th century, and the next they’re scanning a smartphone between bouts.

Established in Berkeley in 1966, the Society for Creative Anachronism hosts chapters around the world where members practice archery, herbalism, music, jousting, horsemanship, fighting, and various other skills. Chapters are called shires, baronies, or cantons, and they fall under larger regional principalities, which roll up under one of the society’s 20 kingdoms. 

“It’s a great community, a very giving community,” said the Shire of Wolfscairn’s leader, a woman with curly auburn hair pulled back under a simple coif cap. “There isn’t any gatekeeping or toxic masculinity here. Our shire has a great reputation in SCA.”

In modern life this lively woman is named Adriann Saslow, but she’s called Þunnkárr (THUN-kar) when in character. Most reenactors adopt a real-life-inspired name for their medieval persona. According to Þunnkárr, her moniker translates to “curly head” in 10th-century Norse. 

Historical reenacting is a study in contrast, although one common thread weaves through both the medieval and modern timelines: a willingness to support one another through disaster and plague.

When Michael Johnstone, or “Stone the Skald,” evacuated his home during the Tubbs and Kincaid fires, he stayed with Þunnkárr’s family. On the tournament field, Stone is a fierce fighter who wields a Dane axe and an intimidating stature; in his day-to-day life, he’s a middle school teacher with a broad smile and a jovial demeanor.  

“COVID was hard. There was nowhere to go to hit anybody,” Stone jested. “I played video games instead, like 'Chivalry II' — all terrible games — but it was all we had.” 

The Society for Creative Anachronism has provided an outlet for Morgan Campbell for forty years. Known in the shire as “Morgan the Falconer,” he first encountered the organization in Berkeley, then joined a local chapter while stationed in Connecticut with the U.S. Navy. After six years as a submariner, he worked as a technician servicing high-end dental imaging machinery and surgical lasers. 

A medieval jack-of-all-trades skilled at glassblowing and armoring, Morgan is also a leatherworker with Þunnkárr as his apprentice. And as his name suggests, Morgan is also a falconer who cares for multiple birds, including a territorial Harris’s hawk. 

“To step away from the technology to do hobbies that are ancient,” Morgan said, “it’s a stress reliever.” 

Passersby at Wiseman Park were not witnessing Renaissance Faire preparation. Morgan and Þunnkárr said that as fairs like the Renaissance or Dickens have grown, they’ve lost their focus.

“Now it’s just fantasy. Everyone’s in elf ears all the time,” Morgan said. He’s been a fantasy fan since childhood but prefers to separate that from historical reenacting. 

Another woman — a newcomer to the Shire of Wolfscairn — sat near the shade, her silver hair covered with a burgundy fleece cap edged with a black blanket stitch. Here she is known as Morgana; at home, she is Jerrie Patterson.

“The Ren-Faire, the Dickens Faire, the Edwardian Ball, those are all ‘Dress up and shop,’” Morgana said as she weaved a colorful belt on a backstrap-inspired loom she fashioned from an embroidery hoop. “You’re not a participant at those.”