In a few weeks, Jeffrey Forgeng’s new edition and translation of Royal Armouries MS I.33 is slated to be released, published by the Royal Armouries directly. I’m super excited about it, and my copy is already on order — it promises to be the definitive English-language version of the manuscript, loaded with the nearly two decades of scholarship that has gone on since the first edition (from now-defunct Chivalry Bookshelf). And unlike the most recent binding, this comes in at well under 100$, rather than closer to 1000!

Now obviously I love swords, and I love fencing in all its forms — I’ve spent the better part of three decades of my life studying and teaching fencing, with about two decades of traditional fencing with the Martinez Academy. I’ve read a lot of treatises in that time, and there are absolute gems: Danet, Masiello, Gomard, Giganti, LaMarche, LaFaugere, Meyer… it is a long list of favorites, of books that in my view bring us the clearest picture of the author’s mind.

But a new edition of any of these would not get me nearly as excited as this.

Because I.33 is special. I.33 is different. It is the First.

I.33 marks, if not the beginning of western fencing, then the beginning of western fencing for us. It is the earliest example of a fairly complete system, written down so that we can grasp what was done, how and why. Before I.33 there are merely pictures of fencers in illuminated manuscripts, little men in the margins, as well as some archaeology and a scant few literary references.

But in this book, the priests who wrote it down give us a clear (well, comparatively so anyway), concise window into their world, their craft, in such a way that we can actually come to understand much of it. Not all — never all, and maybe not even most — but still a great deal.

And in it we can see the foundation of a fencing tradition, a skill set and a theory, with descendants still alive today. No other book gives us such real insight into truly medieval sword play, and no other book can give us quite the same view forward.

So, a few randomizing thoughts on I.33, to celebrate its new clothing:

1) What’s up with the scholar’s hood? I’ve seen this question online in several places now, and I think the answer is not only a fairly simple one, it also tells us about the priestly “school,” if we want to call it that.

Jeffrey Forgeng has argued, and I think convincingly, that I.33 was generated attached to a cathedral school and that “Clerus Lutegerus” and/or the other authors were priests or other clerics who worked in that context. So the scholar in that sense is not just a scholar because he is learning to fence, but also likely because he is a student of the cathedral school.

Students of the high Middle Ages were considered part of the church, so this means that the I.33 scholar, like almost all scholars of the day, would have worn the tonsured haircut of the clergy. But if he had the same haircut as the priest, and the same clothes, how do we tell them apart in the book?

Well, we hide the student’s haircut in each picture under a hood!

2) The obsesseo krucke is a technique that is exclusive to the I.33 school of fencing, as the manuscript itself tells us.

It’s not against first ward, but it looks like krucke… so you tell me?

3) Not brand new, but in case you haven’t seen it an awesome article by Dr. Julia Graf on Walpurgis’ clothing.

Now just a few more days to wait…

The contents of this post reflect my own views and opinions, and do not necessarily represent those of my masters at Martinez Academy of Arms. Any errors are fully my own, as I am still in training and have been encouraged to research to further my studies.