Tales of Riccardo di Pisa

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By Dunstana Talana the Violet

In reference to this image: [1]:
(Collected from the Northkeep email list, November 2009)

This photo is a mural of Ansteorran giants – Master Korwyn (Korwyn Marius Velis Ariannaid), King Simonn of Amber Isle and Queen Tessa of the Gardens, Sir Ricardo di Pisa (God rest his soul), and Sir Sir Lord Lord John John (God rest his soul). (I cannot make out the gentleman in the black hat and red robe behind Sir Ricardo.)

Sir Ricardo enjoyed playing persona, perhaps more than anyone I’ve ever met in the SCA. I mean, he REALLY loved being Ricardo. Ricardo was a crusader-era Italian knight. Ricardo was an Italian patrician who loved the good life. Ricardo was bigger than life. He fought hard, played hard, loved it when others had a good time, and spared no effort to make sure they did. He loved to be entertained by dancing girls. During my brief time fighting heavy weapons, he was my teacher and, let me tell you, he was a patient man.

I remember a Bjornsborg event many years ago with a fighting scenario of Chivalry-versus-the-known-world. All the white belts and baldrics lined up on the crest of a ten-foot slope and dared everyone else to come take them. Ricardo spied someone about to make it to the top, and moved to intercept. His foot caught, and down he tumbled. He took out five fighters before he reached the bottom. The accidental tactic worked so well that, when they set up for the next bout, he lay down and had two knights roll him down upon the enemy. One of the all-time favorite events among my memories is a fall court event in Bryn Gwlad, for which his household cooked a feast that just beat the band. I can still taste the alfredo. I can also still see him walking up and down the aisles between the tables, making sure that no one shirked on stuffing themselves silly, patting folks on the shoulder and laughing and joking, all the while clenching a large wooden spoon in his fist as if it were a short sword.

Then, as if that weren’t enough work for one event, he co-starred in a Commedia del’arte play by Mot Cather (recently elevated to the Laurel) in which he played a lecherous, money-grubbing antagonist. We hurt ourselves laughing.

King Lloyd von Eaker and Queen Joselyn Allyne Reynard bestowed the Lion of Ansteorra on him in 1982, the year after I first met him. The rightness of their choice was clear to everyone who knew him. He loved life, people, parties, and a good fight - and being entertained by dancing girls.


by Gunnvor silfraharr

I have several outstanding memories of Sir Riccardo da Pisa I'd like to share.

The first is one that many people, old and not so old, all share. After winning Kingdom Warlord once many moons ago, Riccardo travelled the kingdom to whip up fervor and enthusiasm for the upcoming war. Riccardo would stand up in court or at feast, and he would begin what you might term the Ansteorran War Revival and Holy Roller Incitement of the Black Star Warriors. Picture it: Ricardo striding back and forth across the hall, preaching the war like an old time gospel tent preacher, his eyes gleaming, the crowd following and chanting at his direction. The first dozen times Riccardo did it, I literally laughed until I cried. But even many years later when I'd heard it for the umpteenth repitition, it had the power to move me as well as others. Riccardo was able to take his own enthusiasm for the war, his own love of combat, and whip the crowd to a frenzy so that they felt his intensity and fervor and desire as well. In this one field of performance, not even Ragnar Ulfgarsson could outdo Riccardo.

The next set of memories is more of an en famille type of tale. For many a year, Riccardo was the Official Nipple Inspector of Bjornsborg. I don't quite recall how he got the title, but I suspect Briony Blaaslagen had something to do with it when she was Seneschal for Bjornsborg. The Ladies of Bjornsborg presented Riccardo with the insignia of his office, which he treasured and carried with him ever after: A red sequined pasty on a garter, worn upon his arm. When the Insignia was visible, no nipple was safe! Yet Riccardo never lost sight of the nature of the game -- he was extremely sensitive to each lady's limits. Some nipple inspections were, well, thorough. For those who were shy or who didn't care to play with the game, Riccardo never stepped beyond the bounds of propriety. I will never forget the day that the Ladies of Bjornsborg elected to play a joke on Riccardo -- several of the ladies accosted the good Italian knight whilst he was wearing his insignia. Much affectionate hugging and backrubbing and the like went on. What Riccardo did not know was that one lady had run her hands under the Official Insignia, slipped it off his arm, and handed it to Ivar's daughter Elaisaid, who was very young in those days. Poor Riccardo! He looked high and low for the Insignia, but never suspected that the littlest Bjornsborg Lady had it standing right beside him the whole time! (He eventually got it back, but only after being sentenced to give backrubs to make up for his "losing" the Insignia!)

Another memory of Riccardo came from the infamous Cattle Raid On Rimkus Ford, where Baron Robbie led his men into Bjornsborg lands to steal livestock, under the command of Riccardo as warleader. There were a dozen or more Bryn Gwlad warriors, faced only by eight Bjornsborgers, led by Sir Emrys Shaunnon. Most of the Bryn Gwladians bore long pikes, while I was the only Bjornsborger with a polearm. Seeing the men of the Halberd badge assembled on the far side of Rimkus Ford, Emrys quickly outlined his plan of battle -- we would march straight at the foemen, and at the last minute break right and try to flank them to remove the danger of that wall of pikes we faced. The only problem with this plan, when the charge began, was that I somehow had understood "stage right" and found myself suddenly looking across a sea of pikes at my fellow Bjornsborg defenders! There was no way to rejoin my comrades, so I did the first thing that popped into my mind: I slammed my pike across the shafts of all those enemy pikes, and then SAT on the handle. Rather than let go the polearms, the pikemen kept tugging at their now-useless hafts, until Bjornsborg blades bit them. The look on Riccardo's face when he realized what had happened was a study. I will always regret that no one snapped a photo at that moment!

Lastly, I will always recall the Candlemas some years ago where Riccardo cooked the famous Italian all-you-can-eat-then-we'll-feed-you-some-more feast. Riccardo in his apron, fussing over diner after diner, encouraging them to eat "just a little more" even when we were all stuffed and about to die of too much fantastic food. This was still the best feast I've ever attended, and I never eat Italian food mundanely anymore without finding that it does not hold a candle to Riccardo's wonderful cooking.

Truly, Riccardo was a man who will be missed.

by Leon Donne

It was the first of the wars with the Outlands, my first war. I was a foot soldier, fodder really, in the army of Rhabia Jan.

It was hot and dry... so very dry. But at last the two armies were arrayed before each other in order of battle. And my guts were as queasy as a maiden on her marriage bed.

Sir Ricardo was the biggest Bull Knight within earshot so I spoke my fears...

“Sir Knight, how are we going to win this thing?” l ask.

Sir Ricardo had a voice somewhere between a bark and a growl... “If you are still alive at the end of this day we will have won. That is how we win!” The knight’s attention went to more important matters.

On that field I took my first prisoners. Funny, just the other day I was recalling Sir Recardo...

Salute Good Knight