History Question

So Clairbell asks, "What is a Cataphract?".

Well, specifically, it is the term used by the later Romans and Byzantine's to describe Roman heavy calvary. The core of the Byzantine army were the Cataphracts, horse soldiers that were trained to use lance, sword and bow.

A short digression. From the earliest times the Roman army as we know it was an infantry army. The source of Roman power was the legions and the backbone of the legion were the legionares, heavy armored infantry armed with shield, short sword and javelins or pilum, trained to fight in a more flexible version of the Greek phalanx. In republican times the legionares were drawn from the plebian class. Each Legion had about 4000 of these heavy infantry, with a contingent of light armed skirmishers (usually younger men from allied tribes) an about 300 calvary drawn from the business class, or Equies.

Roman calvary generally was pretty bad in the field, in fact one commentator referred to republican and early empire Roman calvary as the worst in history. At times this presented problems, Hannibal played merry hell with one Roman army after another thanks in part to his Spanish and Numidian Calvary. Scipio Africanus made a point of cultivating a rival Numidian king, and when he went into the decisive Battle of Zama, his Roman legions were well supported by Numidian horse.

Hannibal lost that one.

From that point forward, the Romans made sure that their legions were accompanied by auxiliary calvary drawn from groups that had a better calvary tradition. Also, after the Punic wars, the Roman legions had learned a few more tricks for managing calvary opponents. For the next 400 years, calvary was not considered particularly effective against the highly trained and heavily armed Roman foot soldiers.

In the third century, however, things changed dramatically. The empire was engulfed in what was later to be known as "The Crisis of the Third Century" or the Gothic Storm. In a nutshell, the empire was overrun by barbarians, almost dismembered and forever changed. The principle culprits were the Gothic and Hun tribes that fielded large forces of heavy calvary and horse archers.

By the third century, calvary had changed dramatically, mostly due to the invention of the stirrup, which allowed soldiers to sit more firmly in their mounts. The barbarians combined the classic harassment tactics of the steppe horse archers with the shock of charging heavy calvary. The legions had changed as well, no longer as disciplined, as large in number, or as effective as they were in their heyday.

To counter the barbarians and bolster the legions, the Romans developed the Cataphracts, professional Roman heavy calvary, trained in both horse archer tactics and in close quarter shock. As the centuries progressed and as the Roman Empire shrunk to only the Eastern Empire and then the Byzantine empire, the Cataphract replaced the legion, as the Tagma, or calvary regiment, replaced the legion in the armies of the empire. Byzantine horse armies, composed of Cataphracts (and mercenary auxiliaries of Huns, Arabs and the like) led by men like Belesarius, Narses, Maurice and Hercules held and sometimes expanded the Eastern Empire for a thousand years.

I identify with the Cataphracts, they were professional, they were versatile, they were good. The avoided doing stupid things, like ill timed charges when charges made no sense (unlike the Frankish knights, who would charge anything at the drop of a hat). They were trained in a variety of military arts and tactics, and when well led, they were unbeatable.

My kind of guys.

Friday, and a little about me

Time for some insights into your buddy Maurice.

So what the hell is a Cataphract, anyway?

Well...



















And, you might ask, what is this sword that maurice is always talking about.


The sword is a Dragon Well blade, or so they tell me. It is made with snowflake steel, what ever the hell that is. What is true, is that it is balanced perfectly and comes alive in your hand, like no other one I own. It sings when you draw it from the scabbard. I own six blades, with another one winging its way from Shanghai. I have my eyes on one more, a schivona, 17th century weapon of the Slavic mercenaries of the Doge of Venice. I think that this should complete the arsenal for a while, Wife has given me one corner of the bedroom and I am trying to respect her wishes that the blades all stay there.

So the Wife has put me on notice, that while she will remain faithful and true to me for the rest of our lives, that she reserves the right to three "freebees". The freebees are apparently one night stands with particular specific individuals that do not count against the marriage vows.

The three (well four) people are, in order:

Matt Damon

Jessica Simpson

Katie Holmes (or Tom Cruise,but only one of them)

The freebee is a new concept for me, the most interesting part is that I was introduced to it by one of her female friends. I must also say, all her girlfriends are behind the idea as well.

Now I have to say, much of this is tongue and cheek and meant in fun. But I can also tell you, knowing people as well as I know them, that if any of these three ever DID show up and offer my wife a night of passion that the Freebee Factor would take affect.

Of course, you say, fair is fair, and her girlfriends did ask me who MY freebee people were. Problem is, I can't think of any.

So to all you readers, I am taking suggestions. Oh, and while I am totally fine with gay men, I have zero interest in making the two backed or four legged beast with any of them.

Ideas?

Happy Solstice to all you Pagans

Tonight is the Summer Solstice, a big holiday for all the Wiccans, Pagans and Druids among us. Somewhere tonight, happy covens are dancing around bonfires, casting spells and doing whatever it is that good witches do. Not my cup of tea, but I am a firm believer in respecting my neighbor's traditions, so here is a big Blessed Be to all you witches and warlocks out there on your big night, many happy returns.

Wife is on a return flight from LA, she is getting in late, I don't expect to see her for a bit, but I am waiting up for her, and to pass the time Uncle Maurice will tell you all a bed time story.

Now we all know that fairy tales begin "Once upon a time.." and sea stories begin with "This is no shit!", but this is a true story, children, a story of the absurd situations one can get ones self in when we plot to deceive and immerse ourselves in sexual peccadilloes.

When I first moved to California, I was 30 and in a sexless marriage. The first ex wife had put me on the once a quarter program soon after our son had been born and pretty much kept me there. In a million other ways she downplayed her sexuality and our sexual relationship, leaving me a very frustrated and angry (an immature) young man. So I did what any red blooded American in denial of his situation and too scared to face consequences...

I hooked up with the 21 year old brunette firecracker admin that worked down stairs.

Now, I can claim that she perused me (she did) but I made it real easy for her. She would come to my office and flirt, I would flirt back. We would trade notes and went to lunch, etc etc. In no time I was asking her out for a drink, and in no time we were dating, then screwing like rabbits.

Lets call her Jean.

The situation was perfect. My job was over an hour away from my home, her place was five minutes from the office, and I had a job that took up evenings and Saturdays. Of course, not as many as I was claiming to my wife. It was perfect, work all day, stop by after work for a little after work work out, some nights then get home by 8, some nights, well honey I had to really work late. On Saturdays, go in early , get a little work done, then over to Jean's place for a good morning fuck and a day spent hanging out. Jean had me on the once a day plan, and when we could, the twice a day plan.

To be fair, I think she was in love with me. And to be fair, I think I was in love with her. To be even more fair, she was barely 21, a few years out of high school working her first job. The person mostly at fault here was me. I am pretty sure that if I had faced my feelings honestly right up front and had been honest with my wife, we could have divorced honestly and maybe Jean and I could have stood a chance. As it was, honesty was on holiday and we finally ended in pain and disaster.

I remember much later, a friend telling me just how obvious it was that we were an item. When I questioned her as to how she (and apparently everyone else) knew, she told me that it was the way Jean looked at me, clearly she was in love.

Ok, bottom line, she and I went at it hot and heavy for eight months, and while I though I was in love and I WAS completely addicted, I also knew that the situation was untenable. In April of that year, I went to Europe on business for two weeks. When I got back, things had changed.

Now, nothing you could put your finger on, we still saw each other and it felt the same, but she began to be less available, and at the same time she was spending more time with one of my co workers, a 40 something manager who was recently separated from his wife. Alarm bells, anyone?

One day after work the resident office unofficial social director arranged a happy hour. This happened pretty frequently and Jean and I were used to managing being around each other and not being too obvious (or so we thought).

Now I have to take a minute and describe Val. She was another Admin at the office, 26, blonde, face like an angel, built like a playboy bunny, libido like a porn star. She was in the middle of a separation and clearly on the hunt, she also liked living dangerously. She and Jean talked, so in all likelihood she knew about us and knew details.

So I get to the happy hour late, everyone is around a table. Jean makes a point of sitting next to this coworker, they had driven over together, and even an idiot could tell something was going on. I was across from them, and Val was sitting next too me. I was NOT a happy camper, but at the same time I could not even seem to be upset or starting something, I had to hold it together. I entered into the conversation like everything was normal.

So there I am chatting away with the group..

..when I felt a hand on my leg, rubbing it up and down.

Seems that Val was on the prowl.

Holy shit.

So there I am, my wife and kids at home, my girlfriend is sitting with another guy that may very well be my replacement, I am trying to not react to that and now Val is playing with my leg.

And I am getting a hard on.

And there are enough co worker witnesses around that any misstep was going to have employment consequences.

Holy shit, Batman.

So what I did was to keep talking, keep holding it together. I looked at Val, she was grinning from ear to ear. I just kept talking.

Actually I was doing pretty well, that is until her hand moved between my legs and started to gently massage the boys.

At that point, in mid sentence, I gasped. And kept on talking.

Now at this point, Jean figured out what was going on (like no one else did?). She got up and moved to the now empty seat on my left (Val was on my right), sat down, winked and began to play with my other leg. Blonde to the right, brunette to the left, and two hands working back and forth, both getting to the boys, but never at the same time.

I kid you not, this is the god's truth.

In other circumstances I would have been the happiest guy alive. As it was, I was in way over my head and knew it.

"Val, lets go get appetizer for the group"

Whew

We went to the app table and talked. I told her sweetly to back off. She was direct, "she is moving on, Maurice, and I want some..Don't be stupid"

Me "Maybe you are right, but I have to figure this out"

Val "Ok, your loss."

At that point, we went back loaded with food, but the party was breaking up. Jean wound up having me drive her home where we jumped into bed and started fucking like rabbits. Val would up taking the co worker home, she tried to jump his bones, but he was not interested, he had a thing for Jean and apparently she had not been exactly truthful with him about our status.

Yikes.

Needless to say, by summer it had all ended badly. Jean had had enough of waiting, and wanted something, anything to call her own. She started using the co worker to force my hand, but in the end made promises to his heart that she could not break. She dropped me and went on to the coworker, and I had the unimaginable pain of watching her be with him the exact same way she was with me, except it was more in the open. Unfortunately for them, the workgroup was not as kind to them as it had been to us. It is a strange fact that while the work "tribe" seemed to accept Jean and I as a couple, it totally rejected the relationship between Jean and the Coworker. Probably because we had been more discreet, probably too because we had been closer in age, maybe because, as my friend said, all you had to do was look at our eyes and it was clear we were in love. By August she had to quit her job and he was demoted. They married later that year, and three years later were divorced.

Jean broke my heart, and in that heartbreak, my marriage finally crumbled into dust. I had truly fucked myself, there was no refuge at work or at home, and that was a hard summer. I moved out in July, a year later my ex was off to Texas with my daughter and my son and I were settled into the Courtship of Eddie's father. It was years before that wound closed, and frankly I am not sure it healed until the disaster of my later life finally broke and remade me.

And Val? Well, later, when I was single we had a few flings. The sex was amazing, and there was a lot of animal attraction, but we could never get it together. She was always up for sex, at her place, in the car, in my office late at night, but never wanted to go on a date. I am not sure exactly why. Val lived on the edge, severely damaged by events in her early life that she shared with me but that I will not share, out of respect. I will always think fondly of her.

Such is the tragicomedy that we create when we leave our integrity at the door.

Meeting the Martian While Driving Late

Wherein our hero attempts to integrate the perennially disparate components of his life, experience and thought. Syphisian, no doubt, but he has learned to smile.

Ray Bradbury gave me the title of tonight's post. One of my favorites, Bradbury is a poet writing prose, Science Fiction prose. You can taste his words as they ooze like honey from the pages, intoxicated by phrases that have few equals in any literature. There are very few good Sci Fi writers, he is among the best.

In one of the stories in the Martian Chronicles, he describes a late night meeting between a human truck driver and a Martian transport driver on a highway connecting two human settlements on Mars, a Mars of an earlier human conception, where civilization existed, ancient and sublime till it was destroyed by human disease. The meeting crosses the boundaries of time, an intersection of nows that occur when we ignore the illusion of linearity that the universe presents.

So it is with tonight, a late night intersection of time and thought and feeling. I am am alone tonight, Wife is out of town on a business trip, my son is gone to his mother's for the summer and I have the place all to myself. A rare treat, and one that I relish. Don't get me wrong, I love having the Wife about and the kids underfoot, but occasionally the solitude is welcome.

So, update on life. I am spending two hours every morning practicing with the Chinese straight sword, still a beginner, but learning. It is, of course, very different from the rapier, it is a cut and thrust weapon, shorter, but offering more types of moves and varieties of attack. Still, the rapier by nature of its simplicity and reliance on the thrust has significant advantages, and it is not clear to me, in the contest of Musketeer and Jian master, who would prevail. My current favorite is a new purchase from China, biased on a 17th century design. It is heavier than my Damascus blade and has a true point, less quick, not as potentially razor sharp, but with more heft and thrust. Wife has become accustomed to seeing me whirling on the back deck, sword in hand, just as she has accepted that my friend Dick and I suit up once a week in a mad attempt to run each other thru. We all have our quirks, her's is reality TV,mine is edged weapons.

One other thing, I have started the long, slow process of iron palm training. It involves repeatedly striking first a bean bag, then progressing to a gravel bag and finally a bag of steel shot, all the while learing how to direct your chi. The final goal is breaking bricks. I will keep you appraised of progress.

Why, you might ask, all the focus on arts martial and painful. No Virginia, I neither worship at the leather alter of St. Pervertis the Flagellent, nor do I feel the need to play monkey penis games with other men at the local bar.

By now even the most casual of readers can tease the essence of my opinion on the level of control granted to mortals (none, nada, neyt, na, ixnay)and the pain, suffering and misery that said mere mortals bring to themselves when they lose sight of this simple fact. All we ever control is our own actions and reactions(am I not getting annoyingly repetitious, class),and the key to that is a discipline. Spiritual disciplines come in many flavors and forms and I have tried many. I find, in the end, that the martial disciplines, when approached in the right spirit, do the trick.

Swing a sword, save your sanity?

Hmm, note to self, need a better tag line.

Well, off to bed, get sleep while I can. Looks like I am in for another 36 hour marathon tomorrow.

Sleep well

When You Are Held Up As The Standard For Shmoopie

My blogging friend Clariebell over at http://clairebell.blogspot.com (one of these days I will figure out HTML) has posted my poem from my last post on her site and has asked the world to comment on its Shmoopieness. She has also said some very sweet things about it and me, which is very kind. Her blogmate, Frychk, also had nice things to say. I do not know Frychk well, but Clairbell from her writing comes off as authentic, warm and level headed. Fifteen years ago and single and I could see myself writing her a poem or two. As it is, I enjoy my daily visits to her blog.

For the record, I never even heard the term Shmoopie before this, but I have to say that an objective observer would declare me guilty as charged.

It is strange to think of myself as a romantic. I certainly know how to play the game, roses, candlelight, whatever it takes to get her head swimming and her pants off. Many people in my work life think of me as a hard case, partially because I am intense and can be aggressive, partially because I am loud and in part because I am told can look intimidating, though I really do not see it.

Certainly my children have seen my softer side, I am well loved by a great son and two wonderful daughters. I suppose that Wife brings it out in me, I met her after a lot of personal growth, the kind that opens your heart and warms the soul, giving you space to love completely and fearlessly. I am truly open to her, and she to me, and I believe that with attention and work, it will only get better. Writing that poem was some of the easiest writing I have ever done, because it is all true and from the heart.

I am a lucky guy.

Since we are on Clairbell today, I wanted to comment on another post of her's, where she rants at the married women of the world for not caring for their husbands and leaving her to be hit on by one frustrated married man after another. I think it is the companion to another post where she rants at the Married Guys that consistently hit on her, asking for the love they are not getting and mostly interested in making a score.

The tactics of these guys are familiar. Ask 20 women to join you in an affair, 18 will say no (and some will slap you) 1 will laugh, consider it and then recant.

One will say yes.

For women looking to cheat, I am sure it is much easier.

In either event, there are plenty of people out there damaged enough to walk this road. I was damaged enough to walk this road once, and found someone damaged enough to join me. My ex, who clearly was damaged, found another damaged person to share in her little fun on the side.

Clairbell hit the nail on the head when, in her tirade, pointed out the need to control as a primary source of this kind of shennagians. As I get older and (hopefully) smarter, I am increasingly aware just how much misery is created in this world by our pathetic attempts to create an illusion of control, over people, over places situations and things. Most of the trouble that occurs in a marriage between two people who purportedly love each other is generated by the all too avoidable power struggle between two people trying to control the other and the marital situation. Cliche, yes, but unfortunately, all too true.

Every spiritual path that I know and have tried, at its core, is predicated on seeing life for what it is, ultimately uncontrollable by mortals, a mystery without reason or logic. Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, twelve step programs, heck even Jedi theology (which, by the way, is recognized as a religion in the UK) all teach that we are part of the universe, and it does not follow our whims or even our sense of right or wrong.

Jews are prohibited from speaking or knowing the name of God, because to know someone's name in the ancient world gave you power and control over them. By not knowing we acknowlege that we are powerless in the face of the creator, and by extension, powerless in the face of creation.

I could write a book on this and still not say anything original at all, and yet after 30 volumes I would have all of you agreeing and nodding your head, only to go right back to your lives and still attempt to play god, or at least emperor.

My point, you say?

Simply this: If you want a happy marriage, then both of you need to remember

1. You can be right, or you can be in relationship.
2. Let go and trust your feelings
3. Speak your truth, and insist that truth is spoken to you.
4. Do not have control over anything but your self and your own reactions, and that comes only with consistent effort.
5. Deception, anger, fear, only lead to more suffering.

Soap box done.