muster /ˈməstər/ n. A formal gathering of troops, especially for inspection, display, or exercise.
On April 11-13, 2025, I am holding a late 15th century muster near Washington, DC.
There will be pike drill, crossbow shooting, and marching. We will end with a patrol and some antagonistic scenarios. The focus will be on training and development rather than immersion or optics.
The location is Prince William Forest Park, about 1 hour south of Washington, DC.
Kit requirement is late 15th century (1450-1490) from the waist up. Exceptions will be permitted in very limited cases.
Rustic cabins with basic amenities (toilets, showers, running water, electricity) will be available. Bring your own food.
It will be a closed event – admittance will be by application only.
More details later. If you have any preliminary questions, feel free to email me at lin.charles@gmail.com.
This past weekend our group (William Buschur, Marlene Hurst, Michael Creech, Sean Ellis, and me) did a thirty mile march over three days, in late 15th century medieval military equipment. The goal was to demonstrate long distance, sustainable marches over notional medieval infrastructure, in friendly territory, stopping at two structures along the way to spend the night.
The team. Left to right, Marlene Hurst, Michael Creech, Sean Ellis, me (Charles Lin), and William Buschur.
The thesis of this march is that infrastructure determines the parameters of travel, and that by replicating medieval infrastructure we can travel in a way that they did. For example, most road trips today do not carry tents or all of the fuel needed for the trip, because they can rely on motels and gas stations on the roads at regular intervals. Similarly, by traveling on roads that have the same amenities that a medieval road had, we were able to travel mostly equipped as we see in historical depictions of marching soldiers.
The Route and Infrastructure
The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal – not medieval, but also historical!
The march traveled along the towpath of the Chesapeake and Ohio (C&O) Canal, starting from Georgetown and ending at Lockhouse 25, 30 miles (48km) away. The C&O Towpath is an amazing 19th century piece of infrastructure that predates both the automobile and the train. It is flat, runs parallel to the Potomac River, and has many places along the route where fresh water can be acquired. The longest stretch of distance that we were without water was 4.8 miles (7.7km) The C&O Canal also has several primitive lockhouses for rent along its length, which we used as notional inns or friendly accommodations.
By comparison a similar hypothetical march from Altendorf, a town near Nuremberg, to Nuremberg itself, a distance of 30 miles (48km), runs along the Regnitz and Pegnitz rivers, and in the 15th century had a higher density of infrastructure than what we used, based on the named towns we know existed by the late 15th century.
We reserved two lockhouses at mile 8 and 20 (12.9 and 32.2 km) of our march, respectively. These lockhouses had varying levels of technology. The first was constructed in the early 19th century, but was outfitted in the style of the 1930s. It had electricity, water, heat, showers, etc. The second was a very rustic cabin in the style of the 1830s, with no electricity or running water. In both houses, I prohibited the use of artificial light for those tasks that were relevant to the march. Self care, sewing or repair had to be conducted under sun, fire, or candle light. Cooking, light inside the bedroom, restrooms, and navigating near the canal were allowed to use artificial light.
Support Vehicle
This event would not have been possible without Marlene, who was working our modern support vehicle, which had three major roles. First, it replicated a small baggage wagon. Second, it would travel forward to the lockhouses before we arrived and set up the infrastructure that would theoretically already be present for our arrival. Third, it served as a medical/safety vehicle in the event someone could no longer complete the march.
In its first role, the support vehicle as baggage wagon helped reduce the carried load of each person. I instructed every person to keep their baggage as simple as possible – most people were able to get their baggage weight under 15 pounds (6.8kg). This included things like blankets, warm clothing, spare clothing, eating set, and toiletries. For all five of us, I estimate our personal baggage did not weigh more than 100 lbs (45 kg) total.
In its second role, the support vehicle replicated infrastructure that would have already existed before our marching group arrived. Marlene quickly set up a kitchen and prepared meals for us. This service allowed us to not have to count cooking equipment and paraphernalia among our group baggage. We were able to get a hot dinner, a breakfast, and carry a lunch each day.
In its third role, the support vehicle served as a medical/safety vehicle, in the event that someone wasn’t able to complete the march, or to take up gear that was abandoned. This ended up playing a critical role.
Personal Load
Charles
Will
Michael
Sean
Sallet Mail Collar Cuirass
Copper Canteen Belt Purse w/items Pouch w/emergency items Dagger w/sheath
We carried some extra items that we have little historical evidence that soldiers on the march carried. First, we all carried purses that had our cell phones and other small items. These cell phones are not just convenient, but also serve as multifunction safety devices (communication, light, navigation). Our purses also carried a small multitool, a small keychain light, and a lighter (mini-Bic). Second, we all carried approximately .75-1L of water, either in historical containers, or modern containers concealed with a bag. This reflects a modern understanding about dehydration, but given the frequency of water sources along our route, I don’t think it was strictly necessary. In addition, I carried group emergency items on the march: a first aid kit, a radio, a satellite communicator, and a small water filter.
This event was designed to contrast against events where a stationary camp with tents is set up. In America especially, the absence of authentic medieval structures or backdrops means that most events tend to use tents as a shelter and a backdrop for their activities. However, because of the effort needed to set up and break down camp, and because of the valuables left in and around the tent, most activity is subsequently limited to the immediate area of the tent. And, because activities are largely stationary, people are not penalized for bringing along extra, heavy items which they might not need. These compounding factors make marching – perhaps the most quintessential activity of infantry, difficult to accomplish given how events are set up.
Day 1
Shortly before setting out on Day 1.
We had an initial inspection with baggage, and loaded our baggage into the support vehicle. I specified that personal gear went in first, and group baggage went in last. Group baggage always had the “last in first out” rule, because it contained items that would be of critical modern use (first aid kits and radios) and historical use (repair kits, food items). We arranged to rendezvous with Marlene at mile 1 (1.6km). This short distance is a valuable “shake out” opportunity to make immediate gear swaps. Michael ended up immediately ditching his sallet for most of Day 1, and switched to his barbute on Day 2.
Pace. After a slight delay, we (Will, Sean, Michael, and me) departed Georgetown at 9:50am. Our goal pace was 2mph (3.2 kph) including breaks (roughly 2.2 mph (3.5 kph) moving pace), a slow but sustainable pace. We initially went a little too fast from excitement, but quickly found the right pace. We encountered C&O Towpath and encountered many hikers and bicyclists near Georgetown, but did not stop to engage with any. We stopped for a long lunch next to the Potomac River. It was beautiful.
Shortly before lunch along the Potomac River.
Water. In our march, we broke up the distance by intervals between water locations. Generally, this was every 2-3 miles, which meant we did not have to carry much water on us as we went. Rather, we drank as much as we could at each stop, and topped up our containers, which carried .75-1 liters. Given the historical density of towns along our historical analogue route, I think this practice is feasible, and could explain why we rarely see depictions of soldiers carrying water containers. Dehydration was not an issue, but this was also aided by the fact that the temperature was nearly perfect, between 50- and 65 degrees F.
Daylight. We arrived at our first shelter, Lockhouse 10, around 3pm. We had roughly three and a half hours to set up camp before sunset. I had everyone unload baggage – group baggage first, and then personal baggage. We assigned bunks and gear storage locations, and “sanitized” certain portions of the house, removing obviously modern items.
A quick gathering before setting up camp to address priorities.
Afterwards, the priorities for everyone were to take care of their body first (feet, hydration, etc), then their shoes, then their hose, then their weapons and armor, and then everything else. I was generally preoccupied with how much daylight we had left. Once it grew dark, certain tasks, such as sewing, repairs, or foot care, would become harder. In addition, in the dark it would be very easy to misplace and lose things, so I put a lot of effort into organizing our gear while it was still light out.
Gear organized. Will and his gear next to his chair on the left. My gear near the chair on the right. Sean’s is in the far corner on the right.
Three and a half hours turned out to be plenty of time to take care of our needs, and I think most people had taken care of organizing and maintenance tasks by 5:30pm, one hour before sunset (6:30pm). We had a wonderful dinner of venison sausage pottage and apple fennel salad. We had time to learn and play several games of Karnöffel, a very counterintuitive trick-taking game, with a set of Flemish hunting cards.
Playing a game of Karnöffel with Flemish hunting themed playing cards.
Day 2
Stand-to. We started Day 2 with stand-to at sunrise 7:30am, with helmet, sidearm, and weapons. Stand-to was historically to assume a state of readiness in case of dawn or dusk attack. In this case, as we were doing it for the first time as a group, I chose a luxurious sunrise stand-to, rather than an early dawn one.
This is actually the stand-to of the next morning, but you get the idea.
One thing I noted about stand-to was that it gave me an extremely valuable opportunity to either i) immediately launch a morning mission and/or ii) brief everyone in one place about the upcoming day. I found the previous evening that when everyone was busy taking care of tasks, it was hard to collectively brief everyone on new information. Designated group meeting opportunities, even if brief, gave me a valuable chance to efficiently address everyone at once.
It allowed me to discuss the parameters of the upcoming march, which would inform individual equipment selection. I did not micromanage everyone’s gear, but rather gave them information about the length and terrain of the march, the temperature, the known water points, and expected pace, and let them make their own decisions.
Support Vehicle. At mile 5 (8km) of Day 2, Michael’s ankle was troubling him. He had injured it about a year ago, and it was bothering him as we continued along the rocky roads. He decided to not continue the march – Marlene picked him up at Great Falls Visitor Center, which was mile 13 (20.9km) overall, and he supported Marlene with her work. This episode highlighted the importance of having the support vehicle – it allowed us to push our limits safely, while also having a backup plan in case it was too much.
We also ran into a lot of people near Great Falls, who usually had some throwaway remark as we passed by. We usually ignored them and never stopped to chat, as public education isn’t really one of our goals, and we had pace goals to make.
A much needed rest at Swain’s Lock.
During the second half of march on Day 2, our pace began to slow. We stopped at Swain’s Lock at Mile 10 of 12, where we ran into the local paramedics and a swift boat rescue team. They asked for our picture in their boat- we indulged them because we were resting at the time, and we figure it wouldn’t hurt to have them friendly to us in case we got into trouble later on.
InstagramReality
We got into Lockhouse 22 with roughly 2 hours of daylight left. We were exhausted, but I made sure we set up our camp as well as we could and were taking care of the priorities we established the night before. I imagine that as time wore on, fatigue, reduced camp discipline, and chaos can compound each other, so it was important to constantly exert effort to stay organized and prioritize critical tasks.
Lockhouse 22 was very rustic – we had a simple but delicious meal, a bean stew with kale and smoked trout made by Marlene. We were too beat for cards after dinner, and went straight to bed.
A cozy outdoor meal next to a fire pit.
Day 3
Stand-to was at 7am, about half an hour before the sun rose. Everyone was on time and properly equipped. Will, Sean, and I were very beat up, but otherwise okay to continue. Our pace started around 1.9 mph (3.1 kph), but descended to about 1.5 mph (2.4 kph) by the end.
Wearily trudging along.
Music. To take our mind off of the pain, we began singing songs to each other. It really helped to pass the time, and I can understand the psychological need for music. We didn’t necessarily look for historical songs, but rather songs that were consistent with our emotional state. Sometimes they were songs about dreary work, bad life decisions and regrets. Other times they were upbeat songs about better days or victory, or nonsensical repetitive mantras.
Locals. On Day 3, we ran into a man named Young, a Korean cyclist who asked about what we were up to during our break. We told him what we were up to, and he seemed interested in helping – I asked him for as much information about the road and water conditions up ahead. He knew the area very well and told us that one of the water sources we were counting on was not potable (we used a backpacking filter there).
This interaction felt very organic, and I imagine that in friendly territory, one can get very good, up to date, local information about the condition of roads, water sources, and rest stops. Even in hostile territory, it could still theoretically be possible to coerce locals into providing information or other assistance (shelter, food, etc.), albeit less reliably. This is one aspect of infrastructure I had not accounted for, because I had planned the route with the luxury of reams of online information. In addition to water, food, and shelter along most roads, there are people there with detailed, current information that can make travel a lot easier and more predictable.
The last pic on the march, roughly one more mile left.
We reached Lockhouse 25, Mile 10 (16.1 km) for the day, and mile 30 (48.3 km) overall, at 6:20pm as the sun was setting. Unfortunately this was roughly 3 hours after we had planned to arrive. We had initially thought that perhaps we would rest for a few hours and then do a five mile night march to reach another waypoint, White’s Ferry, before heading home. Will and Marlene had scouted the road the previous night, and established that there was enough moonlight and light pollution to safely walk the towpath (without falling into the canal and drowning). While the three of us were physically capable of continuing, I decided that the responsible decision was to call it good at 30 miles.
On Planning Challenging Things
As we grew more tired and as it grew darker and colder, the probability of critical mistake – misplaced gear or a twisted ankle, a fall in the canal was rising. (For example, I forgot my canteen on the morning of Day 3. Luckily Marlene found it and got it to us before we left.) Additionally, our general capacity to handle emergencies and unexpected developments, which I shorthand as “headroom” was diminishing. Our support vehicle had one less slot because Michael was riding with Marlene. Our trail had spotty cell reception, and we established the radios we were carrying had an effective range of less than two miles. Night time meant that emergencies would be exacerbated by the cold, and that there would be fewer (if any) hikers on the trail if we were in an emergency.
Will caught me in a moment of contemplation on the second night, as I was considering our diminishing headroom.
I think this is an important lesson for people who are reading this and thinking of doing something similar. If you are planning challenging or dangerous things and bringing other people along, you are responsible for their safety. It’s not just important to have plans for specific emergencies (injuries, medical emergencies, evacuation, nonpotable water), but to also constantly assess how your general capacity to address unforeseen emergencies changes throughout an event.
Lessons Learned
Our goal was to demonstrate long distance sustainable movement, and we got a lot of great information about this task. At our current state, I don’t think 30 miles in 3 days was a sustainable pace for us, with our load and condition. I think with some small tweaks, 8 miles per day would be perfectly doable almost immediately. Our main limiting factor was our bodies, in a few, specific ways.
The road was very rough on all of our lower joints, especially our feet. All of us had achy feet by the end of the march, a combination of the rocky, uneven road we walked on, and our load. Michael made the prudent decision to bow out on Day 2 to preserve his ankle, and the distance wore on Will’s foot the most on Day 3. We spent a lot of time talking about shoes – we nearly all agreed turnshoes with a reinforced, more rigid sole would be enormously valuable.
Sean felt the load on his shoulders, as he was using a new breastplate that was slightly too loose at the hips. However, neither Will (with a haubergeon) nor I (with cuirass) felt shoulder pain. A lot of my background preparation involves rucking in modern gear, which likely helped me avoid shoulder fatigue.
However, I suffered from three very large, bloody blisters. I was the only one using footed hose – and the seams at the foot, combined with not enough miles in that specific hose and shoe combination, led to large, bloody blisters on my feet. I lanced and drained them every day, and they were painful but manageable. (One other downside of footed hose is that it is very difficult to easily check your feet.) I could probably keep going on them, but it certainly would not be sustainable.
For the runup to this, I had the bad idea of trying to “save” my shoe leather by using modern minimalist ones – I know now that if I were to take long distance marching seriously, I should invest in being able to replace shoe soles (either by myself or professionally), to be able to condition my feet to the specifics of my shoe and hose. However, medieval people with their premodern lifestyle likely had much tougher feet than me, a modern desk-bound civil servant, and we are not even comparing to professional soldiers or other physically demanding professions. So, I admit that there’s a level of fidelity that I will never be able to replicate. This has me thinking about what compromises are acceptable to me, to account for the fact that I don’t have (and never will have) the feet of someone who walks everywhere every day. For example, I could switch to stirrups on my hose, and use modern socks, which could mitigate some of the problems I faced.
Sean adjusting Will’s shirt. The march showed us the immense value in being able to kit up independently.
Generally our gear held up just fine. Will and Sean didn’t change our loadouts at all. My only critical gear failure – I switched from historical underwear to modern underwear because of chafing in my nether regions. However, Michael had a few gear failures as he was testing newer or self-made items. We quickly realized the importance of being able to gear up independently, and we are all now prioritizing efficient, self-sufficient kits with both hands free for this type of event. We were able to repair and maintain our gear on the march during down time. I believe we all repaired or patched hose in our downtime – I patched a hole in my toe, and added extra wool to the insole of my shoes. Will repaired the stitching of his turnshoe and it held up fine.
Next Time
I’m planning to do it again in 2026. We’ll aim for a slightly reduced pace over four days, and the goal is for it to feel like a sustainable pace, an enough-time-to-play-cards-after-dinner pace. If it is too easy, we can always add on a forced march or a night march.
It has been a while! I know I haven’t posted in a while, but I’ve definitely been very busy. I’ve generally tried to show my projects to a closed set of friends and acquaintances, but I’ve encountered enough of you that knew me by this blog alone to reconsider how useful this might be to the broad public. So, I interrupt my public post hiatus to talk about this – the final form of my harness! I hope to follow up with more posts here to catch you all up soon.
This is the “final” form of my armor, made by Josh Davis of Davis Reproductions in St. Paul, Minnesota. It is based on the statue of St. Florian at the St. Wolfgang Altarpiece by Michael Pacher in St. Wolfgang im Salzkammergut, Austria.
Exchanged: Sallet and bevor.Exchanged: Sallet, spaulders, rerebraces.
In addition to the armor seen on the statue, it also has exchange pieces of a foot combat helmet, visored sallet, bevor, spaulders and rerebraces.
September 2022September 2023September 2024
The process, from initial decisions to the final plating, took three and a half years, and went through three broad phases. In the first phase, I got arms, gauntlets, legs, and a foot combat helmet, and used a brigandine from Aleksey Perebeynos and spaulders from Jeff Wasson. In the second phase, all of the steel components were complete and hardened. And in the third phase, select components were brassed, and trim was applied. The long development phase, over many visits to Minnesota, allowed me to make multiple tweaks and adjustments as I used them.
The floral besagews and gilded elements are the most distinctive elements of the original, and we’ve tried to retain those elements in brass, with the exception of the smaller knuckle gadlings, and some small details on the back. Despite the appearance of the statue in its current state, the black appearance is not original. Rather, it is oxidized silver.
Koller, Manfred/Wibiral, Norbert : Der Pacher-Altar in St.Wolfgang. Untersuchung, Konservierung undRestaurierung. 1969-1976, Wien 1981, fig. 6, 7.
Records of the original commission for the shrine state,
“Item aussen zw den seyten der tafel sullen steen sand Florian und sand Jorig, guet wappner versilbert und vergolt nach notturft.“
“Item on the side of the shrine shall stand Saint Florian and Saint George, well armed, silvered and gilded as necessary.”
For my right gauntlet, Josh made a special joined section for my fourth and fifth fingers, to reinforce and support the crooked pinky finger on my right hand. It works like a dream, and I wish more people would notice it and the work that Josh put into it – the big tragedy is that he did such a good job matching the aesthetics that almost nobody sees this unique feature unless they are told about it.
In addition to the main harness, I have a closed sallet, in the style of the ones owned by Maximilian currently at the Met, but designed by Josh to be aesthetically consistent with the main harness. These have added perforated plate over the face, to allow me to fight in the visor open style I am used to, and seen in many fechtbucher. The visored sallet and bevor are designed to match the closed sallet in style and shape.
Last, my overall body shape and proportions are very different from the St. Florian statue. For this, I deferred to Josh heavily, trusting his eye and judgment to make an armor that would be functional and aesthetically pleasing. Overall, our philosophy has been to take the statue as inspiration, and follow it closely, while making minor changes to acknowledge the person wearing it, and how it would be used.
I consider myself extremely lucky to be working with Josh. He and I have very similar philosophies on armor, art, and history, and being able to meet an armorer face to face over an extended period of time means that this work feels like a joint expression of what we love about history. This armor represents the culmination of years of work, and decades of dreaming, and I consider it an enormous honor to breathe life into his work.
I made a second, improved mail collar, using a lot of the knowledge I gained from my previous mail collar, which I described here. The main goal of this project was to recreate the aesthetic and protective qualities of historical mail collars, as best as possible using commercially available rings.
This collar uses a 6-in-1 weave of 6mm dome riveted round rings throughout the neck, with a top row of 6mm flat dome riveted brass rings with steel rivets. The neck portion has roughly 1200 riveted rings. The bib portion of the collar uses alternating solid and flat 6mm dome riveted rings.
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While the 6-in-1 weave in the neck is relatively rare for European mail, the use of 6-in-1 compensates for the fact that historical mail collars have “low aspect ratio” rings, not seen on modern commercial replicas. Low aspect ratio rings have thicker wires relative to the inner diameter of the ring, likely for strength and to reduce initial penetration of any weapon given the critical parts in the neck that lie close to the surface of the skin.
In addition, these low aspect ratio rings give historical collars a stiff feel when woven in the usual 4-in-1. This stiffness allows historical collars to remain close to the skin, while climbing further up the neck, which I call the “high and tight” look. In contrast, modern commercial replicas do not have the low aspect ratio rings necessary to achieve this stiffness, and when woven in 4-in-1, usually use a stiff fabric or leather backing to get high up on the neck. However, this backing causes the neck to look puffy, and makes the collar hot to wear.
Mail standard (c. 1350), British MuseumMail shirt (1450-1500), Royal Armouries
The use of 6-in-1 for modern rings increases the protection, and improves the aesthetics and comfort. While most historical collars are made of low aspect ratio rings woven 4-in-1, there are two examples of 6-in-1 weave. One is a standard at the British Museum, and the other is a vest at the Royal Armouries. It reveals that these makers were concerned about protection and/or aesthetics even though they only had ordinary rings, and used a relatively rare weave to achieve the properties they wanted for that piece of armor.
This project was interesting to me because it uses a relatively rare construction method to achieve protective and aesthetic properties that are common in historical examples – properties that are absent in most modern replicas that use a historically correct weave but unsuitable rings. I think it is the best that one can do with commercially available rings – any further improvements would require making or purchasing custom rings. Overall, I’m very happy with how this thing turned out, and I look forward to stress testing it.
Other Stuff
Compared to the last collar, I made several improvements.
The neck is constructed of full 6-in-1 weave, rather than alternating rows of 6-in-1 and 4-in-1. Last time, I misjudged my ability to speedweave 6-in-1, because the solid flat rings took up too much space inside of each ring. I had to compromise and alternate each row of 6-in-1 with a row of 4-in-1 to join them together. With the latest collar, I used round cross-section rings, which took up less space inside of each ring, and allowed me to achieve a full 6-in-1 weave.
There is a row of flat brass rings on top. This would not ordinarily be worth noting, except because the rings are flat, they take up a lot of space inside the rings at the top. They alter the feel of the weave near the top compared to the bottom of the neck. In addition, I doubt I’d be able cram an extra row of brass rings on top.
I modified the placement of the mail expansions at the shoulder, so they coincided with where my trapezius attached to my neck. This should help the mail lie flat and reduce bunching or constrictions.
For more details on construction and finishing, check out the article on my previous collar, here.
I made a mail collar with a dense weave and a slim neck profile, to achieve the aesthetic and protective qualities of historical mail collars.
The neck portion is made with three bands of 6-in-1 weave, joined by 4-in-1 rows. The bib portion is in 4-in-1, and scavenged from the last collar I made. All rings are riveted or solid 6mm inner diameter. A 2 inch velvet ribbon is sewn into the collar as a liner. A small gap in the liner stitching permits a kydex trauma plate to be concealed for modern sportive protection. A single buckle closes at the back, but I might add points or hooks later.
Today, nearly all modern mail collars are 4-in-1 weave, with relatively loose (“high aspect ratio”) rings. This weave does not stand up on its own, so modern people tend to add additional layers of fabric or leather to the liner to stiffen the collar. This does make the collar stand up and adds blunt trauma protection to the throat for modern sportive uses, but also severely distorts the aesthetics, and looks ungainly. The thickness of the liner in relation to its stiffness also limits how high the collar can go, which makes the “high and tight” look seen on many depictions of mail collars not achievable.
The goal for this project was to achieve this “high and tight” look. This collar has three bands of 6-in-1 weave, which is much denser than most modern mail. The high density in the weave allows the mail to stand up on its own, and also provides much more protection to a critical area like the throat. I think the results, both aesthetic and protective, are pretty conclusive.
This project has two major compromises.
First, the additional density of the neck portion of this collar is achieved by 6-in-1 weave. This type of weave is extremely rare for medieval Europe, and there is only one mail collar that has a 6-in-1 weave, at the British Museum. Most other collars achieve higher densities by increasing the thickness of the rings, in relation to the inner diameter of the hole (chunkier, “low aspect ratio” rings).
British Museum 6-in-1 mail collar example
I’m okay with this compromise, though. Using chunkier, low aspect ratio rings in a 4-in-1 weave would require either making my own rings, or ordering custom rings, drastically increasing the cost of this project. Critics who might claim the only “correct” way is to use 4-in-1 weave with the looser, modern rings tend to ignore the other compromises it necessitates – thick ahistorical liners, poor protection to the critical portions of the throat from piercing, and ugliness.
4-in-1 vs. 6-in-1/4-in-1 hybrid
The second compromise bugs me more. I wasn’t able to use 6-in-1 weave through the entire neck portion, like in the British Museum example, and had to alternate between bands of 6-in-1 and 4-in-1 weave. This compromise is entirely my fault, because I speed-wove the bands of 6-in-1 with flat solid rings at the edges, without verifying that I could join them together. It turned out, I could not. If I were to do this again in the future, I would make it entirely of riveted round rings, as these are more likely to support 6-in-1 throughout the entire neck portion. The end result would be even closer to historical examples, and an extremely good replica of the British Museum example.
Kydex trauma plate slot at the bottom of the neck.
Last, concealed armor is kind of my thing, so I hid armor inside my armor – a modern feature I included was a gap in the liner stitching for a kydex trauma plate to protect the throat. I intend to use this collar in modern armored fencing practice and tournaments, and it will serve as backup protection in case a point slips between my brigandine/cuirass and my bevor. The kydex plate is nearly invisible, and is actually installed in all of the pictures you see. It can be removed, and the gap in the lining stitching at the base of the neck is barely noticeable to even the wearer.
Overall, I’m very happy with how this collar turned out. I think it captures a lot of the physical and protective properties I was looking for, it suits my needs very well, and most importantly – I like how it looks. If you’re interested in trying something like this, check out Isak Krogh’s paper first. I have an article on how I tailored an older version of this collar which you can use for details on the bib portion, and there are many websites on how to do a six-in-1 weave.
I made a 31+ layer jack, styled in a fashionable 15th century shape, covered in red silk/rayon velvet and decorated with gold deerskin. In addition, it has a total of 57 layers over the sternum, and 85 layers of linen over the heart. The construction is inspired by several survivals and documents, but isn’t a precise recreation of any specific one. There are some modern compromises to its construction, but I primarily made it to demonstrate three things:
31+ layers of fabric can be made into practical armor while retaining a fashionable shape.
Layered textile armor does not necessarily have to be visibly quilted.
Layered textile armor can have the same structured shapes as plate armor.
This is a quick write-up of how I made a mail collar patterned after one found in Veste Coburg, documented by Isak Krogh. The goal was to make a collar that could replicate the “high and tight” look of 15th century collars, where the mail rides up the neck, very close to the skin. Alone, it is not suitable for harness tournaments, but a trauma plate can easily be stuffed underneath for throat protection.
It’s intended for someone who already has basic mail and sewing skills, but wants a more historical shape and pattern for their collar. The general approach is to take a premade sheet of Indian 6mm ID dome riveted mail, cut pieces of it out like fabric, and stitch them back together.
This collar differs from the original in several important ways. First, the links around the neck in the original have a much thicker wire, causing the neck to be stiffer and stand up easier. The replica will not have this difference in mail, and the mail of the neck will be the same as that of the shoulders. This causes some puckering at the neck, but can be mitigated by the tension of the fabric on the neck. However, the overall appearance of this collar is much closer to 15th century collars, and is better than most replicas available today.
Beginning
The starting materials are a 20″x20″ square of 6mm ID dome riveted mail, purchased from Allbeststuff.com. In addition, for the liner, I used a layer of 10 oz linen for the exterior, mail-facing side, and 5 oz linen for the liner.
I will assume that you have the necessary tools to work mail and linen. Generally, you’ll need to cut and set rivets in the mail, and be able to sew fabric, either by hand or machine, and do some basic hand stitching. If you’re uncertain as to what those are or what equipment will be needed, I suggest you find a more introductory tutorial and start there first.
Mail
Pictured above we have an image of ___ from Isak Krogh’s paper, ____. In the collar, you can see three regions of tailoring, marked by red tape. The left and right regions have two columns of what Krogh calls “full expansions,” where a straight grain meets a 45 degree edge of mail. The center seam is what Krogh calls a “double expansion,” where two 45 degree edges of mail meet each other. This generates two columns of expansion rings stacked on top of each other.
Our general approach for tailoring will be to take a rectangle, cut slits in the bottom where the body is, insert triangular gores into the slits (seen here in green), and restitch the mail back together.
Above you can see the major components cut out. Just a general reminder to check the grain before cutting pieces, and that rings overlap in the same direction. Mail is like fabric, in that there is a orientation to it. Not only is there an orientation to the mail, but the grain moves in a direction, which is determined by which ways the rings overlap.
The easiest pieces to attach, which we will do first, are the outer triangles. They are the easiest because the seam runs across the rows with no expansions, so this should be a decent test of basic mail weaving skills before moving onto harder seams.
Here the outer triangles have been added, and the center slit has been cut for the insertion of the two center gores. The slit was cut out with an extra row, because of the additional space needed for the extra seams between the gores.
Here the two center gores have been added. This center seam is the hardest one to weave. Two 45 degree pieces join at the center, which necessitates a higher density of idle rings. I’m not 100% sure I got it right, but I stacked my expansions on top of each other, and the result looks decent.
Here you can see the start of the shaping. The body portion of the collar has more rings, and so can cover a much larger area than the neck portion.
The side gores are inserted into the cut. I was not precise about the precise placement of these. I just eyeballed it by looking at the original picture, and just made sure that the placement was symmetric. Generally, I aimed to place these gores roughly over the top of the trapezius muscle at the base of the neck.
The completed mail, next to the original. You can even see the grain changes, which roughly correspond to those of the original. Again, the density of the rings in the neck is not correct, but the overall shape of the mail is correct.
Liner
I cut two strips of linen (10 oz and 5 oz) to use as a liner, on the bias, shaped in the pattern seen above. The reason for this curve is the fact that the base of the trapezius at the neck sits much higher than the bottom of the neck in front, and we want our collar to reflect that. I cut this pattern “on the bias,” which means that the pattern is oriented 45 degrees with the grain. This permits some elasticity in the collar, and I sewed the two pieces together with a stretch stitch on my sewing machine. I’m still testing out to what extent this actually matters for the drape of the collar at the neck, but I’m pretty sure it hasn’t harmed the final product. I turned the liner right side out and finished the side edges. If I had to do this again, I’d use red for the lining, and black on the exterior mail facing side.
I then whipstitched the mail onto the liner. I sewed a 20″ collar onto a 16″ liner, by pushing the rings closer to each other as I sewed. I believe this is critical, because if one were to instead stretch the mail before sewing it to the liner, any elasticity or stretch at the neck would be loaded onto the mail rather than the fabric. Because mail is not very elastic, and is completely rigid once it reaches its maximum span, it will not be as comfortable at the neck.
Schwarz, zwei goldene ausgerottet Linden (Black, two golden linden trees eradicated)
I decided to make a coat of arms. I hope to participate in harnischfechten tournaments, and it’s encouraged in some events to have one. In addition, I’ve been wanting to update the look of my gear, and it would be good to reference a coat of arms or colors of some sort. In designing one, I had several historic considerations that shaped my decision process, which I think differs from how most other people approach this.
Late 16th century hat, in the style of those seen in the Meyer rapier section, for Adam Franti.
The fabric is a super chonky 24 oz. 100% wool broadcloth, all hand-sewn. The pleats and the thick fabric give the hat structure and shape, but also allow it enormous flexibility in the shape it can take. It can be reshaped to stand short or tall, and also shrink or expand.
The brim is short, and stuffed with cotton, to give it a stiff, crisp look to contrast with the more casual pleats. The brim and pleats give the hat many natural places to place a feather.
Late sixteenth century style isn’t naturally my thing, but in making this hat, and thinking about “how” to wear it, the aesthetic has grown on me tremendously. It reminds me of WMAW 2019’s Saturday night feast, where Adam and I, in the garb of our respective time periods, talked to each other about the importance of clothing and aesthetics. Not for utilitarian reasons (e.g., turnshoes change everything), but because it visually demonstrates that we’re willing to be consumed by the aesthetics of the past, even if it conflicts with our own. I’m super proud of this hat and sad to see it go, but I know it will look amazing on Adam’s head.
…
*whispers* Also here’s a supersneaky detachable mail cap that can be sewn inside.
I constructed a sleeveless jack to be worn as a standalone textile armor. It consists of many layers of linen, fustian, hemp, and silk, loosely quilted together. It does not match any specific source, but is somewhere in between several text descriptions and a survival of fabric defenses of jacks and doublets of fence. I don’t consider this super high quality work from a historic perspective and has a few flaws, but it has given me a lot to think about, and identified future problems I’ll need to tackle.
First, to fix nomenclature, I will use the word “jack” to refer to a layered textile armor either worn “standalone,” armor primarily worn alone, or “in conjunction,” primarily worn with other defenses. This is in contrast to stuffed or padded armors, which would be called something else. In addition, “doublet of fence” shows up in sources – I interpret that to be a garment that has been armored up, and is used in a manner more similar to clothing, but that is my own interpretation and not necessarily standard.
Sources
I referred to several sources when referring to construction. I’ll first cover the sources, and then describe the design and construction process.
Ordinances of Louis XI, 1461-1483 (“Louis XI Ordinance”).
A detailed description of a sleeved jack for use by French archers, and their protective qualities.
Ordinance of Charles the Bold, 1473 (“Charles the Bold Ordinance”).
The Ordinance of St. Maximin de Tréves: October 1473 (link).
Description of a ten-layer jack to be worn over a sleeveless mail shirt or brigandine.
Howard Household Book, 1464 (“Howard Accounts”).
Excerpt from Robert Reed Jr., “Armour Purchases and and Lists from the Howard Household Books,” Journal of the Mail Research Society, July 2003. (link)
A description of the purchases for a “doublet of fence” possibly for use by John Howard, Duke of Norfolk. Contains references to Scottish and Welsh jacks as well, but provides no detail on their construction.
Rothwell Jack, c. 14th century Rothwell, Leeds, England, Holy Trinity Church.
Rothwell Jack
A surviving jack in Holy Trinity Church in Rothwell, England. Estimated to be from the 14th century.
A great text description of the garment can be found in “Clothing the Past: Surviving Garments from Early Medieval to Early Modern Western Europe,” by Elizabeth Coatsworth and Gale Owen-Crocker.
Analysis
Thickness
Louis XI Ordinance suggests “25-30 linens and a buckskin,” with “the sleeves as strong as the body.” Louis writes “never have been seen half a dozen men killed by blows or by arrows in jacks like this, especially if they are men well accustomed to fighting.” Each layer of linen was likely thin, as Louis suggests “Used and moderately worn (déliées) linens are the best.” I believe he is referring to used shirt-weight linens. The text suggests that these are standalone jacks, not intended to be used in conjunction with any other armor.
The Howard Accounts suggest 18 folds of fustian, 4 of linen, and covering of black fustian . On the back, 16 folds of fustian, 4 of linen. On the sleeves, 6 folds fustian, 2 linen, 1 black fustian covering. This is for a “doublet of fence,” a term which is distinct in the Howard Accounts from Scottish and Welsh Jacks, so the philosophy of its use may differ from that of a standalone jack. Nevertheless, these numbers would provide a data point for a lower bound for the thickness of a standalone jack.
The Charles the Bold Ordinance suggests a jack of ten layers to be worn with a sleeveless mail shirt or brigandine. It’s not clear if this jack is sleeved or not, the specific materials, but it gives us a data point that ten layers is considered appropriate in-conjunction with maille or brigandine.
The Rothwell Jack is comprised of 11 layers of alternating wool and linen. It’s not clear the philosophy of the Rothwell Jack’s use, but based on the Charles the Bold Ordinance’s suggestion of ten layers, it is likely intended to be used in conjunction with some other defense.
This set of sources suggests at least two dozen layers of linen or fustian is sufficient for a standalone defense, while roughly ten to eleven layers is appropriate for an in-conjunction defense.
Cut
The Louis XI Ordinance gives details on the cut of the jack, suggesting the wide arm holes of the “grand-assiette” pattern. However, the Rothwell Jack has a much broader cut at the chest, and the armholes are small around the shoulder. How do we reconcile this difference?
First, note that the Louis XI jack is sleeved, so it’s possible it’s cut this way because gaps left by the grand assiette are covered by the sleeves, which, again, are “as strong as the body.” In contrast, the Rothwell Jack does not have evidence of attached sleeves, and so as a sleeveless jack would be cut to maximize protection near the shoulder.
However, it might be that these cuts might reflect the fashion of the time, as well, and the grand assiette cut of the Louis XI jack might reflect late 15th c. preferences for the cut of a garment, while the Rothwell Jack might reflect 14th c. tastes.
Another difference – Louis XI and Howard refer to “quarters” of the jack, which suggests that the jacks are constructed with four panels, two in the front and two in the back. However, the Rothwell Jack has three panels, one rear and two front. My preference is for the four panel construction, as it matches the cut of a doublet, and the sources that reference quarters are closer to my time period.
Construction
The Rothwell Jack gives us the most detail on construction. First, the inner padding is basted together with running stitches running horizontally. I didn’t realize it when making mine, but the direction of these stitches is important given the final curvature of each panel. Stitching along the direction of curve allows the layers to slip past each other and distribute tension along the thread, while a perpendicular stitch does not.
Second, the interior padding is not quilted through to the outer covering, nor the interior lining. I cannot determine precisely how the padding is fixed to the covering, or whether it is at all. It could be attached at the seams, or the padding could be free floating and
I think this is a very important detail. It means that a jack of this construction would be visually nearly indistinguishable from ordinary clothing, save for its thickness. Even then, it might not be distinguishable from clothing padded for thermal reasons. This is important because people have largely identified textile defenses in artwork based on the quilting visible on garments. However, this method of construction suggests that textile defenses might just look like ordinary clothing.
Person A is clearly wearing a quilted defense in conjunction with maille, but it is possible that B and/or C may be wearing textile armors as well. Hans Memling, Shrine of St. Ursula, 1489.
The Rothwell Jack has eyelets sewn into the left panel of the CF edge, but not the right. The Louis XI Ordinance describes a collar and porte-piece as strong as the body, while other sources do not mention these additions, and the Rothwell Jack has no evidence of these.
Build
Right Front Panel. Fustian, linen, silk.
The ingredients. The main ingredients for this jack are several yards of spare fabric I had lying around, and several aborted doublet attempts. These include a few yards of 5-7 oz linen, some 10 oz black fustian, some 5 oz hemp/silk blend, unusable because of an ahistoric pattern. The aborted doublets were constructed of the previously mentioned linen and an 11 oz hemp.
Wanting to use panels from my aborted doublets made me prefer the slimmer grand assiette cut described by Louis XI, even though I wasn’t sure (and still am not) if I would add sleeves. I had been sitting on the idea for this project for weeks, so I decided to just start sewing, and learn what I could.
Louis XI suggests using used linens, so it’s possible that a jack is just one point in the life cycle of a piece of fabric, which would bring down its cost significantly. Historically, I suspect they just sent all of their used shirt and braies linens into their jack. The Rothwell Jack shows evidence of scraps of linen being sewn together to make the padding. I think a few people wearing through a few shirts and braies a year could provide enough material for a jack. There’s something deeply undignified about wearing armor made out of your family’s used underwear. However, for me, in my modern context, this jack will basically consume all of my failed tailoring attempts or misguided fabric purchases. As my failures increase, the jack grows stronger.
The panels. The interior construction is similar to the Rothwell Jack, but lazier. I loosely basted the layers together near the edges. In retrospect, this was a bad idea, and I should ( and will) take the time to properly quilt in the manner of the Rothwell Jack. Horizontal running stitches with higher stitch density.
Basting stitches around the edges. This is less than ideal, next time I’ll redo it with horizontal running stitches running across the entire panel.
The interior left front panel is made of roughly 24 layers – 16 linen, 8 hemp/silk. The interior right front panel is made of roughly 20 layers – 4 fustian, 8 linen, 8 hemp silk. Fewer layers were used because the fustian is much heavier. The interior rear panels are both 8 linen and 8 hemp/silk. The right front panel, with the fustian, is the most uncomfortable. Thick, canvas weight cloth wrinkles and is too stiff to conform to my body, while the panels consisting of thinner layers are much softer. However, this may just be an issue with the stitching pattern, which I hope to rectify in the future.
Left front Panel. 16 layers of linen, 8 layers of hemp/silk, 2 layers linen canvas shell.
The shell. The outer covering is 10 oz linen canvas, and is essentially just a bag that holds the interior panels, much the same way a modern ballistic vest’s outer shell holds interior Kevlar panels. The Rothwell Jack has similar details, of an internal quilted set of layers, but with the quilting stitching hidden by an exterior shell. I added a few hidden backstitches to stabilize the internal panel to the shell, and the eyelets also stabilize the panel.
The cut. As mentioned, I settled on the slimmer grand assiette cut, mainly because I wanted this jack to utilize the fabric from my failed arming doublet attempts. These doublets had the grand assiette cut as well, so it simply made sense at the time. In addition, I wasn’t sure whether I would settle at a sleeveless version, or add sleeves to try to make it resemble the Louis XI jack.
The cut is a bit too slim, which means that the large holes at the arms leave large portions of my torso exposed. However, given that the cut matches those of the torso panels for a doublet, I think it gets some style points.
The fastenings. I sewed a set of eyelets through all of the layers of the fabric. It was a pain in the ass, but it was doable.
In the future, I would likely alter the left front panel so that a placket extends out over the CF seam. This placket will be unpadded, but have sewn eyelets. On the right panel, I’ll sew points or leather laces down to the outer fabric, which I can loop through the eyelets.
Summary
Overall, I like this jack, but it’s still got outstanding issues. Things I like:
Extremely soft. It’s like wearing an arrow-proof pillow.
Fashion. I genuinely prefer the look of this cut over the Rothwell Jack or some other cut with more coverage.
Function. The grand assiette cut means my arms are completely unimpeded.
Warmth.
However, a lot of things still bug me, some of which I hope to fix:
The questionable nature of the “floating” panels.
The cut might be too slim and not have enough coverage. This I can’t correct directly, but if I add sleeves it will definitely no longer be an issue.
Incorrect basting stitches and the use of thick fabrics make panels, especially the right front, buckle and wrinkle.
I’d like to add a placket and/or porte piece to improve front seam coverage. Maybe a collar.
Practice and Art 