Beneath the towering concrete trunks of the Rockridge BART station in Oakland, Pleasanton resident Dr. Robert Holland dons chain mail and plated armor as he takes up his alter-ego, Prince of the Mists, a title he’s claimed through combat.
Holland is one of the longest-tenured members of the Society for Creative Anachronism, an international organization that grew out of the Bay Area nearly 60 years ago. The local chapter encourages members to study the Middle Ages, practice medieval arts and fight with honor when they meet each Thursday in a clandestine corner of the BART parking lot.
The SCA’s melees paved the way for modern LARPing, or Live Action Role Playing, a recreational game where participants portray characters in a fictional setting often set in a medieval universe. The players are encouraged to wear costumes, use props and speak the parlance of the era during pre-determined campaigns.
SCA members are focused more on historical accuracy than LARPers, but they acknowledge the Rockridge BART station is an odd juxtaposition to the Medieval activities happening below.
“We are out of place and time,” said Holland. “I’ve been coming to practice at this particular place since 1981. When it started out, it was a bunch of college students and science fiction writers and computer programmers.”
Since the heralded First Tournament on May 1, 1966, in Berkeley, SCA has grown into an international organization with over 30,000 members. The “Known World,” as it’s called by the SCA, makes up every chapter across the globe, spanning across North America, Europe, Australia and parts of Asia and Africa. Holland rules the Kingdom of Caid, a domain that spreads across the Bay Area to Nevada and down to Monterey and includes a few thousand members of the group. SCA has 30,000 members worldwide.
“We learned (medieval ways) as we studied it more,” Holland said. “Our group is sort of unique in that we say, ‘Let’s not just read about what they did. Let’s try to do.’ ”
SCA members are encouraged to educate themselves on all aspects of living in the pre-1700s, whether that involves sewing, calligraphy or illumination, Holland said. A dozen or more members meet weekly under the yellow fluorescence of aging BART station lights, and the Dark Ages come alive.
Dueling, however, is still the main event.
Princes, knights and other combatants wear layers of protection before they embark on combat, said Oakland resident and squire David Enoch Bailey. Elbow pads lie underneath leather forearm guards. Thick panels of metal body armor cover chain mail cloaks. Cottony coifs cushion 12-pound helmets. These pieces of armor, Bailey said, mitigate the vast majority of injuries from swift rattan wood sword melees.
“We do a full contact honor-based system,” Enoch said. “So if we’re fighting and I hit you, it’s not my job to tell you you were defeated. It’s your job to say, ‘Yes, I was defeated.’ There’s no referees.”
But armor and weapons are more than just features of fighting — they’re relics of past members of the SCA. Enoch’s helmet has a silver conical design with thick bars soldered horizontally like a 1980s NFL defensive lineman’s facemask, and chain mail draped around the collar. The helmet was passed down to him by his late friend, who called it his “magic helmet.”
“You pass down weapons, you can pass down armor,” Bailey said. “Mostly, you pass down knowledge. You’re passing down techniques on how to fight, you’re passing down techniques on cooking medieval food. You’re passing down techniques on how to sew. You’re passing down techniques on how to dye. I know somebody who learned all of the old school ways.”
A Bay Area News Group reporter put on Bailey’s helmet, and Bailey, as an example, obliged to hit them over the head to show the blunt force experienced during tournament matches. The helmet was surprisingly effective, and the reporter, if they had been at a tournament, would have lost their head.
The next tournament will be April 5 at the Barony of Angels (Los Angeles), where Holland’s reign as prince will end and his successor will be crowned as the leader of the “Kingdom of Caid.” It’s been many years since the last time he wore the crown, which is not actually a crown but a blue shield embossed with a dragon, and it is only the second time he’s been prince in the four decades since he joined the SCA.
Back then, the BART parking lot was unpaved, and SCA was a group of Berkeley undergrads with a penchant for history. Each Thursday, Holland rewinds the clock, not just returning to medieval times but also to his days as a young man parading around the East Bay in chain mail and swinging a makeshift broad sword. The Known World lay out before him, and he could be whatever he wanted in it.
“We always say we treat the Middle Ages as they should have been — no plague, no peasants. You don’t have to be a peasant unless you want to be,” Holland said.
He gestured to the reinforced canopies where BART cars passed like rolls of thunder. “This is great when it rains.”
