Waterproof hot glues

IMPORTANT NOTE (3/22/21):  Since publishing this article, I have learned that pine rosin fumes have been found to cause asthma.  The process described below should always be done outdoors.  If weather doesn't permit, then postpone it.

This year I've been trying to eliminate any period-inappropriate materials from my designs.  One that's stuck with me for a long time is rubber cement, which I've used to attach leather facings to wooden scabbards.  I use it primarily because in a real military campaign you couldn't reasonably expect to stash away your scabbard every time it rained, and rubber cement is waterproof, while for a long time the only alternative that came to mind was hide glue, which isn't.  (I understand traditional hide glue is less readily water-soluble than the modern kind that I've been using, which has urea added to keep it liquid at room temperature - traditional hide glue must be kept warm to work with it.)

Anyway, I've read years ago about making varnish from pine rosin by dissolving it in alcohol.  This can be used to protect sinew wrappings on arrows from softening and coming loose.  It recently occurred to me to ask if this varnish would be sufficiently sticky to use for scabbard facings before it dried.  I was in the process of making a new letter opener, and it seemed like the right opportunity to try it out.

If you've ever touched a sawn-off stump of a pine tree, you know that pine resin is incredibly sticky and impossible to wash off with normal soap and water; you need highly-concentrated alcohol (70+ percent hand sanitizer gel works well for this purpose) or some other nasty organic solvent like acetone (nail polish remover).  Resin consists largely of rosin, the solid component, and turpentine, a natural solvent that keeps the resin liquid.  Turpentine takes a long time to evaporate out of fresh pine resin, so resin is processed commercially by heating in a still.  Those who aren't trying to collect the turpentine just cook it off in an open pot.

I ordered some rosin from Creekwood Naturals for experimentation.  This product arrives as a coarse, sandy powder.  It becomes sticky when wet, but it seems to be waterproof.

My first experiments went thusly:  I dissolved some rosin in rubbing alcohol and let it evaporate to a thick, syrupy consistency that could be painted onto a scrap of sanded poplar plank.  For comparison, I also smeared some fresh pine resin on the wood, alongside rubber cement.  On top of all three adhesives I pressed a tiny swatch of chamois, then let the substances dry.

The fresh resin took the longest to dry.  After several days, all three swatches peeled off easily.  The resin was still slightly sticky under the leather; the rosin brittle; the rubber cement, well, rubbery.

I'd heard that beeswax is often used in rosin-based pitch glues to reduce the rosin's brittleness, so my next test used a mix of alcohol-rosin varnish reduced to a syrup and a bit of Sno Seal, which is emulsified beeswax used to waterproof shoes.  This did not work out at all.  The mix took forever to dry, and wasn't sticky enough.

Giving up on emulsions, I decided to try a hot glue.  I shaved some beeswax into a metal bowl and, working by eye, added about two to three times its volume in rosin, then slowly melted the bowl's contents with a heat gun.  At first, the beeswax melted while the rosin turned into a sticky mess, but with prolonged heating and stirring with a brass rod, the mixture became uniform.  (It also released fumes that stung my eyes, and when hot enough, began to smoke.)  Then I smeared a little onto the poplar and quickly stuck the chamois swatch onto it.

I repeat:  Wow!  Once cool, the glue bonded the chamois to the wood with immense strength.  When I tried to peel it, the leather itself ripped up before the glue failed.  I can dent the glue with my nail, but it's not sticky, and even though it's mostly rosin, it more resembles very hard, dark beeswax.

It seemed perfect, but now was time for the real test.

Earlier, I'd ordered a piece of pitch glue to try to glue the wooden halves of a scabbard core together.  It was tricky.  I warmed the glue, pinched off thin bits and laid them on the edges of one half, then melted them with the heat gun and quickly pressed the halves together.  Then I had to heat each edge in turn and press it more tightly, and scrape off or press down the lumps of glue sticking out of the seam.  I also had to shoot the heat gun into the scabbard, then stick the blade in to force any inward-protruding lumps aside and keep a good fit.

When it came time to apply the facing, I melted the entire bowl of rosin-beeswax mix, let it cool to a consistency sort of like room-temperature corn syrup, and smeared it as evenly as possible on the core with the brass rod in one-inch stages.  I melted it again with the heat gun, then pressed on the leather.  When each half of the facing had been applied, I heated the whole face evenly and pressed it against a flat surface to try to smooth out the lumps of glue that had built up underneath.  The result was still somewhat lumpy.  Finally, I stitched up the facing with linen thread in a double-running stitch, and trimmed off the excess.

My heavy reliance on a heat gun does call into question the practicality of this kind of glue in period.  Trying to do the same thing over open flames might well be difficult, as may trying this method on a larger, more complex scabbard such as one for an akinakes.  Nonetheless, when the time comes, this will be what I try.

I have no doubt that this glue will prove waterproof.  Even if it becomes slightly sticky in the rain, the idea of it bleeding through the leather is inconceivable to me.  To my mind, the real test will be whether it softens after a few hours in the hot sun, for which purpose I'll have to wait for the right weather.

As for the letter opener itself:  The blade is another full-tang dagger blade from Atlanta Cutlery, with maple scales and steel pins.  I did reshape the tang to be a little more like a classic Luristan dagger, but while it affects a Near Eastern Iron Age look and I'm using it as a test bed for period materials, I don't believe this object bears sufficient resemblance to any Achaemenid-period dagger to warrant actually using it at reenactments.  (I would, however, love to be proven wrong.)

As an aside, I've bought four Windlass Steelcraft blades this year, and their geometry seems to have worsened compared to my previous purchases, with slightly thinner spines and much thicker, squared edges that will take forever to sharpen.

The scabbard, with its central ridge, straight lines down the edges (here interpreted as facing seams), and rounded tip without a chape, is modeled after those shown in Neo-Assyrian art such as the Lion Hunt of Ashurbanipal and at the Palace of Sargon II.  Its core is made from American commercial poplar (tulipwood), probably yellow poplar, which is simply the low-end hardwood we usually get in my part of the country.

Potential problems with wooden scabbard construction

Since I usually recommend making scabbards from wood if you have the skill and tools to do so, I feel compelled to share some information from a recent conversation I had over at SFI.

I brought up a personal project of mine where a wooden scabbard seemed to be causing rust on a sword blade.  Jeff Ellis identified a likely cause being that I may have used Titebond II or III wood glues, which have a reputation for making steel rust.  He recommended Titebond Original as well as Elmer's wood glue and, in fact, Elmer's white (all-purpose).

Another possibility we discussed was the use of linseed oil to seal the bare wood.  Thinking back, it makes sense that gluing a wooden scabbard together and then giving it a moisture-resistant finish (including such things as drying oil, paint and paste wax) could easily result in moisture being trapped inside if it isn't allowed to dry for a good long time.

As a final note, it's well-known that the tannic acid in oak can corrode steel, so it should be avoided in scabbards and hilts.  (I have not made this mistake myself, but it is worth mentioning.)

Making an Elamite dagger and scabbard, part I

Between the Egyptian statue of Darius the Great and the find from Deve Hüyük, I now believe a recreation of the so-called Elamite dagger is entirely plausible as well as not too expensive - and that's just what I'm doing!

This will be a slow and laborious process and could take the better part of a year.  I'm also bogged down with trying to get as much woodworking done as possible right now that necessitates shop equipment, since I probably won't be taking any classes next semester.

This project owes much to the work of Matthew Amt, who two years ago demonstrated that an iron Naue II could be created from mild steel using only an angle grinder and hand tools, as opposed to the more expensive bench grinders and belt sanders normally used in making blades by stock removal.  If you have boundless stamina, I expect you could do the same with just a hacksaw and files.  Again, this is something I lack, so power tools will be necessary.

The project starts with a paper pattern.  I first scaled the image from Halehs World of Archaeology on my computer (according to Roger Moorey's catalogue, the blade, including tang, is 31.9cm long).  I made a rough tracing of the hilt, folded it in half lengthwise and made a nice smooth outline, then added about an eighth of an inch as the raw material for cold-hammered flanges (this is also acting on Matt's advice).  The blade was done separately.  Since the original is badly distorted from damage and/or corrosion, I just sketched the blade from measurements, and added about half an inch to account for damage to the original's point.  It may be a slightly different shape from however the original was shaped; I don't mind.  I know from photos that it is within the range of shape of well-preserved bronze originals.

Once the paper patterns were cut out, I glued them onto card stock using a gluestick and cut them out again.  I also twirled out the rivet holes with the angled blade of an X-Acto.

Next, the pattern is mounted onto some mild steel bar stock with mounting putty, and traced in permanent marker.  This is 1/4x1.5x36-inch stock, which should provide plenty of material for both this and a new akinakes blade when I get around to it.  I have no idea of the alloy; as a rule, though, chain hardware stores in the U.S. don't carry high-carbon or stainless steel in bar stock form.  No heat treatment will be assumed; ideally, I'll just hammer-harden the edges.

En suite with the angle grinder, of course, goes my trusty splash goggles and a pair of leather gloves.  I have no protective apron, so I'm just trying to stand and hold the grinder to avoid most of the sparks.  And there are sparks, not as much as with high-carbon steel, but definitely more than I'm comfortable having rain onto my trousers.  I have to work outdoors, and after the initial cuts I realized ear plugs are necessary.

Above, the outline is maybe two-thirds done over three roughly 45-minute sessions, mostly using the grinding disk that came with the machine, with, of course, the larger chunks removed with a standard cut-off wheel.  Using the angle grinder is easier but more tedious than I anticipated; it's like gradually erasing metal.  Between sessions, I've been smoothing out the edges and getting rid of the ragged fringes with a file to make handling the blank safer.

I drilled the holes for the tang with one of my school's drill presses (using my own drill bits, of course - I don't like the thought of being yelled at for using woodshop equipment on metal) and cleaned them up with a Dremel cone cutter.

One interesting result that I've noticed so far is that assuming I understand Moorey's measurements, the hilt is tiny, and far too short to function the way I thought it would.  I thought that all five fingers would rest between the pommel and guard, like on a modern qama (which this little sword greatly resembles), with the thumb and forefinger occupying the finger notches.  Instead, the thumb and forefinger can only simultaneously pinch the notches if the pommel is completely within the fingers, resting against the heel of the hand and between the little and ring fingers.  If I choke up on it so that the pommel's outside my fingers and lower on the heel, my thumb and forefinger are now pinching the guard, with my middle finger in one of the notches.  Perhaps corroborating the latter usage is the fact that on several other daggers of this type, the sides of the guard are concave.

Meanwhile, the card pattern can also be used for preparing the scabbard parts.  Possibly the original was made of just two pieces of wood, but because this would require a lot of material removal and leave the wide side of the throat a bit weaker than ideal due to its grain being shorter than the throat is wide, I'm making it instead from multiple pieces of 1/4-inch poplar (aka American tulipwood).

I chose poplar because what with the sharp angles, I don't think these scabbards had an organic facing, which would either have to be made in multiple pieces (and perhaps stitched?) or get scrunched around corners.  For a simple scabbard which will be faced, basswood is acceptable, but it (or at least the kind we get in the States) strikes me as too soft and weak for a bare wood scabbard.  Harder woods may be more durable, but are also more expensive and difficult to work.  Poplar provides a nice balance of physical qualities.  It belongs to a different species - a whole different order, in fact - from the poplars of Eurasia, and its color is usually unattractive (though can be quite beautiful), but I plan to paint it, so I don't think the species matters so much, since neither its color nor grain will be viisble.

Alongside them, I cut a pair of curly maple scales.   I later got some black walnut, which would possibly be a little more appropriate (it's not the right species, but walnut grows throughout Iran while maple grows only in the north) but I'd already cut the maple by then.  Oh well, at least the curly pattern is nice.

Next update in I-don't-know-when.

Making a wooden akinakes scabbard, part V and last

Here you go:

The scabbard is finished with paints, in imitation of hide glue paints which we know were used on brain-tanned leather in more recent times.

My cast bronze chape from last semester is held in place with a pair of wooden pegs which pass through the front board of the scabbard and are glued down.  (Since none of the chapes I've seen which feature holes for these pegs have metal rivets or nails in place, I assume the pegs were organic.)

Lastly, a braided cord (cotton, unfortunately, but it's all I could find - and it is a period material, though preferably for high-status impressions) is tied tightly around the scabbard, with its knot in the back.  Both ends of the cord are sewn and tied off to prevent fraying, but on the long end, this step should be deferred until the cord is cut to its final length.  A little experimentation is needed to find the right length so the long end can pass comfortably around the thigh but not hang much below your knee or allow the scabbard to swing wildly when you run.  The short end is waxed so that it can compress enough to pass through the fluted brass bead and be knotted on the other side.

Making a wooden akinakes scabbard, part IV

Akinakes scabbards were sometimes covered in embossed sheet metal, but judging from the number of bronze chapes presented in isolation in museum collections, I would have to think that scabbards were more often completely organic apart from the chape.  So here I am covering my scabbard in leather.  Fabric or thin rawhide would probably be equally acceptable.

As with the Medgidia-type scabbard, I laid the cut leather down with a thin brushing of contact cement (hide glue would probably work about as well, and be more authentic), trimming away the excess as I stitched.

Upon reaching the end of the seam, it's reversed and turned into a cross stitch.

At the other end, the shape of the expanded throat seems to make it likely that the leather there could peel off eventually (maybe that's why the top of the throat sometimes sloped back toward the middle?).  In this instance I drilled a very small hole through the core and put the thread through it, lashing the leather down in the process.

With that done, I made a cross cut through the leather where the belt loop is to be tied.  The cut in the leather can be cleaned up by putting a drop of glue into the hole and using a pencil or something to squash the corners down.

An akinakes chape from Bucks County

A side benefit of taking foundry at BCCC is being able to do a small personal project even in my first semester.

The positive is composed of Victory Brown sculpting wax in sheets pressed around the end of my wooden scabbard core, with additional lumps acting as filler.  The whole is scraped and rubbed smooth; detail is then applied by rolling tiny pieces of wax and squashing them onto the surface.

 Gating was indirect and complicated.  I attached one vent to the inside of the front because I didn't want to mess up the design on the outside.

Dipping, firing and pouring proceeded smoothly.  Divestment was a bit delicate, however, for obvious reasons.

About eight pounds of bronze were poured to make a casting of less than two ounces.  I had to tediously wear off all the stubs with carbide-edged die grinder attachments.

It was during the fitting process that I began to regret having put a gate on the inside.  In the end I even sanded down the scabbard core a little in desperation - a loose fit will be necessary because the scabbard is to be covered in leather.  Since these chapes are usually found with the holes at the top empty, I speculate that they were held in place with organic pins, probably wood.

Divesting had to be continued on the inside entirely through sandblasting so as not to deform the walls with hammer blows.

The finished chape, after sanding with 400- and 1500-grit paper and burnishing with a steel wire Dremel brush.  I intend to create a permanent rubber mold from it before applying a finish of clear wax and attaching it to the scabbard.

Making a Medgidia-type scabbard, part II & last

The leather facing is glued down with a thin brushing of contact cement and then sewn tightly around the core with a double-running stitch.  A little excess width is necessary for leverage when pinching the leather to the core; essentially, you need more than you need.  The smooth fit is possible because of the leather's slight stretch, although I expect it to be a double-edged sword, as the angular corner of the tab may cause the leather to wear out there.

I made small crosshair cuts in the leather over the tab hole and tried to glue it down there.  It didn't take as well as I would've liked, but it just about works.

The finished scabbard.  It's a good fit to my sharp akinakes, but awfully loose for my blunt one.  The decoration on the tab is a simplified version of that seen on the original.  My experiments last year showed that painted suede is doable with a hide glue sizing, and although I don't know of any scabbards in the archaeological record that were painted, I have rumor of a gorytos from Takla Makan as well as later quivers that were.

By the way, certain literature implies that the Medgidia "sword and scabbard" is in fact a single piece of bronze, perhaps part of a statue.

Making a Medgidia-type scabbard, part I

I've noted before that the classic Achaemenid akinakes scabbard with its expanded throat is very tedious to make out of wood, requiring two thick planks, most of which must be carved away to leave behind the large, hollow shells.  Getting a chape is also proving very difficult.

As an alternative, for those with less time, I present this scabbard based loosely on the one from Medgidia, Romania.  It's of questionable origin; it could be Achaemenid, Scythian or native Thracian manufacture, and pending further evidence, I'd consider it acceptable for any of the above.  It lacks an expanded throat or chape, and is thus much faster to make from thinner planks.  It's incomplete, but I intend to further simplify it by facing it in leather rather than bronze - leather-covered wood scabbards are often cited in literature on the Scythians, and I maintain that bronze and bone chapes found in isolation are further evidence for scabbards that were otherwise entirely perishable.  The original also has embossed decoration, which I intend to replicate with paint.

The wood core is mainly two pieces cut from a 1/4-inch poplar plank.  It does require a bit of carving and sanding.  Luckily I still have access to Bucks' band saws and belt sanders to make the business quicker.  I carved this in the span of four days.

I cut a 1/8-inch mortise between the two halves of the small subsection of the belt tab where the lanyard hole was to be drilled, and added a scrap bit of basswood with its grain perpendicular to that of the tab.  With any luck, the plywood effect should make this less of a weak point.

The original has no lanyard hole visible from the front, and I don't know what kind of suspension it used; perhaps there's a ring at the back of the tab, or maybe it was attached directly to the belt somehow.

After taking it to the belt sander a second time, I found I'd accidentally worn through and now the scabbard was partly open down one side.  Caution must be exercised with the really powerful tools...  Luckily it was still wider than the blade, so I glued on a thin basswood strip before continuing with the carving and sanding.

An ivory chape at the MFA

Not sure whether there's any practical value in posting this, as it's unlikely any of us will be replicating it, but it does demonstrate the existence of isolated chapes made of solid ivory.  It's the standard goat motif - again - although exact provenance is not provided.

Making a wooden akinakes scabbard, part III

Next up is finishing the tab.  Drilling a large enough hole for the attachment is simple enough.  But since the little ear where the suspension is actually attached looks like a weak point to me, and furthermore pine is a rather weak wood to begin with, I'm trying to reinforce it, using sheet brass and epoxy.  I don't know of any evidence for this sort of feature; probably the originals were made of a stronger wood.  But it'll be covered with something (probably leather).

The chape is proving problematic.  The originals were most commonly made of bronze and sometimes bone.  Since I can't cast bronze yet and am having trouble finding a useable lump of bone (it should probably be made of the knuckle end of a cow, sheep or goat leg bone) here I'm using wood as a stopgap measure.  Wood is only this side of allowable on the precedent of the scabbard from Egypt, and it should be replaced presently.

 

Again it's the very common goat motif, though others are sometimes attested.  Unfortunately, what I thought was maple has turned out to be something quite a bit softer and more open-grained, also of less uniform hardness, so this carving is cruder than I'd like.  I'll probably attach it with rubber cement so it can be easily pulled off when the time comes.  A good friction fit will do most of the job, but a little adhesive is necessary, as I learned by nearly losing my pewter chape in the sand at Marathon 2011.

Making a wooden akinakes scabbard, part II

Various personal business forced me to postpone further work until Monday, but work's progressed quickly since then.  The core is essentially complete.  I won't boother with photos of the front shell in progress because it's exactly the same process as the back shell.

It's still somewhat too thick in several places, most obviously the lower body, considering how thin the blades are.  I may do a little further sanding, though the very hard knot you see near the lower end has made reducing by hand evenly pretty difficult.

Although the amount of wood removed on the inside wasn't much, it still fit the blades too loosely, so I glued down a strip of felt to make it more snug before gluing the shells together - a solution cribbed from European swordmakers (though sheep and goat hide are said to be preferable, as a pointed blade could eventually catch in the felt, tear it loose and shove it down the inside, where it would be difficult or impossible to remove  - quite an awful scenario).  If the fit is correct, you can hold the scabbard upside-down without the sword falling out, yet still draw it easily.

Making a wooden akinakes scabbard, part I

Yep, I finally decided to cave and make a proper, solid wood scabbard, since I happen to have access to a band saw and belt sander this season.  Mine will be based loosely on the tamarisk wood scabbard from Egypt, but I hope to make a separate chape.  I also plan to cover it with something organic, possibly linen or rawhide, rather than the metal facing that once covered the Egypt find, because in my research it seems that isolated chapes far outnumber metal scabbard facings, and so I believe that most scabbards were entirely biodegradable other than the chape.

You'll also notice that it's considerably longer than the one from Egypt.  Although often described as swords, the few genuine findings of Achaemenid iron fighting akinakai I know of were actually small-ish daggers, so the 12-inch blade on mine is really pushing it as far as historical accuracy.  Perhaps the skill required and thus (presumably) high price demanded for forging a symmetrical double-edged sword was responsible for the preference of Persians (imputed by Greek pottery, at least) for the single-edged kopis, but I'm just running at the mout at this point.  Anyway, on with the show.

We start with a nice big sheet of sketch paper and a 1x6x48-inch plank.  On the right is my molded leather scabbard from last year.

After tracing the main sections of the scabbard, I cut out the expanded part of the throat and traced additional sections for it on the main plank as well as on a 1/4-inch linden board, as the full inch-thick reinforcement seemed like too much.  I didn't wind up using either of them; the main pieces seem to be thick enough on their own.

The pine wood is soft and cut easily even with just a manual saw, which made me wonder about its sturdiness.  These initial cuts were done just to make it easier to carry.  I plan to use the excess for a really cool retro raygun stock.

Since the band saw is best at straight cuts, I tried to get the most out of it with a set of lines for the first cutting-out phase.

The belt sander helped reduce the manual workload, but it can only take you so far.  On the bottom/left is the front blank after initial cutting and sanding; on the top/right is the back after ah hour of whittling.

Four days and literally hours of whittling, filing and Dremel-ing later, the back shell is finally done.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but I just want to be straightforward with you:  It is a lot of work if you don't have specialized tools.

It's at this point that I question the wisdom of asking everyone to have wooden scabbards for their akinakai.  If molded leather must be ruled out, I think a rawhide scabbard would still be a possibility, and it seems far easier.  I also suspect that a moldable material is the origin of the balloon-like expanded throat of Achaemenid scabbards.

An akinakes and scabbard from Romania

While I would normally consider something from the edges of the empire unlikely to be representative of typical Achaemenid material, it's been suggested that this dagger from Medgidia is an artefact from Darius the Great's invasion of Scythia, specifically a battle with the Getae.  I don't entirely know what to make of it.

Unfortunately, it didn't come from a controlled dig, so its exact age and origins are less likely to be determined.  If it is Medo-Persian, it exhibits some unusual features.  The scabbard has no chape (granted, this may have fallen off) or guard-enveloping throat; these features put it more in line with examples other than Medo-Persian ones.  The general style of the hilt is common to multiple countries, including Iran.  I'm not familiar enough with the decoration to know whether it would help indicate origins.

It may be Scythian, given Thrace's proximity to Scythia, or it may even be of native Thracian manufacture, but if it was actually brought from the core Achaemenid territories by Darius' army, it may be precedent for a less rigid image of what reenactors ought to be carrying.

Revised recommendations on leather goods

Based on my last post regarding the unlikelihood of vegetable-tanned leather in Achaemenid times, here is what I've come up with for leather goods:

Materials
Personally I would accept brain-tan or the nearest affordable equivalent as a substitute for other fat-cured leathers.  The nearest affordable equivalent may include chrome-tanned "buckskin" or glove-tanned if it's of similar physical properties, but, as always, check your group's authenticity standards before buying.  I advise against suede or roughout (which are harder to clean; additionally, I believe machine splits are a 19th-century development) and, obviously, anything with an overtly unnatural finish.

I consider rawhide a given for any period.  Also, if you already have pieces of kit in veg-tan that you've sunk a lot of money and work into, my feeling is keep them.  Again, ask your group's leaders.

Gorytoi
Archaeological finds have indicated that they were made of soft leather supported with a wood spine or frame.  So use fat-cured or equivalent.  I imagine the type seen at Persepolis and frequently on Greek pottery, with a straight bottom and curved upper edge - the standard for Persian soldiers in our period - had a curved wooden spine sewn into the upper edge.  This also means that the floppy-looking fringe seen hanging from gorytoi in Greek battle art may in fact be the same fitted cover seen at Persepolis; it is attached to the gorytos at the top edge, or just draped over it during battle.

Using soft leather also makes it unlikely that they were painted, unless the ancients had some method of painting dye directly onto the leather which I have been unable to discover (painting dye is a real technique but I'm told it's a modern one).  The crenellated borders shown in Greek art would probably have to be appliqued in a contrasting leather or fabric, which is done most easily before the main seam is closed.

Scabbards
Wood, or some other hard, solid block of material carved to shape (as in the ivory one from Takht-i Sangin).  The akinakes scabbard is attested as having been covered in embossed sheet metal.  Otherwise, plain wood will make a good surface for carving.  I could also imagine that a facing of glued fabric or parchment (thin rawhide) was used to add strength.  All these materials will accept paint better than cured/tanned leather, too.  Possibly, lighter sheaths (as for belt knives) were rawhide, maybe with a soft leather or fabric cover.

Shields
Shields of stick-and-hide construction, like the crescent ("taka") and pavise ("spara"), should almost certainly be rawhide, which resists puncture and cutting better than leather and which was used in the Dura-Europos shields that share the same construction method.  I have heard it suggested to paint a thin layer of wax on top of the finished shield to prevent water absorption.

Shoes
The Persepolis reliefs and Alexander Sarcophagus seem to disagree about the presence of separate soles on the ankle-strapped shoes.  It may be that both interpretations are correct:  Again, I am reminded of these shoes' resemblance to Plains moccasins, which were produced both with integral (soft) and separate soles.  Separate soles may have been soft leather or hard rawhide.  The lack of additional soles on the shoes at Persepolis may explain why it was desirable to have a band running under the middle of the shoe, for arch support.  In this use I'd be willing to accept veg-tanned leather for rawhide for expediency.

Ankle straps were fairly wide, and were likely soft leather thongs.  I believe the greater width compared to modern leather laces was necessary because the latter are made of a firmer material (albeit not "rawhide" as they are often labeled; real rawhide is too stiff for shoelaces).

Other
Herodotus mentions Persians as having leather clothing (I.72) and this is plausible if it is a very soft buckskin-like material, though I believe that the assertion that leather made up all or even the majority of their clothing in Cyrus' day is an exaggeration; they had, after all, been settled in old Elam for several centuries and raised plenty of sheep.  So I still recommend fabric first.  Bags and pockets may also be either fabric or soft leather.

In the absence of moldable leather, drink containers should either be soft (like wineskins) or ceramic.  Most of the clay canteens from Persepolis were flattened spheres with short necks, essentially like modern ones, even sometimes having cord ears (see OIP 69); those without ears could be carried in bags.  I'm open to the possibility of gourd or wooden canteens, but won't actually recommend them until seeing some evidence.

There is only one item which I haven't found a solution for yet:  the weapon belt.  Because it has to support the weight of a fully-loaded bowcase, it must be a firm material with little stretch, so fat-cured leather would seem a bad choice, but it also has to flex to be worn like a belt, so rawhide doesn't look like a great idea either.  In lieu of good evidence about what they were actually made of, I must continue to recommend veg-tan for this use alone.

A scabbard from Takht-i Sangin

Takht-i Sangin is the archaeological site of a Graeco-Bactrian town in southern Tajikistan, excavated in 1976.  At the center of the settlement was a temple which was apparently used for both Greek and native Mazdaist sacraments, and contained a hoard of temple offerings.  It is believed by some to be the origin of the Oxus Treasure.

Among the temple hoard was a scabbard, believed to date from the Achaemenid period.  It is of the typical Medo-Persian akinakes type, with a distinct chape (which I think is still a contiguous piece with the scabbard, as on the wooden one from Egypt) and "bellied" belt tab.  What makes it different from other finds is that it's made of solid ivory, deeply carved across its entire surface with a relief of a lion clutching a deer.  It also has a patterned border and the chape features the classic curled goat motif.

This may be going out on a limb here, but I think this find could perhaps justify including relief carvings on wooden scabbards for our period.  Even if the ivory scabbard is entirely ceremonial, I know of no reason that such techniques could not be applied to functional items; generally speaking, ancient people liked their military gear to be as gaudy as they could afford.

The akinakes scabbard re-examined

Update 12/10/13:  This post contains information that is probably incorrect.  Please see here.

¡Hola!  Since it seems my earlier article How to make a scabbard is (as of this writing) the most-read post on this site, I thought now would be the time to go over the evidence once again, and try to direct readers away from what I now believe to be outdated information.

In that post, I assumed akinakes scabbards would be constructed in a similar manner to the popular style from later European history:  a wood core wrapped in thin leather and fitted with a separate chape and thin metal throat.   In fact I have never seen a separate throat from an original akinakes scabbard, and I must admit I've always had trouble imagining how such a thing could be made to work:  A separate throat has to have considerable contact area with the scabbard core for mere pressure or glue to hold it on, whereas we know from art that the akinakes throat usually expanded to cover the sword's guard, which would reduce its surface contact with the core to much less than that of it which was left "free-floating."  The only other methods would be to staple or otherwise physically attach the throat, though even that wouldn't be very secure, or to have the core extend into the throat, which would conceivably work, but again, there is no evidence for it.

The well-publicized archaeological finds of scabbard fittings seem to fall into one of two categories:  chapes, and sheet-metal coverings for the entire scabbard.  I know of only a single one which has the typical Achaemenid features of an enveloping throat and bellied belt tab.  It is commonly associated with the famous Oxus Treasure, though John Boardman has argued, on the basis of the artistic styles on its embossed decoration, that it actually older (Median), Mesopotamian-influenced work from about 600 BC.  The others are of different shape and most or all lack the enveloping throat (as well as the "bellied" profile of the belt tab).

As for chapes, most follow the general rounded triangle or trefoil shapes of those seen at Persepolis and are acceptable as models for Achaemenid impressions.

I know of one and only one preserved scabbard core, the wooden scabbard from Thebes.  In this example, the core comprises front and back halves which include the throat and chape.

Taking the Oxus scabbard cover and the Thebes core together we can say that the akinakes scabbard should comprise an organic core with a (possibly optional?) cover, and that on each half of the core and of the cover, the throat is a contiguous piece with the rest of the half.  This would make for a much stronger, simpler construction than trying to make a separate throat that is still an enveloping one.

I do not have enough practical knowledge to rule out the use of leather in either the core or cover.  A very heavy vegetable-tanned leather, if carefully molded and hardened, could conceivably be used alone, without additional covering or internal stiffening.  The ability of vegetable-tanned leather to be deeply and intricately tooled also makes it an attractive scabbard material, as an alternative to embossed metal.

I'm still looking into the plausibility of painted leather scabbards.  In light of the fact that most if not all ancient types of paint require a rigid substrate to be able to adhere without flaking, my new scabbard may have been a mistake, albeit still much better than the old one.  For what it's worth, veg-tan leather can be made as hard as wood with the right hot water treatment, but doing so without deforming it is tricky.

A further note on leather sheaths

Remember back in May when I wrote on how to make a scabbard?  Recently while making the sheath for a factory-sharpened knife I discovered that the instructions I gave for the all-leather, side-seamed sheath back then are only fine as they are if your weapon is unsharpened.

Otherwise, you need to include a welt, which is a strip of leather glued around the inside of the sheath between anywhere a sharp edge and seam might touch.  This will prevent the blade slicing through the stitching.  It also, as a bonus, gives the sheath a less flat shape.

Instructions can be found all over the Web; as an example, see steps 4 and 13 here.

An all-wood akinakes scabbard

The British Museum has some good-resolution profile shots of an akinakes scabbard showing an alternative method of construction.  It is made of just two pieces of tamarisk wood, mirror-image front and back halves.  The chape and throat are presumably also integral to these halves, although they seem to carved to represent separate pieces.  The shell-like carved throat would eliminate any need for clever methods of shaping to make it wide enough to cover the sword's guard.  An unidentified white paste was used to cover the scabbard in gold sheet, most of which is now gone.

This find does not contradict the existence of separate chapes, which are well-attested archaeologically.

How to make a scabbard

Update 12/10/13:  This post contains information that is probably incorrect.  Please see here.

10/24/13 - Please read!
Since this post appears to be getting more and more pageviews, I feel the need to update it in some way.  All the scant evidence I have subsequently gathered on akinakes scabbards indicates that the following method is NOT CORRECT for the Achaemenid period.  Please do not use it in your own replica.  See here for further information.  I am nonetheless leaving this post unaltered.

Scabbards are tedious to make, but not difficult.  If you'd like an even easier method, I'm including instructions for an all-leather sheath at the end of this article.  Pending evidence to the contrary, XMFM accepts all the following methods.  As always, check your group's guidelines before deciding what to do.

The author's rough draft Achaemenid scabbard (bottom) with tin can throat and home-cast pewter chape, and Scythian-style leather sheath (top).

For a wood-cored scabbard, cut two planks slightly wider and longer than the blade.  They may be thick, with deep hollows carved on the inside faces to fit the blade, or thin and held apart with additional strips of wood so the blade fits between (though even in this case it's better to have them a bit closer together and do a little hollowing, so the fit is snug).  File indentations at the top to seat the lobes of the sword's guard.  Glue the halves together along the edges, and sand smooth.

Two ways to make a wood core.  The first is more time-consuming.

Making a pattern for the metal throat.

(Top)  Wrap a sheet of foil or paper around the top of the core.  It should project somewhat higher so that the tab can rise higher than the actual scabbard mouth, as in the originals.

(Bottom left)  Draw the throat on, then add extra width around the tab.  This will be used to crimp around either the front or back half and hold the tab together.

(Bottom right)  Remove the wooden core, cut the throat pattern out, then cut the extra width off of either the front (if you want the back to crimp around the front and be visible) or back (if you want the crimping hidden).

Trace the pattern onto a sheet of brass or bronze and cut it out.  Add little cuts around the edge of whichever half of the tab is wider so that it will crimp neatly.

You'll probably want to cover the scabbard in leather.  Select a soft, thin leather that will be easy to wrap closely.  I use dental floss for all my leather stitching, but for this application I think ordinary thread would suffice.  Measure out at least four times as much of it as the length of the seam you're making (more may be needed if you space the stitches closely, but I've always found four times to be enough).  A double-running or Holbein stitch is easy and secure.  Wrap the leather tightly and stitch either up the back of the scabbard and then down, or down and then up - either way, the end of the seam will be protected by either the throat or chape.  Tie off the thread tightly and trim down the ends.

Some Achaemenid scabbards had a ridge visible down the front.  I don't know how this was created.  I approximated it by inserting a bamboo skewer under the leather.

Stitching up the back.

If you want a fancy scabbard, you could cover the core in embossed brass/bronze sheet instead of leather.

Wrap the metal throat around the top of the scabbard, just like the throat pattern.  Crimp the edge of the wider tab half around the smaller half and hammer the crimping down.  You may also want to sand or file to reduce the raggedness.  Punch a hole through the upper corner of the tab and set a metal grommet through the hole.

I have not found an acceptable chape on the market, but this isn't a problem if you can do home casting or there's a small-item casting studio near you - check the yellow pages or online.  Make the chape out of sculpting wax, rounding the edges and scraping the surfaces smooth.  Decorate it if you like.  Then have it cast in a metal (bronze or brass) that closely matches the metal you used for the throat.  Sand and polish, then glue it over the end of the scabbard with epoxy or other high-strength adhesive.

I have no experience with bone carving and won't try to describe the process, but if you have the skills, feel free to make a chape in bone instead.

Alternately, you can make both throat and chape out of heavy (around 8-ounce) leather.  The instructions for a leather throat are pretty much the same as for a metal one, except that you'll stitch instead of crimp the halves of the tab together, so don't make one wider than the other.  Also, when tracing the pattern onto the leather, do make the middle of the throat pattern - where the side of the finished throat opposite the tab will be - a little bit (say, a quarter inch) wider than it is on the pattern, to account for the thickness of the medium and shrinkage.  Soak the throat after cutting to be able to mold it closely to the scabbard.  Sufficiently heavy leather will require you to punch or drill the stitch holes before stitching, using an awl or very small drill bit.  You don't need to add a grommet to the tab.  The chape is also made from two halves, stitched together, soaked and stretched over the end of the scabbard.  Allow both chape and throat to dry.  They'll probably shrink and either fall off or prove easy to pull off.  Glue them back on.

Lastly, punch a hole in the weapon belt at your right hip.  Insert a leather cord through the tab grommet and tie it through the hole in the belt.  Measure out another cord and tie one end around the scabbard just above the chape, leaving two or three inches of extra cord on the forward edge of the scabbard (the same side as the throat tab) and the rest on the backward edge.  Tie the forward end into a slipknot.  Tie the backward end of the cord into a small tight knot or attach a bead.  Loop the backward length of the cord around your right thigh, then put the knot or bead through the slipknot and tighten it.

But I'm too lazy
A leather sheath can be made in just a few steps.  Draw your sheath on the flesh side of a heavy leather sheet.  Cut it out, flip it over and use it as a pattern for the other half.  Drill stitch holes, stitch the two halves together, punch a hole in the tab, add the belt and thigh cords - and you're done!  If you like, you can now decorate the front of the scabbard with tooling.

I have no documentation that sheaths were made in this manner.

Important update (Sept. 14, 2012):  See A further note on leather sheaths to avoid this project being a huge waste of time and material.

Edit:  I've noticed that I reversed the directions regarding the slipknot system when posting earlier this morning.  Just to be clear:  The slipknot is at the shorter forward end of the cord.  The bead is on the end of the cord that loops around the leg.

Next up:  You're no better than Raskolnikov—

This is a sword... that I use...

While sidearms aren't essential for reenactment, it's a good idea to have one.  At least three types of edged weapons are attributed to the ancient Persian armies.

One - which I won't elaborate on, unless and until I find out about archaeological finds - is the so-called Elamite dagger, shown in the Persepolis reliefs and on the Egyptian statue of Darius the Great.  Unfortunately I've only ever seen it in sculpture, invariably sheathed, so there's very little to tell about what it looked like.

The most well-known type associated with the Persians was called in Greek the akinakes (sometimes akenakes, unattested Persian *akinaka, Latin acinaces).  Because the word means a Persian sword, in early modern times it was taken to refer to a type of saber or scimitar, and by extension other curved swords like the katana.

In truth the Classical akinakes was a short, straight, double-edged weapon, ranging in size from a small dagger to almost as big as a gladius.  The type is closely associated with the culture of the Great Steppe; variations were used from the Ukraine to western China.  While Steppe examples could still be bronze in this period, the Persian akinakes was made of iron.  The guard was typically shaped like an upside-down heart, and the columnar grip and rounded bar pommel formed a T.  Ornate golden examples exist which differ in many aspects.

The easiest way to create an akinakes is to hilt or rehilt a dagger blade of appropriate shape.  While metal hilts are attested, XMFM will approve of the use of organic hilts.  Windlass Steelcrafts and its distributors sell a big and cheap Arkansas toothpick blade which, while perhaps too tapered, is otherwise perfect for the part.  If you can find other examples, use them; just avoid undocumented fullering patterns and ricassos.

If you have the material skills, peen the tang over a washer.  Threaded tangs are okay, but to avoid the glaring anachronism, the securing nut should be either a tang nut sunken into the pommel, or low in profile and round, or a square or hex nut ground down as much as possible.  Unground ones are okay on sparring blades, which will never be entirely realistic anway.

Sparring sword I made for Marathon 2011.  It's much smaller than it looks!  Blade from American Fencers Supply Co., whose website appears to be defunct.

Sparring blades are generally light and flexible and must have either very obtuse rounded points or rolled ones.  Some options may include Darkwood's Wide Flex, Alchem's Safeflex and Hanwei's Practical Main Gauche blade (available from many distributors).

The akinakes was worn at the right hip in an elaborate scabbard.  The chape, generally a rounded triangle, could be made of bronze, chased gold or carved ivory, and probably lots of other materials.  Just above the chape, a cord was tied around the scabbard, passed around the thigh and then through a slipknot next to the chape.  The throat had a large tab, which at its own upper corner was tied through a hole in the weapon belt.  The throat should completely cover the sword's guard, but I haven't worked out a way of doing this yet.  This is a very elegant and handy suspension system for a very small weapon.

The last type(s) of sword was the single-edged, belly-bladed sword, in various forms called a kopis or machaira.  It was Greek in origin but in Greek art often shown wielded by Persian or Scythian warriors.  It was a somewhat longer sword than the akinakes.  Its shape gave it great cutting power (indeed kopis is Greek for "cutter").  It often had a single flared shoulder, on the sharp or forward side of the blade; and normally a full-profile or slab tang and a pommel which was simply a swelling of the tang on the forward side.  The pommel might be bulbous (the grip might then be carved into a curl, like a fiddlehead), or hooked and resemble a bird's head in profile.  Some kopides had a full S-shaped crossguard.

No one, to my knowledge, makes an off-the-shelf kopis that's historically-accurate yet inexpensive.  Windlass makes a small one of dubious historicity (it would require rehilting at the very least).  Their Cobra Steel kopis is a modern interpretation and the slab tang is the wrong shape.  Windlass, Del Tin, Deepeeka and possibly others have historical falcatas in their lineup of varying accuracy, but these are Iberian-style swords which only bear the broadest resemblance to Eastern Mediterranean ones.  If you have enough money, getting a custom blade is the best option.

Next up:  How to make a scabbard.