Pieced gorytos, part II

After about a week and a half, the paint was completely cured.  I moved onto the next step, stitching the arrow pocket.

Instead of glue, I kept the arrow pocket in place this time with staples.  This is a bit destructive, but easier than using a period glue, and ancient people could easily have achieved the same thing with pins.

The pocket is attached to the back with 40-weight waxed linen thread using a simple double running stitch and pulling out the staples as I went.  Its long edges are brought together slightly to give the pocket the fullness needed to accommodate arrows, particularly the large, blunt rubber arrowheads we use during combat reenactment.  This means some ugly crimping on the short edge.  I tried to distribute the slack evenly during the stapling process, but it wound up a little uneven.

The lower edges of the body panels are carefully lined up and stapled first at both ends, then in the middle, then equidistant between these three and so on.  I wound up using nine staples in this manner; given the length of the edge, they seemed to be the right distance apart.  Note that some of the linseed oil seems to have soaked into the leather.  Time will tell if this is going to be a problem.  The paint doesn't scratch or rub off easily, so I think the paint itself will hold.  Whether the oil will have a negative effect on the leather is another question.

I'd meant to stitch the lower edge completely flat, but it seemed to develop slack as I moved from the upper end to the lower and I wound up puckering the seam a bit to shorten it (pulling the thread diagonally downward from the seam a little to pull the stitches closer together).  This appeared to work.

On the whole, I'm satisfied with how this project has gone so far.  The next step (creating a curved spine that won't break too easily) is going to be a major challenge.

Pieced gorytos, part I

Since Marathon 2015, I've wanted a bowcase that isn't nearly as big as I am for the running around and shooting part of reenactments.  This requires a smaller bow, of course, but a bowcase that fits more closely to the bow's outline will present less area when viewed from the side.  In fact, the Scythian/Persian gorytos in Greek art does tend to have an outline on the lower edge that follows the curve and reflex of the strung bow staff closer than could be achieved without either building the gorytos too tight and stretching the leather or having a seam.  This suggests that the main pocket is made in two parts.  A construction method like this would also allow the bowcase to be made from smaller hides or hides with flaws that mean they have to be cut into smaller contiguous pieces.

The bow I'm using as a model is Ali Bow's Mini Han; not quite right for our period with its wooden siyahs, but at just under 34 inches/86cm strung, it's the smallest recurve I can find that still looks like a bow and not a toy.  I may eventually replace it if a truly tiny Scythian-style bow becomes available, but I have been warned that resin bows may crack with repeated use, so I'm going with the all-fiberglass Ali for the time being.

The hide is Crazy Crow's AA Grade Gold Buckskin.  It's grain-on, but the flesh side has a short, even nap similar to wet-scrape leather that can be the outside.  The color, gaudy though it may look, is actually close to that produced on braintan by smoking over certain species of wood.

After cutting out the body pieces, I determined which one would face outward when worn in "marching" position and traced it onto heavy cardstock.

At first I tried drawing the crenellations freehand in black ink, but then realized it was coming out too sloppy.  I then used a yardstick and divided the length into 1-1/2-inch squares with a 1-1/2-inch top strip.

...  and hatched the parts to be removed...

Cutting the crenellations was too tedious for me, so I used an X-Acto over a wooden plank for that part.

Pieces of the cutout make perfect reinforcements for the ends of the stencil.  Plenty of tape on both the front and back ensures that no pieces of card stick out and snag on the leather.

Test-fitting the stencil.  I made the curved end a little too long; the pointed tip will probably wind up inside the folded lower seam.

To prevent the leather and stencil from moving too much in relation to each other during the painting process, the stencil is taped along the back edge of the leather and on the front as much as possible without entering the stencil area.

This is the first time I've used the beeswax-linseed oil paint on an actual project.  It's colored with red ochre.  I may have added too much beeswax, as the mixture became very firm when cold.  A little goes a long way, since much of the paint is scraped off and then reapplied further down.  For this case, which is about 22 inches/56cm long not counting the margin where it will be stitched to the spine, I used roughly a tablespoon of paint.  It will next have to cure for some days.  I think it's important to get this step done before any assembly, because I can't imagine rubbing and scraping the paint into the suede on anything but a flat surface.

Plataea 2022 is on

The 2,500th anniversary commemoration of the Battle of Plataea will be on July 26-31 next year.  That gives just over seven months to prepare, so for anyone who's dawdling about working on their kit (myself included), now's the time to get cracking.

Dye-fading tests by Elysse Meredith

I stumbled across this article just this morning:  The Great 2020 Dyeing Fade Test.  It consists of comparisons of lightfastness between different dyes on linen, wool and silk, with illustrations of what the dyed fabrics look like after different periods of sun exposure.  By the end of the year, the wools were reduced to drab pastels.  Interestingly, the linens all became different hues of off-white - except for linen dyed with indigo, which faded somewhat but was still a nice old denim color by the end.

While I don't expect anyone to take up this suggestion, it would be interesting to see a member of Xerxes' army at Plataia next year wearing clothes dingy, sunbleached and patched after a hard year of campaigning.

"Achaemenid objects at Epic Iran" via Eran ud Turan

 A special exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London is ending soon.  This collection of images of Achaemenid objects are of particular interest to us.  I found the images of the akinakes scabbard throat particularly informative with regard to the thickness-to-width proportions and the fact that it had an additional gold plate with a cutout applied to the top.  I expect it will prove helpful to anyone wishing to make a replica of one.

Product review: Two possible belt straps

For almost eight years now, I've been pondering how best to replace the veg-tan weapon belts I wore at Marathon 2011 and 2015.  Given my suspicions that the Achaemenids tanned leather with fat or oil, as did Eastern Mediterranean peoples before them, I decided last year that my best option would be a strap of buff leather.  This is made from cowhide (perhaps originally water buffalo or European bison hide, thus the name) which is tanned primarily with fish oil in a process similar to German buckskin and American chamois.

An important note:  Like "chamois" leather (named for a species of wild European goat but in the U.S. actually made from domesticated sheep), "buff" leather can be a very misleading term.  Most items sold as being made from "genuine buff leather" appear to have their top grain intact or are finished such that you can't tell.  It makes one wonder what sellers think "buff" means.  When I refer to buff leather, what I mean is cowhide tanned with fish oil in a process that gives it a suede surface and a creamy yellow color (also called buff).  This kind is rare and hard to obtain nowadays.  Most of it in the States goes to the reenactment market, where it's used to make early modern military accoutrements like sword belts.

I've found one person in the U.S. willing to sell unstitched buff by the piece:  Roy Najecki of Najecki Reproductions.  You can read up on ordering it at his Cartridge Pouch/Box Shoulder Carriage page.  Be forewarned that it's not always easy to catch Mr. Najecki on the phone or by e-mail and delivery may take a while, so if you decide to use a buff strap for your belt, order it well ahead of when you need it.

It looks good, and it's heavy and firm yet flexible.  So why wouldn't you decide to use it?  Well, in the description above, you'll hopefully notice something that I overlooked:  Modern buff leather is tanned not only with oil but also sulfur.  This may have something to do with the fact that it smells like burned rubber, and it smells strong.  When I first received my strap last fall, I didn't even want to be in the same room with it.  I've been storing it in the garage ever since then in hopes that the smell would fade.  It has, but it's still very noticeable.  Several folks offered suggestions to ameliorate it, such as washing with saddle soap, and I experimented with small bits cut from one end, but nothing appeared to work.  I'm still on the fence about wearing it in public unless it's become tamer by the next big event.

It's also not cheap, although because belts are so narrow, the $35 per square foot sticker shock isn't as bad as it sounds unless your belt is going to be enormous.  My 1.5x42-inch strap came to $15.31.  The next item I'm reviewing here isn't all that much cheaper.

Chrome-tanned leather such as this Realeather suede belt strap can make a fair substitute for fat-cured leather in appearance and texture.  What more is there to add?  Well, it doesn't smell, and its texture probably won't be be negatively affected by rain to the extent that a natural tannage would be.  The color is a bit darker as you can see, though not as yellowish as lightly-smoked braintan, but the main flaw with this strap is that it's about half the thickness of the buff.  Will it support the weight of a fully-loaded bowcase without sagging a lot or ripping?  I can't confidently state that it will, unless your bow and its case are a lot smaller and lighter than the ones I use (and the Grozer Old Scythian is already one of the smallest I've seen for sale in its price range).

So there you have it.  While either of these will probably look more correct than a veg-tan belt, both have their own major caveats.  The search for a perfect solution continues.

Tablet-woven sash by Aleksandra Zwawiak

Since Giannis Kadoglou alerted us to the idea of tablet weaving several years ago, I've wondered whether the narrow sash worn with Medo-Persian and Elamite dress was made by this method or by cutting and stitching.  I had first made some sashes in 2013 from cotton webbing, but the one I wore in 2015 was essentially a double-wide strip cut from wool yardage, sewn into a tube, inverted, and gathered at the ends.  This works well enough, but several of us at Amphictyonia have long been of the suspicion that the zigzags shown on the Egyptian statue of Darius the Great were made by tablet-weaving instead.

Over the summer, I gave a shot at tablet-weaving my own belt from hemp.  My conclusion?  Practice a lot, or leave it to the professionals.

I contacted Aleksandra Zwawiak, proprietor of SagaWeaving (UK), about the possibility of a custom belt three weeks ago after seeing that she had produced belts with apparently the same weave pattern.  We discussed the specifications and settled on a design over a couple of days.  She ordered the yarn right away and had created the belt within a few days after that, and it arrived at my door this morning.  Aleksandra was very pleasant to work with and, having some glimmer of the effort and care this technique requires, I'm impressed at the quality and speed of her work as well, as how modestly-priced it is.

I requested a solid off-white or beige as might be obtained from a white sheep, and a width of 35-40mm - it comes in at a hair under 40mm.  The belt is a bit thick, but it has to be for the weave to be visible, and the wool is very soft and easy to tie.  It differs from the Egyptian statue in not having the lengthwise stripes with apparent Holbein stitching.  It's my best guess that these represent appliqued trim rather than part of the sash's weave, so I didn't expect or request that they be included.

(I seem to be having a bit of trouble with square knots lately.)  The standard length of 135cm between the tassels is just about right for my waist (around 30 inches or 76cm); the square knot takes up more length than a simple knot would.  The loose ends of the tassels will have to be trimmed almost to nothing, but I haven't yet decided how to eliminate the risk of the knots becoming untied once this is done, so I asked Aleksandra to leave them at full length in the meanwhile.  A possible solution would be to immediately soak the trimmed knots in melted rosin-beeswax glue to turn them into solid lumps; this would be permanent and waterproof, though the discoloration might look unsightly.

It must be emphasized that this is a speculative reconstruction.  I think it's a highly plausible one, as good as any other, and fits the available evidence.