Sir Omar ibn Haroun Al-Askari Al-Rumi
fallen in Spring Crown Tourney, A.S.
A soldier of the Byzantine set forth
Levant bound for
To win a kingdom for his fair Katrin
He braved sirocco winds and burning sands.
Sir Omar crossed snow fields and storm-tossed seas
As foreign to his nature as the stars
That led him ever onward to his goal:
A kingdom he might gift his paramour.
Caid is such a land whose throne is won
By one who bests the best who fight this day.
Beset by Vikings: Snorri, Haldorr, Sven
He bested one, then fell in mortal fray.
No accolades, no wreath of rosemary.
But Omar lives to fight another day.
-- Mistress Philippa Llewelyn Schuyler
...a weaver of words and wadmal.