In 2011 I dedicated my book The Medieval Dagger to “Lenard Voelker: Gentleman, Scholar, and an inspirational Martial Artist.”

A few days before Christmas I got a call from Lenard’s grandson Kyle to let me know that my old friend had died. ‘Old’ in both senses- we have been friends for over 20 years, and he was into his eighties. You may not know who he was, so I’ll sketch out for you the reasoning behind that dedication. It will give you a sense of the man as I knew him.

I first met Lenard at one of the early ISMAC events, probably in 2001. He was instantly identifiable by his profusion of white hair, and his posture- he was pretty tall, and a lifetime of politely stooping for us short-arses had left him a bit of a hunch. He was very easy to underestimate, a mistake I never made again after our first fencing match. Smallswords. But not the delicate stand-offish fencing that those who don’t understand smallswords might be thinking of. No. Lenard ‘fenced’ smallsword the same way he ‘sparred’ with a knife. A vicious flurry of aggression and speed, completely at odds with his usual gentle demeanour. Let me put it this way: fencing with Lenard was a pleasure and an education: but there’s no way in hell I’d ever want to fight him.

It says a great deal about the man that at the same event where we had a little ceremony presenting him with a sword celebrating his 50 years (so far) of training in martial arts, he paid me for a private lesson. I was about 30. He would have slaughtered me in any kind of fight, but he was happy to learn from anyone, and very excited by the growing field of historical martial arts. He epitomised the humility that is supposed to go along with being a martial artist, but very rarely does. Inspirational martial artist, indeed.

He was generous and kind in all sorts of ways. At (probably) the second event we were at together, he brought a couple of books for me. Just because he thought I might like them. And this became something of a ritual. We met at many events, and he would always have something I would never have thought to pick out for myself, but which were always interesting, and often useful. One such book was restauranteur Danny Meyer’s book Setting the Table. Another was Plato’s The Last Days of Socrates. I reciprocated with Ellis Amdur’s Duelling with O-Sensei, and others. What a scholar, with a breadth and depth of reading you don’t find often.

The last long conversation I had with him in person was in his garden, drinking beer and eating barbecue with him and his lovely wife Mai, and some friends, just chatting about martial arts and everything else, putting the Universe to rights. Even though we hadn’t seen each other in person for far too long, it was somehow entirely in Lenard’s character that the grandson he helped to raise would, in the midst of his own grief, take the time to call in person to let me know of his passing. What a gentleman.

Most of our in-person meetings occurred before social media was really a thing, so I don’t actually have any photos of us together. If you happen to have one, please share it with me.