Part 1
The myth of Gluttony
“Squabbling Barons” is a wargames competition based on a collection of tales taken from a set of manuscripts
written in the 14th century by the “Aimless Wandering Monks of Pound
Hill”. These manuscripts tell the story
of war torn Sussex through the eyes of a group of Barons living on their
estates in Handcross, Pease Pottage, Crawley and Horsham who would, from time
to time, go to war against each other for something to do. During the competition players take on the
guise of one of the Barons and try to fight their way up the greasy social
ladder of greed, the winner being the person who reaches the top first and
crowns himself “King”.
As for the tales written by the
“Wandering Monks”, there has been much speculation as to their authenticity
because the Monks have been accused of playing down the numerous fibs, lies and
pretence that followed in the wake of the Barons tumultuous lives. For example, today many people wrongly
believe that the Barons were great warriors akin to those of legend but the
“Sceptic Society of Baronial Deniers” believes that they were no more than a
bunch of useless layabouts. This
argument stems from the Monks fable “Blood, Beef and Trenchers” in which it
tells that after battling on the field of glory these warriors would often go
to the gym to tone themselves up for the next days encounter. However, the sceptics believe that the Barons
would gorge themselves on midnight snacks, washing them down with copious
amounts of ale. They also believe that
this orgy of glutinous debauchery would leave them so bloated that they would
often than not be left on a couch to ferment overnight. The next day they would be incapable of doing
anything apart from pass large amounts of acrid smelling gas, especially those
who ate peanuts.
However, the descendants of these
great warriors grew fed up with the retorts from the sceptics and scathing
articles written about them in the press.
In an attempt to scotch them they set up their own society called “The
descendants of the wrongly accused” commonly known as the “Family”. Bringing in the worlds most renowned
Archaeologists they opened the Barons crypts amid much media frenzy. Upon their opening they found that the crypts
were packed full of grave goods including broadswords, shields, great helms and
lances. After removing them, which took
over an hour because of their sheer magnitude, the warriors were each found to
be clasping a scroll that were thought by the Archaeologists to be of great
religious significance. It took a good
many attempts to prize the scrolls from the dead warrior’s bony hands and it
was as if these great Barons would not renounce some long forgotten pledge to
protect the scrolls even in death.
After removing them the Archaeologists
discovered that they were written in some long forgotten language. At first they were stumped by the nature of
the scrolls but on reviewing the inventory of grave goods they found that the
most abundant items were small metal boxes the lids of which were engraved in
such a manner that they corresponded with the writings on the scrolls. Putting two and two together the
archaeologists came to the conclusion that the boxes had in fact been
repositories for Holy Scriptures. For
example, a number 14 was thought to relate to Luke 14 “Jesus at the Pharisee’s
House” and a number 10 was thought to be Matthew 10 “Jesus sends out the
twelve”. It was obvious to the
Archaeologists and the “Family” alike that their long dead ancestors were
obviously part of some highly respected religious order and proved beyond doubt
that the Barons were anything but useless layabouts. The crypts were re-sealed and that, so they
thought, was that. However, after
loaning the scrolls to the British museum and having them exhibited in a glass
case in a shameless display of self-assurance, they eventually fell foul of
their own egotistical arrogance.
Three years later a coach party
of primary school children from the “Handcross prep school for girls” was
visiting the museum. These were no
ordinary girls. Where most kids of their
age were still reading the Beano these super intelligent pan dimensional beings
had progressed onto such works as “The Lego book of Quantum mechanics” and “The
Barbie guide to weapons grade plutonium”.
Amongst them was one Julie Anne
Michaels, or “Jam” as her friends knew her because she was just so lucky. Dressed in the schools straw boater, smart
green blazer, starched white blouse, green tie emblazoned with the schools
crest, and grey knee length skirt, she looked like she should have been at the
Henley regatta. For an 8 year old “Jam”
had excelled in all of her subjects and it was by sheer coincidence that she’d
brought with her the Penguin book of Philology as a light read on the
coach. On reaching the medieval section
of the museum she stopped at the glass display case containing the scrolls and
after some scrutiny she declared to her teacher that they had been incorrectly
deciphered. She said she could demonstrate
this by using a simple cryptographic equation based on those used in the rather
rudimentary and unsophisticated colossus computer of World War II. At first her teacher dismissed the girls
superiority but on reading her notes she was shocked at the revelation she saw
before her. In her panic to phone a
learned colleague she floundered like a trout in a keep net. Fumbling her mobile Miss Appleby dropped it
out of an open window and in a freak accident that can only happen in a story
like this she fell headlong out of the window and joined it by smashing herself
into hundreds of broken pieces three stories below.
With her teacher plummeting
toward certain death “Jam” perched herself on a bench in the museum and with
her legs dangling over the edge she admired her shiny new shoes before working
on her notes. She could hear Miss
Appleby’s high-pitched scream as she plunged towards the waiting road. A car horn sounded, screeching tyres came to
an untimely halt and with a sickening thud “Jam” knew it was all over. Without even looking up from her notes she
called for an ambulance, calmly opened a packet of dolly mixtures, finished
deciphering the scrolls and texted her findings to the Royal Academy. Putting her I-Phone and notes into her
satchel and dutifully throwing her dolly mixture wrapper into a bin, she
skipped over to the open window without a care in the world and looked out on
to the carnage below innocently waving to Miss Appleby as she lay sprawled
under a car.
After the Royal Academy publisher
“Jams” findings the sceptics demanded that a spectrographic analyses be carried
out on the metal boxes because new evidence had come to light. Much to the annoyance of the “Family” the
crypt was reopened and the analysis carried out. Upon its conclusion the sceptics proudly
announced that they knew exactly what the boxes were for and it wasn’t
religious artefacts’.
It was now thought that a number
14 on the scrolls actually corresponded to a box that had once contained “Egg
fried rice” and a number 10 was a box for “Chicken in Garlic”. ”Sweet and Sour Pork” was a number 23 and
extra chilli sauce a number 7. Each
scroll was dedicated to a yet undiscovered saint called “Wing” and had over two
hundred such dishes written on them. The
sceptics now believed that the dishes formed an integral part of the warrior’s
midnight feasts the like of which can only be compared to “the last
supper”. However, instead of inviting 12
other guests the Baron in question would devour all 200 meals by himself subsequently
dying of a heart attack several hours later.
This proved to the sceptics that the Barons were no more than overweight
loafers who daren’t lie on a beach for too long lest they should be attacked by
Eskimos and boiled down for their blubber.
Not to be out done the Baron’s
“Family” exhumed the skeletons upon which they modelled a computer graphic of
the Barons stature. To the astonishment
of the sceptics and media alike instead of seeing the festering mound of
bloated flesh they’d all expected, they saw before them fine examples of manly prowess. Powerfully built these Barons were perfect
specimens of Knights straight out of King Arthur. With a disproportionately muscular right arm
that had been honed from years of combat with sword, axe and lance it was clear
that the Barons were not the same bloated oafs described by the sceptics but
dexterous killing machines capable of terrible carnage. In a statement to the press the “Family”
stated that the Sceptics had misunderstood the culture in which the Barons had
lived and the consumption of so much food was necessary to maintain their
bodies at their optimum fighting potential.
The sceptics were denounced as frauds and the barrage of media coverage
was brought to an end. Never again would
the character of the Barons be put under the spot light, their place in history
was assured.
However, deep in the bowels of the earth in a dimly lit
dank corridor a CCTV unit silently monitors a vault that protects a terrible
secret that the “Family” have striven to hide for many years. For amongst the grave goods were also found
suites of matching Spandex Armour, and an unconceivable number of the monthly
illuminated manuscript “Play Maiden”. If
these artefacts should ever come to light then there would be an outcry, the
authenticity of the computer model would be condemned and the
disproportionately muscular right arm would be put at odds with the extensive
inventory of rather seedy periodicals.
The reputation of the “Family” would be in tatters and their subsequent
humiliation assured. Never again would
they be able to order sweet and sour soup without remembering St. “Wing” and
the vinegary bitterness that was dished out by the press and sceptics alike.
