Once upon a time, in a primitive land, lived a handsome king. He wasn’t really handsome but the town crier was instructed to commence each new proclamation in the village square with, ‘Your handsome king makes this new rule for you’ and the people eventually came round to calling him that. Although some of the laddish inhabitants sometimes described disfigured objects covered in excrement as ‘handsome’.
The king loved to hunt but he could only do that in summer. In winter he sat around a roaring fire in the great hall with all his courtiers complaining bitterly about how bored he was.
‘I need another pastime to keep me occupied until I can hunt again,’ he said to no one in particular.
All the courtiers stopped drinking from their goblets and paid close attention: here was an opportunity to gain favour with the king. A Thin Lord said, ‘I have an idea. The poor could make good sport to chase.’
‘Go on,’ said the king.
The Thin Lord explained, ‘I don’t know why we hadn’t thought of it before. The poor are on our doorstep, there’s lots of them and they’re easy to catch.’
‘You mean hunt them for meat?’ Asked a Fat Lord, trying to appear helpful.
‘No, no, no’ answered the Thin Lord. ‘we play them like chess pieces.’
‘What’s chess?’ Asked the Culture Lord.
‘Leave it with me. I’ll organise everything.’ The Thin Lord said. ‘I’ll show you what I mean.’
That night he got an artist to draw a picture on a piece of paper. Once finished he signed it on the back and had it delivered to the baker in the village. The baker was astonished to receive the artwork. He was a well-known gossip and he showed the paper to everyone who came into his shop.
‘Look what the Thin Lord has sent me!’ He told them.
But then the baker started wondering why the Thin Lord had sent him such a gift. He’d never spoken to him, just saw him once in a while as he was being carried from the palace to the village to collect taxes. Perhaps he should send him something in return? He didn’t want to get into any trouble with any of the rulers. A nice cake or a sweet loaf, he thought.
Next day the baker sent the Thin Lord a round cake made from nuts, dried fruit and butter.
That evening the Thin Lord sat around the roaring fire and showed the others the cake. They admired it. Then the Thin Lord broke it apart and shared it with the others.
Later that evening The Thin Lord got a costume designer to knit him a woolly tabard. He told the knitter he wanted a picture of a deer in snow to remind the king that hunting season will soon be back. The costume designer worked through the night to produce the garment.
In the morning the Thin Lord wore the finished tabard around the palace and everyone remarked on it. They said it looked jolly and asked where they could get such a thing. The Thin Lord gave them the address of the knitter in the village. He then hurriedly went back to the knitter and told him if anyone asked to buy a similar tabard he gave him permission to do so but for each one sold he had to give the Thin Lord most of the money. The knitter agreed because his children were starving and he needed to buy medicine for his sick wife.
After a few days everyone around the fire in the great hall was wearing a tabard with a picture of a deer on it as they drank from their bejewelled goblets. Behind them was a huge pile of parcels. These were gifts from the public and the king was happy to spend all day opening each parcel to see what it contained.
‘This is fun,’ he said. ‘It should happen every year. Can you make sure it does, Thin Lord?’
‘I’ve been working on that, my liege,’ the Thin Lord said. ‘I’m going to appropriate the winter festivals the poor use to survive hard times, tie them into a significant religious moment then inextricably weave that into the existence of the monarchy so no one would ever dare suggesting getting rid of us. I’m going to call the whole thing, Christmas, for short.’
‘By ‘eck,’ said the Culture Lord, ‘that’s handsome.’
THE END