Reminisces

Don’t talk to me about the Kings of Leon!

The Kings of Leon. The Kings of Leon were a pack of bastards. Obsessed with reconquering Iberia from the Moors. “Hey” I’d say to them “The Moors aren’t that bad. They’re people just like you”. “But they’re evil!” they’d say “The Pope says so!” and how can you really argue against the Pope?

The Kings of Aragon were just as bad, with the added complication of an appalling amount of inbreeding. Knock-kneed, hump-backed dwarves the lot of them. And the lisps! A five minute conversation with one of them and you’d need a shower and change of clothes. And believe me, showering facilities in 12th century Zaragoza weren’t exactly up to scratch.

The food was great though – Aragon had the best cooks in the whole of Iberia. A meal at the royal court was almost worth all the spit. Some people will tell you the palace of Cordova was the place for fine cuisine, but the Umayyads had nothing on the cooks of Aragon. The things they could do with a duck, some cloves and some oranges would make you weep.

Charlemagne, he was a decent sort. Great company – the stories he could tell! I remember one time he had the whole Synod of Frankfurt in hysterics with a story about a gluttonous donkey. His one big regret was never learning to write properly. “Charlie” I’d say “You’ve got scribes to handle that for you”, but he was always embarrassed about it. “Even Abul can write better than I!” he’d exclaim and throw his quill (or when drunk – as he often was – his flagon) across the room, and his wife would have to talk him down and remind him that Abul was an elephant and hence couldn’t write at all. But apart from that he was a great bloke.

Can’t say the same about Pippin, but that’s another story.

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