International Banking in Medieval Europe

From the pen of Robin of Loxley,
The Infidel Cell,
Jerusalem

Lord Loxley
Nottingham Estates
Shire of Nottingham
Nottinghamshire
England
Undermined Kingdom

Dearest Dad,

The Crusades go well! Richard The Lionheart says we'll be home for Christmas, but we have hit a tiny snag. See, the lads and I were in charge of the 'International Banking Contingency' but once we'd beaten the Saracen hordes in battle we failed to beat them at several games of chance - they had us at an unfair advantage, as they have invented 'mathematics'; a system of 'cards' depicting strange symbols. Anyway, to cut a long story short, they won. A lot. Their leader, Oh-ma-ha, cleaned us out. (Not to mention the rather cruel impression of a washer woman they made the young lad, Ivanhoe, do; he'll never live that one down as the boys have now nicknamed him Rebecca...)

If losing a lot of coin for the Crown weren't bad enough, we keep getting confused as to the true role of a "crusader" - there's this papal envoy who keeps telling us we're not acting correctly according to the instructions of Christ, a master-at-arms who tells us we're not fighting correctly against the instructions of Christ, and some Pharisees who keep asking us "What would Jesus do?" when we ask them to pay us battle tax.' To top it all off, we've ended up in the Islamic prison for wandering around 'drunk-on-leave.' Brian The Know-it-all did tell the Emir that we were respecting their ways, as we had imbibed neither the grape nor the grain, but he argued -- soberly, and with a bigger curvy sword -- that swanning about with a portable beehive and drinking mead was "not very big, or clever."

Why haven't our superiors sprung us from the clinky? Well, according to them, they are letting us "think about it." Some smart-alec (that papal envoy, I'll bet!) reckons, gambling, drinking, fighting and dressing up in women's clothes does not a Christian Soldier make - oh, and King Dickie won't let us back in the European Bankers Club until we pay back what we've lost; we all got the lecture on how we were, "the flagship for modern banking practices, from Ilford to Istanbul." (Or, Constantinople if we're winning.)

I know you hate begging letters, but please help me, Dad? I want to come home and ask that fair maiden out, the one with the big orchard and the village pantyhose shop. Honestly, I've learned my lesson, and I doubt I'll be staying with the international money trade - not if it means traveling to Jerusalem all the time. That papal envoy might be right, after all: money is the route of all evil.

Yours, missing Nottingham, and all the babes in the hood,
Robin

a 'punny' letter for Turn-a-rounds contest

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