The Baby Eating Bishop of Bath and Wells

The Baby Eating Bishop of Bath and Wells is coming to dinner. That was one of the hand painted slogans written large on the gates of Berwick on Tweed, Elizabeth One’s northern border fortress.

“Scrub that damned thing off” shouted the Gate Captain, “If he sees that we’ll all be having sweetbreads on toast for breakfast”.

“What are sweetbreads Captain?”

“Testicles son…..testicles and it’ll be our testicles we’ll be eating, now get scrubbing”.

Fortunately for them the Bishop had taken a detour and was visiting some of his smaller estates in the North of England. His landholders and their tenant farmers hadn’t been able to send his rents south. They claimed the money had been sent, but the Border Reivers had taken the lot.

Unfortunately for them the Baby Eating Bishop of Bath and Wells (BEBoBaW) wasn’t a trusting man and he was currently in Wark to the west of Coldstream collecting his rents in person.

He was cold, his saddle had rubbed him raw and he was not in the best of moods, this was indicated by the additional charge of cartage that was added to the rents owed, on top of the onerous, collection in person charge and the feeding and stabling flat rate.

Wark was a small but beautiful village on the banks of the Tweed, not far from the safe havens of Twizell and Norham Castles, there was always trouble in this part of the Borders and so the BEBoBaW had taken quite a large escort to guard his august personage. The escort came as an additional cost for the locals, they referred to it as blackmail but the BEBoBaW referred to it as protection money.

He knew that Bishop Arkwright kept a tight control over the lands in his diocese and as the BEBoBaW approached Wark he could see the local priests gathered in the village square to welcome him.

They look to be a rather monkish lot he thought, rather Papist even, there might be some enjoyable work for me to do, weeding out heretics, and maybe collecting additional tithes as well. The BEBoBaW rubbed his hands together at the thought of the entertainment as well as the extra money, he wondered under which column in the balance sheet to enter the charge. Maybe just as sundry expenses he chuckled.

No one knows what the monkish priests were thinking because they were a tight mouthed lot. This was a time whent a wrong word would get you marked as a Papist and it was a slippery slope from that to the stake. The new Church of England seemed to enjoy a good roasting to cleanse the common folk of any desire to backslide into Catholicism.

It was a large gathering and the BEBoBaW hissed “Keep close” to the two Captains of his Guard, Sir Jasper and Sir Francis.

You may wonder why there were two Captains but then you are probably not as paranoid as the BEBoB&W.

Father Michael approached timidly, he still wasn’t used to being called Reverend Crabbucket instead of Father Michael, a term he much preferred.

He was also wondering why the Bishop of Bath and Wells had so many handsome women in his entourage.

Very handsome women he thought, gentil women as well.

The one wearing a breast plate and an imperious attitude had demanded an apple from one of the villagers. The old woman looked perplexed; the apple crop had failed, mainly because the villagers had resorted to chopping down the apple trees for firewood to keep warm last winter.

Father Michael worried this might get out of hand but just then, there was a commotion at the front door of Widow Black’s house.

Two men were pushing and shoving in the doorway, both trying to get through at the same time. One emerged victorious from this scrummage and ran screaming his battle cry “Douglas, a Douglas” as Dashing Dougie Douglas ran straight at the BEBoB&W.

He would have made it but Sir Jasper stepped into his path with his sword drawn.

Sparks flew as their swords clashed but within seconds the northern hellion was laid low by the effete southerner. “Get out of my way” came another raised voice as second man emerged from the doorway; helmet askew but ferocious purpose could be heard in that steely voice.

Loping passed the fight between Sir Jasper and Dougie he dashed straight at Sir Francis, the Bishops other Guard Captain. Without ceremony the Black Vagabond sliced his sword in a flailing backhanded cut that tore through the muscle and sinew of Sir Francis’s right leg, the man fell to the flagstones, blood spurting from his wound.

There was a thunderous bellow from the same house, “You dogs keep out of my way next time”.

Mad Wullie Snapcase staggered out into the daylight, saw that his nearest opponent was the BEBoBaW and with 3 long paces was within sword reach of the man in black.

The problem was, that in emerging third out of the building he gave the Bishop enough time to collect his wits and draw his sword. He had a reputation for eating babies raw, which was slightly apocryphal because he preferred them lightly sautéed but he was a man who could take care of himself in a fight. A reputation he preferred to keep to himself, it always caught any one who made it past his guards by surprise and surprise was always good in these dangerous times.

Mad Wullie raised his weapon for a massive killing blow and was faintly disconcerted to feel the Bishops sword pass through his leather jerkin and slipping between a couple of ribs missing his left lung by a fraction of an inch. He sank to his knees wondering if it had been such a good idea to try and rob the Bishop of Bath and Wells.

The Bishop looked down from his horse and as if reading his mind. Said, “no lad, it was a bad idea”.

Not deterred by the lack of success so far Slasher McBrain rushed the foppish looking Sir Guffington Shortcake.

McBrain by name but not by nature, he quickly realised that a man dressed in lime green and yellow hose would have taken a fair amount of ribbing about his appearance over the years. Such a man grown to middle age and serving in the BEBoB&W bodyguard might be able to deal with such ribbing, possibly in a rather violent manner.

McBrain was cut down unceremoniously, suffering a grievous wound that he might never recover from, especially as Shortcake didn’t take too well to be called a southern powder puff and was deciding if he should stab McBrain in the chest or somewhere more painful. In the end he just went for the neck.

Wee Jock McClew was the last man out of the Widow Blacks house, he was a canny fighter, well anyone entering the fray last is canny in my book. He used his small shield or targe with good effect to protect himself from an initial attack, then countering, he downed Sir Nathanial Toastrack with ease. Sir Miles Cholmomdley-Warner faired no better against McClew and as he lay in a pool of blood he wondered if Madeline Basset-Smith even noticed his valiant effort to save her from the wild eyed Borderer but she was still trying to get an apple from the old lady, so possibly not.

I’ve no idea what happened next because this was a game we fought last year when the Mad Lord Snapcase ventured north in the entourage of the BEBoBaW but the rest of the Borderers have joined in the scrap and the softie southerners (MLS) have counter attacked, The Bishop is down, as is the Black Vagabond but there are still a few good men standing, and the monks haven’t run away…..yet, although they are wondering if they should intervene and on whose side!

Auld Wat (Walter Scott of Harden) draws a bead on Sir John Falstaff, fires and misses his man, realizing that there’s only him and Wee Jock still fighting on the Reivers side, and as they’re a little outnumbered, he decides the game is up and runs away.

This manoeuvre is sometimes considered a backwards, retrograde advance…..if you’re trying to put a good gloss on the situation but most people call it fleeing the scene.

Wee Jock McClew doesn’t have Auld Wat’s education and just flees the scene, the softie southerners can’t keep up with the hardy northern folk and so he gets away.

Mad Wullie Snapcase or Big Wullie as he prefers to be known, Dashing Dougie Douglas and the Black Vagabond were all wounded and taken prisoner. The Bishop of Bath and Wells has cut short his tour of the Borders and is even now headed for Berwick on Tweed, where he will need to hire more bodyguards before making his way down south.

Our three heroes are imprisoned in a gaol cart accompanying him, the gallows and a gibbet await them…..unless a rescue attempt is mounted by Auld Wat and Wee Jock, but they might need some reinforcements first.

The Missing Millions - Front Story

AAR – Finding the Missing Million’s

If you’ve read and can remember the backstory to this caper then it still won’t make much sense but I’ll try my best, but this report is more to showcase The Mad Lord Snapcase’s work, building the city of Venice….Italy…. in Devon….England, and my determination to post on the Blog at least once a month during 2024. This post will, I hope achieve both aims.

During my brief trip down south to take in the delights of Snapcase Hall for a few days we played 3 games in 3 days. A wild fantastic game of Carnivalle, a dour and gritty game searching for Ruth Marrot and the Missing Millions, and finally a VBCW game where my Communists under the leadership of Bessie Bradock a most fearsome woman, attempted to repel an incursion by a mad group of Mounties, Posties, Boy Scouts, and the Household Cavalry. I was aided in having a secret weapon, the Diddy Men of Knotty Ash and a circus cannon to fire them from but for reasons that I can’t remember there was some sort of fog limiting visibility and I only got to fire one of these interesting missiles.

If I can get hold of some of the game photos it would be a tale worth telling.

Anyway…..

Venice, Jewel of the Adriatic.

In the early morning it looks a quiet and peaceful place.

But the famed canals provide plenty of places to dump a dead body should you so desire.

Its beautiful bridges also allow you to throw a dead body into the water, creating a bit of a splash if you have that sort of flamboyant nature.

Of course if you have a more retiring nature you could just roll the body straight off a calle into the canal.

This morning there was a bit of a buzz in the air, more of a buzz than usual and as you know, Venice is always buzzing.

The unusual extra bit of pizzazz might have been due to the sleek white launch moored along side the Spanish Steps, her crew bustling around cleaning and polishing the elegant vessel, so she shines in the early morning sunlight.

Late in the evening of the first day, a magnanimous Mad Lord Snapcase looks benevolently over his Venetian creation. He is reflecting that having allowed me to achieve a marginal win in the Carnivalle race, held earlier in the day, thinking that I’m open for the sucker punch on the morrow.

The morrow dawns and he does not look so confident!

I, however, am full of bacon and egg sarnie, who could not look forward to a days gaming that starts with bacon and egg, especially as it’s my game, my rules, my glorious victory must be writ large in the Devon sky.

As I intimated in the previous post I was unsure of how to combine my objectives of searching and detecting to find and solve clues to the whereabouts of Ruth Marrot. So after some discussion over a glass or two of fine wine from the well stocked cellars in Snapcase Hall we decided to do everything.

After reading Charles Grants book years ago, especially the chapter on hidden campaign movement with only 2 players I started to collect matchboxes. It’s not quite as exciting as collecting stamps, or train spotting but very close and does have the added benefit that I can create a series of hidden locations.

We used the 22b Baker Street game, there are 14 locations in the game and each one holds a clue or information about a specific crime. You go round the locations, collect this information and rush back to Scotland Yard and announce your theory and solve the crime.

To add some wargaming spice to this, when entering a building there were additional clues in the form of a dissected painting with Ruth Marrots address written on the back. You need to search for and find these painting fragments and need all 6 that make up the complete picture with the address. The idea was that the searching would provide a random time element, changing the normal Baker Street game. In addition there would be perils to overcome adding another imponderable element to an already complex game.

I did try this once before, the game is on here somewhere and was well pleased with the idea.

Anyway to continue the tour, the chap in the background is obviously one of the flamboyant disposers of bodies. Intending to throw his, off the bridge and make a splash, he’s already notified one of the local reporters obviously to ensure his splash is…..splashed on the front page of the paper.

The early tourists are just taking to the calle, strolling along the quay’s and preparing for an edifying days sightseeing.

At this point I really should apologise for the picture quality. It’s quite dark in the servant’s kitchen and even though there’s been a recent upgrade from candlelight to gaslight it doesn’t compare with the new electric lighting installed in the main living quarters of Snapcase Hall.

I believe a Mr Bertram Wooster is on the Grand Tour with his Aunt’s Agatha and Dahlia. They both like to get an early start and young Wooster has no say in the matter.

Of course Venice wouldn’t be Venice without its fair share of Gondolas on display and I’m rather impressed with the curves on this one made of MDF.

Well, on with the story, you may remember that the infamous Mabel Street Mob was coming to town led by the tall, willowy figure of Lian Su Smith. She’d brought along some of her most trusted Lieutenants and Soldiers and they’d split into two groups to cover the ground faster. She has the steady Barbara Vasseur, carrying her trusty pump action shotgun, how she got that through customs is anyone’s guess and Mad Bad Patsie Jones. She’d decided to keep Patsie close, mainly to ensure she didn’t go off with a bang like the loaded gun she carries.

The other group led by Nicolle Bousier the beautiful, seductive French woman had run into some trouble in the first 2 buildings they’d entered. First up was a swarm of rats, this is Venice and so rats might be expected but then they’d stepped into a knot of serpents. Nicole had been immobilised by their venom, leaving Isabelle DeForret and Loretta Salerno to carry on alone. From her name you would think Salerno was Italian and you’d be right but she’d grown up in Sicily and hated the northern Italians with a Sicilian passion, so Isabelle was doing all the negotiating and searching, rather than start an Italian civil war.

The other protagonists in this race against time was the bad apple Rudolf Valentino an Italian street cop, here trying to intimidate a local citizen into blubbing, which I think is American parlance for spilling the beanz. Guiseppe Garibaldi waves his rod in her direction but she’s seen bigger things in a Christmas cracker. Dino di Laurentis just tries, and fails, to look cool and hot at the same time.

The rest of Valentino’s crew are seen here entering the Dimera di Signora Passaggio Posteriore, just before a falling beam, well…..fell on them. It’s just one of the random perils to be found when walking round a gradually crumbling city.

Guccio Gucci in his very smart Italian shoes nimbly sidestepped the beam as Ferruccio Lamborghini and Garpare Campari look on in awe at his tap dancing.

Before the Complaints Departments gets snowed under with letters of complaint, the Italians and Venetian buildings were not named by me. Also if you’re thinking of writing in I should tell you that my Complaints Departments have a slogan, taken from one of the Mad Lords T-shirts. “I have selective hearing……and you’re not selected.

Shaken by the beam but not stirred, Gucci and his men move on to Il Palazzo di Ammiraglio Perricomo da Scattocase. Where disappointingly, they find nothing of significant interest.

I think in the movies they call these shots ‘B’ roll, they don’t add anything to the storyline but are usually quite pretty scene setters.

Although in this case, in the distance Lian has just crossed the green bridge, but it’s still a pretty shot of a well populated Venice.

Disaster for the lead copper, Rudolph Valentino. When questioning the proprietor of the Gelato Santo he made some unsavoury remarks about the big chaps red clothing, white beard and penchant for having small children sitting on his knee. Donner and Blitzen he remarked as Santo’s dog Dasher was ordered to KILL the man with the red nose.

“Wadda you wanta” grunted Mad Patsie as a Toff in a top hat approached. “I was looking for the Palazzo Della Disciplina” he replied. “It’s right here” she responded and fetched him a slap behind his left ear with her pistol.

“You fool” Barbara said, “the Palazzo Della Disciplina it the building right behind you” Patsie just shrugged and they moved on.

Closing with the establishment of Alfonso Soffiatore di Corno Construttore de Barche, Gucci had the misfortune to run into Aunt Agatha…..or it may be Aunt Dahlia. Either way, she gave him apiece of her mind on Italian fashion sense. The very idea of a Gentleman going out in his shirt sleeves, wearing just a waistcoat is appalling. No wonder the Romans lost their Empire if they dressed in such a cavalier manner she remarked to no one in particular. Gucci also has selective hearing.

Still having Aunt Agatha…..or it may be Aunt Dahlia’s words of admonition ringing in his ears Gucci crossed the bridge with a sigh and came face to face with Barbara Vasseur. Well it was really Campari who was staring down the barrel of her shot gun but the result was the same.

Both groups halted.

“Lets plug em” muttered Mad Patsie, Barbera nodded agreement, she knew she would never take to Campari, with or without a mixer, although she liked the look of Lamborghini, he looked fast….fast, sleek and mean, something she liked in her men.

“Let them pass” commanded Lian. Patsie looked sour but did as she was told.

Lian had seen what the other two had failed to notice, di Laurentiis and Garibaldi were just going into La Casa di Padrona Sculacciatoro the next building along the street, and so in a fight they would have been outnumbered.

Pick the fights you can win and avoid the ones you can’t her father had instilled into her, but never walk away from either. He’s served his time as a Marine in the Pacific and she took notice of most of what he’d told her. Not all of course, or she wouldn’t be the up and coming gangster she was, but most of his advice was sound she knew.

The clock is ticking and in spite of the fact that Loretta and Isabelle didn’t have the advantage of Nichole’s sage council the girls had made good time searching the buildings they’d been allocated and they were going to be the first back to the white launch waiting by the Spanish steps.

Close behind Lian refuses to run, it’s unbecoming in a lady, another piece of advice from her father, but sometimes her mother was right. Never run in high heals, you’ll break an ankle was her advice.

First back, the Mabel Street Mob started assembling all the information they’d gathered.

But the Bent Italian coppers were not far behind.

I smiled a wicked smile because I would get first turn at solving the mystery.

Lord Snapcase has had what some might call an interesting past, what he failed to mention until later was that his family had fairly close ties with the Financier Herbert Leon. The current Lord Snapcase had also visited the ancestral home of Leon, something to do with some arcane research he’d been involved in prior to the Jamjharristan Incident.

The Baker Street game clues require a modicum of lateral thinking, puzzle solving and attention to detail as well as reading the original brief very carefully. I forgot the later part of this.

After much head rubbing, the Mad Lord raised his head and with a gleam in his gimlet sharp eyes asked “Have you got it yet”

My wicked smile of satisfaction faded when I had to admit I could only resolve 2 out of the 4 answers, I could make a stab at the 3rd but was completely in the dark as to the 4th clue.

“Well my chaps will get on the launch and I’ll have a crack at answering the puzzle” he grinned, good humouredly.

Then he mentioned the name of Leon’s house, the one the current Lord Snapcase had visited, the one he’d used the facilities to aid his research, it was Bletchley Park. I reflected and was pleased we didn’t have money riding on the game outcome.

“There’s some old family story that Papa co-built Colossus” he said, “but while Papa could be relied on to drop a charging Rhino at 50 paces he could never be relied on to tell the whole truth about anything”. “Anyway the answer to the question is 42” he continued getting all 4 parts correct in his explanation.

“I think I win” he finished with a “Pip Pip” “Let’s open the Lafitte next”

So I’d just like to say a thank you to Snappers for a jolly good game and for the sterling work he put into building Venice, I particularly like the grey stippling on the paving slabs, to my mind it brings the whole thing together extremely well. It’s not the most spectacular part but it’s my favourite bit, well apart from the central tower that’s featured particularly nicely in the 3rd picture up from here.

The tower is called La Torre di Santo Vagabondini and is the largest erection in Venice.

Well if anyone should read this, I hope you have a great New Year. 

Cheers

The Missing Millions - Backstory

Richardson, President of the Fourth & First National Bank of Nashville called for his Secretary Miss Deftly and asked who had authorised the payment of $100,000 from his personal account and where had the money been sent. Minutes later Miss Deftly was back and explained that the transfer had been authorised in Mr Richardson’s name by a Miss Marrot at the Federal Reserve Bank in Atlanta. The blood drained from Mr Richardson’s face as he asked his Secretary to place a call to Miss Marrot.

   

His colour didn’t improve at all once he learned from Miss Marrot's Secretary that she hadn’t appeared for work that morning and an employee of the Federal Reserve had been despatched to her house to ensure she was alright. It was so unusual for her to take time off work, especially without notifying her boss Bingley Brackenshaw.

Mr Brackenshaw was currently sat at his desk pondering the strange call from a Mr Calhoon Carter of the First Atlanta Bank demanding to know the whereabouts of Miss Marrot and refused to state his business when requested and then had abruptly closed the call. Mrs Brackenshaw was even more confused when Evangelica his PA reported that there was no one answering the door at Miss Marrot’s residence and that there was a sold sign in the front garden.

Now he was no longer confused he was distinctly worried because Miss Marrot was the person responsible for the series of cash transfers that were being made by the Federal Reserve to the various Banks in the 6th District based in Atlanta. These transfers were providing liquidity to help stave off the runs on the various banks in his District, runs caused by the collapse of Caldwell’s the largest Financial House in the South.

Unlike the 8th District in St Louis, Atlanta had been loaning money as fast as they could get it out of the door in an effort to stave off bank collapse and so far he was being successful. Or so he had thought.

Ruth Marrot leaned back in her chair and stretched to relieve the ache in her back and neck, looking around from her balcony, the view along the Grand Canal looked particularly nice at this time of year. She’d had a busy month moving large quantities of money around the country without anyone noticing, it had been strenuous, physically and mentally but the panic over the run on the banks had been a major help. That and the assistance of a few CEO’s and Bank Presidents, she grinned thinking how annoyed they would be that she had managed to get all the ‘bribe’ money back from them in the one day…….the day she left Atlanta.

Well they shouldn’t have given her access to their private accounts but then they only thought greedily of the money going in, and not that she could also take it out again. They wouldn’t be going to the Cops and admitting complicity in the biggest fraud the country had up until now experienced.

She fully expected the Federal Reserve Bank would make a few discrete enquiries before agreeing that loosing the money was bad but admitting to loosing it to the country in the current crisis was unthinkable.

Ruth was happy that she had probably gotten away with her crime but there was one thing she wasn’t aware of and that might be her undoing. Redmire Richardson, President of the Fourth & First National Bank of Nashville was in bed so to speak with Lian Su Smith, head of the Mabel Street Mob. Not literally, Lian had far better taste in men than Richardson but she was heavily committed to his bank where she laundered her income from protection, extortion, gambling and the Speakeasy’s. Prohibition was a great source of income for the modern criminal and she was a model modern criminal. Unfortunately the Bank’s liquidity wasn’t enough to meet the queues of punters who wanted their money back out of the bank and safely under their own beds and so the Bank had gone under, with a considerable chunk of Lian's cash. The liquidity should have been provided by the Federal Reserve but as this had been siphoned off by Ruth Marrot, Lian felt that she was owed and she intended to collect……with interest.

Lian made enquiries in the underworld, her network of associates stretched a long way, international debts were called in and money was spread to grease the greasy palms until she received a nibble at her bait. Venice was where the nibble came from, Venice Italy and from the local police department or Carabianieri. There was a man, Rudolph Valentino head of the Corrotto Carabianieri, that’s bent coppers to the rest of us, who had heard of a woman answering the description that was circulated through Italy’s underbelly of crooks, criminals and conmen. He knew that if there was some kind of reward for information on the whereabouts of the woman then she was valuable in her own right. He intended to acquire a stake in that commodity and see what could be squeezed out.

  

Interpol had been founded in 1923 and this was a constant source of valuable information to Valentino, not to imprison criminals as you should expect, but to find them and then extort money to support his own lavish lifestyle. He frowned with annoyance at the latest communiqué from them, The Mabel Street Mob had just boarded a plane, destination Rome, they could be in Venice the next day, he would have to start the search for the blonde woman with the scared face sooner than he expected.

The race is on, there is information hidden in the six central districts of Venice, Ruth Marrot is located on the Island of Giudecca but you will need to uncover all the pieces of the puzzle to find her address, and don’t expect her to come quietly if you do find her.


The day after tomorrow I'm headed south to Snapcase Hall in the wilds of Devon for 3 days of wargaming, drinking and telling tall stories. Snappers has spent a good part of the year building Venice and the first game will be something called Carnivalle maybe not spelt like that. I've no idea what to expect apart from the fact that it will be fun. I'm putting on this game, set in Venice because it would be rude not to after he's spent so long building it. I'm really bereft of ideas but I want to try for a detecting type game, I'm still not sure if I'm going to build it around the Sherlock Holmes221B Baker Street or create my own puzzle.  I have a whole day to decide :(. I also thought I'd try and use the Pulp Alley Rules because I envision going into buildings and searching for clues, the Perils and Challenges would play into that but I'm still undecided. I hate playing a game and having to leaf through rules to find what I want so I might just go with the ones I always use.

So 1 day to go and I have a back story, hummm.

Thanks for reading, if you did and any thoughts you might have will probably be too late but I'd appreciate reading them.

Cheers