An Historical Discovery of Some Significance I was rummaging through an old trunk left to me by a long lost uncle when I came across a crumbling, ancient, and rather foul smelling book. The text was written in a sort of bastardized Old Saxon. Summoning what I knew of that language from my days at Cambridge I have translated it as best I could. I make no claim to the authenticity of this document.

Chronicles of the Left Saxons By The Venerable Ardo

I, Father Ardo, by grace of God personal chaplin to his Most Christian Majesty Willidorf, son of Wollybear, King of the Left Saxons, do write this chronicle of that nation in the pious hope that others will learn from our mistakes. Anno Domini 880.

The name 'Left Saxons' is, unfortunately, not lost in the mists of time. In the days of the Roman Empire this nation was known as the 'Illegitimate Saxons' or the 'Saxonettes'. At that time we dwelt in Germania, if you can call that dwelling. When the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes decided to migrate to Britannia they agreed among themselves that no one would mention the plan to our people. One day, about 11-ish, the nation dragged itself out of bed only to discover that they were the only Saxons left in the neighborhood. On that day they took up their new name.

Determined not to be ditched by the surrounding tribes that were the source of the Public Assistance money on which they depended, the Left Saxons combed the region for clues to the destination of their migrating cousins. The search produced a sales slip for 10,000 umbrellas, a few recipes for overcooked, unseasoned food, and a dog-eared copy of 'Britannia On 5 Round Shiny Metal Things a Day'. Putting 2 and 2 together, our people promptly set sail for Morocco. Fate being what it is, those helmsmen who insisted that the sun sets in the south won the argument that broke out almost immediately, and the entire fleet soon bumped into Britain.

It took several years for the majority to realize that they were not, in fact, in Morocco. To this day you can sell a pig to a Left Saxon for twice what it is worth by insisting that it is a camel. It didn't help that every other Germanic invader they encountered responded to all questions with 'Sorry effendi, no habla Old Saxon'.

Rampaging Left Saxon hordes soon overran that part of Britain known to the locals as 'The Crappy Boglands'. Perhaps 'overran' is too dramatic a term. In fact, they bought the land from the local Century VI realtor. The normally impecunious tribesmen raised the money by holding a bake sale to which the surrounding inhabitants of Britain were invited. The various intestinal disorders that resulted from the consumption of these continental delicacies are known collectively to history as 'The Scourge of God'. Some say that the sterility and blindness that many suffered was the beginning of the end of British resistance to the invaders. In any case, the Left Saxons settled in their new land, and were soon forgotten.

Ah, happy the race whose history has many blank pages! As far as anyone knows, the next few centuries were uneventful ones for the Left Saxons. At least, nothing was written down to suggest otherwise. In fact, nothing was written down at all. That, combined with the custom of the other Anglo-Saxons of denying the existence of the Left Saxons, or any relationship to them if they do exist, has led many historians to believe that there are no such people. A careful examination of the records proves that our people prospered in The Crappy Boglands, following the customs of their ancestors, marrying their cousins and extorting money from neighboring tribes by making them feel guilty.

The invasions of the Heathen Danes thrust the Left Saxons, all unwilling, onto the center stage of history. While England had, for some time, suffered from raids by vikings blown off course on their way to worthwhile targets, our people are said to be responsible for the first intentional attacks by the Great Heathen Host, led by the sons of Ragnar. It seems that Ragnar had purchased a large quantity of rather overpriced oregano from a Left Saxon merchant on the mistaken belief that it could be used as an ingredient in an old Danish recipe called 'Happy Brownies'. Ragnar really wanted to lead the invasion himself but since consuming a large number of the brownies in a vain attempt to achieve the desired effect, he had been rendered chronically incontinent, and unfit to undertake the long sea voyage. It is written that this was the origin of his street name 'Ragnar Hairybreeks'.

The Great Heathen Host roamed England for years smiting one inhabitable area after another in a vain attempt to find and punish the Left Saxons. All of the other English kept telling them that we lived in The Crappy Boglands, but the sons of Ragnar, not unreasonably, assumed that no intelligent person would choose to live there. They were right, still there we dwelt.

This is the origin of the famous English battlecry 'They're Over There!' And so it continued for many years, with our people making a tidy profit selling the contending armies information about each other, and providing party girls to the downscale drunken raider market. Ah, many a bold reaver awoke in the morning to find his wallet gone and a strange burning sensation south of the fjord. We all help in the defence as best we can. The Left Saxon host never did cross swords with the invaders. For us, the Hide is not a measure of farmland, but a military manoevre.

My lord and patron, Willidorf the Slick continues to rule the Left Saxons in spite of everything. While the selection of a leader among the surrounding nations is a solemn event, our people generally don't pay much mind since they have no intention of doing what their leaders say anyway. A few eyebrows were raised when queen Hilligard suggested that everyone give everything they owned to her, in return for which she promised to look after them all when they got old.

Even we aren't that dumb, so the scheme never got off the ground, or bog as the case may be. We continue to get along by sponging off our neighbors and demanding that 1/3 of all new serfs and churls must be Left Saxons. Against all reason the surrounding peoples continue to abide our presence, and by the grace of God may it always be so.