Shortly afterwards, Boris was confirmed in his title of Mayor of the Palace by the Queen of the Angles, Saxons, Britons, Picts, and Scots and set about assembling a council to rule the land. Although he had once called him an uncouth and ignorant man, Boris was now a great friend of Donald dux of the Aremoricans, who was known to the Angles as Wiglaf on account of his distinctive and amusing hairstyle. When note was taken of Boris’ own coiffure, which he deliberately ruffled to make it look as though he was, in the language of that country, ioculus [a bit of a laugh], it was clear that the two nations had entered, as one wise man said, the era of the wrong-haired kings. Few were those who looked upon this with joy in their heart; those whose souls sank when they perceived it were many. [Why, yes, that was another chiasmus there; nicely done, I thought, too.]

Boris assembled many of the most wicked men of the land, including some who had recently challenged for the title of Mayor. First was Dominicus the Cosmographer who, as I told you before, had discovered that Britannia was not connected to the mainland of Europa but in fact surrounded by sea on all sides. He became the new Count of Overseas Diplomacy. Many thought this a wise choice because of his great geographical wisdom. Jeremiah the Qweynt who, you will recall, had held this post but had made a pig’s ear of it, as was his custom, had slunk away in anger when Boris said he could not continue in this role but might have another post, such as janitor or purveyor of tea and biscuits to the council. As cancellarius, Boris appointed Count Javid Cicero, presumably for the entertainment value. This was looked upon with bemusement, for once Cicero had worked for the Great Treasury of the Alamans, which had managed to fritter away many of its treasures and embroiled itself in many a scandal, some involving Donald Dux. How the finances of the realm would fare in his hands remained a worry to many, but the people could take comfort in his funny-shaped head, which was something at least. Continuing on this theme, Boris permitted to his council another Dominicus, Dominicus of Comminges who was famed for having a forehead like only unto the broad expanse of the Skythian steppes. Indeed some said that had Attila had to cross his head rather than the plains of Asia the Roman Empire might still be with us. This Dominicus was an evil fellow who had done much to stoke the rebellion against the Western Empire, with manifold untruths, manipulation of chroniclers and targeted adverts on the Liber Vultus. All fretted that he would be the power behind the power behind the throne. By contrast, another who joined this gang was Elizabeth of the Truss, whose name none could explain, though that was mostly because they didn’t like to think about it. She was given the task of agreeing the terms by which merchants might trade in distant lands, though it was bruited abroad that the main reason she was there to make the rest of the council seem wiser. This Elizabeth nonetheless knew many things, such as the number of cheeses made in the realm, yet none appeared to find these things as impressive as she did. Like many of the others, she had attended the great school of Oxford. As jester to the council, Boris brought forward a certain Jacobus Sapienter whose name was basically the key to his act for in fact he said nothing at all clever but spoke only serious-sounding nonsense to the amusement of all. Finally, Boris appointed as Count of Domestic Affairs a certain Pritigund, a most wicked woman. This Pritigund had been driven from office before for corruptly trying to make a deal with the rulers of the Holy Land and was famous for her many previous intrigues and untruths and for suggesting that the people of Hibernia should be starved into supporting the rebellion against the Western Empire. She proclaimed herself a supporter of slaughtering and terrorising criminals, which many in the land thought was a bit rich. Once they had all come together, the new council proclaimed that there would be money for all and that all would be well if only everyone joined in a great spirit of happiness and optimism. Some thought this a powerful new theological stance but these people were few and chiefly included Timothy of Montgomery, a simpleton who frequently appeared in the chronicles of the land but for no very clear reason. The rest of the people thought this doctrine, though promulgated by the council with great enthusiasm, was nevertheless a bit light on detail.