Moorish Pie

Once in the realm of Albion was the kingdom of silver sun. Wend-bloom was its name oft sung by peasant, lord, and merchant tongue. Uriah Wend was its sovereign, who was the mold of squarish chin. His majesty gained the height of praise, in his lord’s holy crusade. When returned they did parade, and he did bed the fairest maid. All girls his Queen bore to him, and hopes of heir became quite slim. This grieved the King in Albion, and for years he labored for a son. To no avail did effort yield, that masculine form to be revealed. So shunned he felt, Wend Majesty, by his lord of Galilee. So he bequeathed power to air, and its prince from gale did hear.

Upon a port in Albion, arrived a cook with tawny son. From eastern shores they did come, to the land of silver sun. She appeared a haggard Moor, that when eyes laid pon become quite sore. Though homely as a withered pear, her meals prepared had no compare. Her desserts were of unique delight, of which legend did take flight. All across the Wend-bloom realm, her sweet touch did overwhelm. Pastries, pies, and cakes galore, brought fame to the haggard Moor. The highest court word did fall, and soon his Majesty did call. Without delay the hag did come, and with her brought tawny son. So in the court were they led, and to them the King then said,

“I hear thou hath the sweetest touch to bring, can thou make meal fit for a king?“

“With every drop of my soul shall I prepare, a meal so grand heaven’s trumps shall blare.”

“If thine boast fail to portend, upon a pike shall thy head rend.”

“My liege, I shall see it done, and hope mine head shall stay upon.”

“Before thy take thy leave, tell me of the boy that cleaves. His eyes are of a familiar woe, one I cannot place yet know. I do not trust this tawny lad; when did he and thou be wed?”

“Of ten and three has he put behind, and his talents are of a special kind. He came to me an infant seed, an orphan boy to teach my deeds. An apprentice is he to me, and like a son I do see.”

“I do envy thee in this way. Perhaps the banquet shall invigorate. After thou meal that I shall sup upon, perhaps I shall sire a son. This brings me joy, see supper done.”

The Haggard Moor and her tawny one, labored till fall of silver sun. A great feast laid bare in the hall, where royal family in seats did fall. The first course was of course far from coarse. Initial hunger it did appease, but of things to come it was a tease. The second course was of the meltiest meats, that fell from bone with aromatic heat. So satisfied was his Majesty Wend, before third course he did commend.

“I am much pleased old hag, thy boast holds true and did not wag. Now to that which thou fame has brung, bring that dessert which I oft heard sung.”

“Yes, sire. It shall be done."

All manner of confectionary delight, dazzled their palates well into night, and when they thought the meal concluded, the Moorish hag then interluded.

“Sire, may I present to thee and thine family, a rare treat from shores across western sea?”

“We are well fed and quite impressed, dear hag; a last dish doth not long keep from slumber if tagged. By what name doth this rare treat go, that makes us tarry from slumber so?”

“Far to the west my liege, a plant groweth abundant and fat, that natives of land call chocolate.”

Soon servants brought in for all to see, a large brown cake in effigy. It took the form of a naked Moor, a beautiful maid the King seen afore. While his Queen and daughters did devour, the haggardly Moor grew a bit younger. The King instead did not partake, for the image of cake did overtake.

“Why doth thou not eat my liege, doth this confection not please?”

“It seems quite queer to partake of effigy. How doth mine ladies dine so casually?”

“Do ye not drink thy lord’s blood as wine, and bread as his body ye take in kind. This is not so serious as thy savior, but merely a sweet to induce vigor. Here, my King, do not thyself deny, this cut here I call Moorish Pie.”

From the nether region of effigy, the hag cut a perfect V. The King did eat, and was quite surprised. The chocolate spice was more than surmised. All was joyous, winsome, and merry, until groans emanated quite clearly. The Queen and her girls began to sprout feathers, as their forms contorted and festered. Feathered serpents they had become, as their father King blurted,

“Hag what have ye done!”

King Uriah bent and keeled as his innards roiled and wheeled. The hag laughed and spurned as her youth returned, and suddenly the King recalled wherein he had seen the Moorish maiden.

“Yes ye know me of Sultan’s harem, that thou used and left with child therein. Of promised return ye had no intention to keep, so happy I was to hear gale that speaks. It told me of thou land and the son desired, so I came for thine throne for him to acquire. Come meet thy father, tawny lad, for little time hath he left—only a tad.