Jingo

“The war is officially over, is it?” said Carrot.

“The war, captain, never happened. It was a… misunderstanding.”

“Never happened?” said Vimes. “People got killed!”

“Quite so,” said Lord Vetinari. “And this suggests, does it not, that we should try to understand one another as much as possible?”

“What about the Prince?”

“Oh, I am sure we can do business with him, Vimes.”

“I don't think so!”

“Prince Khufurah? I thought you rather liked the man.”

“What? What happened to the other one?”

“He appears to have gone on a long visit to the country,” said the Patrician. “At some speed.”

“You mean the kind of visit where you don't even stop to pack?”

“That kind of visit, yes. He seems to have upset people.”

“Do we know which country?” said Vimes.

“Klatchistan, I believe– I'm sorry, did I say something funny?”

“Oh, no. No. Just a thought crossed my mind, that's all.”

Vetinari leaned back. “And so once again peace spreads her tranquil blanket.”

“I shouldn't think the Klatchians are very happy, though.”

“It is in the nature of people to turn on their leaders when they fail to be lucky,” Vetinari added, his expression not changing. “Oh, there will no doubt be problems. We will just have to… discuss them. Prince Khufurah is an amiable man. Very much like most of his ancestors. A flask of wine, a loaf of bread and thou, or at least a selection of thous, and he'd not be too interested in politics.”

“They're as clever as us,” said Vimes.

“We just have to stay ahead of them, then,” said Vetinari.

“A brain race, sort of,” said Vimes.

“Better than an arms race. Cheaper, too,” said the Patrician. He flicked through the papers in front of him. “Now then, what was – oh, yes. The matter of traffic?”

“Traffic?” Vimes's brain tried to do a u-turn.

“Yes. Our ancient streets are becoming very congested these days. I hear there is a carter in Kings' Way who settled down and raised a family while in the queue. And the responsibility for keeping the streets clear is, in fact, one of the most ancient ones incumbent on the Watch.”

“Maybe, sir, but these days—”

“So you will set up a department, Vimes, to regulate matters. To deal with things. Stolen carts and so on. And keeping the major crossroads clear. And perhaps to fine carters who park for too long and impede the flow. And so on. Sergeant Colon and Corporal Nobbs would, I think, be eminently fitted for this work which, I suspect, should easily be self-financing. What is your opinion?”

A chance to be “self-financing” and not get shot at, thought Vimes. They'll think they've died and gone to heaven.

“Is this some sort of a reward for them, sir?”

“Let us say, Vimes, that where one finds one has a square peg, one should look for a square hole.”

“I suppose that's all right, sir. Of course, that means I'll have to promote someone—”

“I am sure I can leave the details to you. A small bonus for each of them would not be out of order. Ten dollars, say. Oh, there is one other thing, Vimes. And I am particularly glad that Lady Sybil is here to hear this. I am persuaded to change the title of your office.”

“Yes?”

“‘Commander’ is rather a mouthful. So I have been reminded that a word that originally meant commander was ‘Dux’.”

“Dux Vimes?” said Vimes. He heard Sybil gasp.

He was aware of a waiting hush around him, such as may be found between the lighting of a fuse and the bang. He rolled the word over and over in his mind.

“Duke?” he said. “Oh, no– Sybil, could you wait outside?”

“Why, Sam?”

“I need to discuss this very personally with his lordship.”

“Have a row, you mean?”

“A discussion.”

Lady Sybil sighed. “Oh, very well. It's up to you, Sam. You know that.”

“There are… associated matters,” said Lord Vetinari, when the door closed behind her.

“No!”

“Perhaps you should hear them.”

“No! You've done this to me before! We've got the Watch set up, we've almost got the numbers, the widows and orphans fund is so big the men are queueing up for the dangerous beats, and the dartboard we've got is nearly new! You can't bribe me into accepting this time! There is nothing we want!”

“Stoneface Vimes was a much-maligned man, I've always thought,” said Vetinari.

“I'm not accepting– What?” Vimes skidded in mid-anger.

“I've always thought that, too,” said Carrot loyally.

Vetinari stood up and went to stand by the window, looking down at Broad Way with his hands behind his back.

“The thought occurs that this might be time for… reconsideration of certain ancient assumptions,” said Vetinari.

The meaning enveloped Vimes like a chilly mist.

“You're offering to change history?” he said. “Is that it? Rewrite the—”

“Oh, my dear Vimes, history changes all the time. It is constantly being re-examined and re-evaluated, otherwise how would we be able to keep historians occupied? We can't possibly allow people with their sort of minds to walk around with time on their hands. The Chairman of the Guild of Historians is in full agreement with me, I know, that the pivotal role of your ancestor in the city's history is ripe for fresh… analysis.”