Medical professional!

At Schloss Tanvaund, Prince Rupprecht of Saukopf-Bachscuttel has been forced yet again to attend unwillingly to matters of state. This time, Leopold von Fecklenburg, Rupprecht's Grand Chamberlain, is bothering him with issues relevant to the current plague.

'A chief medical officer?' asks the prince, bewildered.

'Indeed, sir. It seemed prudent that you should have an expert advisor on plague-related issues. He is here for you to meet - a noted physician by the name of Hans Klenser'.

Rupprecht sighs. 'If I promise to meet him, will you promise to go away?'

Fecklenburg bows.

'Very well' Rupprecht says wearily. 'Let's have him'.

'Aaaaagh!' says the prince. 'What a horrifying visage, Klenser!'

Herr Klenser bows. 'Thank you, sire: I find that it keeps incidences of illness low'.
'It fights off disease and ailments?'
'No, sir - it makes potential patients too frightened to come and see me. Whenever I appear, rates of reported illness tend to drop off quickly'.
'Since the patients don't get treated, presumably other things quickly drop off as well?'
'It is the way of things, my lord. Life is "nasty, brutish, and short"'.
'The philosopher Thomas Hobbes?' interjects Chamberlain Fecklenburg.
'No', says Klenser. 'my mother - although I think that she was actually describing my father. Anyway, the point is that life is pain'.
Rupprecht snorts. 'Mine isn't. It's actually quite nice'.
The physician nods. 'Oh yes, sir - for the nobility that is so. But for ordinary people life is rather less entertaining'.
'Well', says Rupprecht, 'it serves them right for not working hard enough to inherit their father's wealth'.
Klenser bows. 'I have often had the same thought, sir'.

'Anyway, who's this with you?' asks the Prince. 

'My assistant, sire'.

Rupprecht blanches. 'I must commend you, Klenser, for such an act of charity - to allow such a snaggle-toothed crone, withered and bent with age to accompany you. I'll wager she helps to scare off some of the worst of your patients!'

'She is my wife, my lord'.

To be fair, even Rupprecht is capable of some measure of shame and embarrassment. There is a moment or two of awkward silence before the prince provides the best apology that he can.

'Bloody hell she's ugly', he says solicitously.

Fecklenburg intervenes swiftlty. Rupprecht generally only has two responses to difficult emotional situations: lunch or executions. And since it is too early for lunch, it is better for Herr Klenser that the conversation is moved on.

'Herr Klenser has already formulated some excellent advice on treating the current pestilence', says the chamberlain.

Rupprecht nods. 'Hasn't that Vulgarian minister, Ranald Drumpf, already come up with some perfectly good suggestions: catching the disease in a small net; killing the pestilence by snorting mouse traps; or having a shark eat the affliction out of our bodies?'

Klenser shakes his head wearily. 'I am a medical professional, my lord. Such suggestions are dangerously uninformed hearsay. In such times, we should abide by the clear scientific evidence'.
'Which says that we should do what?' asks the prince.
'Well, my lord, the standard treatment recommended in situations of a pandemic would be a course of leeches'.
'But that's the same treatment that physicians always recommend! I had a bad back and they recommended leeches!'
'A wise choice, sire'.
'But they weren’t even applied to my back! He applied them to my testicles - how was that supposed to help. It really hurt!'
'And did that pain take your mind off the pain in your back, my lord?'
Rupprecht considers this carefully. 'Yes, I suppose that it did'.
'Well, there you go, sir'.

Eventually, to Rupprecht's delight, the meeting ends. A part of his mind registers vaguely that some decisions have been made to which he might have assented; the rest of his brain makes fun of that part and returns to princely ruminations about pigs.

'Excellent!' says Rupprecht. 'So I think we're all done here aren't we?'

'There's just one more thing, my lord', says Fecklenburg.

'It's never ending', groans Rupprecht. 'I've been working for nearly twenty minutes!'