Pummel the Priest!

'See here, my lord!' cries Fecklenburg theatrically. 'See here, the litany of calumnies, aspersions, and villification within this pamphlet that are laid against you!'

'Well', says Rupprecht nodding. 'I don't know what those words mean, but it sounds bad'.

'Indeed, my prince! For within these pages the bishop has accused you of being a fat, sluggardly glutton!'

Rupprecht nods. 'Hurtful words though they are, Fecklenburg - I have to say he's probably got me on those'. 

'And, sire, he is most critical of your sojourn as Bishop of Schrote'.

Rupprecht looks annoyed. 'What! I made a splendid Catholic bishop - what is he complaining about?'

'Well, my lord, you're a Protestant'.

'Protestant, Catholic -  it's really all the same'.

'Not everyone would agree, sire. There was, after all, that Thirty Years War thing'. 

Rupprecht frowns. 'Bishop Baldwin must have a lot of time on his hands - that pamphlet is quite thick'.

'No, no, my lord', says the chamberlain. 'He didn't actually write the pamphlet - I had it written'.

The prince's eyes bulge and he goes red; he looks, ironically given the general tone of things, like a chicken being choked. 'Fool!', he cries. 'Treacherous dog! How dare you write such things - even the things that are probably broadly true! I shall have you executed!' He pauses. 'Right after you fetch me another pie!'

'No, no, no, no, no, no, my dear prince!' squeaks Fecklenburg hurriedly. 'What I mean is that I have taken up the services of the noted propagandist Oskar Siber, and had this attack upon you manufactured as the excuse for our intervention!'

A candle, albeit quite a small one, evidently lights in the attic of Rupprecht's mind. 'Oh! Oh, I seeeeeee. But how will people believe that these insults have indeed come from the bishop?'

'See, sire - Siber has forged Baldwin's name and seal here; and also, just for good measure, added his age and postal address'.

Rupprecht reflects on all of this. 'Are the Nabstrians in as well?'

'Yes, my lord - they want Nottelbad and Bahnsee-Kassell back. And also Rotenburg will help'.

'Really? Don't they own a chunk of my princedom?'

'Only the bits that you don't like. It would seem that Landgrave Choldwig is nervous'.

'So he should be, given how little he wears when he's near his terrapins'.

'No sir - it would seem that Emperor George has been making overtures towards the Kurlandians?'

'Why is he playing them music?'

'I mean diplomatic overtures, my lord. It would seem that he has floated the idea of some kind of accomodation with them'.

'He wants to share a house?'

'No ... a diplomatic accomodation.  Fenwick-Gelenderland and Kurland together would pose a terrible threat to Rotenburg's borders'. 

'Good work, Fecklenburg!' Rupprecht nods, seemingly genuinely impressed. 'But, won't I still be held responsible for the invasion?'

The chamberlain shakes his head. 'No, no, my lord - the troops will spontaneously cross into Schrote to punish the bishop. You, my lord, will have been guilty of nothing but saying in anger, and who could blame you given Bishop Baldwin's flagrant provocations, "who will rid me of this turbulent priest'. You surely cannot be blamed if hot-headed officers and men hear this call and take it upon themselves to act!'

Rupprecht considers this. 'Hmmm, fair enough. Although, "Who will rid me of this turbulent priest" - that doesn't really sound like something that I would say'.

Fecklenburg considers this. 'Sire, that is probably true. On reflection, perhaps the word "turbulent" isn't something that normally features in your vocabulary. It's probably too long',

'And also I don't know what it means'.

'Yes, sire, there is also that. Well, perhaps ...' he takes up a quill, 'perhaps the word "terrible"?'

'Or', says the prince,enthusiastically, "pimply"'.

'Or " terrible"'.

'"Pimply " it is. And of course "pimply priest" has ...ah ... it has ... uh'.

'It is alliterative?'

'Who knows, Fecklenburg, but the words certainly start with the same letter'.

'So, "Who will rid me of this pimply priest"'.

'Yes, Fecklenburg. Although, is "rid" also the sort of word that I would use?'

Fecklenburg sighs, and readies his quill. 'So, my lord - what would you say was a more likely outburst from you?'

xXx

'So', says the chamberlain, after some time '"Can't anyone just stick some rhubarb up that pimply priest's jacksy" it is. I'll have the news printed directly sir, and then distributed throughout the land'.

'Excellent', says Rupprecht happily. 'I feel splendidly about this'.

Fecklenburg bows. 'As, no doubt, will the purveyors of rhubarb'.