Punish the Bishop!!

Gelderland - somewhere near the border with Schrote. Prince Rupprecht sits unhappily on a chair amidst a forest in the brisk afternoon air. His chamberlain, Leopold von Fecklenburg, has dragged him here for a purpose that the prince does not seem altogether pleased about.

'Fecklenburg, why am I here?'

'In a philosophical sense, my lord?'
'No, in a freezing my arse off sense'.
'Well, I thought that you would like to see the preparations, sire'.
'The preparations to freeze my arse off?'
'No my lord. It's the preparations to seize Emperor George!'
'Whilst his arse is frozen?'
'No, my lord. Our plan has no freezing of arses involved!'
'And yet ...', says Rupprecht, gesturing to his backside which, in all probability, is indeed quite cold.

'No, my lord - you remember; you surely must remember, the conversation in which I explained how we had bribed and blackmailed the bishop to drug Emperor George when he arrives for his coronation; then hide him, and hand him over when our troops arrive in Schrote'.
'No ... no ... I'm not getting anything', says the prince, with a face like a goblin in a water closet trying to pass another goblin. 'No'.
'You were eating the very large pork pie ...'
'Oh yes ... yes ... it all comes back to me'.
'The details?'
'Yes, yes', he says, waving an admonishing finger. 'I'm not stupid. There was pastry, and a delicious filling ...'
'No, sire, the plan, not the pie'.
'Hmm, in case I don't wholly recollect the details, refresh my memory!'

'So, Emperor George is arriving three days before the coronation; on the first evening the bishop will administer a sleeping draught. Then, the sleeping emperor will be hidden and moved in secret to a secure location. In the mean time, a force of Bachscuttel and Nabstrian troops will enter the bishopric, burning and looting on the way; go to the appointed rendezvous; find and retrieve the emperor, and then bring him back as our prisoner'.

'Will we torture him, perhaps?' asks the prince, his morale improving.

'No, my lord - but perhaps he might have an "accident"?'

'Why? Is he very clumsy?'

'No, my lord - I mean that he might have an accident'.

'Yes - you've said; but why? And why do you keep making sort of quote signs with your fingers?'

'It's ... I ... Let's not worry about all of that, sire. We'll capture George, and then we can consider what to do'.

'Unless he falls over and has an accident', says Rupprecht, waggling his fingers.

'I think those are pound signs, my lord', says Fecklenburg.

'Anyway', says Rupprecht frowning. 'Why would we have troops inside Schrote burning and looting? I can't help thnking that doing that sort of thing probably needs some kind of reason. Probably'.

'Yes, sire - you'll be punishing the bishop!'

'I don't doubt it, chamberlain; as long as I can avoid that woman ... you know ... that ...'

'Your wife, sir ...'

'Yes; but we'll still need an excuse to invade'.

'No sir, I mean that you will be chastising the villainous bishop because of the terrible insults that he has levied against you!'

'What insults?'

'Well, my lord', says the chamberlain pulling out a pamphlet, 'see here ...'