Night Watch - Terry Pratchett [113]
He forced himself to smile.
“You and your men have had a long day, Sergeant,” he said. “Why don’t you go along to the mess tent while I consult with my fellow officers?”
Carcer moved with a suddenness that made the major flinch. The sergeant stood up, and then leaned forward with his knuckles on the desk.
“You do that, Sunny Jim,” he said with a grin like the edge of a rusty saw. Then he turned and strode out into the night.
In the silence that followed, the captain said, “His name is on the list of officers that Swing sent us yesterday, I’m afraid. And, er, he’s technically correct about the law.”
“You mean we have to take orders from him?”
“No. But he’s entitled to request assistance from you.”
“Am I entitled to refuse?”
“Oh, yes. Of course. But…”
“…I’d have to tell his lordship why?” said the major.
“Exactly.”
“But that man’s an evil bastard! You know the sort. The kind that joins up for the pillaging? The kind you have to end up hanging as an example to the men?”
“Um…” said Captain Wrangle.
“What now?”
“Well, he’s right about one thing. I’ve been looking at the reports and, well, it’s odd. It’s all been very quiet down toward Treacle Mine Road.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“It’s unbelievable, Clive, when you put it all together. Even the Watch House didn’t get attacked, it says here. Er…and your Captain Burns says he met this Keel chap, or someone who said he was Keel, and he says that if the man’s a Watch sergeant then he, Burns, is a monkey’s uncle. He said the man is used to serious command. I think he rather took to him, to tell you the truth.”
“Ye gods, Tom, I need some help here!” said the major.
“Then send out some gallopers right away. A little informal patrolling, perhaps. Get some proper intelligence. You can afford to wait half an hour.”
“Right! Right! Good idea!” said the major, steaming with relief. “See to it, could you?”
After the flurry of orders, he sat back and stared at the map. Some things at least made sense. All these barricades looked inward. People were barricading themselves against the Palace and the center of the city. No one would be bothered much about the outside world. If you had to take an outlying part of the city in those circumstances, then the thing to do would be to go in via a gatehouse in the city wall. They might not be quite so guarded as they ought to be.
“Tom?”
“Yes, Clive?”
“Have you ever sung the national anthem?”
“Oh, lots of times, sir.”
“I don’t mean officially.”
“You mean just to show I’m patriotic? Good gods, no. That would be a rather odd thing to do,” said the captain.
“And how about the flag?”
“Well, obviously I salute it every day, sir.”
“But you don’t wave it, at all?” the major enquired.
“I think I waved a paper one a few times when I was a little boy. Patrician’s birthday or something. We stood in the streets as he rode by and we shouted ‘Hurrah!’”
“Never since then?”
“Well, no, Clive,” said the captain, looking embarrassed. “I’d be very worried if I saw a man singing the national anthem and waving the flag, sir. It’s really a thing foreigners do.”
“Really? Why?”
“We don’t need to show we’re patriotic, sir. I mean, this is Ankh-Morpork. We don’t have to make a big fuss about being the best, sir. We just know.”
It was a beguiling theory that had arisen in the minds of Wiglet, and Waddy, and, yes, even in the not-overly-exercised mind of Fred Colon, and as far as Vimes could understand it, it went like this.
Supposing the area behind the barricades was bigger than the area in front of the barricades, right?
Like, sort of, it had more people in it and more of the city, if you follow me.
Then, correct me if I’m wrong, Sarge, but that’d mean in a manner of speaking we are now in front of the barricades, am I right?
Then, as it were, it’s not like we’re rebellin’, is it? ’Cos there’s more of us, so the majority can’t rebel, it stands to reason.
So that makes us the good guys. Obviously