Guards! Guards!

'Who said anything about him being a swineherd?' said Brother Watchtower. 'I never said he was a swineherd. What's this about swineherds?'

'He's got a point, though,' said Brother Plasterer. 'He's generally a swineherd or a forester or similar, your basic scion. It's to do with being in wossname. Cognito. They've got to appear to be of, you know, humble origins.'

'Nothing special about humble origins,' said a very small Brother, who seemed to consist entirely of a little perambulatory black robe with halitosis. 'I've got lots of humble origins. In my family we thought swineherding was a posh job.'

'But your family doesn't have the blood of kings, Brother Dunnykin,'' said Brother Plasterer.

'We might of…' said Brother Dunnykin sulkily.

'Right, then,' said Brother Watchtower grudgingly. 'Fair enough. But at the essential moment, see your genuine kings throw back their cloak and say 'Lo!' and their essential kingnessness shines through.'

'How, exactly?' said Brother Doorkeeper.

'….might of got the blood of kings,' muttered Brother Dunnykin. 'Got no right saying I might not have got the blood of…'

'Look, it just does, okay? You just know it when you see it.'

'But before that they've got to save the kingdom,' said Brother Plasterer.

'Oh, yes,' said Brother Watchtower heavily. 'That's the main thing, is that.'

'What from, then?'

'…got as much right as anyone to might have the blood of kings…''

'The Patrician?' said Brother Doorkeeper.

Brother Watchtower, as the sudden authority on the ways of royalty, shook his head.

'I dunno that the Patrician is a threat, exactly,' he said. 'He's not your actual tyrant, as such. Not as bad as some we've had. I mean, he doesn't actually oppress.''

'I get oppressed all the time,' said Brother Doorkeeper. 'Master Critchley, where I work, he oppresses me morning, noon and night, shouting at me and everything. And the woman in the vegetable shop, she oppresses me all the time.'

'That's right,' said Brother Plasterer. 'My landlord oppresses me something wicked. Banging on the door and going on and on about all the rent I allegedly owe, which is a total lie. And the people next door oppress me all night long. I tell them, I work all day, a man's got to have some time to learn to play the tuba. That's oppression, that is. If I'm not under the heel of the oppressor, I don't know who is.'

'Put like that,' said Brother Watchtower slowly, 'I reckon my brother-in-law is oppressing me all the time with having this new horse and buggy he's been and bought. I haven't got one. I mean, where's the justice in that? I bet a king wouldn't let that sort of oppression go on, people's wives oppressing 'em with why haven't they got a new coach like our Rodney and that.'

The Supreme Grand Master listened to this with a slightly light-headed feeling. It was as if he'd known that there were such things as avalanches, but had never dreamed when he dropped the little snowball on top of the mountain that it could lead to such astonishing results. He was hardly having to egg them on at all.

'I bet a king'd have something to say about landlords,' said Brother Plasterer.

'And he'd outlaw people with showy coaches,' said Brother Watchtower. 'Probably bought with stolen money, too, I reckon.'

'I think,' said the Supreme Grand Master, tweaking things a little, 'that a wise king would only, as it were, outlaw showy coaches for the undeserving. '

There was a thoughtful pause in the conversation as the assembled Brethren mentally divided the universe into the deserving and the undeserving, and put themselves on the appropriate side.