' the Fool continued, 'this policy has met with fanatical opposition.'
'What?'
'People don't like it.'
The duchess exploded. 'What does that matter?' she roared. 'We rule! They will do what we say or they will be pitilessly executed!'
The Fool bobbed and capered and waved his hands in a conciliatory fashion.
'But, my love, we will run out of people,' murmured the duke.
'No need, no need!' said the Fool desperately. 'You don't have to do that at all! What you do is, you—' he paused for a moment, his lips moving quickly – 'you embark upon a far-reaching and ambitious plan to expand the agricultural industry, provide long-term employment in the sawmills, open new land for development, and reduce the scope for banditry.'
This time the duke looked baffled. 'How will I do that?' he said.
'Chop down the forests.'
'But you said—'
'Shut up, Felmet,' said the duchess. She subjected the Fool to another long, thoughtful stare.
'Exactly how,' she said, eventually, 'does one go about knocking over the houses of people one does not like?'
'Urban clearance,' said the Fool.
'I was thinking of burning them down.'
'Hygienic urban clearance,' the Fool added promptly.
'And sowing the ground with salt.'
'Marry, I suspect that is hygienic urban clearance and a programme of environmental improvements. It might be a good idea to plant a few trees as well.'
'No more trees!' shouted Felmet.
'Oh, it's all right. They won't survive. The important thing is to have planted them.'
'But I also want us to raise taxes,' said the duchess.
'Why, nuncle—'
'And I am not your nuncle.'
'N'aunt?' said the Fool.
'No.'
'Why . . . prithee . . . you need to finance your ambitious programme for the country.'
'Sorry?' said the duke, who was getting lost again.
'He means that chopping down trees costs money,' said the duchess. She smiled at the Fool. It was the first time he had ever seen her look at him as if he was other than a disgusting little cockroach. There was still a large element of cockroach in her glance, but it said: good little cockroach, you have learned a trick.
'Intriguing,' she said. 'But can your words change the past?'
The Fool considered this.
'More easily, I think,' he said. 'Because the past is what people remember, and memories are words. Who knows how a king behaved a thousand years ago? There is only recollection, and stories. And plays, of course.'