Satire: The king and the clerical error
Far, far away lay a kingdom that had enjoyed years of harmony with all its neighbors. The peaceful era ended with a breathless messenger bursting into the throne room, breaking all protocol.
- Your Majesty, Your Majesty... pray, allow me... allow me to speak!
- Aye, messenger, breathe easy, and speak now what thou hast to say.
- Our neighbor, King Harald, hath crossed our borders with all his hosts, he slayeth our people, layeth waste and burneth villages. His cavalry hath trampled our fields into dust, and where the wheat once grew, now he soweth salt. Our vanguard hath been routed and his course is straight upon the capital. Death and ruin, Your Majesty, death and ruin!
- Hold, hold. How now? What grievance driveth him to assault us so? Only days past did I dispatch unto Harald a most cordial letter, wherein was writ in clear hand: "Greetings, noble and most esteemed neighbor, Your Highness King Harald! I wish for peace between our two realms to endure a thousand years! With love, thy friend, King Gustav!" Was it not so, messenger? Speak!
- Aye, Your Majesty, yet... not quite so.
- Aye, but not quite so? What meanest thou by this?
- A small scribal error did find its way into the letter.
- A scribal error? This is passing strange. I read the letter myself, the scribe did too, the prime minister, the chancellors — whoever else was about — the royal wizard, half the court besides. And thou, messenger, thou delivered it and didst read it o'er as well, didst thou not spy the error? None did?
- Nay, Your Majesty, not a soul caught it.
- Well then, mayhap 'tis not as dire as it seemeth. What manner of error was it?
- In sooth, where it should have said, "Greetings, noble and most esteemed neighbor, Your Highness King Harald!", it did instead declare: "Thy withered loins serve thee ill, thou monkey crowned with stolen gold!"
- Oh.
- Oh, indeed, Your Majesty. And there's more.
- Go on, then. It cannot grow worse.
- That is a matter of some debate, Your Majesty. Where it was meant to say, "I wish for peace between our two realms to endure a thousand years!", the final draft did state: "Thou seal-skinned rat-head, hold thy tongue when thou speakest to me, else not a wet patch shall remain of thy kingdom! And by morn, send me a sack of gold as tall as Arabella."
- Who in blazes is Arabella?
- Likely another scribal error, Your Majesty. Another unfortunate... scribal error.
- And now what? War rageth, the people suffer, our throne doth tremble upon the brink. Might we send word to Harald that, lo, a simple error of the quill occurred, and verily, this error is a fine one, for it alloweth us all to grow the wiser. But only if we learn and taketh the proper steps. Surely it is not a great error, for it was most assuredly avoidable. We offer our regrets, and collective responsibility, and so forth.
- We did so already, Your Majesty. That very message hath been sent.
- And Harald?
- Replied that if 'tis collective responsibility, then 'tis collectively ye shall bear it.
- Death and ruin?
- Death and ruin, Your Majesty...
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Editor: Marcus Turovski
