‘Not where I’in aiming, sir.’
Bloody hell, thought Vimes. Maybe the lad was simple.
Because one thing Rust wasn’t, was a coward. He thought idiot stubbornness was bravery. He wouldn’t back down in the face of a dozen armed men.
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‘Ah, I think I can see the problem, captain,’ Vimes said brightly. ‘As you were, lanceconstable. There’s been a slight misunderstanding, sir, but this should sort it out-‘
It was a blow he’d remember for a long time. It was sweet. It was textbook. Rust went down like a log.
In the light of all his burning bridges, Vimes slipped his hand back into his hip pocket. Thank you, Mrs Goodbody and your range of little equalizers.
He turned to the watchmen, who were a tableau of silent horror.
‘Let the record show Sergeantat-Arms John Keel did that,’ he said. ‘Vimes, what did I tell you about waving weapons around when you’re not going to use them?’
‘You laid him out, sarge!’ Sam squeaked, still staring at the sleeping captain.
Vimes shook some life back into his hand. ‘Let the record show that I took command after the captain’s sudden attack of insanity,’ he said. ‘Waddy, Wiglet… drag him back to the House and lock him up, will you?’
‘What we gonna do, sarge?’ wailed Colon.
Ah…
Keep the peace. That was the thing. People often failed to understand what that meant. You’d go to some lifethreatening disturbance like a couple of neighbours scrapping in the street over who owned the hedge between their properties, and they’d both be bursting with aggrieved selfrighteousness, both yelling, their wives would either be having a private scrap on the side or would have adjourned to a kitchen for a shared pot of tea and a chat, and they all expected you to sort it out.
And they could never understand that it wasn’t your job.
Sorting it out was a job for a good surveyor and a couple of lawyers, maybe. Your job was to quell the impulse to bang their
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stupid fat heads together, to ignore the affronted speeches of dodgy selfjustification, to get them to stop shouting and to get them off the street. Once that had been achieved, your job was over. You weren’t some walking god, dispensing finely tuned natural justice. Your job was simply to bring back peace.
Of course, if your few strict words didn’t work and Mr Smith subsequently clambered over the disputed hedge and stabbed Mr Jones to death with a pair of gardening shears, then you had a different job, sorting out the notorious Hedge Argument Murder.
But at least it was one you were trained to do.
People expected all kinds of things from coppers, but there was one thing that sooner or later they all wanted: make this not be happening.
Make this not be happening…
‘What?’ he said, suddenly noticing a voice that had, in fact, been on the edge of awareness for some time.
‘I said, was he insane, sarge?’
But when you’re falling off the cliff it’s too late to wonder if there might have been a better way up the mountain…
‘He asked you to shoot at people who weren’t shooting back,’
growled Vimes, striding forward. That makes him insane, wouldn’t you say?’
‘They are throwing stones, sarge,’ said Colon.
‘So? Stay out of range. They’ll get tired before we do.’
In fact the barrage of missiles from the barricade had ceased; even in a time of crisis, the people of Ankh-Morpork would stop for a decent piece of street theatre. Vimes walked back towards them, stopping on the way to retrieve Rust’s bent megaphone.
As he approached he cast his eye over faces just visible through the chair legs and junk. There would be
Unmentionables somewhere, he knew, helping matters along.
With luck they wouldn’t have bothered with Whalebone Lane.
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There was muttering from the defenders. Most of them had a look Vimes recognized, because it was the one he was trying to keep off his own face. It was the look of people whose world had suddenly been swept from under them, and now they were trying to tapdance on quicksand.
He tossed away the stupid pompous megaphone. He cupped
his hands.
‘Some of you know me!’ he shouted. ‘I’in Sergeant Keel, currently in command of the Treacle Mine Road Watch House!
And I order you to dismantle this barricade-‘
There was a chorus of jeers and one or two badly thrown missiles. Vimes waited, stock still, until they’d died away. Then he raised his hands again.
‘I repeat, I order you to dismantle this barricade.’ He took a breath, and went on: ‘And rebuild it on the other side on the corner with Cable Street! And put up another one at the top of Sheer Street! Properly built! Good grief, you don’t just pile stuff up, for gods’ sake! A barricade is something you construct!
Who’s in charge here?’
There were sounds of consternation behind the overturned furniture, but a voice called out, ‘You?’ There was nervous laughter.
‘Very funny! Now laugh this one off! No one’s interested in us yet! This is a quiet part of town! But when things really go bad you’re going to have cavalry on your backs! With sabres! How long would you last? But if you shut off this end of Treacle Mine and the end of Sheer then they’re left with alleyways, and they don’t like that! It’s up to you, of course! We’d like to protect you, but me and my men’ll be behind the barricades over here He turned on his heel and marched back to the waiting
watchmen.
‘Right, lads,’ he said. ‘You heard. Pounce and Gaskin, you take the hurryup wagon up to the bridge and turn it over. Waddy and
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Nancyball and you too, Fred… go and nick some carts. You grew up round here, so don’t tell me you’ve never done that before. I want a couple blocking the streets down here, and the rest, I want you to run them into the alley mouths until they wedge. You men know the area. Block up all the little back ways.’
Colon rubbed his nose. ‘We could do that on the river side, sarge, but it’s all alleys on the Shades side. Can’t block ’em all.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about those,’ said Vimes. ‘Cavalry can’t come through there. You know what they call a horse in the Shades?’
Colon grinned. ‘Yeah, sarge. Lunch.’
‘Right. The rest of you, get all the benches and tables out of the Watch House-‘
It dawned on him that none of the men had moved. There was a certain… problem in the air.
‘Well?’
Billy Wiglet removed his helmet and wiped his forehead. ‘Er…
how far is this going to go, sarge?’
‘All the way, Billy.’
‘But we took the oath, sarge, and now we’re disobeying orders and helping rebels. Doesn’t seem right, sarge,’ said Wiglet, wretchedly.
‘You took an oath to uphold the law and defend the citizens without fear or favour,’ said Vimes. ‘And to protect the innocent.
That’s all they put in. Maybe they thought those were the important things. Nothing in there about orders, even from me.
You’re an officer of the law, not a soldier of the government.’
One or two of the men looked longingly at the other end of the street, empty and inviting.
‘But I won’t stop anyone who wants to walk,’ said Vimes.
They stopped looking.
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‘ ‘ullo, Mister Keel,’ said a sticky voice behind him.
‘Yes, Nobby?’ he said, without turning round.
‘ ‘ere, how did you detect it was me, sergeant?’
‘It’s an amazing talent, kid,’ said Vimes, turning, against all wisdom, to look at the urchin. ‘What’s been happening?’
‘Big riot in Sator Square, sarge. And they say people’ve broke into the Dolly Sisters Watch House and thrown the lieutenant out the window. An’ there’s lootin’ all over the place, they say, an’ the Day Watch are out chasin’ people only most of ’em are hidin’ now ‘cos-‘
‘Yeah, I get the picture,’ sighed Vimes. Carcer had been right.
Coppers were always outnumbered, so being a copper only worked when people let it work. If they refocused and realized you were just another standard idiot with a pennyworth of metal for a badge, you could end up a smear on the pavement.
He could hear shouting now, a long way off.
He looked around at the hesitant watchmen.
‘On the other hand, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘if you are going to leave, where are you going to go to?’
The same thought had clearly occurred to Colon and the
others.
‘We’ll get the carts,’ he said, hurrying off.
‘And I wants a penny,’ said Nobby, holding out a grubby hand. To the boy’s amazement, Vimes gave him a dollar, saying,
‘And just keep telling me everything, will you?’
Tables and benches were already being dragged out of the Watch House and after only a couple of minutes Waddy arrived with a cartload of empty barrels. Barricades were easy in these streets; it was keeping them clear that had always been the problem.