‘And then there was old Postule, who was in the rowing team. Coxed us throughtwo wonderful years.’ Ponder’s expression did not change, but for a few momentshis face went pink and shiny. ‘A lot of that sort of thing about, apparently,’said Ridcully. ‘People make such a fuss. Anyway, in my opinion there’s notenough love in the world. Besides, if you didn’t like the company of men youwouldn’t come here in the first place. I say! Well done, that man!’ This wasbecause, in the absence of Ridcully’s attention, the footballers had at laststarted their own kick-about and some quite fancy footwork was emerging. ‘Yes,what?’

A bledlow had appeared alongside Ridcully.

‘Gentleman to see the Archchancellor, sir. He’s a wizard, sir. The, er, theDean, as was, only he says he’s an Archchancellor too.’

Ridcully hesitated, but you’d have had to be an experienced Ridcully watcher,like Ponder, to notice the moment. When the Archchancellor spoke, it was calmlyand carefully, every word hammered on the anvil of self-control.

‘What a pleasant surprise, Mister Nobbs. Do show the Dean in. Oh, and please donot glance at Mister Stibbons for confirmation, thank you. I am still theArchchancellor in these parts. The only one, in fact. Is there a problem,Mister Stibbons?’

‘Well, sir, it is a bit public in here—’ Ponder stopped, because suddenly hehad nobody’s attention. He hadn’t seen the ball bounce towards Bledlow Nobbs(no relation). Nor the vicious kick the latter gave it, just as he would animpertinent intrusion by a street urchin’s tin can. Ponder did see the ballcurving majestically through the air, heading for the other end of the Hallwhere, behind the organ, rose the stained-glass window dedicated toArchchancellor Abasti, which on a daily basis showed one of several thousandscenes of a mystical or spiritual nature. The intuition with which Ponder hadsuccessfully calculated the distance and trajectory of the ball told him thatthe current glowing picture of ‘Bishop Horn realizing that the alligator quichewas an unwise choice’ had appeared just in time to be extremely unlucky.

And then, like some new planet swimming into the ken of a watcher of the skies,as they are prone to do, a rusty red shape arose, unfolding as it came,snatched the ball out of the air and landed on the organ keyboard to the soundof gloing! in B flat.

‘Well done, that ape!’ the Archchancellor boomed. ‘A beautiful save, but,regrettably, against the rules!’

To Ponder’s surprise there was a murmur of dissent from all the players. ‘Ibelieve that decision may benefit from some consideration,’ said a small voicebehind them.

‘Who said that?’ said Ridcully, spinning round and looking into the suddenlyterrified little eyes of Nutt.

‘Nutt, sir. The candle dribbler. We met yesterday. I helped you with the ball…?’

‘And you are telling me I’m wrong. Are you?’

‘I would rather you thought of me as suggesting a way in which you could beeven more right.’

Ridcully opened his mouth and then shut it again. I know what he is, hethought. Does he? Or did they spare him that?

‘Very well, Mister Nutt. Is there a point you wish to make?’

‘Yes, sir. What is the purpose of this game?’

‘To win, of course!’

‘Indeed. Regrettably, it is not being played that way.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘No, sir. The players all want to kick the ball.’

‘And so they should, surely?’ said Ridcully.

‘Only if you believe the purpose of the game is healthy exercise, sir. Do youplay chess?’

‘Well, I have done.’

‘And would you have thought it proper for all the pawns to swarm up the boardin the hope of checkmating the king?’

For a moment, Ridcully had a mental vision of Lord Vetinari holding aloft asolitary pawn and saying what it might become…

‘Oh, come now, that is quite different!’ he burst out.

‘Yes, but the skill lies in marshalling resources in the right way.’

Ridcully saw a face appear behind Nutt, like a rising moon of wrath.

‘You don’t talk to the gentlemen, Nutt, it is not your place to take up theirtime with your chatter—’

Ridcully writhed in sympathy with Nutt, all the more so because Smeems, as isthe habit of such people, kept looking at the Archchancellor as if seeking and,worse, expecting approval of this petty tyranny.

But authority must back up authority, in public at least, otherwise there is noauthority, and therefore the senior authority is forced to back up the juniorauthority, even if he, the senior authority, believes that the junior authorityis a tiresome little tit.

‘Thank you for your concern, Mister Smeems,’ he said, ‘but in fact I askedMister Nutt his opinion of our little kick-about, since it is the game of thepeople and he is rather more people than I am. I will not keep him long fromhis duties, Mister Smeems, nor you from yours, which I know are both vital andpressing.’

Small, insecure authority can spot, if it is sensible, when a larger authorityis giving it a chance to save face.

‘Right you are, sir!’ said Smeems after only a second’s hesitation, and hescurried off to safety. The thing called Nutt appeared to be trembling.

He thinks he’s done something wrong, Ridcully thought, and I shouldn’t think ofhim as a thing. Some wizard’s sense made him look round into the face of–whatwas the lad’s name?–Trevor Likely.

‘Do you have anything else to add, Mister Likely? Only I’m a bit busy at themoment.’

‘I gave Mister Stibbons the change and the receipt,’ said Trevor.

‘What is it you do around here, young man?’

‘I run the candle vats, guv.’

‘Oh, do you? We’re getting some very good dribbling from you fellows thesedays.’

Trev appeared to let this pass. ‘Mister Nutt is not in any trouble, is he,guv?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

But what do I know? Ridcully asked himself. Mr Nutt, by definition, is trouble.But the Librarian says he potters about repairing things and is generally anamiable milksop, and he talks as though he’s giving alecture[13]. This little man, who actually, when you look at him, is not aslittle as he appears because he weighs himself down with humility… this littleman was born with a name so fearsome some peasants chained him to an anvilbecause they were too scared to kill him. Perhaps Vetinari and his friends areright in their smug way and a leopard can change his shorts. I hope so, becauseif they aren’t, a leopard will be a picnic. And any minute now, the Dean iscoming, damn his treacherous hide.

‘Only he’s my friend, guv.’

‘Well, that’s good. Everyone should have a friend.’

‘I’m not gonna let anyone touch ’im, guv.’

‘A brave ambition, young man, if I may say so. Nevertheless, Mister Nutt, whydid you object when I pointed out that the Librarian, wonderful though hisrising save was, was in infringement of the rules?’

Nutt didn’t look up, but in a small voice said, ‘It was elegant. It wasbeautiful. The game should be beautiful, like a well-executed war.’

‘Oh, I don’t think many people would say that war is very jolly,’ saidRidcully.

‘Beauty can be considered to be neutral, sir. It is not the same as nice orgood.’

‘I thought it was the same as truth, though,’ said Ponder, trying to keep up.

‘Which is often horrible, sir, but Mister Librarian’s leap was both beautiful,sir, and good, sir, and therefore must be true and therefore the rule whichshould prevent him from doing it again would be proved to be neither beautifulnor true and would, indeed, be a false law.’

‘That’s right, guv,’ said Trev. ‘People will shout for that stuff.’

‘Do you mean that they’d cheer for a goal not achieved?’ said Ponder.

‘Of course they will! And groan! It’s something happening,’ Ridcully snorted.‘You saw the game the other day! If you were lucky, you got a glimpse of a lotof large, grubby men fighting over a ball like a lump of wood. People want tosee goals scored!’