Baron von Ernest and the stick

Baron von Ernest and his entourage, myself included, were travelling in his private coach from the city back to the castle, when suddenly the Baron screamed ‘STOP’ at the top of his voice, and slammed the roof of the coach.

The coachman very professionally halted the horses on a pfenni. We all looked out of the coach, but none of us could see the reason for the Baron’s demand for sudden termination.

“What is the emergency your lordship?” Herr Pilmer asked.

“There is a stick in the road,” the Baron said.

We clambered out of the coach and viewed the road. Sure enough, there on the road was a stick, about three feet in length and three inches thick.

“I will move it out of the way,” Herr Pilmer said, rushing towards the stick, “But I doubt it is large enough to do any harm to the coach.”

“I’m not worried about the harm the stick will do to the coach,” sneered the Baron. “I am worried about the harm the coach will do the stick.”

“But it is only a stick,” Herr Pilmer said.

“It is MY stick,” the Baron said.

“What should I do with YOUR stick?” Herr Pilmer said.

“It will join me in my coach. Prepare a seat.”

There was much bunching up amongst the other passengers, and a cushion was found from underneath one or other pair of buttocks, on which the stick was carefully placed.

After much stick-based-fussing we finally set off again.  However, just a few minutes later, as we were passing through a village, the Baron again screeched ‘STOP’ and thumped the roof of the coach.

“What is it, your Lordship?” asked Herr Pilmer. “Another stick?”

“No. It is that peasant,” he pointed out of the window at a passing villager. “She was staring threateningly at my stick. Have her shot.”

There was a silence as this order was digested, but eventually Herr Pilmer responded. “Very good my lord.”

The word of the Baron was law, but even so, a compromise was negotiated, instead of being shot, the peasant was handed a small coin and told to go away and never burden the Baron’s stick with her threatening stare again.

Upon return to the castle, the stick went everywhere with the Baron, carried on its cushion. One of the Baron’s staff was appointed as ‘Carrier of the Stick’, which he was to attend to at all times. 

As ruler of the country, the Baron von Ernest met regularly with his cabinet, which I attended also, so that I could watch him play at running the empire. The day after the stick arrived, the stick, of course, joined him in Cabinet.

“Who is this,” the Lord Chancellor, asked, pointing to the new courtier.

“It is the Keeper of the Stick,” the Baron answered.

“And what is the significance of the stick? Does it have a ceremonial function?”

“The stick is the Minister for the Environment,” the Baron replied.

“But I’m the Minister for the Environment,” protested Herr Milliband.

“This stick is Minister for the Environment,” the Baron repeated, and gestured for Herr Milliband to exit the cabinet room.

Back at the castle, the stick was allocated a room of its own, next to the baron’s room, with a four-poster double-bed to itself, with sheets changed daily. Outside of bedtime, the stick accompanied the Baron at all times, during our periods of play, during meals, and whilst the Baron was busy running the country. He would frequently say ‘I must consult my Minister for environmental before making a decision’, and would then direct a question or comment at the stick.

Then one day, as I passed the stick’s bedroom en route to see the Baron, I noticed that the bedding of the stick’s room had been removed, indeed, all of the treats and delights the Baron had purchased for his stick, had been removed from the room, which was thus strangely barren and empty.

When I joined the Baron at breakfast I noticed that the Keeper of the Stick was missing.

“Where is the stick?” I asked.

“What stick?” the Baron said. “I know not what of which you speak.”

At the next Cabinet meeting, Herr  Milliband was back in his seat. The stick was never spoken of again.