Three Barons
The barons arrived suddenly. Three of them without warning. “Rejoice!” they announced. “There is a new royal family in the Homelands, and they have blessed your village thrice with nobility!” The villagers blinked silently, unsure what this all meant. They waited awkwardly for the barons to finish their grand introduction so they could get back to work, but immediately the barons began making demands. “The village must produce pearl earrings,” demanded Baron Lilypants. “We need finer vestments,” implored Baron Bloatliver as he spilled his wine all over ones he was wearing. “My quarters have no armour stand!” clamoured Baron Custardpie, gesturing aghast at the empty space where he would hang his ornate armour. None of the barons were likely to go into battle, and Custardpie was the least likely of all. In fact, if he could ever squeeze into it, he’d likely be unable to move until a slight breeze toppled him over.
Over the coming days, the orders kept coming.
All meals must include at least three spices.
All sheep must have names.
We need paintings of the sunset.
…With a dog looking wistfully at it.
…No, not that kind of dog…
Orders by one baron were contradicted by another. All waste food should be composted. All waste food should be burned. All carts must be painted blue. All carts must be painted different colours according to their use. Do not waste paint on carts.
Baron Bloatliver demanded the construction of elephant figurines to sell. A new industry will be born! The village will be famous for fine elephant figurines! Baron Lilypants then banned the export of figurines. Baron Custardpie, who adored elephants for their gigantic ears, declared the figurines sacred and never to be destroyed. Soon everyone had a dozen elephants in their homes, and there was a monthly inspection to ensure they were all displayed correctly. Slowly the citizenry were going insane.
An order was issued to create a mausoleum for the three barons when they finally returned to the embrace of the earth. The task was commenced with great joy, as all involved could look forward to the great day that it would be put to use. What’s more, the trio were miraculously in agreement for once. A space in the catacombs was laid out with the finest marble. Three separate sarcophagi were constructed — it was impossible for the barons to contradict each other. The three months it took to build the mausoleum consumed all of the barons’ time and attention. It was the most peaceful and productive time for the citizens since they had arrived.
Finally it came time to engrave the stone door that would seal them off from the living world. They went to the stonemason to give him instructions on what should be engraved upon it.
Baron Custardpie demanded an engraving of the shire at sunset: “let people know of the beautiful land we presided so wisely over.”
“No,” said Baron Lilypants. “We must have the shire’s symbol: the lion and the owl. It shows the strength and wisdom we exhibited in our life.”
“We still have not agreed on the shire’s symbol!” snapped Baron Bloatliver. “We should only have the words ‘wisely and fairly they governed.’ Nothing more is needed to pay tribute to our legacy.”
The stonemason listened to the barons argue for hour upon hour. Finally he was pushed beyond the patience of any man. He let out a howl and raised his hammer high above his head. He brought down the hammer on the un-engraved stone door, and it split in two with an almighty crash. The barons, aghast, instantly ordered his execution.
This they agreed on.
But the method they could not, and they argued again for hour upon hour. During the ensuing argument, the news that the mason had been sentenced to death spread through the village. Two dozen men seized the barons and threw them into their own mausoleum, shutting them in with a stone slab. When it came to what to engrave on it, the citizens arrived at a consensus far quicker than the barons ever could:
“HERE LIE THREE IDIOT BARONS
— ONE IS TOO MANY
— ENTOMBED WITH A THOUSAND ELEPHANTS.“
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