Snuff

and savored, just for a moment, the forbidden fruit. Then he offered the packet to the blacksmith, who waved it away without a word.
    â€œVery sensible,” said Vimes. “Now then, I’d better tell you that at least once a week, even these days, I have to fight people who’re trying to kill me with everything from swords to chairs and in one case a very large salmon. They probably don’t actually want to kill me, but they’ll try to stop me arresting them. Look,” he waved a hand at the landscape in general, “all this…stuff, just happened, whether I wanted it to or not. By trade I’m just a copper.”
    â€œYeah,” said Jethro, glaring at him. “Stamping on the faces of the struggling masses!”
    Vimes was used to this sort of thing, and put it mildly. “Can’t tread on their faces these days, my grinder gets in the way. All right, not very funny, I admit.” Vimes was aware that people were coming back down the lane. They included women and children. It looked as though the pub’s clientele had roused the neighborhood. He turned to Jethro. “Are we going to do this by the Marquis of Fantailer’s Rules?”
    â€œWhat are they?” said the blacksmith, waving at the oncoming horde.
    â€œRules of sparring by the Marquis of Fantailer,” said Vimes.
    â€œIf they was written by a marquis I don’t want no truck with them!”
    Vimes nodded. “Willikins?”
    â€œI heard that, commander, and have recorded it in my notebook: ‘refused Fantailer.’ ”
    â€œWell then, Mr. Jefferson,” said Vimes. “I suggest we ask Mr. Jiminy to start the proceedings?”
    â€œI want your lackey to write down in that book of his that my mum won’t get put out of her cottage, whatever happens, right?”
    â€œIt’s a deal,” said Vimes. “Willikins, please make a memorandum that Mr. Jefferson’s old mum should not be thrown out of her cottage, hit with sticks, put in the stocks, or otherwise manhandled in any way, understand?”
    Willikins, trying ineffectually to hide a smile, licked his pencil and wrote industriously. Vimes, less noisily, made a mental note and the note said: “The ferocity is draining out of this lad. He is wondering if he actually might get killed. I haven’t thrown a punch, not one little punch, and he is already preparing for the worst. Of course, the right way about it is to prepare for the best.”
    The crowd was growing by the second. Even as Vimes looked on, people came down the lane carrying a very old man on a mattress, their progress accelerated by his delight in hitting them on the back of the legs with his walking stick. Mothers toward the back of the crowd were holding up their children for a better look and, all unknown, every man had a weapon. It was like a peasants’ revolt, without the revolt and with a very polite class of peasant. Men touched their forelocks when Vimes looked in their direction, women curtsied, or at least bobbed up and down a bit, disturbingly out of sequence, like organ pedals trembling.
    Jiminy approached Vimes and the blacksmith cautiously and, to judge by the glistening of his face, very apprehensively. “Now then, gents, I’m choosing to consider this a little demonstration of fisticuffs, a jolly trial of strength and prowess such as may be found on any summer evening, all friends under the skin, okay?” There was a pleading look in his eyes as he went on. “And when you’ve got it out of your systems there’ll be a pint waiting for each of you on the bar. Please don’t break anything.” He produced an overused handkerchief from a waistcoat pocket and held it in the air. “When this touches the ground, gentlemen…” he said, backing away very quickly.
    The slip of linen seemed to defy gravity for a while, but the moment it touched the ground Vimes caught the blacksmith’s boot in both hands as it swung toward him and said very quietly to the struggling man, “A bit previous, weren’t you? And what good has it done you? Hear them all sniggering? I’ll let you off, this time.”
    Vimes gave a push as he loosened his grip on the foot, causing Jethro to stagger backward. Vimes felt a certain pleasure in seeing the man losing it this early, but the blacksmith pulled himself together and rushed at him, and paused, possibly because Vimes was