To Make a Long Story Short
2
What the Sergeant Didn’t See
A Story in the “Steven George” Universe
Copyright ©2010 Elder Road Books
This short humorous tale was originally released as a promo and deluxe bonus for the novel, Steven George & The Dragon. It was featured at readings and on the deluxe CD version in 2010.
ONCE UPON A TIME, many steps ago, as life’s journeys are measured, there lived a sergeant in the King’s Royal Forces. He had not always been a sergeant, of course. He had begun his career as a lowly yeoman and survived enough battles to rise to the top of his ranks. The sergeant learned many things in his career. When the commanding officer gave an order, he obeyed. Instantly. When he was asked a question, he answered. Clearly. And when he was given a troop to lead, he led. Courageously.
But perhaps the most important thing the sergeant learned was how to communicate with both his superiors and his men. He discovered that what he did not say was as important as what he did say.
“Sergeant!” yelled the captain. Captains always yelled and thus when sergeants spoke to their troops, they yelled as well. This was the first lesson in communication. Whispers were for spies. Soldiers yelled. “Did you see any enemy troops coming over that ridge?”
“No sir!” the sergeant yelled back at the captain. “I saw enemy troops coming through the forest over there.”
“I know about the enemy in the forest,” yelled the captain. “I asked you about the enemy on the ridge.”
“Yes sir!” yelled the sergeant.
“Yes sir, you saw enemy troops coming over the ridge?”
“No sir! I saw no enemy troops coming over the ridge, sir.”
“Dismissed!”
The sergeant left the captain’s tent having learned a valuable lesson. Answer only the question you are asked. It seemed to make sense. The next time the sergeant was called before the captain to report, the captain barked, “Sergeant! Has the supply wagon arrived?”
“Yes sir,” the sergeant responded. He did not add that the wagon was empty and the escort was gone. The captain found out soon enough.
You might think that not giving all the knowledge one has when asked a question would be counter-productive, but it served the sergeant well through his career. The captain knew he could count on a clear and concise answer to the question he asked, and not have his time wasted with other details. And he could always ask more questions to get additional information if he needed it. This went well until the sergeant discovered a particularly important (to him) bit of information that the captain really should know in order to succeed in the campaign.
“Sergeant!” barked the captain. “How many enemy are coming through the forest?”
“None sir,” the sergeant yelled.
“And how many are coming over the ridge?”
“None sir.”
“Then we are done here. Sound the retreat,” yelled the captain. Now it happened that the sergeant had seen a large party of the enemy coming at them from behind—in fact, from the direction of their retreat. He puzzled for a moment before he announced his information.
“I am not saying I saw no enemy coming from behind us,” he bellowed.
“How many enemy are you not saying are coming from behind?” asked the captain.
“I’m not saying there are 400 troops coming from behind, sir. Nor am I saying they are armed with bows and lances.”
“And what else are you not saying?” yelled the captain.
“I’m not saying that I miss my wife and children, sir.”
“Good! Sound the charge and lead the men over the ridge!” And so it happened that the sergeant learned that what he was not saying could be as important as what he was saying, but not to push it.
His ability to communicate stood him in good stead when he was off the battle field as well. Take for instance, his wife’s new dress. Like good soldierly wives, she was hearty and stout and he loved her dearly, but she was a bit vain, which he tolerated amiably. One day she approached her husband to show him the new dress she was wearing.
“Don’t you just love this new dress?” Mrs. Sergeant shouted at her husband.
“I can’t say that it isn’t the loveliest dress I never seen,” bellowed her husband.
“You don’t think it makes my hips look big, do you?” she yelled.
“I haven’t never seen nothing that doesn’t make your hips look slim like this doesn’t,” he answered. Then he quickly excused himself to return to his platoon for six months active duty abroad.
None of which is what this story is about.
During a peaceful season, the sergeant was in charge of the guard that patrolled the parapets of the palace. You might think it strange that the parapets would be guarded during a time of peace, but you have to have something to keep soldiers occupied or they start thinking about becoming farmers. In order to keep the soldiers occupied and alert on their rounds, every slight provocation or rumor was used as an excuse to double the guards.
“A sheep has been stolen, sir!” reported a scout.
“Double the guards!” yelled the sergeant in his captain’s absence.
“A wolf is prowling the outlying farms, sir!” the sergeant reported to the captain.
“Double the guards!” the captain yelled at once.
“A stranger is approaching the castle gates!” a page called out.
“Double the guards!” the king shouted at the captain.
But, of course, the wolf who stole the sheep had been killed by a farmer and a traveling minstrel, dressed in the skin of the wolf as a gift from the farmer, was bringing the story to the castle, so the guards returned to their barracks.
That is how it happened that, alone in the highest tower watching the quiet all around the castle, the sergeant didn’t see a dragon not fly out of the night sky. The sergeant didn’t see the dragon not land on the parapet opposite his tower and not stare at him through eyes that weren’t blazing.
The sergeant did note that when all this was not happening, it was the fourth hour of the watch and the minstrel—having been feasted by the king and in turn entertaining the king with fabulous stories—wandered out of the palace and up to the parapets where the dragon wasn’t sitting. So enrapt was the sergeant in what he wasn’t seeing that, at the first crowing of the rooster in the morning when the king came for his morning stroll on the ramparts of the castle, he was still staring at the empty parapet opposite his tower.
“Sergeant!” bellowed the king with even more authority and volume than the captain. “What is this lying on the wall of my castle?” The sergeant hurried down from his perch in the high tower and looked at the wolfskin the king was indicating.
“I should say that is a wolfskin, sire,” the sergeant bellowed respectfully.
“How came it to be here?” asked the king.
“It came in the company of the minstrel your majesty entertained last evening, sire.”
“And where is that minstrel now?” asked the king, looking in every direction.
“I can’t say, Sire,” said the sergeant.
“Why?”
“Soldiers don’t tell stories,” the sergeant answered. “Soldiers say only what they see with their own two eyes. Soldiers must always be depended upon to report accurately to their superior officers.”
“I’m not asking for a story,” bellowed the king. “I am asking for your report.”
“Yes, Sire. The minstrel in question mounted the battlements wearing a wolfskin across his shoulders. I’m not saying I didn’t see him drop the wolfskin when he seemed to see a dragon that wasn’t sitting on the parapet opposite the tower. I cannot say he didn’t reach out to the dragon that wasn’t there, nor that at not touching it, the minstrel didn’t sprout wings on his back and didn’t mount into the sky on the non-existent wings, nor did he fly away with the dragon who wasn’t there, so obviously did not mount into the sky with the minstrel who didn’t have wings.” The sergeant paused to draw a breath, but the king interrupted him.
“You saw a dragon?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Is there anything else you didn’t see?”
“I didn’t see flames not dripping from his mouth as he didn’t fly,” said the sergeant.
“So the minstrel just disappeared without a trace?” the king asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t say without a trace, Your Highness, as there is the wolfskin lying here on the battlement.” The king picked up the wolfskin and draped it over his shoulders, suddenly feeling more kingly than before.
“And you don’t know where the minstrel went?” the king asked one last time.
“I can say with absolute certainty that the minstrel in question is right here on this very battlement no more,” the sergeant said.
“Thank you for your clear report, Sergeant,” the king said as he turned to leave.
“It’s all in learning to communicate, Sire,” the sergeant answered.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
