It was the Middle Ages and a time of castles. One petty dukedom fought it out with another. They duked it out, so to speak, incessantly. And so a local Duke was at the parapet, when one of his men excitedly ran toward him…
– – Sir, the enemy’s at the gates.
– – What?
– – Yes, Sir, the other Duke’s men are at the gates. They’re vicious and rotten. With them it’s just pillage and plunder, and take no prisoners…
– – My God, Frank, that’s the last thing I wanted to hear. Don’t tell me that…

Frank left. But another of the Duke’s men ran up to him…
– – Duke, Sir, I hear they’ve broken through the gates.
– – What? Can that be, Otto?
– – They made it inside, I heard.
– – Wait a minute. That’s worse than them being at the gates.
– – Damn right.
– – But Frank said they were only at the gates.
– – You know how Frank is, Sir. Always looking on the bright side…