The Baron von Ernest and the Free Bears

“Where are we going?” I asked the Baron von Ernest.  “Why have you dragged me out of school with no notice?”

“To visit my kingdom.” Though only a child my own age, the title the Baron had inherited made him the senior Baron in these lands. He was effectively our king, though we tried not to use such words.

Do you realise that there are parts of my kingdom who refuse to pay taxes?”

“I didn’t think it possible to avoid taxes,” I said. “They say it’s easier to avoid death.”

“They are wrong.  There are a number of my subjects who have avoided paying duty and it has been agreed that they should be sought out and the issue addressed.

I looked the small array of regal carriages, draped in finery. “We don’t look like tax collectors,” I said. “Isn’t it unusual to send a Baron to collect his own tax?”

“We’re not off to collect tax, I am travelling to meet my subjects in person, establish relations, with a view to establishing a suitable system of taxation. My administrators will follow up and collect the tax.”

 “Are we going far?”

“To the very edge of my Baronial lands. The Ursine Forest.”

“The Ursine Forest? Isn’t that where the singing bears live?”

“Precisely. That is who we are to meet.”

It was a long, slow journey. We stopped in the towns and villages we passed for food and ablutions and spent the night in an inn in a town that didn’t feature on any maps and didn’t appear to have a name. We subsequently referred to the place as Gerald’s town, after the bizarrely large number of men of this name that we met there, including the taverner, the groom and three or four of the inn’s clientele.

Eventually we approached a dark wood, thick with trees.  There was a footpath, but no other track.

“We must leave the coaches here,” said Friedrich, “there isn’t room for the coaches to progress.”

The baron quickly gave instructions as to who was to stay with the coach and horses and who was join him on the walk through the woods.

Barely a hundred yards into the wood we heard the sound of singing.

“The bears,” said the Baron.

We progressed further into the woods until we came to a clearing. In the middle of the clearing were a group of seven brown bears, singing what I would learn was their signature tune, ‘The Bear Essentials’.   They were harmony singers, with great voices, the like of which I have never heard from a human performer. 

It should be remembered, of course, that this was many years ago, when bears could sing and talk and even manage basic mandolin.  These unique skills have alas been lost in the tumult of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, now you are hardly likely to find a single bear that could manage so much as the drums.

Aside from ourselves, there were upwards of two dozen people watching the entertainment.

At the end there was much applause, and howls for more, but we seemed to have arrived at the end of the performance, because after taking a bow, the leading bear strode forth with a collection hat, which was generously endowed by those who had been watching.

At the end of the collection, after the crowd had dispersed, the sole trumpeter strode forth with Friedrich to make the announcement of the Baron von Ernest’s arrival.

The bear with the hat strode forth to meet him.

“I am Brown Ursine,” he said, “leader of the Ursine Forest Bear Singers. Who are you little cub?”

“I am the Baron von Ernest, Senior Baron of the kingdom.”

Though I am not familiar with bears’ body language, I could nevertheless make out a distinct perplexion on Brown Ursine’s face.

“You are the senior baron? But you are just a cub.”

“I am the most senior in title, not rank. Though we choose not to use the word in earnest, I am effectively your king.”

“Humans are very strange animals,” said the bear. “What can I do for you your majesty.”

“The Ursine Forest lays within my kingdom and it has been noted that we receive no tax receipts from your domain.”

“We are free bears, this is our forest, we do not owe tax to anyone."

“Yet you collect monies, I have seen it with my own eyes.”

“Yes, I noticed that none of your party made a contribution. I guess this is always the way with kings.”

“The Ursine Forest Bears are the only subjects in my realm who do not pay a tax.”

“Why would we pay a tax, we receive nothing back. We have no access to your fire service or police.”

“You fall under our protection in the event of a war.”

“Would you help us if we were attacked by the Ukulele Bears?”

“We don’t get involved in bear on bear disputes,” the Baron replied.

“Then why should we pay tax if you offer us nothing?”

“Maybe there is something we can offer you in return for a tax,” I suggested.

“Who is this cub? The emperor?”

“This is my friend, Hans Neesand. He has no title.”

“And what can you offer us?” Brown Ursine said. “We have been singing in this forest for centuries, unaided.”

“We have the whole of modernity to offer you,” the Baron replied. “Why, we have the printing press, the greatest invention ever.”

“What use is this to us?” said the bear. “We are bears, we are unable to read, this is real life not a fairytale.”

“But the tourists that come here can read. Many of them can read music, yet they leave here with only the memory of your performance.”

“What is your proposal?”

“Many tourists like to purchase a souvenir of their visit. If you had printed musical scores of your greatest hit, ‘The Bear Essentials’, the words and music for your songs, they could purchase it from you, take it away with them and perform it at their leisure. Our merchants can supply the score and arrange the printing.”

“And you would want of cut of our sales?”

“Not even that, just a cut of your licence.”

“Our licence?”

“Every time the song is performed you would be owed money, oh just a Pfennig a time, but from every customer, every rendition, over time the money  will add up. But this is all the tax we will take, we will not touch what you sell.”

"So you will not tax us directly."

"Exactly, you will remain free bears. Do we have a deal."

"We have a deal."