They walked slowly down the gravel path, leaving the scent of lilac behind. Ahead was the everyday stink of the world.
“You know,” said Lord Vetinari, after a few moments, “it has often crossed my mind that those men deserve a proper memorial of some sort.”
“Oh yes?” said Vimes, in a non-committal voice. His heart was still pounding. “In one of the main squares, perhaps?”
“Yes, that would be a good idea.”
“Perhaps a tableau in bronze?” said Vimes sarcastically. “All seven of them raising the flag, perhaps?”
“Bronze, yes,” said Vetinari.
“Really? And some sort of inspiring slogan?” said Vimes.
“Yes, indeed. Something like, perhaps, ‘They Did The Job They Had To Do’?”
“No,” said Vimes, coming to a halt under a lamp by the crypt entrance. “How dare you? How dare you! At this time! In this place! They did the job they didn't have to do, and they died doing it, and you can't give them anything. Do you understand? They fought for those who'd been abandoned, they fought for one another, and they were betrayed. Men like them always are. What good would a statue be? It'd just inspire new fools to believe they're going to be heroes. They wouldn't want that. Just let them be. Forever.”