When the people of Smartno threw their very last pig to the Turks who had for months beset their hilltop town they were gratified to look down next morning and find the siege works abandoned. Only stout defenders, the Turks concluded, would conjoin blasphemy with beneficence. The way you poke a fork at a slab of pork shoulder or pork loin on which you've yet to put your stamp suggests you might succumb if my steadfastness were itself to fail. Before you undermine my confidence so I suddenly decamp and go looking for some other hilltop town to assail maybe you'll toss me a little something? Maybe you'll give me a sign?