Once upon a time there was a smelly castle. Boy, did it pong! The baron who lived there could not account for the reek. He was not a stinky person himself. Indeed, he bathed much more often than was usual in that time, in that land, and he also doused himself in rich and heady perfumes, brought to him from mysterious distant lands by itinerant perfumiers. So offended were some of these travellers by the hideous stench wafting through the castle that they could not bring themselves to cross the drawbridge. The baron would have to come out of his castle and meet them in a field to take possession of their latest scents and tinctures. He felt this was beneath his dignity, to have to come and haggle in a field like a peasant, but on the other hand it was quite a treat to be out in the fresh air for half an hour.
The baron had tried everything to rid the smelly castle of its pong. He had the drains inspected. He scattered pot pourris hither and thither. He even called in a fumigation expert, or at least a man who announced himself as one. But all to no avail. The castle stank, it was as simple as that.