Two and a half hours later the councillors began to trickle in. More now than there was before.
I had the Abbott stand at the door, and check their weaves.
The first one was an older gentleman, in a tweed jacket, and brown slacks.
"Hold, sir. The good Abbott here would like to look at your weave."
"Just look up a bit sir?" He asked.
Then. "Clear."
"Excellent! Come in sir, mind the cloth. I would sit as far away from it as possible if I were you."
The older man patted me on the shoulder. "Thank you. Do you know what this meeting is about?"
"I do, sir. But I'll keep it under wraps until the others arrive."
Around fifteen minutes later, another council member arrived. Another older man.
"Just look up sir? I asked. "The good Abbott would like to see your weave."
"Oh, sure! It's about time we called a priest."
"Clear." The Abbott said.
"Good. Come in sir, mind the cloth."
