Pabo started to consciousness of the present.
"I have not ventured to remove it; yet what think you? Is it to be buried with him? It almost seems as though it were his testament."
The Archpriest rose and went to where the dead man lay; his long white beard flowed to his waist, and the hands were crossed over it.
"It is in the palm," said Morwen.
Pabo passed his fingers through the thick white hair and drew forth a scroll, hardly two fingers' breadth in width; it was short also, as he saw when he uncurled it.
He opened and read.
"Yes, it is his will. 'To Pabo, the Archpriest, my cell—as a refuge; and——'" He ceased, rolled up the little coil once more, and placed it in his bosom.
A stroke at the door, and one of the elders of the community, named Howel the Tall, entered.
"It seems fit, Father Pabo, to us to meet in council. What say you? All are gathered."
"It is well; I attend."