Packbawkies with friends in high places

Guðmundur Arason,
Bishop of Hólar and
Abseiling ace,

Cut short his job as a
Graciously granting the
Wicked their place.

I've been reading a book of Icelandic folk and fairy tales (thanks Sigga). I found the tale of the consecration of Drangey's cliffs amusing. Superstition had built up around the deaths of experienced bird-catchers who worked the sheer cliffs. Guðmundur Arason "the Good" (1161-1237) set out with his holy water and a crack crew of clerics to fight the fearsome forces of evil, working from the foreshore, from a boat, or suspended from the tops of the cliffs where necessary. During one bold belayed blessing, a grey hairy hand emerged from the rock and started to slice his rope with a sabre. A voice told him to bless no more, since the wicked needed a place of their own, too.

Seeing the bishop had a double-dactyllic name, I had to write a double-dactyl for him.