As the smaller villages of times past could not afford to have a church built or even a full time priest, Brothers of the Faith would tour the country side to perform marriages, funeral rites, and other such religious ceremonies for the people about every other month. They would not charge for these services. Instead, they would pick wild flowers in the woods and fashion them into bouquets and other arrangements that could be used, for a small fee, during the festivities or wakes. This way the monks, or friars as they were called, could afford to purchase food and wares to sustain them in their travels without having to rely on others to provide for them.

One day, a young friar arrived in a small township and was met at the gate by the peacekeeper. “I have heard that other villages have asked you to cease the selling of your floral arrangements in their towns and you have refused to do so. I’m sorry, brother, but I must insist that you not charge for your flowers in our town. The people consider that a blasphemy, as you pay nothing for them. They feel as though they could pick flowers themselves and use those at the time.”

The friar politely said, “Dear peaceful man, I do not only pick flowers and sell them to the folk, I take the time to fashion them into works of art so that they may be a pleasant joy to the eye.”

“I understand you, brother,” said the peacekeeper, nodding his head, “but the people don’t want that kind of thing going on here. You can conduct your services but you can’t sell your arrangements.”

“If I cannot charge for the sprays, how then should I pay for my foodstuffs for my journey to the next parish?” queried the friar.

“Don’t know,” stated the peacekeeper, “but if you insist on charging for the flowers you’ll have to leave.”

“I will not leave while there is God’s work to be done here,” stated the friar flatly, “and I shall charge for my arrangements if the people want their use.”

Just at that time the elder of the community arrived at the gate. “Greetings, brother.” he bowed slightly. “Has our peacekeeper explained our wishes to you?”

“He has,” said the friar coldly, “and I refuse to serve or leave under those conditions.”

“Then we shall stop you from promoting your bunches forcibly, if necessary.” said a burly man approaching the trio.

“Many others have tried and failed.” snickered the friar. “The brute of man shall not stay the word of God.”

Turning to his left the burly man shouted, “Mother, bring that young female sheep here, quickly!”

“And exactly what good do you think that will do when I refuse to be run out of town?” gaffed the brother.

“You’ll rightly see.” said the elder.

As the sheep arrived it began tugging at the lead trying to attack the traveling monk. When the woman released her hold on the leash the ewe closed the distance speedily and began furiously butting the friar with great abandon.

“Enough! Enough! I’ve had enough.” begged the poor clergyman. “I agree not to charge a fee for my flowers this visit or any other visit to this town as long as you provide me with goods for my next journey.”

“Agreed.” stated the elder.

As so word spread of this turning until, eventually, all townships met the priests at their gates with young female sheep in tow, putting an end to their having to pay for floral arrangements made by the monks during their treks between villages.

The moral of this story? “Remember, only ewes can prevent florist friars.”