Shear Nonsense!

At the Cathedral of Schrote, Bishop Baldwin's day takes a turn for the worse; or the even worse. And, frankly, it's less of a turn and more of a vigorous twirl. As he returns from a restorative walk, keen to try and forget the troubles that swirl around him, who should be waiting for Baldwin but Brother Michael, the source of most of his current woes.

'Ah, Brother Michael', says the bishop wearily, 'I'd like to say what a pleasure it is to see you!'

'That's most kind', says Michael.
'Not really - I'd like to say what a pleasure it is to see you; but I can't - because it isn't'.
'Why ever not?' replies the inquisitor jauntily. 'I thought that we were getting on famously! We have so much in common, I think!'

'Well, we both like the colour red, I suppose. But, to be fair, I think the chances of a warm and harmonious relationship between us are probably reduced a tad by the fact that you are blackmailing me into performing a dangerous act of treason which if I'm caught means that I might, if I'm unlucky, get hung, drawn and quartered; and which, if I'm lucky, will just change the order in which those activities take place'.
'Tush and fie, my fine fellow. What reason is there to be so gloomy? You are being very well rewarded, and the chances of you being caught are very small. Or at least not large'. He pauses. 'Not appreciably large'.

Bishop Baldwin scowls. 'Well, you can be sure, inquisitor, that if I go down for this, then I shall be taking you with me!'
'No', replies Brother Michael cheerily, 'I don't think so'.
'But I'll tell them everything!'
The inquisitor waggles a finger. He then rummages alarmingly in his cassock before bringing out an instrument that seems to be a small pair of shears. 'Ah, now that would require that you could speak - which, of course, would require that you still had a tongue'. Michael snips the shears vigorously.

'I could write it all down!'
Michael  gestures to the bishop's fingers and then redoubles his snipping. 'An activity, bishop, that would require fingers. These instruments are really quite versatile!'
'In any case', continues Michael, 'I'm here just to give you the final details, so that you can do your bit. Now, the emperor will arrive three days before the coronation with a company of his guard'.
'Three days?' gulps Baldwin incredulously. 'What will he do for three days?'
'Well, you could show him the sights, perhaps?'
'And the other two days and 23 hours?'
'Well, he likes hunting: perhaps that would occupy him? Have you any prey that is easy to catch and that you wouldn't miss?'
'There's some of the old townsfolk ...'
'No, I mean wild animals that perhaps are a nuisance to farm stock?'
'That's still the old folk ...'
'You can't hunt old people; this is Mittelheim, not the middle ages'.
'Some would see the two more or less as synonymous ... Anyway, you are an inquistor - you burn people!'
'For their own good - it's completely different. Look, he'll be coming, and then you'll implement your plan!'

Baldwin sighs in defeat. 'Yes, yes - it's all in hand. Trust me, no one will know what has happened to him'.
'Excellent', says Michael. 'So, you will secretly drug the emperor and spirit him away to a secret location where he will be picked up by the forces of Bachscuttel and Nabstria, which even now are assembling in secret, poised to invade!'
'Poised?' enquires Baldwin dismissively. 'Are any of the military forces of Mittelheim every likely to be "poised"?'
'Well, "slouched" then - but the point is, all they'll need is your information on where it is that you will have stashed the emperor!'
'Yes, yes. I'll let you know the destination when the deed is done. Here is a map of Schrote'.
'What! It's tiny! Who chose this font? How am I supposed to read this - paste it to the back of my eyelids!'
'It's a map of Schrote', says the bishop wearily. 'Does it really matter what's on it?'