The Bishop's prayer had been answered.
The Prioress had been given grace and strength to choose the harder part, believing the harder part to be, in very deed, God's will for her.
And, as she laid her head at last upon the pillow, a prayer from the Gregorian Sacramentary slipped into her mind, calming her to sleep, with its message of overruling power and eternal peace.
Almighty and everlasting God, Who dost govern all things in heaven and earth; Mercifully bear the supplications of Thy people, and grant us Thy peace, all the days of our life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE CALL OF THE CURLEW
For the last time, the Knight waited in the crypt.
The men-at-arms, having deposited their burden before the altar, leaned each against a pillar, stolid and unobservant, but ready to drop to their knees so soon as the chanting of Vespers should reach the crypt from the choir above.
The man upon the stretcher lay motionless, with bandaged head; yet there was an alert brightness in his eyes, and the turn of his head betokened one who listened. A cloak of dark blue, bordered with silver, covered him, as a pall.
Hugh d'Argent stood in the shadow of a pillar facing the narrow archway in the wall from which the winding stairs led up to the clerestory.