Symon of Worcester gave it. Then, bending, added in low tones: "And may God and the blessèd Saints aid thee to a right judgment in all things."
"Amen," said Hugh d'Argent, and kissed the Bishop's ring.
Then he mounted; and, without one backward look, rode out through the
Palace gates, closely followed by Brother Philip.
CHAPTER LII
THE ANGEL-CHILD
Symon of Worcester turned, walked slowly across the courtyard, made his way to the parapet above the river, and stood long, with bent head, watching the rapid flow of the Severn.
His eyes rested upon the very place where the Knight had cleft the
water in his impulsive dive after the white stone, made, by the
Bishop's own words, to stand to him for his chances of winning the
Prioress.
Yet should that sudden leap be described as "impulsive"? The Bishop, ever a stickler for accuracy in descriptive words, considered this.
Nay, not so much "impulsive" as "prompt." Even as the warrior who, having tested his trusty sword, knowing its readiness in the scabbard and the strength of his own right arm, draws, on the instant, when surprised by the enemy. Prompt, not impulsive. A swift action, based upon an assured certainty of power, and a steadfast determination, of long standing, to win at all costs.
The Bishop's hand rested upon the parapet. The stone in his ring held neither blue nor purple lights. Its colour had paled and faded. It shone—as the Prioress had once seen it shine—like a large tear-drop on the Bishop's finger.