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CHAPTER L
THE SILVER SHIELD
The Bishop sat at the round table in the centre of the banqueting hall,
sipping water from his purple goblet while the Knight dined.
They were not alone. Lay-brethren, with sandalled feet, moved
noiselessly to and fro; and Brother Philip stood immovable behind the
Reverend Father's chair.
The Bishop discoursed pleasantly of many things, watching Hugh the
while, and blessing the efficacy of the bath. It had, undoubtedly,
cleansed away much beside travel-stains.
The thunder-cloud had lifted from the Knight's brow; his eyes, though
tired, were no longer sombre; his manner was more than usually
courteous and deferential, as if to atone for the defiant brusquerie of
his first appearance.
He listened in absolute silence to the Bishop's gentle flow of
conversation; but this was a trait the Bishop had observed in him
before; and, after all, a lapse into silence could be easily understood
when a man had travelled far, on meagre fare, and found himself seated
at a well-spread board.
Yet the Knight ate but sparingly of the good cheer, so lavishly
provided; and the famous Italian wine, he scarce touched at all.
The meal over, the Bishop dismissed Brother Philip and the attendant
monks, and, rising, went to his chair near the hearth, motioning the
Knight to the one opposite.
Thus they found themselves seated again as they had sat on the night of
the arrival of the Pope's messenger; save that now no fire burned upon
the hearth; no candles were lighted on the table.
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