hand on Gilbert's sleeve and drew him into the shadow of a buttress,
and he yielded, scarcely knowing what he did. The chanting swelled on
the air, and a moment later the procession began to appear beyond the
corner of the church. Two and two, led by one who bore a cross, the
song-boys in scarlet and white came first, then Benedictine monks in
black, then priests of the cathedral in violet cloth with fine white
linen surplices and bearing wax candles. And they all chanted as they
walked, loudly, fervently, as if a life and a soul depended on every
note. Then, as the Queen and Gilbert looked on from the shade where
they stood, they saw the canopy of cloth of gold borne on its six
gilded staves by slim young men in white, and beneath it walked the
venerable bishop, half hidden under the vast embroidered cope from
which the golden monstrance emerged, grasped by his closely wrapped
hands; and his colourless eyes were fixed devoutly upon the Sacred
Host, while his lips moved in silent prayer.

Just as the canopy was in sight the procession halted for some time. In
the shadow of the buttress Eleanor knelt upon the turf, looking towards
the Sacred Host, and Gilbert dropped upon one knee at her side, very
reverently bending his head.

Eleanor looked straight before her with more curiosity than religious
fervour, but in her ear she heard Gilbert's deep voice softly chanting
with the monks the psalms he had so often sung at Sheering Abbey. The
Queen turned her head at the sound, in surprise, and watched the young
man's grave face for a moment without attracting his attention.
Apparently she was not pleased, for her brows were very slightly drawn
together, the corners of her eyes drooped, and the deep bright blue was
darkened. At that moment the canopy swayed a little, the ancient bishop
moved his shoulders under the heavy cope in the effort of starting