Chapter TwoIn a spacious well-appointed room in the bishop's palace Julius Dodds took tea with Hugh Mortimer, the bishop, a man of slightly younger age with short greying hair, whose sensitive features bore signs of irritation. The two men sipped tea from rose-patterned porcelain tea cups. Neither spoke for some time. Dodds frowned slightly, brooding. The bishop watched him with a hint of impatience.
“The parishes of Low Moor and Walden, My Lord Bishop.” Dodds began at last in a formal tone heavy with protracted reflection.
The bishop winced. He disliked formalities and had no intention of employing them now. He realised they were Dodds's way of keeping him at a distance. “Indeed. Such troublesome parishes, Julius. We must find a permanent solution.”
Dodds studied his large hands. He li
