these in his dominions; and if he had found them, he would have without fail appointed them on account of your reverence and that of the Holy Roman church. We add to this the fact that your fatherly zeal, shortly after he became king, often tested his fidelity and devotion, when he placed at your disposal himself, his followers, his possessions, all of which were thoroughly devoted to your will; and certainly in the whole universal church over which you preside in Christ, as we believe, no one is more faithful than he, no one more devoted to God, no one more desirous of keeping this peace into which he has been received. Nevertheless the archbishop is equally well versed in his rank and order, provident and determined in those things which pertain to him, although, as it seems to certain men, a little too severe. If that struggle which is now taking place had not arisen between the lord archbishop and the king, the clergy and the kingdom would now be rejoicing mutually in peace and unity under an excellent leader and the best of shepherds. Therefore this is our prayer, that your grace should bestow all your care and attention on the removal of this disagreement and the restitution of peace and love." The earl spoke these words fluently in his own language, so that his modest discretion was admired by all.

Answer of The lord pope, after thinking the matter over carefully, made the pope answer as follows: "We know, O son and earl, and still cherish in memory with what great devotion the king of England has conferred many great favors upon us, which, if opportunity arise, we shall, in our love for his soul, requite in proportion to his deserts, with as much power as we have with God. But inasmuch as you have demanded legates, legates you shall have."

After kissing the foot of the lord pope they retired, thinking that they had gained much for their cause, all the more so because they hoped that they could bribe the cardinals. In accordance with this plan the bishop of London returned to ask the lord pope under what power the cardinals would come. "With proper power," said the lord pope. "Then," said the bishop of London, "we beg this, that they may decide the case without appeal." "This is," said the lord pope, "my especial right, which I shall not grant to another, and assuredly, since he

must be judged, he will be judged by us, because no method of procedure permits us to send him to England to be judged by adversaries and among enemies." The hostile party, hearing these things, angrily withdrew, with shattered hopes, to carry back these replies to the lord king.

The quarrel continued to its well-known termination, — the hasty words of the angry king, the too literal acceptance of them by his four knights, their journey to Canterbury, and the murder of the archbishop in the transept of his own cathedral. The incidents of the murder are given by Edward Grim, one of the archbishop's attendants, who was with him at the time, and holding Thomas in his arms as he died, was accidentally wounded. The skull of the martyr was long afterwards found with a long straight sword cut across the top.

of the murder of Thomas

When the monks entered the church the four knights fol- 96. Account lowed immediately behind with rapid strides. With them was a certain subdeacon, armed with malice like their own, Hugh, (1170) fitly surnamed for his wickedness, Mauclerc, who showed no reverence for God or the saints, as the result showed. When the holy archbishop entered the church the monks stopped vespers which they had begun and ran to him, glorifying God that they saw their father, whom they had heard was dead, alive and safe. They hastened, by bolting the doors of the church, to protect their shepherd from the slaughter. But the champion, turning to them, ordered the church doors to be thrown open, saying: "It is not meet to make a fortress of the house of prayer, the church of Christ: though it be not shut up it is able to protect its own; and we shall triumph over the enemy rather in suffering than in fighting, for we came to suffer, not to resist." And straightway they entered the house of peace and reconciliation with swords sacrilegiously drawn, causing horror to the beholders by their very looks and the clanging of their arms.

Thomas re

called a

traitor

All who were present were in tumult and fright, for those who had been singing vespers now ran hither to the dreadful spectacle.

Inspired by fury the knights called out, "Where is Thomas fuses to be Becket, traitor to the king and realm?" As he answered not, they cried out the more furiously, "Where is the archbishop?" At this, intrepid and fearless (as it is written, "The just, like a bold lion, shall be without fear"), he descended from the stair where he had been dragged by the monks in fear of the knights, and in a clear voice answered: "I am here, no traitor to the king, but a priest. Why do ye seek me?" And whereas he had already said that he feared them not, he added, "So I am ready to suffer in His name, who redeemed me by His blood; be it far from me to flee from your swords or to depart from justice." Having thus said, he turned to the right, under a pillar, having on one side the altar of the Blessed Mother of God and ever Virgin Mary, on the other that of St. Benedict the Confessor, by whose example and prayers, having crucified the world with its lusts, he bore all that the murderers could do, with such constancy of soul as if he had been no longer in the flesh.

The murderers followed him. "Absolve," they cried, "and restore to communion those whom you have excommunicated, and restore their powers to those whom you have suspended." He answered, "There has been no satisfaction, and I will not absolve them." "Then you shall die," they cried, "and receive what you deserve." "I am ready," he replied, "to die for my Lord, that in my blood the church may obtain liberty and peace. But in the name of Almighty God I forbid you to hurt my people, whether clerk or lay." Thus piously and thoughtfully did the noble martyr provide that no one near him should be hurt or the innocent be brought to death, whereby his glory should be dimmed as he hastened to Christ. Thus did it become the martyr knight to follow in the footsteps of his Captain and Saviour, who, when the wicked sought Him, said, "If ye seek me, let these go their way."

Then they laid sacrilegious hands on him, pulling and dragging him that they might kill him outside the church, or carry

Fitz-Urse

him away a prisoner, as they afterwards confessed. But when His rebuke to he would not be forced away from the pillar, one of them Reginald pressed on him and clung to him more closely. Him he pushed off, calling him "pander," and saying, "Touch me not, Reginald; you owe me fealty and subjection; you and your accomplices act like madmen." The knight, fired with terrible rage at this severe rebuke, waved his sword over the sacred head. "No faith," he cried, "nor subjection do I owe you against my fealty to my lord the king." Then the unconquered martyr, seeing the hour at hand which should put an end to this miserable life, and give him straightway the crown of immortality promised by the Lord, inclined his head as one who prays, and, joining his hands, lifted them up and commended his cause and that of the church to God, to St. Mary, and to the blessed martyr Denys. Scarce had he said the words when the wicked knight, fearing lest the archbishop should be rescued by the people and escape alive, leapt upon him suddenly and wounded this lamb who was sacrificed to God, on the head, cutting off the top of the crown which the sacred unction of the chrism had dedicated to God; and by the same blow he wounded the Wounding of arm of him who tells this. For he, when the others, both monks Edward Grim, and clerks, fled, stuck close to the sainted archbishop and held him in his arms till the arm he interposed was almost severed. Behold the simplicity of the dove, the wisdom of the ser- Death of pent, in the martyr who opposed his body to those who struck, that he might preserve his head, that is, his soul and the church, unharmed; nor would he use any forethought against those who destroyed the body whereby he might escape. O worthy shepherd, who gave himself so boldly to the wolves that his flock might not be torn. Because he had rejected the world, the world in wishing to crush him unknowingly exalted him. Then he received a second blow on the head, but still stood firm. At the third blow he fell on his knees and elbows, offering himself a living victim, and saying in a low voice, "For the name of Jesus and the protection of the church I am ready to embrace death." Then the third knight inflicted a terrible wound as he lay, by which the sword was broken against the pavement, and the crown, which was large, was separated from

the chronicler

Thomas

97. The

the head; so that the blood white with the brain, and the brain red with blood, dyed the surface of the virgin mother church with the life and death of the confessor and martyr in the colors of the lily and the rose.

The fourth knight prevented any from interfering, so that the others might freely perpetrate the murder. In order that a fifth blow might not be wanting to the martyr who was in other things like to Christ, the fifth (no knight, but that clerk who had entered with the knights) put his foot on the neck of the holy priest and precious martyr, and, horrible to say, scattered his brains and blood over the pavement, calling out to the others, "Let us away, knights; he will rise no more."

The murder of the archbishop brought the struggle to a crisis, and the king either was smitten with remorse or bowed to the storm. The scene of his self-humiliation and penance is given in the following extract from Ralph of Diceto, a contemporary chronicler.

When he had come near Canterbury, concealing his royal penance of identity, he leaped from his horse, barefooted, assuming the King Henry (1172) appearance of a pilgrim, a penitent, a suppliant. On Friday, the tenth of June, he came to the great church. There, with many tears, groans, and sighs, he sought the tomb of the blessed martyr. With outstretched hands he prostrated himself, remaining for a long time in prayer. By means of the bishop of London preaching to the people, the king publicly protested, calling God as a witness to his soul, that he had never ordered the death of the archbishop, nor desired it, nor sought it by craft. But since the murderers had taken license from words which he had spoken with too little caution, he begged absolution from the bishops who were then present. Placing himself under their discipline, he was beaten with rods by the various religious men, of whom a great number had assembled, receiving three or even five blows from each one. Rising from prayer, he resumed the clothing which he had taken off. He honored the most precious martyr with costly gifts, giving besides an