denied the power of the court, and said he
would refer his cause to the Pope. As he walked
out of the hall, with the cross in his hand,
some of those present picked up rushes—
rushes were strewn upon the floors in those
days by way of carpet—and threw them at him.
He proudly turned his head, and said that
were he not Archbishop, he would chastise
those cowards with the sword he had known
how to use in byegone days. He then mounted
his horse, and rode away, cheered and
surrounded by the common people, to whom he
threw open his house that night and gave a
supper, supping with them himself. That
same night, he secretly departed from the
town; and so, travelling by night and hiding
by day, and calling himself " Brother
Dearman," got away, not without difficulty, to
Flanders.

The struggle still went on. The angry
King took possession of the revenues of the
archbishopric, and banished all the relations
and servants of Thomas à Becket, to the
number of four hundred. The Pope and the
French King both protected him, and an
abbey was assigned for his residence.
Stimulated by this support, Thomas à Becket,
on a great festival day, formally proceeded to
a great church crowded with people, and going
up into the pulpit publicly cursed and
excommunicated all who had supported the
Constitutions of Clarendon, mentioning many
English noblemen by name, and not distantly
hinting at the King of England himself.

When intelligence of this new affront was
carried to the King in his chamber, his passion
was so furious that he tore his clothes, and
rolled like a madman on his bed of straw and
rushes. But he was soon up and doing. He
ordered all the ports and coasts of England
to be narrowly watched, that no letters of
Interdict might be brought into the kingdom;
and sent messengers and bribes to the Pope's
palace at Rome. Meanwhile, Thomas à Becket,
for his part, was not idle at Rome, but constantly
employed his utmost arts in his own
behalf. Thus the contest stood, until there was
peace between France and England (which had
been for some time at war), and until the two
children of the two Kings were married in
celebration of it. Then, the French King
brought about a meeting between Henry and
his old favorite, so long his enemy.

Even then, though Thomas à  Becket knelt
before the King, he was obstinate and
immoveable, as to those words about his
order. King Louis of France was weak
enough in his veneration for Thomas à Becket
and such men, but this was a little too
much for him. He said that à Becket
"wanted to be greater than the saints and
better than St. Peter," and rode away from
him with the King of England. His poor
French Majesty asked à Becket's pardon for
so doing, however, soon afterwards, and cut
a very pitiful figure.

At last, and after a world of trouble, it
came to this. There was another meeting on
French ground, between King Henry and
Thomas à Becket, and it was agreed that
Thomas à Becket should be Archbishop of
Canterbury, according to the customs of
former Archbishops, and that the King should
put him in possession of the revenues of that
post. And now, indeed, you might suppose
the struggle at an end, and Thomas à Becket
at rest. No, not even yet. For Thomas à
Becket hearing, by some means, that King
Henry, when he was in dread of his kingdom
being placed under an interdict, had had his
eldest son Prince Henry secretly crowned,
not only persuaded the Pope to suspend the
Archbishop of York who had performed that
ceremony, and to excommunicate the Bishops
who had assisted at it, but sent a messenger
of his own into England, in spite of all the
King's precautions along the coast, who
delivered the letters of excommunication into
the Bishops' own hands. Thomas à Becket
then came over to England himself, after an
absence of seven years. He was privately
warned that it was dangerous to come, and
that an ireful knight, named RANULF DE
BROC, had threatened that he should not live
to eat a loaf of bread in England; but he came.

The common people received him well, and
marched about with him in a soldierly way,
armed with such rustic weapons as they could
get. He tried to see the young prince who
had once been his pupil, but was prevented.
He hoped for some little support among the
nobles and priests, but found none. He made
the most of the peasants who attended him,
and feasted them, and went from Canterbury
to Harrow-on-the-Hill, and from Harrow-on-the-Hill
back to Canterbury, and on Christmas
Day preached in the Cathedral there, and
told the people in his sermon that he had come
to die among them, and that it was likely he
would be murdered. He had no fear, however
—or, if he had any, he had much more
obstinacy—for he, then and there, excommunicated
three of his enemies, of whom Ranulph
de Broc the ireful knight was one.

As men in general had no fancy for being
cursed, in their sitting and walking, and
gaping and sneezing, and all the rest of
it, it was very natural in the persons so
freely excommunicated to complain to the
King. It was equally natural in the King,
who had hoped that this troublesome opponent
was at last quieted, to fall into a mighty
rage when he heard of these new affronts; and,
on the Archbishop of York telling him that
he never could hope for rest while Thomas
à Becket lived, to cry out hastily before his
court, "Have I no one here who will deliver
me from this man!" There were four knights
present, who, hearing the King's words,
looked at one another, and went out.

The names of these knights were REGINALD
FITZURSE, WILLIAM TRACY, HUGH
DE MORVILLE, and RICHARD BRITO: three
of whom had been in the train of Thomas