two o’clock in the afternoon. They neither bowed nor spoke, but
sat down on the floor in silence, staring at the Archbishop.
Thomas a Becket said, at length, ‘What do you want?’
‘We want,’ said Reginald Fitzurse, ‘the excommunication taken from
the Bishops, and you to answer for your offences to the King.’
Thomas a Becket defiantly replied, that the power of the clergy was
above the power of the King. That it was not for such men as they
were, to threaten him. That if he were threatened by all the
swords in England, he would never yield.
‘Then we will do more than threaten!’ said the knights. And they
went out with the twelve men, and put on their armour, and drew
their shining swords, and came back.
His servants, in the meantime, had shut up and barred the great
gate of the palace. At first, the knights tried to shatter it with
their battle-axes; but, being shown a window by which they could
enter, they let the gate alone, and climbed in that way. While
they were battering at the door, the attendants of Thomas a Becket
had implored him to take refuge in the Cathedral; in which, as a
sanctuary or sacred place, they thought the knights would dare to
do no violent deed. He told them, again and again, that he would
not stir. Hearing the distant voices of the monks singing the
evening service, however, he said it was now his duty to attend,
and therefore, and for no other reason, he would go.
There was a near way between his Palace and the Cathedral, by some
beautiful old cloisters which you may yet see. He went into the
Cathedral, without any hurry, and having the Cross carried before
him as usual. When he was safely there, his servants would have
fastened the door, but he said NO! it was the house of God and not
a fortress.
As he spoke, the shadow of Reginald Fitzurse appeared in the
Cathedral doorway, darkening the little light there was outside, on
the dark winter evening. This knight said, in a strong voice,
‘Follow me, loyal servants of the King!’ The rattle of the armour
of the other knights echoed through the Cathedral, as they came
clashing in.
It was so dark, in the lofty aisles and among the stately pillars
of the church, and there were so many hiding-places in the crypt
below and in the narrow passages above, that Thomas a Becket might
even at that pass have saved himself if he would. But he would
not. He told the monks resolutely that he would not. And though
they all dispersed and left him there with no other follower than
EDWARD GRYME, his faithful cross-bearer, he was as firm then, as
ever he had been in his life.
The knights came on, through the darkness, making a terrible noise
with their armed tread upon the stone pavement of the church.
‘Where is the traitor?’ they cried out. He made no answer. But
when they cried, ‘Where is the Archbishop?’ he said proudly, ‘I am
here!’ and came out of the shade and stood before them.
The knights had no desire to kill him, if they could rid the King
and themselves of him by any other means. They told him he must
either fly or go with them. He said he would do neither; and he
threw William Tracy off with such force when he took hold of his
sleeve, that Tracy reeled again. By his reproaches and his
steadiness, he so incensed them, and exasperated their fierce
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Dickens, Charles – A Child’s History of England
humour, that Reginald Fitzurse, whom he called by an ill name,
said, ‘Then die!’ and struck at his head. But the faithful Edward
Gryme put out his arm, and there received the main force of the
blow, so that it only made his master bleed. Another voice from
among the knights again called to Thomas a Becket to fly; but, with
his blood running down his face, and his hands clasped, and his
head bent, he commanded himself to God, and stood firm. Then they
cruelly killed him close to the altar of St. Bennet; and his body