Extract I

After some time had passed in this silence, not without the amazement of those sitting there, Reginald fitz Urse, bear-like in temper rather than descent,4 The name “fitz Urse” means “son of a bear.” See Biographical Notes, Reginald fitz Urse. addressed himself to the saint:5 The sole surviving panel from two medieval windows in Canterbury Cathedral picturing Becket’s life may represent this scene of Reginald and the knights speaking to the archbishop: see Caviness, Windows, Appendix 1 no. 5, and Madeline Caviness, “A Panel of Thirteenth Century Stained Glass from Canterbury in America,” Antiquaries Journal 45 (1965): 192–9. “We have been sent to you by our lord the king across the sea,6 That is, King Henry II, who was in his domains in Normandy in December 1170. and we bring you royal injunctions. We want to know whether you prefer that they be discussed secretly or in public.” The man of God, who did not hope for the world’s fortunes nor fear its misfortunes, responded in a simple and humble tone, saying, “I leave this to your choice and pleasure.” “Then let them be spoken of in secret,” said Reginald, “and let those who are present be absent for a time.” The saint, who did not see security in their number nor fear solitude, told his people to leave. When they had left and only the four knights remained in the chamber with the archbishop, the doorkeeper ran up and left the door open, so that those who were now seated outside could look back at their lord, the Lord’s anointed, and could see him as well as those enemies of God. When the aforesaid Reginald had presented some of the royal mandates, the very prudent man of God considered them in a clear light. When he saw that they did not offer peace nor any good, with a presentiment of the future he called to mind the gospel, Jesus did not trust himself unto them, for he knew all men [Jn 2:24]. He summoned the doorkeeper and ordered that his clerics and monks who were there should come in, with all the laity excluded. When they had come in, the saint said to the knights, “Sirs, you can say what you like in the presence of these men.” Reginald replied, “Since you have chosen that these matters come out in public rather than be kept secret, we will, in accordance with your will, reveal them to those who are here.”

The archbishop asserted that he did not know what he ought to correct with regard to the king’s majesty, unless they would declare this by their good will, of which there certainly was none. Reginald said, “Since you say that you know nothing of this, we will reveal what you should do. Our lord the king charges you to go to his son the king, who is on this side of the sea, as soon as possible, in order to make an oath of fealty to him and to correct the sin that you have committed against the king’s majesty.” The man of the Lord responded, saying, “Why must I confirm my fealty to him with an oath on relics? In what way have I offended the king’s majesty?” The knight skipped over the second question, since he was not able to answer it, and addressed the first one in this way: “Fealty, confirmed by an oath, is demanded of you for the barony which you hold of our lord the king, and an oath of security must be made by the clerics you have brought into his territory, if they wish to remain here.”

The archbishop replied, “Regarding the barony, I am prepared to do whatever justice or reason dictates for my lord the king. But let him be in no doubt whatsoever that he will be unable to extort an oath from me or from any of my clerics. Many oaths beyond measure have been coerced, and the perjured and excommunicated are already without number. But thanks be to God, I have already absolved most of them from the crime of perjury and the chains of anathema that had bound them. When it pleases the Lord, I will deliver the rest from these perils.” “We know,” said Reginald, “that you will do none of the things that we have declared to you. In addition, our lord the king commands you to absolve his bishops, excommunicated or suspended by you without his licence, both of the sentence of damnation and of silence, and to obey the law regarding these offences as well as others with which he will want to charge you.”8 Reginald refers here to the pope’s excommunications and/or suspensions of figures such as Roger de Pont l’Évêque (archbishop of York), Hugh de Puiset (bishop of Durham), Gilbert Foliot (bishop of London), and Jocelin Bohun (bishop of Salisbury) (on these individuals, see Biographical Notes). Becket asked the pope for these excommunications and suspensions in retaliation for their participation in the coronation of the Young King Henry, performed in Westminster on June 14, 1170 in Becket’s absence. Becket issued the pope’s pronouncements shortly before he returned from France to England in late 1170. When Roger of York, Gilbert Foliot, and Jocelin of Salisbury heard of their sentences, they went to Normandy to complain to King Henry II in person. Henry was furious, and this was the point when he uttered the fateful words that impelled the four knights to travel to Canterbury. For accounts of the coronation, excommunications and suspensions, and the knights traveling to Canterbury, see Barlow, Thomas Becket, pp. 207–37 and Duggan, Thomas Becket, pp. 181–209. The archbishop replied, “I did not suspend or anathematize the bishops. It was the lord pope, to whom it is well known that the Lord has granted this power. If you want to reopen the case about these matters, it should be done between you and him. It is not my concern to discuss this matter with you.” Reginald said, “Although you did not do this yourself, yet it was done through you and by your instigation.” The saint said, “If the lord pope, seeing the great injury inflicted on my church and me, has taken retribution, I confess that it does not displease me.”

The son of unrighteousness had until now been exerting all his powers in the hope that by speaking cunningly, he might ensnare the most prudent lamb of God9 In the New Testament, the term “the lamb of God” is frequently used to describe Christ. In the miracle stories, Benedict often refers to Becket’s blood as “the blood of the lamb”: see below, Prologue, p. 78, n.8. in speech, or that he might turn him away from a state of rectitude and against the honor of God and the church, of which he was an invincible defender. When he saw that a net had been spread in vain before the eyes of the one with wings [Prv 1:17] he attacked him with offensive accusations: “You show by clear signs that this pleases you. You have disgraced and shown contempt for the king’s majesty by excluding his bishops from their bishoprics and preventing them from entering the holy mother church, all because they dared to crown our lord the new king, whose inheritance is proven by law, for he is the son of the king and queen and bears the sign of command on his shoulder. When you oppose his elevation and presume to do such a thing, it is easily believed and very likely that you intend to steal away his crown, invade the kingdom, and to be named and become the king of the land. But by God’s will, you will not be able to achieve the title of royal dignity.”

The saint, not unaware of the saying in which it is said, an angry man stirs up strife, but a wise man appeases those that are stirred up [Prv 15:18], applied the medicine of a mild response to the bitter soul of the knight, saying, “By no means, Reginald, by no means do I aspire to the name or dignity of a king, nor do I desire to tear away his crown from him. I would freely place three or four such crowns on him, if I had the power to do so. Nor do I believe that there is anyone in the world besides his father, my lord the king, who loves him more dearly than I do, or who wishes more good to him.10 In his youth, Henry the Younger had been entrusted to Becket’s care and spent time in his household: see Strickland, Henry the Young King, pp. 34–40. If the Lord assents and my life continues, I will prove this to him by deeds. As for the bishops, whom you say were suspended or excommunicated by me or through me, know for certain that whatever was done, was done with the king’s consent and council. In the feast of the blessed Mary Magdalene, peace was restored between us, and he received me in my earlier grace.11 A reference to the peace of Fréteval on July 22, 1170, when Henry made a number of concessions regarding the coronation and Becket’s other complaints: see Barlow, Thomas Becket, pp. 209–13 and Duggan, Thomas Becket, pp. 179–200. Concerning the injuries and violence done to me and those belonging to me, and especially concerning the bishops, who disdained their mother, the church of Canterbury, and did not fear to usurp my office, I deposited my quarrel with the king. By his grace, he granted that I could seek from the lord pope any punishment compatible with justice and equity. He did not just consent to this, but also deigned to promise me aid.”

Reginald, as empty of courtesy as he was full of anger, exclaimed, “Ah! What are you saying? It would be an unparalleled and unheard-of act of treason, if the lord king granted you licence to excommunicate or suspend his bishops who, by his order, participated in his son’s coronation. This never came into his mind. You know that you are the author of great evil, you who accuse our lord the king of such treason.” “Reginald, Reginald,” said the archbishop, “I do not accuse the king of treachery. Nevertheless, it is certainly not a secret that concord is restored between us and we have an agreement. Archbishops, bishops, many exalted men, very religious men, and fifty or more knights were there and heard these things. And you too, lord Reginald, you were present.”12 Another reference to Henry II’s and Becket’s agreement at Fréteval. The enemy of truth responded, “Truly I was not there, and I did not see or hear this.” The saint, most temperate in word and in tone, affirmed humbly and simply, “No, God knows. I am certain that I saw you there.” But he again, perjuring himself that he had not been there, and injuring himself by his denial, said, “It is unprecedented and astonishing that you place a stamp of such treason on our lord the king. He will not be able to bear this from you any longer, nor will we, his faithful men, bear this any longer.” Then the other knights also exclaimed and burst out in the same threats, swearing many times by the wounds of God that they had borne too much from him. The hearts of the foolish were troubled [Ps 75:6] and they spoke their iniquity on high [Ps 72:8], piling insult on insult, threat on threat.

But the man of the Lord, who had come not only to be struck by threats and insults, but also willingly to expose his head to the sword for the defence of church’s liberty, responded mildly, according to what the ethicist says, while its fury is at full speed, give way to its furious speeding.13 Ovid, Cures for Love, line 119. He said, “From the time I arrived in this land, at peace with God and the king, and with the king’s safe conduct, I have endured many threats, many insults, and many injuries. For example, my men were taken captive and their possessions violently taken from them; the tails of my horses were cut off by Robert de Broc; and my wine was violently seized by Ranulf de Broc, the wine that the lord king had caused to be transported across his territories beyond the sea and brought to England.14 On these incidents, see Biographical Notes, Ranulf de Broc and Robert de Broc. I was wronged by many other injuries and insults, despite the fact our lord the king mandated and ordered to his son the king, both by letters and by the oral report of messengers, that there was to be a lasting peace with me and those belonging to me. And in addition to these things, you have come and made these threats to me. You should know that I bear such things very badly.”

Reginald said to him, “If anyone presumed to do something that seemed to involve injury to you, why didn’t you make it known, and you would have received whatever justice or reason might demand?” “Before whom,” said the archbishop, “would I make my complaint?” The knight replied, “To the king on this side of the sea.”

“Friend,” said the archbishop, “I have complained enough, I have laid out the injuries inflicted on me enough times, I have made enough vain attempts to achieve satisfaction. So many injuries have been piled on me every day. I have been distressed by so many and such grievous evils, and so many complaints of my impoverished men ring in my ears both day and night, that I would never find enough messengers necessary for their individual needs. Moreover, if I set forth my injuries, the benefit of justice and reason would be denied to me. As for the king on this side of the sea and his justices, they are dependent on the council of the king across the sea; they do nothing without consultation. For me, justice and equity are denied, and for my people, the opportunity of crossing the sea and approaching the king is prohibited. And so, I am treated very badly. In truth, I do not find rectitude or justice either here nor there from anyone, but I will exercise it as an archbishop can and should, never forsaking it for any mortal.” In reply to this, one of them shouted, “Threats, threats: will you put the whole realm under interdict, and excommunicate us all?” Another said, “So help me God, he will not do this: he has put countless people under the chain of anathema.”

And so they leapt to their feet, and with the bridle released from their anger and insults, they threw around their gloves, flung their arms about in rage, and as much by the gestures of their bodies as the vehemence of their cries, they presented clear indications of insanity. The archbishop also stood up. On account of the great noise and confusion of voices it was not easy to distinguish the poisonous words that each of them hurled at the Lord’s anointed. Finally the sons of Belial15 Belial is another name for Satan. Wicked people are termed “sons of Belial” in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the Christian New Testament. turned to the monks who happened to be there and attempted (though without success) to provoke them against their father and the father of the whole realm though these words: “On behalf of the lord king, we command that you not let this man depart, but keep him in custody, so that he may brought again to the king when he wills it.” They repeated this same speech again and again, and the kind father responded for his sons: “What is this? Do you think I wish to escape and be a fugitive? I will not become a fugitive for the king nor for any living man. I did not come to flee, but instead await the frenzy of the attackers and the wickedness of the impious.” “True,” said the knights, “true, by the will of God, you will not escape.” It was not pride that had supplied that word in contempt of the king to the most holy man, but rather constancy, founded on Christ and made perfect as an example of virtue.

And so they went out with great tumult and many insults and threats, and the archbishop followed them to the chamber’s door, crying out to Hugh de Morville,16 See Biographical Notes, Hugh de Morville. who ought to have been above the rest as much by virtue of sound reason as on account of his noble descent, that he come back and speak to him. But they were so enraged that they could not control themselves, and he went away with the others in pride and indignation. The man of the Lord came back and sat down, and in the presence of his clerks he lamented over these commands of the king and the knights’ slanderous words. One of his clerks, namely Master John of Salisbury,17 See Biographical Notes, John of Salisbury. a man of many letters, great eloquence and wise council, and, what is greater than these, a man rooted in the fear and the love of God, responded to the one lamenting in this way: “Lord, it is a very remarkable thing that you take no-one’s counsel. And why was it necessary for a man of such excellence to get up, further inciting those evil men, and to follow them to the door? Would it not have been better to take council with those present here, and to give them a more mild response, these men who devise evil against you in whatever way they can, in hopes of provoking you to anger and at least ensnaring you in what you say?” But the saint, who longed for justice and the liberty of the church to the very point of death, as if it were a delightful repose, sighed and said, “I have already received every manner of council. I know well enough what I ought to do.” And Master John said, “I hope, by God’s will, that it turns out well.”

In that cursed company was that son of perdition, Robert de Broc, whom, as we said above, the holy man anathematized on the day of the Lord’s Nativity and cut off from the communion of the faithful on account of the enormity of his crimes.18 See Biographical Notes, Robert de Broc. The compiler of the Quadrilogus may have added the words “as we said above” to Benedict’s narrative. He knew all the entrances and exits in the palace because he held the custody of the whole archbishopric under his lord Ranulf de Broc19 See Biographical Notes, Ranulf de Broc. when the archbishop was exiled. The company had hastened to seize the door of the hall, but they could not get through due to the precaution of the servants. When they found that the door was shut and bars prevented their entry, they immediately turned aside, led by the aforesaid Robert, to a hidden staircase which led down from the outer chamber into the orchard, and having broken through a nearby window, they opened the door. When the servants running everywhere called out to the most brave champion of God that he should flee, he was not moved in spirit, nor did he move from that place. To him, nothing was more vile than to fear death for Christ. Both clerks and monks implored and very strongly urged him to flee. He remembered his previous promise, namely, that he would not flee those who kill the flesh for fear of death, and he remained seated, fearless. Like them, he did not know those who believe for a while and in time of temptation fall away [Lk 8:13]. But the few monks who were there broke the bolt on the door that led to the church through the cloister, and they urged their unwilling father to be led away, suggesting an honorable reason for him to depart, namely that it was the hour in which he ought to be performing the praise of vespers in the church.20 The last monastic service of the day, vespers was held at sunset. Others, laying hands on him, lifted him up and used force on him. Then the saint ordered that his cross be carried before him, not forgetting to observe to the letter the precept of the Lord, if any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me [Mt 16:24]. He went out, but when he was forced by his companions to hurry, he stopped his step as if ashamed to flee. The monks still urged him on and compelled him to move along. Either because their behavior was more irreverent than usual, or in order to reassure and console them, he kept repeating these words, saying to them, “What is this, sirs? What do you fear?” When they came to the cloister door, they were not able to break it open, and they did not have the key, but the two cellarers of the church of Canterbury, Richard and William, who had heard the tumult and the crashing of arms and had hastened towards him by means of the cloister walk, pulled back the bolt and opened the door for the archbishop as he approached.21 Other chroniclers suggested that this door opened miraculously.