"Never fear," said the Archbishop; "I am the only person King Henry wishes to injure: if I go away, no one will molest you."
"It is for you we are anxious," they said; "we do not see where you can find refuge."
"Care not for me," he said: "my God can protect me. Though England and France are closed against me, I shall not be undone. I will not apply to those Roman robbers, who do nothing but plunder the needy. I have heard that the people who dwell on the banks of the Arar, in Burgundy, are open-handed. I will go among them, on foot, with one comrade, and they will surely have compassion on me."
Just then a messenger came to desire the Archbishop to come to the lodgings of the French King.
"There! it is to drive us out of his kingdom," said one of the clerks.
"Do not forebode evil," returned Becket. "You are not a prophet, nor the son of a prophet."
Becket could hardly have been prepared for the manner of his reception. Louis threw himself on his knees, crying out, "My father, forgive me; you were the only wise man among us. We were all blinded and besotted, and advised you to make God's honor give way to a man's will! I repent of it, my father, and entreat you to bestow on me absolution!"
Louis had been brought to this change of mind by a breach of promise on Henry's part, but he never again wavered in his confidence and support of Becket.
In the November of the same year there was another interview between the two kings and Becket, at Montmartre, near Paris.
By this time, the Bishops of London and Salisbury had been excommunicated for disobedience to their primate; and Henry, expecting the same stroke to fall on himself, was resolved to put an end to the quarrel, and, bringing back Becket to his kingdom, to deal with him there as best he might.
Becket did not, by any means, trust the King's intentions, and had written to ask the Pope what pledge for his security he had better require. Alexander answered, that it was not accordant with the character of an ecclesiastic to stipulate for such pledges, but that he had better content himself with obtaining from the King a kiss of peace.
Now this kiss Henry would not give. He said he had sworn an oath never to kiss the Archbishop, and this refusal immediately convinced every one that evil was intended. Louis and all the Archbishop's friends concurred in advising him never to come to any terms without this seal of friend ship, and entirely on this ground the treaty was broken off. One of Becket's clergy remarked, that the meeting had taken place on the spot where St. Denys was put to death, adding, "It is my belief that nothing but your martyrdom will insure peace to the Church."
"Be it so," said Becket; "God grant that she may be redeemed, even at the sacrifice of my life."
He began to make up his mind that, since the King had given up the point at issue, he ought to allow no regard for his personal safety to keep him away from his flock; but just at this point the quarrel became further complicated. Henry, in dread of excommunication, resolved to have his son Henry crowned, to reign jointly with him, and the difficulty arose that no one could lawfully perform the coronation but the primate. Letters prohibiting the bishops from taking part in the coronation were sent by Becket, but, in the meantime, Gilbert Folliot had been appealing to Rome against his own excommunication. The Pope, who had been shuffling throughout, would not absolve him himself, but gave him letters to the Archbishops of Rouen and Nevers, and they granted him absolution; on which he returned triumphant to England, and joined with Roger of York and Hilary of Chichester in setting the crown on the head of young Henry. It was a measure which every person concerned in it had bitterly to rue-king, prince, bishops, every one, except Margaret, young Henry's wife, who steadily avoided receiving the crown from any one but her old tutor and friend, the primate.
Pope and Archbishop both agreed that this contempt of prohibition must be visited by excommunication; and as Alexander had about this time effectually humbled the pride of the Emperor Frederick, Henry thought it time to submit, at least in appearance, lest his realm should be laid under an interdict. At Freitval, therefore, he met the Archbishop in the autumn of 1170, and all was arranged. He consented to the excommunication of those concerned in the coronation; he held Becket's stirrup; he did everything but give the kiss of peace, but that he constantly avoided. Even when they went to church together at Tours, when, in the course of the communion service, Henry must have received the kiss from the Archbishop, he contrived to change the service to the mass for the dead, in which the kiss did not occur. The last time the King and Archbishop met was at Chaumont, near Blois, and here they had a return of old feelings, talked cheerfully and in a friendly manner, and Henry was so much touched by his remembrance of his happiest and best days, when his noble Chancellor was his friend and counsellor, that he exclaimed, "Why will you not do as I wish you? I would put all my affairs into your hands."
But Becket told his clerks that he recollected, "All these things will I give Thee, if Thou wilt fall down and worship me."
They parted for the last time, and Becket prepared for his return, after his seven years' exile, sending before him letters from the Pope, suspending the Archbishop of York, and excommunicating the other bishops who had assisted at the coronation. At every step warnings met him that the English coast was beset with his foes, lying in wait to murder him; but he was resolved to proceed, and bold Herbert helped to strengthen his resolution by his arguments. On the 3d of December he set sail from the Boulogne coast. "There is England, my lord!" cried the rejoicing clerks.
"You are glad to go," he said; "but, before forty days, you will wish yourself anywhere else."
With extreme joy did the people of Sandwich see, for the first time for seven years, the archepiscopal cross, as it stood high above the prow of the ship. They thronged to receive their pastor and ask his blessing, and in every village through which he passed the parish priest came forth, with cross or banner, his flock in procession behind him, and the bells pealing merrily, while the road was strewed with garlands.
At Canterbury the joy was extreme; anthems were sung in all the churches, and the streets resounded with trumpets and the shouts of the people in their holiday robes. The Archbishop rode through the midst, saluted each of the monks of Christ Church on the cheek, and then went straight to his own cathedral, where his greeting to his flock was a sermon on the text, "Here we have no abiding city."
After taking possession of his palace, Becket set out to London to visit his pupil, the young King, taking him a present of a fine horse; but he was not allowed to see him, and the courtiers threatened him severely, because of the rejoicings of the citizens of London. At home he was much annoyed by his old enemy, Ranulf de Broc, who from Saltwood Castle made forays on all that were going to the archiepiscopal palace, stole his baggage, and cut off the tail of one of the poor horses that carried it.
The bishops who had been placed under the censures of the Church were, meanwhile, in violent anger. Roger of York said he had 8,000 crowns in his coffers, and would spend every one of them in beating down Thomas's insolence: and together they all set out to make their complaints to the King, who was at Falaise.
It would seem that Henry either forgot, or did not choose to tell them, of the permission he had given Becket at Freital, and he went into a passion, saying, if all who were concerned in the coronation were to be excommunicated, he ought to be one. The Archbishop of York talked of patience and good contrivance. "What would you have me do?" said Henry.
"Your barons must advise you," said one of the bishops (which, is not known); "but as long as Thomas lives, you will never be at peace."
Henry's eyes flashed. "A curse," cried he, "on all the false varlets I have maintained, who have left me so long subject to the insolence of a priest, without attempting to rid me of him!"