Plantagenet 1 - The Plantagenet Prelude (44 page)

And now his feet were firmly placed on a path which he must follow, for it was his destiny.

He trusted that God would show him what to do at Clarendon for he knew what happened there was going to affect his future for good or ill.

In the great hall, Henry was seated in the centre of the dais and on his left hand was his son, young Henry, who was nine years old.

The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of Thomas and the Archbishop’s heart warmed to him. There was one who loved him. He did not meet the King’s eyes but he knew that the elder Henry watched him covertly.

As Primate he took the place on the right hand of the King - the second most important post in the kingdom. There were the bishops all assembled and among them the Archbishop of York, Roger de Pont l’Eveque. Roger could not hide his satisfaction. He would be remembering the old days in the household of Theobald when a certain young man - not of noble birth - had joined the young men there and won the old Archbishop’s affection as none of the others had done. Roger had done his best to appease his envy by getting Thomas expelled; he had succeeded in this on two occasions but when Thomas had been recalled he was in higher favour than ever. How envious Roger must have been when he heard of the King’s friendship with the man he hated! People used to say in those days: The King loves the Chancellor more than any other living being.

And now here was triumph, for everyone in that hall knew that they had been assembled to witness the public humiliation of the King’s one-time beloved friend.

Yet Thomas had his sympathisers there - mellow men, men of integrity. One was Henry of Winchester, brother of King Stephen, a man who had once had great ambitions, but who had long discarded them realising their emptiness. He knew the nature of the King and that of Thomas too. The Earl of Leicester and Richard de Luci were good honest men who served the King well. They would not go against Henry but they did not wish to see such a man as Thomas Becket humiliated. They understood his scruples and applauded them and would rather that it had not been necessary to call this meeting.

If Thomas knew the King, the King knew Thomas. He was well aware that Thomas had given him his verbal promise because as a churchman he had believed he must obey the Pope. It was a slip, Thomas, thought the King exultantly. Your poor weak Pope trembled for his own skin, and you fell into the trap. And now you regret it. And you can well refuse to take the oath in public. And I know you well. I know your eloquence. I know that you could sway a multitude to your way of thinking. Look around the hall, Thomas. See the armed men I have had stationed here. Others see them. They will know for what purpose they are here. There is not a man in this hall who would dare offend his King, Thomas. Except perhaps you. Consider the folly of it, Thomas.

He himself opened the meeting.

The Archbishop of Canterbury, he said, had come to swear before them all that he would unconditionally serve his King.

Thomas rose from his seat.

‘My lord,’ he said. ‘I will swear to serve my King when that service does not conflict with my duty to the Church.’

The King’s face was scarlet, his eyes blazed and every man in the hall save Thomas trembled. Thomas felt only exultation, for he had done what he believed was right. He had feared that in that assembly he might have quailed, but he had come through safely, and he felt he was sustained by God.

Henry’s fury broke forth. So great was his rage that he was incoherent. He could only fling abuse at his Archbishop. Thomas remained calm and pale as though he did not hear the King.

Nor did he. He was thinking, I have taken the first step. Whatever happens to me I must accept. If it is death then it will soon be over and I shall have died for God and the Church.

The King suddenly strode out of the hall. His son took a trembling look at Thomas and followed him. Thomas caught the cynical eye of the Archbishop of York, who in those seconds could not disguise his pleasure.

Thomas made his way to his lodging that he might meditate and pray for strength to go on as he had begun. It was not long before Joceline, Bishop of Salisbury and Roger, Bishop of Worcester called on him.

‘Come in, my friends,’ said Thomas.

They came in and regarded him with fearful eyes.

‘We implore you, my lord,’ said the Bishop of Salisbury, ‘to make your peace with the King.’

‘I do not wish to be at war with the King,’ answered Thomas.

‘He will kill us all if you do not take the oath, my lord.’

‘Then we must die. It will not be the first time that men have died for the Church of God. Countless hosts of saints have taught us by word and example: God’s will be done.’

‘You have seen the King’s mood. You saw the armed men who filled the hall.’

‘I saw them,’ said Thomas. ‘Pray for courage. It may be that our hour has come. If so, our only fear must be that we may lack the courage to face it. Pray for that courage. God will not fail you.’

They went away sorrowing and in great fear. Then came the Earl of Leicester and the King’s uncle, the Earl of Cornwall.

‘The King considers himself to have been insulted,’ said Leicester. ‘He declares he will be avenged.’

‘Then avenged he must be.’

‘You have only to swear that you will give absolute obedience to the King.’

‘I am a man of the Church.’

‘The King declares that you have promised him in private to serve him.’

‘I told him that the Pope had advised me to.’

‘We advise you too, my lord. We are your friends. We deplore this quarrel between you and the King.’

‘I know you to be my good friends and I thank you for it. I know you to be wise men. It is easy for you to swear to serve the King absolutely because you have not given your allegiance to the Church. I have told the King that I will obey him in all temporal matters. It is only when his will conflicts with that of Holy Church that I must disobey him and follow my true Master.’

‘The King is in an ugly mood.’

‘I know those moods well. Many times have I witnessed them.’

‘Never before were they directed in earnest against you.’

‘I know that the King is a man who will not be crossed. He will have what he wants and if he wants my blood I doubt not that he will have it.’

‘He does not want your blood, only your obedience.’

‘But if I cannot give him what he asks?’

‘We fear, my lord, that we may be called upon to do you to death. That would to us be a crime, but we must perforce commit it if it is the King’s command that we should.’

‘Ah, gentlemen, that is a matter for your consciences.’

‘If you would but swear …’

‘Nay, my lords. That is something I cannot do. Leave me now. Go to the quiet of your chambers and pray that when your hour of decision comes God will enable you to do what is right.’

Thomas was still on his knees when there was yet another visitor. This was the Grand Master of the English Templars, Richard of Hastings, and with him came another of the Templars, Hostes of Boulogne.

These were holy men and Thomas trusted them. They were in the King’s confidence and assured Thomas that they knew his mind and that he had talked to them of his true feelings.

‘The King has a deep affection for you still, my lord Archbishop,’ said Richard of Hastings. ‘He wishes us to be his mediators. He says you will readily understand the position in which by the stubbornness of your determination and the violence of his temper you have been placed. This matter has gone so far that he cannot retreat. It would seem weak in a king, who having shown what he says he is determined to have, to accept something less. He has sworn to us that he wishes only to have your oath in public and if you will give it he will not tamper with the laws of the Church.’

‘Is this indeed so?’ asked Thomas.

‘He has sworn it is so.’

‘He does not always keep his promises.’

‘He has asked what good would come to the realm if he had an open quarrel with the Church. What harm would come if he quarrelled with his Primate so as to make a rift between the State and the Church? The King wants a reconciliation with you. If you will but return to the hall and give him what he wants you need have no fear. The King has given his word. But you must swear in public to take the oath of absolute obedience to the Crown.’

‘You have indeed come from the King?’

‘We have indeed.’

‘And he has sworn that he will keep to his promises not to interfere in Church matters?’

‘He has sworn.’

‘Then I will send for my bishops and tell them that on your advice and assurances I can make this oath in public.’

Thomas returned to the hall. The Archbishop of York watched him cynically while the others looked as though a great burden had fallen from their shoulders.

The King was almost merry. His eyes were kindly and full of affection as he turned to his Archbishop of Canterbury.

Thomas rose to his feet and swore to the assembly that he would obey the customs of the realm in good faith.

‘You have all heard what the Archbishop has promised me on his own part,’ cried the King in a loud voice. ‘Now it only remains that at his bidding the other bishops should do the same.’

‘I will that they satisfy your honour as I have done,’ said Thomas.

All the bishops rose and made their promise. Only Joceline Bishop of Salisbury hesitated and looked at Thomas.

‘What ails you, my lord Bishop of Salisbury?’ roared the King.

‘You are sure, my lord,’ asked the bishop looking at Thomas, ‘that it is right for me to take this oath?’

‘By God’s eyes,’ cried the King, ‘that man is ever against me.’

His eyes narrowed and he had turned to one of his armed soldiers.

Thomas said quickly: ‘You should take the oath, my lord, as we all have done.’ And forthwith Joceline of Salisbury took the oath.

‘Now,’ cried the King, ‘everyone here has heard the promises the archbishops and bishops have made that the laws and customs of my kingdom shall be observed. In order that there may be no further dispute on the subject, let my grandfather Henry’s laws be committed to writing.’

The meeting ended in triumph for the King.

Chapter XIII

FLIGHT FROM ENGLAND

I
n the great hall the justiciary Richard de Luci read out the clauses of the code which was known as the Constitution of Clarendon, and Thomas realised at once that he had been duped. Henry had had no more compunction in lying to the Templars than he had to him. He had been ready to promise anything to gain his point. Sometimes Thomas thought that this was not so much a quarrel between Church and State as a conflict between Thomas Becket and Henry II of England. It was like one of the games they had played in the past, only this time it was in deadly earnest.

When the Clerk read out that clerics were to be tried on all accusations by the King’s justiciary, Thomas could not forbear crying out: ‘This is against the laws of the Church. Christ is judged anew before Pilate.’ Another clause stated that no one must leave the kingdom without the King’s consent.

‘The kingdom will become a prison,’ said Thomas. ‘What of those who wish to go on holy pilgrimages? What of those members of the Church who were summoned by the Pope to attend a council? Would they not be obliged to obey the Pope even if the King refused permission?’

There was worse to follow. There should be no appeals to the Pope without the King’s consent.

‘How could an archbishop agree to this?’ demanded Thomas. ‘When he receives the pallium he takes an oath not to hinder appeals to the Pope.’

As Thomas protested the King sat glowering at him and when the reading was over he stood up and in a voice of thunder cried: ‘Now shall the members of the clergy sign and seal these constitutions and the Archbishop of Canterbury shall do so first.’

Thomas looked at his bishops, some of whom hung their heads in shame while others, more bold, looked at him appealingly. To sign and seal such a document was to deny their duty. The Bishop of Salisbury murmured that if they signed it they would be guilty of perjury.

The King looked on. His armed guard was standing alert. One word from him and there would be a bloody massacre.

‘God help me,’ prayed Thomas.

Then he said in a clear voice: ‘We need time to study this document. I am sure the King in his grace will give us a few hours to discuss it together in private.’

He picked up a copy - there were three - and the Archbishop of York took another.

He mounted his horse and with his small company about him, he rode to Winchester. He despised himself. He had gone too far along the road to placating the King. He should never have taken the oath in public; he should never have agreed to it in private. He should have led his weaker brethren. He should have defied the King, inviting death. What mattered it if he were done to death? All that mattered was that he should be faithful to God and the Church.

He could hear the members of his suite discussing the Constitution.

‘What could he have done?’ asked one. ‘If he had defied the King more openly it would have been the end for us all.’

‘Yet has he not endangered the liberties of the Church?’ asked another.

His standard-bearer, a Welshman of an impetuous nature, cried out suddenly, ‘Iniquity rages through the land. No one is safe who loves the truth. Now that the chief has fallen, who will stand?’

‘To whom do you refer?’ asked Thomas.

‘To you,’ answered the Welshman. ‘You, my lord, who have betrayed your conscience and your fame and the Church. You have acted in a manner which is hateful to God and against justice. You have joined with the ministers of Satan to overthrow the Church.’

‘Oh God of Heaven, you are right,’ cried Thomas. ‘I have brought the Church into slavery. I came not from the cloister but from the Court, not from the school of Christ but from Caesar’s service. I have been proud and vain. I have been foolish. I see that I have been deserted by God and am only fit to be cast out of the Holy See.’

His Archdeacon rode up beside him.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘if you have fallen low, rise up bravely. Be cautious and strong and the Lord will help you. Did He not make David great and was he not an adulterer and a murderer? Did not Peter deny Him thrice and was he not the founder of His Church? You have been Saul and now you are Paul. You know what you must do. The Lord will help you do it.’

‘You are right, my friend,’ said Thomas. ‘I will start again. God will be beside me and never again will I fall so low. I will die for the Church if need be.’

There seemed to be only one thing Thomas could do. He must see the Pope. He must tell him everything that had happened and ask what he must do next. The King’s edict was that no one should leave the country without his consent. Even so he must get away. The King had ignored him but he would not continue to do so. Thomas knew that Henry was trying to shift the power from Canterbury to York for he was aware that in Roger there was a man of immense ambition as well as an enemy of Thomas Becket.

Thomas disguised himself as a wandering monk and with a few members of his suite rode to Romney where he had arranged that a boat should be waiting for him.

He reached the coast without mishap but so violent a wind had blown up that he was forced to abandon the project.

He could not remain at Romney but must return to Canterbury, and this he did. But he intended to try again in a clement season, and one day when the weather was mild he set out again.

His servants, believing that he had now reached France, were afraid to stay in his palace and with the exception of one cleric and his boy servant, they left.

They talked awhile of the sad fate of the Archbishop and how the man, who many had said had ruled the King, for when he was Chancellor the King had loved him dearly, was now fallen so low, the lower for having risen so high.

‘Ah, my boy, it is a lesson to us all,’ said the cleric. ‘Now go and make sure the doors are shut and bolted that we may sleep safely this night. In the morning we must depart, for it will not be long before the King’s men arrive. They will take away all the worldly goods of the Archbishop for the King would despoil him not only of his office but of his goods as well.’

The boy took a lantern and went to do his master’s bidding, and as he came into the courtyard in order to close the outer door he saw a figure slumped against the wall. He held the lantern high and peered. Then he let out a shriek and ran to his master.

‘I have seen a ghost,’ he cried. ‘The Archbishop is dead and has come to haunt the place.’

The cleric took the lantern and went to see for himself.

He found no ghost but Thomas himself.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘you are back then?’

‘The sailors who were to take the boat across to France recognised me,’ said Thomas. ‘They would not sail, so fearful were they of the King’s wrath. I see that God does not wish me to escape.’

If this were so then he must try other methods. It occurred to him that if he could see Henry, if he could talk reasonably, if he could remind him of their past friendship they might yet come to an understanding.

He asked for a meeting and somewhat to his surprise the King, who was at Woodstock, agreed to see him.

Henry was in a mellow mood. He had spent a few days in the company of Rosamund and their two children, and these sojourns always had a softening effect on him.

When Henry saw Thomas he noticed how wan he had become.

‘You’ve aged,’ he said. ‘You are not the merry reveller you once were.’

‘Nor are you, my lord King, the friend who joined in our fun.’

‘We have had our differences,’ answered Henry, ‘and alas they persist. Why did you attempt to leave the country? Is there not room here for us both?’

Thomas looked at the King sadly, but Henry would not meet his gaze.

The King went on: ‘Why have you asked for this audience? What have you to say to me?’

‘I had hoped, my lord, that you might have something to say to me.’

‘There is much I would say to you, but first there is one thing that you must say to me. Have you come to your senses, Becket?’

‘If you mean by that have I come to sign and seal the Constitution I can only say nay.’

‘Then go,’ cried the King. ‘There is nothing else I want to hear from you.’

‘I had hoped for the sake of the past …’

‘By God’s eyes, man, will you obey my orders or will you not? Go! Get from my sight. I will hear one thing from you and one only.’

Thomas came sorrowing away.

The Queen had followed the conflict between Becket and Henry with some interest. It amused her to recall how great their friendship had been and how there was a time when Henry preferred that man’s company to anyone else’s. It was strange to think that she had been jealous of Becket. Who would be jealous of him now? Poor broken old man. If she were not so pleased by his downfall she could be sorry for him.

She was forty-two years of age now - still a beautiful woman, still able to attract men, or so her troubadours implied. They still sang songs to her and she did not feel that they flattered her overmuch.

Since her marriage with Henry she had not wanted any other man, which was strange when she considered how he angered her; but then perhaps it was because he did anger her that she found his company so stimulating.

Now when they talked together of Becket, she did not say to him as his mother had done, ‘I told you so.’ She let him pour out his disappointment in that man and fed his anger against him. It brought them nearer together.