London Folk Tales by Helen East Page A

shirt, to remind his skin of the man who was within. But he also took his mother’s crescent moon, a golden scimitar, to remind him of her, and the joyous resolution that she found. And this he hung over the high altar of Canterbury Cathedral. They say, too, that as he spent his first night there, in solitary vigil and prayer, the Virgin Mary came to visit him. In the morning, when she’d gone, as proof that she had been she left him the Golden Eagle Ampulla, to hold the oil for royal coronations ever after.
    But despite these comforts, it turned out as Thomas feared. For Henry wished to strengthen the powers of the State, and that pressed hard against the powers of the Church. It seemed to Thomas that the games of chess, which he and Henry had enjoyed playing together at court were now fought out in real life. First came the struggle over payment of landowners’ tax; and then over clerics’ right to choose ecclesiastic trial. The first, played on a board, might have called on knights and castles; the second on the full force of the bishops and the Queen. Money and laws; quarrels lead to wars – as Thomas knew only too well. The issues could not be resolved and Henry was furious that Thomas should so obstinately support the Church against him. He exiled him, and Thomas went to Rome, and the Pope.
    Arriving at the Apostolic Lateran Palace after a very long journey, Thomas was hungry. Expecting the Pope to send for him at once, he called for food to be brought quickly and, since it was a fast day, he asked for carp, which, being fish, was permitted. Instead, in an attempt to discredit him, he was served a capon just as the Pope’s messengers arrived to collect him. Deeply shocked by his behaviour, they insisted on taking the bird as well as Thomas straight to the Pope. But on arrival, when they took the lid off the dish, they found the capon had turned into a fish.
    But minor miracles could not protect Thomas forever. At the Pope’s request he was allowed to return from exile, but again refused to give into Henry’s demands. ‘Oh who will rid me of this troublesome priest?’ the king exclaimed in an outburst of hurt rage, and so set the stage for the end. Four knights were ready to take him at his word, and made their way to Canterbury immediately. And although Becket received letters of warning, he refused to allow the cathedral to be locked against any who wished to enter.
    It was twilight and vespers were being sung. As Thomas came into the cathedral, the king’s knights, strongly armed, came behind. ‘Away, you cowards,’ Becket said calmly, pointing to their weapons. ‘A church is not a castle.’ He went towards the choir, and a monk, Edward Grim, stood beside him. The knights pushed after them.
    â€˜Where is Thomas the traitor?’ they shouted.
    â€˜Here I am,’ he replied, coming down the steps to stand between the altars. ‘No traitor, but archbishop and priest of God. I am ready to die, but God’s curse on you if you harm my people.’
    Fitzurse struck first, then Tracy. Grim intercepted the blow with his own arm, but it forced Thomas to his knees, and blood ran down into his eyes. ‘Into Thy hands, O Lord,’ he cried, ‘I commend my spirit!’ Le Bret struck deep into his head, breaking his sword against the pavement, and Hugh of Horsea added the final blow.
    â€˜Let us away,’ he cried, ‘this man will rise no more.’ Red blood, white with brain, stained the floor of the cathedral, and marked the footsteps of the knights as they ran out. A thunderstorm broke in full fury overhead.
    Trying to run from the sky itself, the murderers hurried to a manor house nearby. As they went in they threw their weapons on a table in the hall. But the table trembled from the touch of this awful burden, and then violently hurled it all to the floor. And when they ate and threw their scraps and bones to the dogs, they curled