their lips and slunk away, refusing to take food from such bloodied hands. And so they went from place to place, to try to hide. But there was no escape for they were excommunicated, and the curse of the Pope followed them, on land, sea and air, above, below and everywhere.
As for the king, when the news came to him, he knew his own words had killed his best friend. He shut himself away, and fasted for forty days. Later he was absolved by the Pope. But many never forgave him, including his own son, who had felt more love from Thomas in one day, he said, than his father had given him all his life.
Thomas à Becket was hailed as a holy martyr, and the Pope had a requiem mass said for him. Within three years he was canonised, and became a patron saint of London on a par with St Paul. On London Bridge, where the beggars used to wait for him, a chapel was built in his memory, and all who came to London went there first to give thanks for a safe journey.
The old Roman road from London Bridge to Canterbury soon became known as the âPilgrimâs Wayâ. And St Thomas à Becketâs tomb was covered with gold, silver, and jewels, and became famous for its many miracles. The blood from his head that spilt upon the floor was wiped up by the monks and laymen. One of these men took a bloodied cloth home to his sick wife, and she was instantly well again. Then the cloths were used for everyone, and the blood was watered down to make healing water, and hundreds reported cures from it. Adam the Forester was shot in the throat by a poacher, but drank the holy water of St Thomas and was healed. Hugh the cellarer was receiving the Last Rites, but the water restored him to life.
Many did not even need the water. Jordan of Plumstead, who had served Thomas in London, prayed to him to help his daughter who had wasted right away. St Thomas took pity on her, and she sat up in her bier whole and well. While William the carpenter, who cut his leg with an axe, dreamt of St Thomas and, when his bandages were taken off, found there was no wound there at all. To this day his healing powers are remembered in the naming of south Londonâs St Thomas Hospital, close to the place where he once gave alms to all, after his sermons at Southwark Cathedral.
Nearby in Lambeth Palace, the London residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, built soon after Thomas died, they put St Thomasâ statue in the Water Tower. It was facing the river, so the ferrymen could salute him, which they did whenever they passed. Even today, though the statue is long gone, the boatmen doff their caps there.
10
B LIND B EGGARâS
D AUGHTER
Rags make paper
Paper makes money
Money makes rulers
Rulers make wars
Wars make want
Want makes beggars
Beggars make rags â¦
There was a time, and it wasnât my time, and it wasnât your time, but it was in hard and hungry times when London town had beggars whichever way you turned. Even if you wandered out to pleasant villages round about, such as Bethen Hall Green, to the east, with its ponds and mansion houses and trees, and sense of leisurely ease, there were still more seeking alms than there were almshouses to dispense them. Although the strong and handsome Edward âLongshanksâ was on the throne, there had been many troubled years before when England had been split by civil war â barons against their liege lord, cousin against cousin, even godfathers in mortal combat with their own godsons. And afterwards, though peace had come, the country was still carrying its scars. So the lamed and maimed, the homeless, widowed, orphaned, old, and young, were beggars all, though they held nothing in common but their want.
Yet amongst the crowd some did stand out. And one such man lived quietly in Bethen Hall Green. He was old, blind, ragged and thin, he was certainly poor, and yet he had a gentleness about him that made people careful about how they spoke when he was about. Especially because
As for the king, when the news came to him, he knew his own words had killed his best friend. He shut himself away, and fasted for forty days. Later he was absolved by the Pope. But many never forgave him, including his own son, who had felt more love from Thomas in one day, he said, than his father had given him all his life.
Thomas à Becket was hailed as a holy martyr, and the Pope had a requiem mass said for him. Within three years he was canonised, and became a patron saint of London on a par with St Paul. On London Bridge, where the beggars used to wait for him, a chapel was built in his memory, and all who came to London went there first to give thanks for a safe journey.
The old Roman road from London Bridge to Canterbury soon became known as the âPilgrimâs Wayâ. And St Thomas à Becketâs tomb was covered with gold, silver, and jewels, and became famous for its many miracles. The blood from his head that spilt upon the floor was wiped up by the monks and laymen. One of these men took a bloodied cloth home to his sick wife, and she was instantly well again. Then the cloths were used for everyone, and the blood was watered down to make healing water, and hundreds reported cures from it. Adam the Forester was shot in the throat by a poacher, but drank the holy water of St Thomas and was healed. Hugh the cellarer was receiving the Last Rites, but the water restored him to life.
Many did not even need the water. Jordan of Plumstead, who had served Thomas in London, prayed to him to help his daughter who had wasted right away. St Thomas took pity on her, and she sat up in her bier whole and well. While William the carpenter, who cut his leg with an axe, dreamt of St Thomas and, when his bandages were taken off, found there was no wound there at all. To this day his healing powers are remembered in the naming of south Londonâs St Thomas Hospital, close to the place where he once gave alms to all, after his sermons at Southwark Cathedral.
Nearby in Lambeth Palace, the London residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, built soon after Thomas died, they put St Thomasâ statue in the Water Tower. It was facing the river, so the ferrymen could salute him, which they did whenever they passed. Even today, though the statue is long gone, the boatmen doff their caps there.
10
B LIND B EGGARâS
D AUGHTER
Rags make paper
Paper makes money
Money makes rulers
Rulers make wars
Wars make want
Want makes beggars
Beggars make rags â¦
There was a time, and it wasnât my time, and it wasnât your time, but it was in hard and hungry times when London town had beggars whichever way you turned. Even if you wandered out to pleasant villages round about, such as Bethen Hall Green, to the east, with its ponds and mansion houses and trees, and sense of leisurely ease, there were still more seeking alms than there were almshouses to dispense them. Although the strong and handsome Edward âLongshanksâ was on the throne, there had been many troubled years before when England had been split by civil war â barons against their liege lord, cousin against cousin, even godfathers in mortal combat with their own godsons. And afterwards, though peace had come, the country was still carrying its scars. So the lamed and maimed, the homeless, widowed, orphaned, old, and young, were beggars all, though they held nothing in common but their want.
Yet amongst the crowd some did stand out. And one such man lived quietly in Bethen Hall Green. He was old, blind, ragged and thin, he was certainly poor, and yet he had a gentleness about him that made people careful about how they spoke when he was about. Especially because
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