Part 20 (2/2)

”I know that I am too self-indulgent,” said the Arch bishop; ”but G.o.d is merciful, albeit I am unworthy of His favor.”

Legates were sent by the Pope to negotiate, and many letters were written on either side, but without effect. The difference was said to lie in a nutsh.e.l.l; but where the liberties of the Church were concerned, Becket was inflexible. At the Epiphany, 1169, he was put to a severe trial; Henry himself, who had long been at war with Louis le Jeune, came to Montmirail, to hold a conference and sign a treaty, and he was summoned to attend it. By the advice of the legates and other clergy, Becket had agreed to give up the phrase which had formerly given the King so much offence at Clarendon, ”Saving the privileges of my order,”

but not without inserting in its stead an equivalent, ”Saving the honor of G.o.d,” which, as being concerned in that of the Church, meant the same thing.

Yet on this the clergy of France, who were always extremely submissive to the crown, were by no means of Becket's opinion, and tried so hard to persuade him, for the sake of peace, to suppress this clause altogether, and make no reservation, that the bold and faithful Herbert de Bosham began to fear he might give way, and, pressing through the crowd as the Archbishop was advancing to the presence of the two kings, he whispered in his ear, ”Take heed, my lord--walk warily. I tell you truly, if you leave out the words, 'Saving G.o.d's honor,' as you suppressed the other phrase, saving your own order, your sorrow will be renewed, and the more bitterly.”

The throng was so dense, that Becket could only answer him by a look, and he remained in great anxiety as he watched his master advance and throw himself at the feet of King Henry; then, when raised up by the King, begin to speak, accusing himself of being by his unworthiness, the cause of the troubles of the English Church. ”Therefore,” said he, ”I throw myself on your mercy and pleasure, my lord, on the whole matter that lies between us, only _saving the honor of my G.o.d._”

Henry burst out in rage and fury, heaping on Becket a load of abuse; declaring, to the King of France that this was all a pretence and that he himself was willing, to leave the Archbishop to the full as much power as any of his predecessors, but that he knew that, whatever the Archbishop disapproved, he would say was contrary to G.o.d's honor. ”Now,”

said Henry, ”there have been many kings of England before me, some of greater power than I am, some of less; and there have been many archbishops of Canterbury before him. Now let him behave to me as the holiest of his predecessors behaved to the least of mine, and I am satisfied.”

There was apparent reason in this, that brought over Louis to Henry's side, and he said, rather insultingly, ”My lord Archbishop, do you wish to be more than a saint?”

But Becket stood firm. He said there had indeed been holier and greater archbishops before him, each one of whom had corrected some abuse of the Church; and had they corrected all, he should not have been exposed to this fiery trial. Besides, the point was, that Henry was not leaving the Church as it had been under them, but seeking to bind a yoke on her that they had never borne. Almost all the French clergy and n.o.bles were now against him; they called him obstinate and proud; the two kings mounted their horses and rode away together, without bidding him farewell; and some of the last words his clerks heard from the French n.o.bles were, ”He has been cast out by England; let him find no support in France.”

Dreading what might come next, and grievously disappointed in their hopes of returning to their homes, even his clerks were out of humor, and blamed his determination. As they rode back in the gloom toward St.

Columba, the horse of one happened to stumble, and in his vexation he exclaimed, ”Come up, saving the honor of the Church and my order.”

The Archbishop looked grieved, but was silent, and Herbert took this moment for riding up to him, and saying, ”Heaven be praised, my lord, that through all to-day's tribulation you have been sustained by the Lord, and have not suffered that slippery member to betray you into anything against the honor of G.o.d.”

The great ground of anxiety was the displeasure of Louis, who had hitherto not only allowed the exiles to take shelter in his dominions, but absolutely maintained them; and if he was won over by their persecutors, what was to become of them?

Their alarm increased as they heard nothing from him of his usual messages of kindness and friends.h.i.+p, and they were consulting together on their plans if they should be turned out of St. Columba.

”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 G.o.d 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 compa.s.sion 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 G.o.d'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.

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