For this neglect, as it was said, of the King’s summons, Becket was condemned to forfeit the whole of his personal property; and to this he submitted, but without appeasing the King, who went on to accuse him of taking the public money while Chancellor, when, as every one knew, he had spent far more largely than ever he had received in the King’s service. Not a person was there who did not know that his character stood far above such base charges; besides, an appointment to an ecclesiastical dignity was always supposed to clear from all former charges. Henry de Blois, Bishop of Winchester, brother of King Stephen, went to the King, and offered to pay the whole sum required of Becket; but he was not listened to, and the Bishops of Chichester and London plainly told the Archbishop, that what was aimed at was to force him to resign. The plain, blunt Bishop of Lincoln said, “The man’s life is in danger; he will lose it, or his bishopric; and what good his bishopric will do him without his life, I do not see.” On the decisive day on which he was expected to submit to judgment, Archbishop Thomas rose early and celebrated mass; after which, arrayed in his pontifical dress, except his mitre and pall, he set out for the place of meeting, attended by his faithful clerks. He wished to have gone thither barefoot, and, bearing his cross, to have thrown himself at the feet of the King, and intercede with him for the liberties of the Church; but his clergy and the Templars persuaded him to relinquish this design, contrary to his own judgment. He returned to it again so far, that, on dismounting in the Castle court, he took his cross from Alexander Llewellyn, its bearer, and carried it himself into the hall. The Bishop of Hereford ran up to him, saying, “Suffer me, my lord, to carry the cross; it is better than that you should carry it yourself.” “Nay, my son,” he answered, “suffer me to retain it, as the banner under which I fight.” A French archdeacon, who was present, said to the Bishop of London, “My lord, do you allow the Archbishop to carry his own cross?” “My good friend,” was Folliot’s rude reply, “he always was a fool, and will continue so to the end.” But when all gave way before the majestic figure of the Archbishop, with the cross in his hand, Gilbert went up to him, and tried to snatch it away, telling him he was disturbing the peace; for the King would take the sword, and then the King and Archbishop would be matched against each other. “So be it,” said Becket; “my cross is the sign of peace; the King’s sword is an instrument of war.” He sat down to wait, while the other prelates were called to a consultation with the King in another apartment. His clerks sat round, and Herbert de Bosham said, “If they lay violent hands on you, you can excommunicate them all.”