Twice he was in danger of discovery. The first time was when they met a party of young men hawking. Becket, who had never lost his admiration for the noble birds (for one of whom he had so nearly lost his life), showed so much interest in the falcons, that their owner, surprised at seeing so much sportsmanship in a monk, exclaimed, “You must be the Archbishop of Canterbury!” “What!” said another of the hawking party, “do you think the Archbishop travels in this sort?” And thus Becket was saved from being obliged to make answer. The next time was at supper, when they had reached the inn at Gravelines, where his great height and beautiful hands attracted attention; and the host, further remarking that he bestowed all the choicest morsels on the children, was convinced that this must be the English Archbishop, whose escape was already known on the Continent, and falling down at his feet, blessed the saints for bringing such a guest under his roof. Becket was much afraid the good man might unintentionally betray him, and left Gravelines early the next morning, on his way to the monastery of St. Bertin’s, at St. Omer. It is amusing to find Becket’s faithful clerks, on the Friday when they were to arrive at that hospitable convent, trying to coax their master to grant them leave, after their journey, to eat a little meat: “for, suppose there should be a scarcity of fish.” Here they were joined by Herbert de Bosham, who had been sent to Canterbury to collect such money and valuables as he could bring away. Henry had in the meantime sent an embassy to desire the King of France not to shelter “the late Archbishop;” but it met with no favorable reception from Louis. “He is a noble-minded man,” said he; “if I knew where to find him, I would go with my whole court to meet him.” “But he did much harm to France,” said the Earl of Arundel, “at the head of the English army.” “That was his duty,” said Louis; “I admire him the more. If he had been my servant, he would have done the same for me.” Nor did the embassy meet with much better success on going to Sens, where Pope Alexander III. then was. The Bishop of London began to abuse the Archbishop virulently, saying that he had fled, “as the Scripture saith. ‘The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth.’” “Nay,” interrupted the Pope, “spare. I entreat you, spare--” “I will spare him, holy father,” said Gilbert “Not _him_, but _yourself_, brother,” said Alexander; and Gilbert was silenced.