Of the shrine or altar of St Dunstan, destroyed at the Reformation, on the south of the great altar, some Decorated diaper work is all the remnant; of that of St Alphege, which probably stood opposite, there remains not a trace. There are many tombs here which may well give us pause, for in them lie buried many of the great ecclesiastical rulers of days gone by. Hard by where stood the altar of St Dunstan, sleeps Simon of Sudbury, archbishop from 1375 to 1381. He was one of those enlightened few who protested against the evil resulting from the promiscuous concourse of pilgrims that resorted to the shrine of St Thomas. Let Dean Stanley tell us the story: “In the year of the fourth jubilee, 1370, the pilgrims were crowding as usual along the great London road to Canterbury, when they were overtaken by Simon of Sudbury, at that time Bishop of London, but afterwards Primate, and well known for his munificent donations to the walls and towers of the town of Canterbury. He was a bold and vigorous prelate; his spirit was stirred within him at the sight of what he deemed a mischievous superstition, and he openly told them that the plenary indulgence which they hoped to gain by their visit to the holy city would be of no avail to them. Such a doctrine from such an authority fell like a thunderbolt in the midst of the vast multitude. Many were struck dumb; others lifted up their voices and cursed him to his face, with the characteristic prayer that he might meet with a shameful death. One especially, a Kentish gentleman--by name, Thomas of Aldon--rode straight up to him, in towering indignation, and said, ‘My Lord Bishop, for this act of yours, stirring the people to sedition against St Thomas, I stake the salvation of my soul that you will close your life by a most terrible death’; to which the vast concourse answered, ‘Amen, Amen.’ The curse, it was believed, prevailed. The _vox populi_, so the chronicler expressly asserts, turned out to be the _vox Dei_. ‘From the beginning of the world it never has been heard that any one ever injured the Cathedral of Canterbury, and was not punished by the Lord.’ Eleven years from that time, the populace of London not unnaturally imagined that the rights of St Thomas were avenged, when they saw the unfortunate Primate dragged out of the Tower, and beheaded by the Kentish rebels under Wat Tyler. His head was taken to his native place, Sudbury, where it is still preserved. His body was buried in the tomb, still to be seen on the south side of the choir of the Cathedral, where not many years ago, when it was accidentally opened, the body was seen within, wrapped in cerecloth, the vacant space of the head occupied by a leaden ball.”