How it must have grieved the soul of Walkelin to be associated with such a creature as Ralph Flambard, who was a contrast to him in everything! When the King went abroad the entire government of the country was committed to these two opposing spirits. Flambard was unscrupulous and ingenious, and but for the injury done to religion there would seem to have been something almost comic in his career. Rufus, whose chaplain he was, never tired of heaping promotion upon one as unprincipled as himself. He was made Abbot of Hyde at Winchester, Bishop of Chichester, and Bishop of Lincoln. Many of the churches under his supervision were without priests or ministrations, and such were his exactions from rich and poor that they “did not care whether they were dead or alive.” This genius was thrown into prison by Henry I. when he came to the throne, but was too slippery for him: soon made his escape, and was over in Normandy abetting Duke Robert, who had a right to the English crown, and managing affairs so skilfully that upon a temporary reconciliation between the brothers, Flambard was received back and made Bishop of Durham. [Sidenote: Scandals.] A few years later the bishop’s misdoings became so notorious that reports of them reached Rome, and the Pope’s legate, John de Crema, was directed to visit the diocese and make inquiries. Flambard was equal to the occasion. He received the legate with great ceremony, and entertained him at a sumptuous banquet. While the bowl was flowing, he introduced him to his niece, whom he instructed to do her best to captivate him. John, who it seems had not the gifts of St. Anthony, was soon “with love and wine at once oppressed,” fell into the trap, and finally arranged with the fair deceiver to come to his room. She kept her promise only too faithfully. But scarcely had she entered when in rushed the bishop with a crowd of priests and acolytes carrying lamps and goblets, and calling out “Benedicite, benedicite! we congratulate you on your marriage--drink--we drink your health!” The legate was overwhelmed with confusion. Before daybreak he was up and off on his way to Rome leaving the gay bishop and his peccadilloes to take care of themselves.[67] The history of this Cathedral has not been entirely one of peace. In 1188 armed men were brought into it, who, at the instigation of certain nobles, “not afraid to lift their hands against God’s anointed, dragged forth some of God’s servants.” In 1274, Andrew, Prior of Winchester, came here with a body of armed men. Sentinels were placed by the bishop to prevent their entering, and the prior made an attack on the third day. The bishop called his adherents together, barricaded the Cathedral, and excommunicated the prior. The King hearing of this immediately sent down justiciaries, and cooled by terms of imprisonment the “anger in celestial minds.” [Sidenote: Construction.]