Notwithstanding the universality of the custom, and the absolute character of the decisions reached by the process, it is easy to discern that the confidence reposed in it was of a very qualified character, even at an early period. The primitive law of the Frisians describes some whimsical proceedings, prescribed for the purpose of determining the responsibility for a homicide committed in a crowd. The accuser was at liberty to select seven from among the participants of the brawl, and each of these was obliged to deny the crime with twelve conjurators. This did not absolve them, however, for each of them was also individually subjected to the ordeal, which finally decided as to his guilt or innocence. In this, the value of the compurgation was reduced to that of the merest technical ceremony, and yet a failure to procure the requisite number of supporters was tantamount to a conviction, while, to crown the absurdity of the whole, if any one succumbed in the ordeal, his conjurators were punished as perjurers.[170] A similar want of confidence in the principle involved is shown by a reference in the Anglo-Saxon laws to the conjurators of an accused party being outsworn (_overcythed_), when recourse was likewise had to the ordeal.[171] Among the heathen Norsemen, indeed, an offer by either party to produce conjurators could always be met by the antagonist with a challenge to the duel, which at once superseded all other proceedings.[172] As regards the church, although the authoritative use of compurgation among ecclesiastics would seem to demand for it among them implicit faith in its results, yet we have already seen that, in the ninth century, Hincmar did not hesitate to require that in certain cases it should be confirmed by the ordeal; and two centuries later, a remark of Ivo of Chartres implies a strong degree of doubt as to its efficacy. In relating that Sanctio, Bishop-elect of Orleans, when accused of simony by a disappointed rival, took the oath of negation with seven compurgators, he adds that the accused thus cleared himself as far as he could in the eyes of man.[173] That the advantages it offered to the accused were duly appreciated, both by criminals and judges, is evident from the case of Manasses, Archbishop of Reims. Charged with simony and other offences, after numerous tergiversations he was finally summoned for trial before the Council of Lyons, in 1080. As a last effort to escape the impending doom, he secretly offered to Bishop Hugh, the Papal legate, the enormous sum of two hundred ounces of gold and other presents in hand, besides equally liberal prospective payments, if he could obtain the privilege of compurgation with six suffragan bishops. Gregory VII. was then waging too uncompromising a war with the corroding abuse of simony for his lieutenant to yield to any bribe, however dazzling; the proffer was spurned, Manasses confessed his guilt by absence, and was