The well-known horror which in that age was felt at an act of sacrilege,
together with the sight of the crowds who were rushing in from the town
through the nave, turned their efforts for the next few moments to
carrying him out of the church. Fitzurse threw down the axe, and tried
to drag him out by the collar of his long cloak, calling, "Come with
us--you are our prisoner." "I will not fly, you detestable fellow," was
Becket's reply, roused to his usual vehemence, and wrenching the cloak
out of Fitzurse's grasp. The three knights struggled violently to put
him on Tracy's shoulders. Becket set his back against the pillar, and
resisted with all his might, whilst Grim, vehemently remonstrating,
threw his arms around him to aid his efforts. In the scuffle, Becket
fastened upon Tracy, shook him by his coat of mail, and exerting his
great strength, flung him down on the pavement. It was hopeless to carry
on the attempt to remove him. And in the final struggle which now began,
Fitzurse, as before, took the lead. He approached with his drawn sword,
and waving it over his head, cried, "Strike, strike!" but merely dashed
off his cap. Tracy sprang forward and struck a more decided blow.
* * * * *
The blood from the first blow was trickling down his face in a thin
streak; he wiped it with his arm, and when he saw the stain, he said,
"Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit." At the third blow, he
sank on his knees--his arms falling, but his hands still joined as if
in prayer. With his face turned towards the altar of St. Benedict, he
murmured in a low voice, "For the name of Jesus, and the defence of the
Church, I am willing to die." Without moving hand or foot, he fell fiat
on his face as he spoke, and with such dignity that his mantle, which
extended from head to foot, was not disarranged. In this posture he
received a tremendous blow, aimed with such violence that the scalp or
crown of the head was severed from the skull, and the sword snapped in
two on the marble pavement. Hugh of Horsea planted his foot on the neck
of the corpse, thrust his sword into the ghastly wound, and scattered
the brains over the pavement. "Let us go--let us go," he said, in
conclusion, "the traitor is dead; he will rise no more."
DEAN STANLEY.
[Note: _Thomas Becket_ (1119-1170). Chancellor and afterwards Archbishop
of Canterbury under Henry II.; maintained a heroic, though perhaps
ambitious and undesirable struggle with that king for the independence
of the clergy; and ended his life by assassination at the hands of
certain of Henry's servants.]
* * * * *
THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH