most interesting Chapels in the Cathedral, containing
the tomb of Stephen Langton and in the centre of the drawing that of
Lady Margaret Holland and her two husbands.]

Almost immediately the superstitious belief in the efficacy of a
martyr's blood made everyone who was permitted to approach Becket's
body anxious to obtain a scrap of a blood-stained garment to soak in
water with which to anoint the eyes! In a short time many parts of the
clothes had been given away to the poor folk of Canterbury; but as
soon as the miracle-working properties came to be properly understood
these precious shreds of the Archbishop's voluminous garments ran up
in value until the possession of such a fragment meant wealth to the
owner. Any relic of the body itself had still greater value, its
efficacy in curing the multifarious ailments of the pilgrims who began
to flock to Canterbury being immeasurable. And when the neighbouring
monastery of St. Augustine burned with desire to possess a relic of
St. Thomas they offered Roger, the keeper of the "Altars of the
Martyrdom," the position of Abbot of their own abbey if he would
contrive to bring with him a portion of Becket's skull. Roger had been
specially chosen to guard this relic, but he succumbed to the
temptation offered by the rival establishment outside the city walls,
and having purloined the coveted fragment of the martyr, was duly
installed in the highest office of St. Augustine's. Whether the whole
affair was public property at the time does not fully appear, but
those who recorded events at St. Augustine's did not hesitate to
glory in the success of their scheme!

So great was the popular execration of the murder that the autocratic
Archbishop who had not inspired universal admiration in his lifetime
was soon to become the most frequently invoked of all the calendar of
saints, and the King himself, finding that his submission to the Papal
legate at Avranches, two years after the crime, was not sufficient to
avert the wrath of Heaven, which seemed to be visiting him in the form
of rebellions and disasters in every part of his dominions, came to
Canterbury in 1174 and went through a penance of extreme severity.
Landing at Southampton, he came by the Pilgrims' Way to Harbledown,
and so entered the ancient city. At the church of St. Dunstan, outside
the walls, he took off his ordinary dress and walked barefoot through
the streets to the monastery of Christ Church. It was a wet day, but