s death. Henry's wrathful exclamation, which stirred the four
knights to set out on their bloodthirsty mission, is well known. Whatever
we may think of the methods employed by these warriors--Fitzurse, de
Moreville, de Tracy, and le Bret were their names--we must at least
concede that they were gifted with undaunted courage. To slay an anointed
archbishop in his own cathedral was to do a deed from which the boldest
might well shrink, in the days when excommunication was held to be a
living reality, and the Church was believed to hold the power of eternal
blessing or damnation in her hand. These men--who were all closely
attached to the king's person, and were sometimes described as his
"cubicularii," or Grooms of the Bedchamber--arrived at the gate of the
archbishop's palace in the afternoon of Tuesday, December 29th, 1170. With
a curious want of directness they seem to have left their swords outside,
and entered, and had a stormy interview with Becket; enraged by his
unyielding firmness, they went back for their weapons, and in the
meantime the archbishop was hurried by the terrified monks through the
cloister and into the cathedral, where the vesper service was being held.
The knights quickly forced their way after him, and the monks locked and
barricaded the cloister door. But Becket, who bore himself heroically
through the whole scene, insisted that the door should be thrown open,
exclaiming that "the church must not be turned into a castle." Then all
the monks but three fled in terror. Those who stayed urged Becket to hide
himself in the crypt or in the Chapel of St. Blaise above. But he would
not hear of concealment, but preferred to make his way to the choir that
he might die at his post by the high altar. As he went up the steps
towards the choir the knights rushed into the transept, calling for "the
archbishop, the traitor to the king," and Becket turned and came down, and
confronted them by the pillar of the chapel. Clad in his white rochet,
with a cloak and hood over his shoulders, he faced his murderers, who were
now girt in mail from head to foot. They tried to seize him and drag him
out of the sacred precinct, but he put his back against the pillar and
hurled Tracy full-length on the pavement. Then commending his cause and
the cause of the Church "to God, to St. Denys, the martyr of France, to
St. Alfege, and to the saints of the Church," he fell under the blows of
the knights' swords. The last stroke was fro