endicular chiefly predominate. The shape and arrangement of
the building was doubtless largely influenced by the extraordinary number
of precious relics which it contained, and which had to be properly
displayed and fittingly enshrined. Augustine's church had possessed the
bodies of St. Blaize and St. Wilfrid, brought respectively from Rome and
from Ripon; of St. Dunstan, St. Alphege, and St. Ouen, as well as the
heads of St. Swithin and St. Furseus, and the arm of St. Bartholomew.
These were all carefully removed and placed, each in separate altars and
chapels, in Lanfranc's new cathedral. Here their number was added to by
the acquisition of new relics and sacred treasures as time went on, and
finally Canterbury enshrined its chiefest glory, the hallowed body of St.
Thomas a Becket, who was martyred within its walls.

Since, owing to an almost incredible act of royal vindictiveness in A.D.
1538, Becket's glorious shrine belongs only to the history of the past,
some account of its splendours will not be out of place in this part of
our account of the cathedral. It stood on the site of the ancient chapel
of the Trinity, which was burnt down along with Conrad's choir in the
destructive fire of A.D. 1174. It was in this chapel that Thomas a Becket
had first solemnized mass after becoming archbishop. For this reason, as
we may fairly suppose, this position was chosen to enshrine the martyr's
bones, after the rebuilding of the injured portion of the fabric. Though
the shrine itself has been ruthlessly destroyed, a mosaic pavement,
similar to that which may be seen round the tomb of Edward the Confessor
in Westminster Abbey, marks the exact spot on which it stood. The mosaic
is of the kind with which the floors of the Roman basilicas were generally
adorned, and contains signs of the zodiacs and emblems of virtues and
vices. This pavement was directly in front of the west side of the shrine.
On each side of the site is a deep mark in the pavement running towards
the east. This indentation was certainly worn in the soft, pinkish marble
by the knees of generations of pilgrims, who prostrated themselves here
while the treasures were displayed to their gaze. In the roof above there
is fixed a crescent carved out of some foreign wood, which has proved
deeply puzzling to antiquaries. A suggestion, which hardly seems very
plausible, connects this mysterious crescent with the fact that Becket was
closely related, as patron, with the Hos