they did
not interfere with their own claims; and the King went out of the Hall in
great wrath.

Some of the clergy began to be afraid, now, that they were going too far.
Though Thomas a Becket was otherwise as unmoved as Westminster Hall, they
prevailed upon him, for the sake of their fears, to go to the King at
Woodstock, and promise to observe the ancient customs of the country,
without saying anything about his order. The King received this
submission favourably, and summoned a great council of the clergy to meet
at the Castle of Clarendon, by Salisbury. But when the council met, the
Archbishop again insisted on the words 'saying my order;' and he still
insisted, though lords entreated him, and priests wept before him and
knelt to him, and an adjoining room was thrown open, filled with armed
soldiers of the King, to threaten him. At length he gave way, for that
time, and the ancient customs (which included what the King had demanded
in vain) were stated in writing, and were signed and sealed by the chief
of the clergy, and were called the Constitutions of Clarendon.

The quarrel went on, for all that. The Archbishop tried to see the King.
The King would not see him. The Archbishop tried to escape from England.
The sailors on the coast would launch no boat to take him away. Then, he
again resolved to do his worst in opposition to the King, and began
openly to set the ancient customs at defiance.

The King summoned him before a great council at Northampton, where he
accused him of high treason, and made a claim against him, which was not
a just one, for an enormous sum of money. Thomas a Becket was alone
against the whole assembly, and the very Bishops advised him to resign
his office and abandon his contest with the King. His great anxiety and
agitation stretched him on a sick-bed for two days, but he was still
undaunted. He went to the adjourned council, carrying a great cross in
his right hand, and sat down holding it erect before him. The King
angrily retired into an inner room. The whole assembly angrily retired
and left him there. But there he sat. The Bishops came out again in a
body, and renounced him as a traitor. He only said, 'I hear!' and sat
there still. They retired again into the inner room, and his trial
proceeded without him. By-and-by, the Earl of Leicester, heading the
barons, came out to read his sentence. He refused to hear it, denied the
power of the court, and said he would re