ong urged by the
convent, they had sought him out, "going through swords." "The convent
of Canterbury salutes you as their lord," they began, as they forced
their way into the sick king's presence. Henry broke in with bitter
indignation, "Then lord I have been, and am still, and will be yet--small
thanks to you, ye evil traitors!" he added in a lower voice, which just
caught the ears of the furious monks. But he listened patiently to their
complaint. "Now go out," he said, "I will speak with my faithful
servants." As the monks passed out one of them stopped and laid his curse
on the king, who trembled and grew pale at the terrible words. "The
omnipotent God of His ineffable mercy, and for the merits of the blessed
martyr Thomas, if his life and passion has been well pleasing to Him,
will shortly do us justice on thy body." Tortured with suffering, Henry
still summoned strength for his last public act. He called his clerk and
dictated a letter to Canterbury, to urge patience till his return, when
he would consider their complaint and find a way out of the difficulty.
The same evening his chancellor, whom he had sent to Philip at Tours,
returned with the list of those who had conspired against him Henry bade
him read the names. "Sire," he said, "may Jesus Christ help me! the first
name which is written here is the name of Count John your son." The king
started up from his pillow. "Is it true," he cried, "that John, my very
heart, whom I have loved beyond all my sons, and for whose gain I have
brought upon me all this misery, has forsaken me?" Then he laid himself
down again and turned his face to the wall. "Now you have said enough," he
said. "Let all the rest go as it will, I care no more for myself nor for
the world." From this time he grew delirious. But still in the intervals
of his ravings the great passionate nature, the defiance, the unconquered
will broke out with inextinguishable force. He cursed the day on which he
was born, and called down Heaven's vengeance on his sons. The great king's
pride was bowed in the extremity of his ruin and defeat. "Shame," he
muttered constantly, "shame on a conquered king." Geoffrey watched by him
faithfully, and the dying king's last thoughts turned to him with grateful
love. On the 6th of July, the seventh day of his illness, he was seized
with violent hemorrhage, and the end came almost instantaneously. The next
day his body was borne to Fontevraud, where his sculptured tomb still