the receipts from vacant abbeys and
bishoprics which had come into the hands of Becket during his
chancellorship, and estimated the balance due to the Crown at the sum
of forty-four thousand marks. At the mention of this enormous demand
the Archbishop stood aghast. However, recovering himself, he replied
that he was not bound to answer: that at his consecration both Prince
Henry and the Earl of Leicester, the justiciary, had publicly released
him by the royal command from all similar claims; and that on a demand
so unexpected and important he had a right to require the advice of
his fellow-bishops.

Had the Primate been ignorant of the King's object, it was
sufficiently disclosed in the conference which followed between him
and the bishops. Foliot, with the prelates who enjoyed the royal
confidence, exhorted him to resign; Henry of Winchester alone had the
courage to reprobate this interested advice. On his return to his
lodgings the anxiety of Becket's mind brought on an indisposition
which confined him to his chamber; and during the next two days he had
leisure to arrange plans for his subsequent conduct. The first idea
which suggested itself was a bold, and what perhaps might have proved
a successful, appeal to the royal pity. He proposed to go barefoot to
the palace, to throw himself at the feet of the King, and to conjure
him by their former friendship to consent to a reconciliation. But he
afterward adopted another resolution, to decline the authority of the
court, and trust for protection to the sacredness of his character.

In the morning, October 18th, having previously celebrated the mass of
St. Stephen the first martyr, he proceeded to court, arrayed as he was
in pontifical robes, and bearing in his hand the archiepiscopal cross.
As he entered, the King with the barons retired into a neighboring
apartment, and was soon after followed by the bishops. The Primate,
left alone with his clerks in the spacious hall, seated himself on a
bench, and with calm and intrepid dignity awaited their decision. The
courtiers, to please the prince, strove to distinguish themselves by
the intemperance of their language. Henry, in the vehemence of his
passion, inveighed, one while against the insolence of Becket, at
another against the pusillanimity and ingratitude of his favorites;
till even the most active of the prelates who had raised the storm
began to view with horror the probable consequences. Roger of York
contrived to