retire; and as he passed through the hall, bade his
clerks follow him, that they might not witness the effusion of blood.
Next came the Bishop of Exeter, who threw himself at the feet of the
Primate, and conjured him to have pity on himself and the episcopal
order; for the King had threatened with death the first man who should
speak in his favor. "Flee, then," he replied; "thou canst not
understand the things that are of God." Soon afterward appeared the
rest of the bishops. Hilary of Chichester spoke in their name. "You
were," he said, "our primate; but by opposing the royal customs, you
have broken your oath of fealty to the King. A perjured archbishop has
no right to our obedience. From you, then, we appeal to the Pope, and
summon you to answer us before him." "I hear," was his only reply.

The bishops seated themselves along the opposite side of the hall, and
a solemn silence ensued. At length the door opened and the Earl of
Leicester at the head of the barons bade him hear his sentence. "My
sentence," interrupted the Archbishop; "son and earl, hear me first.
You know with what fidelity I served the King, how reluctantly, to
please him, I accepted my present office, and in what manner I was
declared by him free from all secular claims. For what happened before
my consecration I ought not to answer, nor will I. Know, moreover,
that you are my children in God. Neither law nor reason allows you to
judge your father. I therefore decline your tribunal, and refer my
quarrel to the decision of the Pope. To him I appeal and shall now,
under the protection of the Catholic Church and the apostolic see,
depart." As he walked along the hall, some of the courtiers threw at
him knots of straw, which they took from the floor. A voice called him
a traitor. At the word he stopped, and, hastily turning round,
rejoined, "Were it not that my order forbids me, that coward should
repent of his insolence." At the gate he was received with
acclamations of joy by the clergy and people, and was conducted in
triumph to his lodgings.

It was generally believed that if the Archbishop had remained at
Northampton, that night would have proved his last. Alarmed by
frequent hints from his friends, he petitioned to retire beyond the
sea, and was told that he might expect an answer the following
morning. This unnecessary delay increased his apprehensions. To
deceive the vigilance of the spies that beset him, he ordered a bed to
be prepared in the