e sword he had wielded in the battle.
Several wealthy manors were attached and the country round was exempted
from tax; while the Abbots were made superior to episcopal control, and
were endowed with the right to sit in Parliament and a London house to
live in during the session. Indeed nothing was left undone that could
minister to the pride and power of the new house of God.

The Abbey of St. Martin was quadrangular, standing in the midst of a
circle nine miles round. Within this were vineyards, stew ponds and rich
land. Just without was a small street of artisans' dwellings, where were
manufactured all things requisite for the monks' material well-being.
The church was the largest in the country, larger even than Canterbury.
It was also a sanctuary, any sentenced criminal who succeeded in
sheltering therein receiving absolution from the Abbot. The high altar,
as I have said, was erected precisely on the spot where Harold fell: a
spot on which one may now stand and think of the past.

Battle Abbey was more than once visited by kings. In 1200 John was
there, shaking like a quicksand. He brought a piece of our Lord's
sepulchre, which had been wrested from Palestine by Richard the Lion
Heart, and laid it with tremulous hands on the altar, hoping that the
magnificence of the gift might close Heaven's eyes towards sins of his
own. In 1212, he was at Battle Abbey again, and for the last time in
1213, seeking, maybe, to find in these silent cloisters some
forgetfulness of the mutterings of hate and scorn that everywhere
followed him.

[Sidenote: KINGS AT BATTLE]

Just before the Battle of Lewes, Henry III. galloped up, attended by a
body-guard of overbearing horsemen, and levied large sums of money to
assist him in the struggle. After the battle he returned, a weary
refugee, but still rapacious.

These visits were not welcome. It was different when Edward II. slept
there on the night of August 28th, 1324. Alan de Ketbury, the Abbot, was
bent on showing loyalty at all cost, while the neighbouring lords and
squires were hardly less eager. The Abbot's contribution to the kitchen
included twenty score and four loaves of bread, two swans, two rabbits,
three fessantes, and a dozen capons; William de Echingham sent three
peacocks, twelve bream, six muttons, and other delicacies; and Robert
Acheland four rabbits, six swans, and three herons.

In 1331, Abbot Hamo and his monks kept at bay a body of French
marauders, who had la