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Oh, here let us stand close outside the cathedral
and here let us wait.
Are we drawn by a danger we cannot know? Does knowledge of safety draw our feet?
What further tribulation can there be for us poor women,
for us, the poor women of Canterbury?
Only some subtle presage that forebodes an act
our eyes shall be compelled to witness
has forced our feet to come here.
Since golden October faded into sombre November
the land is a waste of water.
Destiny waits for the coming
in the darkness of the New Year's whispers and breaths.
Destiny waits for the coming...
Oh, who has stretched his hand out by the fireside,
remembering at All Hallows the martyrs and saints awaiting their destiny?
And who shall warm his hands before the fire
and yet by the fire deny his master?
Six winters and now the seventh summer is over.
Six winters and seven years since the Archbishop left us,
our Archbishop, our friend, who always was kind to his people.
But if he came back,
oh, it would not be well!
Long have we suffered various oppression
but mostly left to our own devices
we have succeeded in avoiding notice.
And now l fear disturbance of the seasons.
Now some disaster comes upon us.
And here we are waiting, we are waiting.
The saints and martyrs are waiting, too,
for all those who are to be sainted and martyred.
And our destiny, shaping the still unshapen,
is waiting in the hands of God,
not in the hands of the rulers and the statesmen.
Welcome, happy December! Welcome, welcome!
Who shall observe you now?
Shall the Son of Man be born again in the litter of scorn?
For us poor women there is no action.
We can only wait for we are forced to witness.
The summer now is over; it is seven years
since the Archbishop left us.
What do our lord the Pope and the Archbishop,
the King of France and the stubborn King do,
endlessly meeting, ceaselessly intriguing
there in France at one place or another?
The King may rule or it may be the barons,
l still see naught but licence, duplicity and extortion.
Servants of God and priests of the temple,
the Archbishop has returned and is in England.
Then the exile is ended?
l have been sent before as soon as was possible
in haste to give you notice of his coming.
So the exile is ended? Are the King and our Archbishop reconciled?
- ls it peace now or warfare? - Does he come boldly
or is he only trusting in the power of Rome, the spiritual rule,
knowing the people to love him?
ln his pride he comes, in his pride and sorrow,
venturing all his claims in full assurance
of the devotion of the people who receive him with frenzy,
throwing down their capes and strewing all the way with flowers.
He is at one with the Pope and the King of France now.
But as for our own King,
another matter.
But tell us: will war come or peace?
Peace, yes,
but not the kiss of peace and concord.
You have heard how the Archbishop parted with the King, saying:
''O King Henry, l leave you as a man''
''whom in this our life l shall not see again.''
Several have tried to fathom what he meant.
But no one seems to think it a happy prognostic.
Fearful am l for Thomas and fearful for the Church.
l have seen him a Chancellor acknowledged, liked or feared...
...despised and despising, his own virtues always feeding his pride...
...and wishing power given by God alone.
Yet now has our lord come back to his own again.
Now we can feel a foothold on the rock of God!
Then let us meet him and let us give him welcome.
The wind is evil, the sky is heavy, the sea is bitter, bitter, bitter!
O lord Archbishop,
return to France; let us perish here in quiet.
You come back with rejoicing
but you come back bringing death to Canterbury.
We do not wish that anything should happen!
There has been torture, licence and destitution...
...there was minor injustice, there was oppression...
...one year of dryness and another of rain.
Yet we have gone on living, partly living.
We all have had our private terrors and shadows,
we have had feasts and gossip,
we have had laughter.
But now a great fear has come upon us,
a fear of many and beyond our understanding.
O lord Thomas Archbishop, leave us be, leave us be!
Leave sullen Dover and set sail for France.
You are foolish, immodest, babbling women!
Do you now know that the good lord Archbishop
is to be arriving here at any moment?
O Thomas, leave sullen Dover and set sail for France.
Whatever it is you are afraid of, give him at least cordial welcome!
- Leave sullen Dover! - Foolish women!
Silence!
Oh, let them be in their exaltation.
They have spoken better than they know, than they ever knew,
and beyond your understanding.
For they know and do not know
what it is to act
and what it is to suffer.
And they know and do not know this:
that action still is suffering,
suffering still is action.
Agent and patient both are fixed for ever
in eternal action, patience eternal.
Lord, forgive me.
l was so engrossed by the chatter of these foolish women
l did not see you coming.
Will you pardon us?
Your lordship will find that your rooms are in order
as you left them all.
And l will try my best to leave them in order as l find them.
O lord Archbishop, save yourself.
lll is the wind, uncertain the profit. Leave us to die in quiet.
For us poor women there is no action.
There is only waiting, to wait and to witness.
l am more than grateful for your kindness and all your attentions.
There can be little rest in Canterbury. All about us are eager, restless enemies.
From France l had a fair and pleasant crossing.
At Sandwich l found Broc, Warenne and the sheriff of Kent,
those who had sworn they would have my head from me.
Only John, the dean of Salisbury,
fearing for the honour of the King, warned them against an act of treason,
made them hold their hands for the time
and so till now we are unmolested.
But then, will they not follow you?
A little time the hungry hawk will only hover and soar,
circling lower and lower
and waiting for excuse, for pretence, for opportunity.
The ending will be simple
and sudden, given by God.
Meanwhile the substance of our first act
will be shadows and the strife with shadows.
The interval heavier than the consummation...
The event still unshapen is preparing.
You see now, my lord, l do not wait upon convention.
Here l have come, forgoing all dissension.
Old Becket, old Tom, gay Tom Becket of London,
you will not forget your lordship, will not forget that evening on the river
when the King and you and l were all friends together?
Now that the King and yourself are in amity
laity and clergy may return to gaiety for now mirth need not walk warily.
Flutes in the meadows, viols in the hall,
laughter and apple blossom on the river.
You talk of other seasons that are past.
But also of the new one, for the spring has come in winter.
You are talking of seasons that are past.
ln the life of one man the same time cannot ever return.
My lord, for the good times past that are returning l am your man.
You have come too late.
And now you would be safer to be thinking of penitent behaviour.
No, your lordship is too proud.
Once you used not to be so hard upon sinners when they were your friends.
You have come twenty years too late.
Then l shall leave you to your fate, to the pleasures of your higher vices.
Farewell, my lord.
The impossible is still to be temptation,
the impossible and undesirable.
Whispering voices, voices under sleep that can wake a dead world.
Greetings to my lord, who has, l think, forgotten me perhaps.
Once we met at Northampton and last at Montmirail in Maine.
Let us but set these not very pleasant memories balanced
with those other, earlier ones of Chancellor Becket.
You were the one whom each and all acknowledged as the master of policy.
My lord, you should guide the state again now.
What is your meaning?
The Chancellorship that you resigned when you were made my lord Archbishop.
That was indeed a great mistake on your part
and yet it may be regained still.
Consider how a power obtained is lasting and grows to glory.
To the man of God is this gladness?
A sadness to those giving love to God alone and none beside him.
But power is present.
Holiness comes hereafter.
And if the King commands, it is the Chancellor who richly rules.
What shall we give to have it?
Make pretence and only the pretence of priestly power.
- No! - Yes!
- lf not, then bravery will be broken. - No!
Shall l, shall l
who keep and hold the keys both of heaven and hell,
l, supreme in this land of England,
l who bind and loose, with power from the Pope,
shall l, so far descending,
stoop to this desire for a punier power?
No, no, no!
As a delegate to pronounce and deal the doom of damnation,
my holy office here is to condemn the kings,
not to be theirs and serve among their servants.
Away now, away now... No!
l can see that your sin is soaring sunward.
Then l shall leave you, my lord, to your fate.
Within the house there is no rest, no quiet,
and in the streets l hear a restless movement.
Thick is the sky and heavy, heavy the air and stifling.
Oh, what is the sickly odour, what is the sticky vapour?
l know that the earth is heaving up to parturition of issue out of hellfire.
What course has temporal power? A power from the King?
l was the King,
l was his arm and l his better reason.
But this and all that once was exaltation
now would be only a blind and mean descent.
- This is, l fear, an unexpected visit. - l expected you.
But not in this guise or for my present purpose.
There is no purpose that could now surprise me.
A purpose plain and simple; this is the simple fact.
You know you have now no hope whatever of reconciliation with the King.
But in England the King is not indeed all powerful.
Your lordship, both you and l are Normans.
We are for England and England is a land for Norman sovereignty.
For we are the people!
To what is this leading to? lf you are speaking for the barons...
Yes, our powerful party, which now has turned its eyes in your direction.
And in being with us you then would fight a good stroke
for England and Rome together,
ending at once the tyrannous jurisdiction of the court of the King
over the court of the bishops and of kings over barons.
We now expect the rising of a newly born constellation.
But if the Archbishop cannot trust the King
how can he even trust in those
who work to bring about the King's undoing?
People and Church have a good and just cause against the throne.
lf the Archbishop cannot put his trust in the throne
he has good cause indeed to trust in none but God
and God alone!
Pursue your stealthy, treacherous intrigue as you have done before now.
But no one shall say that l betrayed a King.
ln that case, my lord,
l shall not wait and l well hope that before another spring
your loyalty wins the regard of the King.
To make and then to break,
this thought has come before...
But if l break l must break myself alone!
Well done, Thomas!
Your will is obstinate and hard to bend.
Who are you? Tell me!
You do not need to name me.
l have come and l am here as you know me
yet you never saw my face; to meet before was never time or place.
Say what you have come to say.
At last it shall be said.
You know that every wantonness is weakness.
As for the King, you know that twice is more than he will ever trust you.
You know the stubborn envy and the pride of the barons.
What is your counsel?
Fare forward, on to fulfilment.
Save the way now chosen, all other ways are closed to you and barred.
But in sooth, what is pleasure or the ruling of men beneath a King
to the keys of heaven and hell, to general grasp of spiritual power?
Think of it, Thomas, think of the glory, the grandeur after death.
When the King is dead, another reigns and is forgotten.
But saint and martyr reign from the very tomb.
The saints and martyrs...
Think of it, Thomas, think of all your enemies creeping in penance
and think of the pilgrims waiting before the glittering jewelled shrine.
The saints...
What earthly pride or glory can compare with the glory of saints
dwelling for ever in the presence of God?
Seek the way, O Thomas, of the martyrs.
Make yourself on earth the lowest
to be at last high in heaven.
No!
Who are you and what is it you offer? What do you ask of me?
You tempt me with my own desires!
l ask what you have to give,
l offer what you desire and covet.
Yet you only offer dreams that lead to damnation.
You yourself have often dreamt them.
The saints and martyrs...
ln my torment is there no way
that does not lead me to damnation in my pride?
Can l neither act nor suffer, can l not suffer nor act without perdition?
My lord Archbishop, we have not been happy.
The life of man is a cheat, a disappointment.
We have not been too happy ever.
Life is a disappointment, all things are unreal.
We have not been too happy, and because we are not ignorant women
we know what to expect and not expect.
Life is a disappointment, all things are unreal.
God gave us always some hope,
God gave us always some reason.
Life is a cheat and life is a disappointment.
But today a new terror has soiled us.
God will leave us.
Today a new terror has soiled us.
The lords of hell fly out in the darkening air.
They are here!
But this obstinate man is blind with illusion.
He is lost in the wonder of his greatness,
passing to final deception and intent on his own self-destruction.
The enemy of all humankind, the enemy of himself.
Yes, my way is made clear now
and plain is the meaning.
Truly the last temptation is the greatest treason of any
and shall not come in this kind again.
O lord Thomas Archbishop, save yourself!
My way is made clear now.
Thirty years ago l searched all the ways
that could lead me on to pleasure,
to advancement and to praise.
The delight in sense and thought and learning,
tilt-yard skill, philosophy and music,
strategy learned in chess,
the lovers in the garden
and the instruments for the singing,
all these were equally pleasant to me and all were desirable.
Then, softly, from behind there comes ambition.
Then, softly, from behind me and unobservable, comes ambition
and the sin grows greater
even with doing good.
O lord Thomas Archbishop, save yourself!
- Save yourself! - l know that l shall no longer act
and l shall suffer no longer to the sword's end.
Save yourself that we may all be saved.
l shall not act and l shall suffer no longer to the sword's end.
Angel, good and guardian angel, thou whom God appoints to guard me,
hover now, hover above me and above the swords' points.
Dear children of God,
this sermon is to be a very short one.
l only wish that you should meditate
the deep mystery and meaning of our masses that are said on Christmas day.
lt was in this very night that has just passed
that with the angel of the Lord there appeared
the heavenly host before the shepherds at Bethlehem, saying:
''Glory to God in the highest of heaven''
''and peace on earth and good will to men in whom he is well pleased.''
Our Lord's birth and death we celebrate at Christmas
for wherever mass is said, we re-enact both the passion and death of our Redeemer
and for his birth we do this on this Christmas Day.
We both mourn and rejoice at once for the same reason.
Dear children of God,
Christian martyrdom never can be an accident
nor yet the design of man.
For the martyr true is he who has no longer any desires for himself,
not even the glory of being a martyr.
And one who has become the instrument of God
has lost his will in the will of God and God alone
and has found at last his true liberty and peace.
Dear children of God,
l have been speaking today about the martyrs
because l believe that l preach to you for the last time
and because soon you may have yet another martyr
and that one perhaps not the last.
l ask you to keep in your hearts these words l say upon this Christmas.
l would have you think of them again at another time.
ln nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.
Amen.
Amen.
On the coming of our Saviour,
the time when he was born to us, our Lord and our Redeemer,
is there not to be peace upon the earth?
On the coming of our Saviour,
at the time of Christmas, is there not good will among all men?
The peace of this world is always uncertain
unless all men keep the peace of God.
And war among men defiles this world and makes it wholly foul
but death in the Lord renews it.
And all this tarnished world is foul and must be cleared in winter
or we shall have a sour and ruinous spring,
a summer parched and disastrous and an empty harvest.
Between Christmas and Easter what work shall there be done?
ln the raw wind of March
the ploughman shall go out again and his plough shall turn the earth,
the same earth that he has turned and turned before,
and the birds again shall be singing, the birds shall sing the same song.
But when the leaf is out upon the tree,
the new leaf green upon the hedges,
when there is may and elder blossom bursting over the stream
and the air is clear and high,
when there are voices trilling at the windows
and children tumble in front of every door,
what work shall have been done
and what wrong shall the birds' song cover,
shall the green tree cover, shall the may and elder cover?
What is the wrong that the freshly turned earth shall cover?
Here are we waiting and still are we waiting; the time is short.
But to wait is long!
At the time of Christmas
is there not good will among all men?
Servants of the King.
By order of the King.
We four have urgent business by order of the King with the Archbishop.
Gentlemen, you must know the Archbishop's great hospitality
and you are very welcome.
Hospitality now is not what we expect or need.
We have come here to see the Archbishop.
Go tell him we are here.
His lordship would be vexed if we did not offer you some entertainment.
- First we have business. - Urgent business!
Tell the Archbishop we will find our dinner.
And how much longer will you keep us waiting?
However certain is our expectation,
yet the moment foreseen by us may be unexpected.
On my table you will find that all the papers are in order,
the documents are signed.
Whatever urgent business has brought you,
you are all most welcome.
And you are come here, you say, from the King?
Most surely the King, yes.
And, my lord, we must speak with you alone.
You may. Leave us alone then.
Now what is the matter?
This is the matter.
Archbishop, you revolt against the King; you are against the law of England.
You, Archbishop, made by the King, you are his servant, his tool, his jack.
From his hand you had your honours and the seal and the ring; he gave you power.
This is the man who was born the son of a tradesman;
this is the London backstairs brat who was born in Cheapside;
this is the creature that crawled upon the King, swollen with blood and pride,
crawling up like a louse on a shirt.
This is the man who cheated, lied, broke his oath and betrayed his King.
This is not true!
l was and am a loyal subject still
and his most faithful vassal, always saving my order.
No, you mean saving your ambition.
- And saving your envy. - And your pride and your malice.
Sirs, you told me your business was urgent
but it is only scolding and blaspheming?
That was only our loyal indignation...
...our indignation as loyal subjects.
Then have you something to say?
By the King's command!
Shall we say it now?
Yes, yes, or the old fox will be off and away.
lf it be his command it should be said in public
and then, if you make charges, l will refute them all, also in public.
No, no! Here, this moment, now!
Speak now then.
lt was the King who once again endued you with all your former privileges;
in return how did you show your gratitude?
You fled to France in hope of stirring up trouble
between the Pope, the King of France and your King.
And you suspended the bishops,
binding with anathema all those who crowned the son of my lord the King.
Therefore say: are you content by command of the King to answer all
that we have charged in the royal presence?
lt never was my wish to uncrown the King's son.
And as for the bishops...
Absolve them! Absolve them!
lt is not l but the Pope who has condemned them; let them go seek him.
Be that as it may, here were we sent with the King's command:
that you and all your servants shall depart and leave this land.
Then l shall be bold to say:
seven years were my people left without my presence, without their Archbishop;
seven years did l linger as a mendicant on foreign charity.
Never again
shall the shepherd desert his flock and the sea shall not run between them.
- Never! - Then you insult the King.
No, not my insult!
No, it is not l, Becket,
who pronounces doom but the judgement of Rome and the law of Christ's Church.
Becket, it is in peril of your life that you have spoken.
To the judgement of Rome l submit my cause.
But even if you kill me
l shall rise from my tomb and shall submit it to the judgement of God!
Servants, monks and priests, detain this man!
Or you shall surely answer with your bodies.
Leave them. We are men of action; words are over!
We will come back in the name of the King...
...and we will come with swords!
The watchers of the dead land
have bid the death-bringers gather; now l have smelled them.
A presage that forebodes the pattern of fate has quickened my senses.
l have heard at nightfall fluting and owls that rehearse the note of death.
l have felt in the night time how the earth is heaving upward and restless!
lt is death l have smelled in every flower.
Have l not known it always what would come to be?
lt was here, here in barn, in kitchen, in mews, in market.
lt was here in our bodies, here in our veins.
What is woven upon the loom of fate
is woven also in our veins
and in the bowels of the women of Canterbury.
My senses now are quickened and l have smelled the death-bringers!
Now nothing else is possible unless it be the final swoon
of those consenting to the last humiliation.
O lord Thomas Archbishop,
O lord Thomas Archbishop, our friend in God,
forgive us all and pray for us
that we may pray for you even out of our shame.
Peace be with you.
Be at peace with your thoughts and visions.
All these things had to come and you to accept them.
This is your share of the eternal burden and the one perpetual glory.
This is only a moment.
But you know that another shall come,
when all the purpose of God is made complete,
and he shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy.
Then comes the time when age and forgetfulness sweeten memory;
in that day all these things will seem unreal and only like a dream.
My lord, my lord!
- You must not stay here. - Come with us to the minster.
- Come with us through the cloister. - There is no time to waste.
- To the altar, to the altar. - They are coming and armed.
l have waited all my life for these feet that now are coming.
For death will come only when l shall be worthy.
lf l am worthy there is not any danger.
Therefore l only have to make perfect my will.
Oh, they are coming. Haste, my lord!
They are breaking through and they will kill you!
What shall become of us, O Father,
if they break in and kill you?
- Quiet, quiet! - To vespers, to vespers.
Yes, your lordship must not be absent; you must be at vespers.
To vespers, into the cathedral!
Go to vespers and pray for me.
They shall find the shepherd; the flock shall all be spared.
For here, here is the shepherd and no other life is sought for but mine.
And l am not in danger,
only near to death.
For l have had a tremor of bliss,
a whisper of heaven,
and therefore l would that it be denied me no longer.
Seize him, force him! To vespers, hurry!
Dies irae, dies illa...
This hand is numb and empty like a dead hand.
...solvet saeclum in favilla...
And pale and dry the eyelid, not a tear to shed.
...*** David *** Sibylla.
But horror, still the horror, but a horror more
than the horror tearing in the belly,
twisting the fingers, splitting the skull.
Quantus tremor est futurus,
quando judex est venturus,
cuncta stricte discussurus.
Tuba mirum spargens sonum
per sepulchra regionum,
coget omnes ante thronum.
The agents of hell disappear, the humans, they shrink
and dissolve into the dust on the wind.
Dead on the tree is my Lord, my Saviour...
Here is but the white flat face of death, God's silent servant.
...let not be vain thy passion, thy labour.
Behind that face the judgement.
Help me, O Lord, and grant me thy mercy in my final terror.
Behind the judgement the void! Then who shall intercede for me?
Rex tremendae majestatis,
qui salvandos salvas gratis,
salva me, fons pietatis!
Close the doors there!
Set bars across them!
They dare not break in to us.
We are safe now!
Let the doors be thrown open and unbar them!
l will not have the church of Christ, the house of prayer turned into a fortress.
My lord Archbishop!
Even to our enemies the church of Christ shall be open always.
My lord Archbishop!
Let the doors be thrown open!
My lord Archbishop!
Not men are these who come here
but beasts with souls of damned men!
Let the doors be thrown open!
- This way, my lord. - Come quickly.
- To the belfry. - To the chapel. - Quickly, quickly.
Where is Becket, who betrayed the King?
Where is Becket, the faithless, meddling priest?
Come down now, Daniel, to the lion's den.
Come down now, Daniel, come for the mark of the beast.
Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?
Are you marked with the mark that marks the beast?
Come down now, Daniel, to the lion's den.
Come down now, Daniel, and join us in the feast.
Here am l. To the King l am no traitor.
l am a priest.
l am a Christian
saved by the mercy of Christ and ready to suffer with my own blood.
For this is the sign of Christ's Church always:
buying my life, his blood has been given;
let my blood then be given to pay for his death.
Absolve all those you excommunicated!
Resign all the powers you arrogated!
And restore to the King's own use the money you appropriated!
Traitor!
You, Sir Reginald,
you are three times traitor:
to me, as you are sworn my temporal vassal;
to me, too, as l am your spiritual lord;
to God, in that you desecrate his church.
What we owe you
shall now be paid you. Renegade!
To God, author of all things,
and to the ever blessed Mary, *** ever pure,
to all the saints and all the martyrs
now do l commend my cause and that of all the Church.
Ah! Clear the air, clear the air and sky.
Oh, wash the wind, take stone from stone and wash them.
For a curtain of blood has blinded my eyes.
Foul and defiled with blood are land and water and we ourselves.
- O night, stay with us! - Sun, be gone from us!
Let the day never come now,
let the season of spring not come again.
We did not wish for anything to happen.
We have all understood the private catastrophe.
And every sorrow had a kind of ending.
But this, but this! This is out of all time.
lt is an instant eternity of evil, of sacrilege and slaughter.
Ah! Clear the air, clear the air and sky.
Oh, wash the wind, take stone from stone and wash them,
the bone, the brain and the soul of man, oh, wash them all!
Now let us praise thee, God, for all thy glory.
Now let us praise thee, God, for all thy glory
displayed in all the earth and its creations,
for they only exist as they are known by thee;
they exist only by thee created and in thy glory.
Now let our thanks ascend.
For thy merciful blood, O Lord, we thank thee...
Now let our thanks ascend!
...and for thy redemption by blood.
The blood of all thy saints and martyrs
shall enrich the earth and make it holy
by the blood of thy martyrs given.
Forgive us, Lord, and have mercy; we acknowledge ourselves men and women
fearing the injustices of man less than the justice of God;
we fear the blessing of God and his great loving kindness.
O Lord, we acknowledge our faults, our weakness
and we acknowledge that the sin of the world is upon our heads,
that the blood of the saints and martyrs is upon our heads, Lord.
Have mercy, Lord, mercy upon us!
Have mercy, Christ, mercy upon us!
Have mercy, Lord, mercy upon us all!
And our blessed St Thomas, pray and remember us!