The Plantagenet Prelude - Plaidy Jean - Страница 53

• Предыдущая
• 53/81
• Следующая

Mahault’s death was the first blow. Without her the household was a dull one. Gilbert seemed to lose heart in his business; Thomas was desolate. He no longer took pleasure in following the pursuits he had learned at Pevensey Castle. He knew that he had delighted too much in being on equal terms with the rich and well -born. He could think of little but the loss his mother’s passing had made in his life, and he reproached himself that he had not realised what she meant to him until he had lost her.

A fearful disaster struck Gilbert when his house and business premises were burned to the ground. Once a blaze started in the wooden structure there was little hope of stemming it. His losses were great. The shock of this in addition to his wife’s death had a deep effect on Gilbert. He had lost too much, and with it the will to rebuild his business. Within a few months he was dead.

Thomas was alone. He became melancholy. He gave up hunting and staying at the houses of his friends who in the past had delighted in his company. It seemed that he was adopting the life of a recluse when Theobald the Archbishop of Canterbury asked him to visit him.

Theobald, who had played with Gilbert when they lived in their Norman village, had heard of Gilbert’s death and wished to renew his acquaintance with Gilbert’s son.

They met, and there was an immediate affection between them. Theobald was lonely in his high office and saw in Thomas the son he had never had. To Theobald, Thomas could talk of his parents and Theobald listened intently. Their minds were in tune. When Thomas visited the Archbishop, Theobald was always loath to let him go and the visits became more and more frequent.

Then one day Theobald said: ‘Thomas, come into my household. There is much work for you to do. I need someone who will work with me, who will be close to me, whom I can trust.’

Thomas hesitated. ‘Should I be starting out on a career in the Church?’ he asked.

‘Why should you not? You are fitted for it. Come, Thomas. Think of this.’

For some time Thomas considered. Whither was he going? He knew that till now he had been marking time. He thought of his mother’s dreams of the archbishop’s quilt and he knew that he must go to Theobald.

So when he was twenty-five years of age Thomas Becket joined the household of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The Archbishop’s palace was a manor house situated at Harrow on the Hill. Here he lived in a state which befitted his position. His power was great. He was more than head of the Church; he had the power to select certain officials of State; and his authority was second only to that of the King.

Theobald was rich, for he possessed many castles and manors throughout the country, and from all over the world distinguished men came to visit him.

Thomas, after the years he had spent working in municipal affairs and in a merchant’s counting-house, was amazed at the life into which he felt he had been thrust, and he realised that he had much to learn if he were to take his place in it.

Theobald had a special interest in him and was certain that in a few years’ time Thomas would be ready for a high office. At the time of his arrival, however, he lacked the learning of the clerics in the Archbishop’s household and immediately set about remedying that. His innate elegance, his perfect manners, the purity of his existence and his dedication to learning soon won the admiration of the Archbishop and those who wished him well, but ambitious young men in the Archbishop’s household were beginning to regard Thomas with envious eyes.

Why should Thomas Becket be specially favoured by the Archbishop? Who was Thomas Becket? The son of a merchant! And what was that rumour about a Saracen woman? Was this merchant’s son, this clerk, going to be put above them? There was no doubt that this young man among all those whom he gathered together in his household in order that they should be prepared to play their part in the Church, was his favourite.

In the evenings when it was too dark to read or study they would gather about the Archbishop’s table and there talk of matters temporal and spiritual. The Archbishop was deeply concerned with matters of State and as there had been continual strife in the country since the death of Henry I, politics were discussed at great length; and it was invariably the enormously tall dark-haired man whose comments impressed the company. It was clear to everyone that he was an unusual man. His very appearance set him apart. He was so tall that there was not a man in the palace who came within four inches of him. With his commanding presence he would dominate any scene. No one could have looked less like a man of the Church. His dark eyes inherited from his mother were keen and bright; his big nose was almost hawk-like. His frame was spare for he ate very little and consequently he felt the cold and had to wear many garments. His servant Richard who had come with him from his father’s house made sure that the little he ate was very nourishing, and he would cook beef and chicken for him. He feared Thomas might become ill, and since he ate so little he must derive the utmost goodness from what he did.

This was Thomas Becket then, a man who could not fail to be noticed; a man, it was said, of comparatively humble origins whose manners surpassed those of the most nobly born; a man who was aesthetic and fastidious; a man who loved to ride and take part in the pleasures of hawking and yet spent long hours on his knees. He had never been known to cast lustful eyes on any member of the opposite or his own sex.

There was no doubt that Thomas was a very extraordinary man. The Archbishop thought so and watching him closely marked him for promotion, although this would mean setting him above others who were more conventionally suitable.

Among those who were studying with Thomas under the tuition of the Archbishop was a very clever young man named Roger de Pont l’Eveque. He had been the brightest of all Theobald’s pupils until Thomas had come. He was destined for the highest posts; he was an expert on canon law and before Thomas had eclipsed him had been a great favourite with the Archbishop.

Roger was both arrogant and sensual, and he hated Thomas not only for his brilliance as a scholar but for the fact that he could not be lured into any adventure which could have discredited him in the eyes of Theobald.

Roger himself had had a very narrow escape. His career as a churchman of high rank might have been irrevocably ruined. The story was that Roger had become enamoured of a very handsome boy whom he had forced to submit to his lust. The boy, Walter, had complained of this and Roger was brought to trial. Roger was a man of power with many influential friends and by means of bribery and threats had won his case against the boy who in his turn was accused of lying and attempting to bring into disrepute a highly respected member of the Church. The bribed judge found that the boy was guilty; his eyes were put out and he was hanged.

Roger had escaped the consequences of his ill -doing and had managed to deceive many – including the Archbishop – into believing in his innocence, but among others he was suspect. He even admitted to a few – in secret – that he had brought disgrace and contempt on the Church.

Roger was the chief of Thomas’s enemies, and he determined to get him removed from the Archbishop’s palace. But Thomas was fortunate in the fact that Theobald’s brother Walter, who was Archdeacon of Canterbury, had a faith in his ability which nothing could shake, and which was even greater than that which Theobald had for him.

Roger, by reason of his undeniable brilliance, was at this time the leading scholar at Harrow and at the head of the line for promotion, which meant that he was closer to the Archbishop than any of the others. By cleverly pointing out the unusual traits in Thomas’s character he contrived to convince Theobald that, clever as Thomas might be, he was not of the kind to succeed in the Church.

• Предыдущая
• 53/81
• Следующая