The Archbishop looked grieved, but was silent, and Herbert took this moment for riding up to him, and saying, “Heaven be praised, my lord, that through all to-day’s tribulation you have been sustained by the Lord, and have not suffered that slippery member to betray you into anything against the honor of God.”
The great ground of anxiety was the displeasure of Louis, who had hitherto not only allowed the exiles to take shelter in his dominions, but absolutely maintained them; and if he was won over by their persecutors, what was to become of them?
Their alarm increased as they heard nothing from him of his usual messages of kindness and friendship, and they were consulting together on their plans if they should be turned out of St. Columba.
“Never fear,” said the Archbishop; “I am the only person King Henry wishes to injure: if I go away, no one will molest you.”
“It is for you we are anxious,” they said; “we do not see where you can find refuge.”
“Care not for me,” he said: “my God can protect me. Though England and France are closed against me, I shall not be undone. I will not apply to those Roman robbers, who do nothing but plunder the needy. I have heard that the people who dwell on the banks of the Arar, in Burgundy, are open-handed. I will go among them, on foot, with one comrade, and they will surely have compassion on me.”
Just then a messenger came to desire the Archbishop to come to the lodgings of the French King.
“There! it is to drive us out of his kingdom,” said one of the clerks.
“Do not forebode evil,” returned Becket. “You are not a prophet, nor the son of a prophet.”
Becket could hardly have been prepared for the manner of his reception. Louis threw himself on his knees, crying out, “My father, forgive me; you were the only wise man among us. We were all blinded and besotted, and advised you to make God’s honor give way to a man’s will! I repent of it, my father, and entreat you to bestow on me absolution!”