I," replied Becket, "the archbishop, hut no traitor." He read his doom in the eyes of his pursuers. " Tyrant king," muttered he, " though I die I will be thy undoing." He wrote hastily upon a tablet, " Woodstock," and giving it to his only attendant, whispered, "Deliver this to Queen Eleanor. Tarry not till thou find her." Then turning calmly to the knights, " Reginald," said he, " I have granted thee many favors, what is thy object now ? If thou seekest my life, I com-mand thee, in the name of God, not to touch one of iny people." " I come not to take life," replied Reginald, " but to witness the absolution of the bishops." " Till they offer satisfaction I shall never absolve them," said the prelate. " Then die !" exclaimed the knight, aiming a blow at his head. The attendant interposed his arm, which was broken and the force of the stroke bore away the prelate's cap, and wounded him on the crown. As he felt the blood trickling down his face, he joined his hands and bowed his head, saying, "In the name of Christ, and for the defence of his church I am ready to die." Turning thus towards his mur-derers, he waited a second stroke, which threw him on his knees, and the third prostrated him on the floor, at the foot of St. Bennett's altar. He made no effort towards resistance or escape, and without a groan expired. The assassins instantly fled, and the people, who had byr this time assem-bled, crowded into the cathedral. The priests with pious reverence took up the body of the dead archbishop, and laid it in state before the high altar. They tore his gar-ments in pieces, and distributed each shred as a sacred relic. The devout wiped up his blood and treasured the holy stains, and the more fortunate obtained a lock of hair from his honored head. Becket was interred with great solemnity in Canterbury cathedral, and all the power he had exercised in life was but a trifle to the influence of the miracles wrought at his tomb. Henry wras celebrating the holidays in Normandy, when 164 HE KOINES OF THE CRUSADES.