the more people who were present, the better; for the object of this unarmed encounter was to establish before witnesses that Thomas refused to comply with a royal command.
When they were all settled, Thomas looked at Reginald. "Again?" he said.
"I require you in the name of the king to go to Winchester to answer charges against you," Reginald repeated.
"What charges?" Thomas said quietly.
"Treason!"
Thomas shook his head. "I will not be put on trial by Henry," he said calmly. "I've committed no crime, God knows."
"You've excommunicated royal servants."
"It was not I, but the pope, who did that."
"You've suspended other bishops."
"I've offered to reinstate them on merciful terms. They have refused. My offer remains open."
"You've threatened the succession to the throne by disparaging the coronation of the king's son."
"I did no such thing. The archbishop of York has no right to crown anyone, and the pope has reprimanded him for his effrontery. But no one has suggested that the coronation is invalid."
Reginald said exasperatedly: "The one thing follows from the other, you damn fool."
"I've had enough!" Thomas said.
"And we've had enough of you, Thomas Becket," Reginald shouted. "By God's wounds, we've had enough of you, and your arrogance and troublemaking and treason!"
Thomas stood up. "The archbishop's castles are occupied by the king's men," he shouted. "The archbishop's rents have been collected by the king. The archbishop has been ordered not to leave the city of Canterbury. And you tell me that you have had enough?"
One of the priests tried to intervene, saying to Thomas: "My lord, let's discuss the matter in private-"
"To what end?" Thomas snapped. "They demand something I must not do and will not do."
The shouting had attracted everyone in the palace, and the doorway to the chamber was crowded with wide-eyed listeners, William saw. The argument had gone on long enough: nobody could now deny that Thomas had refused a royal command. William made a signal to Reginald. It was a discreet gesture, but Prior Philip noticed it and raised his eyebrows in surprise, realizing that the leader of the group was not Reginald but William.
Reginald said formally: "Archbishop Thomas, you are no longer under the king's peace and protection." He turned around and addressed the onlookers. "Clear this room," he ordered.
Nobody moved.
Reginald said: "You monks, I order you in the name of the king to guard the archbishop and prevent his escape."
They would do no such thing, of course. Nor did William want them to: on the contrary, he wanted Thomas to attempt an escape, for that would make it easier to kill him.
Reginald turned to the steward, William Fitzneal, who was technically the archbishop's bodyguard. "I arrest you," he said. He grabbed the steward's arm and marched him out of the room. The man did not resist. William and the other knights followed them out.
They ran down the stairs and through the hall. The local knight, Richard, was still on guard in the porch. William wondered what to do with the steward. He asked him: "Are you with us?"
The man was terrified. He said: "Yes, if you're with the king!"
He was too frightened to be any danger, whatever side he was on, William decided. He said to Richard: "Keep an eye on him. Let no one leave the building. Keep the porch door closed."
With the others he ran across the courtyard to the mulberry tree. Hastily they began to put on their helmets and swords. We're going to do it now, William thought fearfully; we're going to go back in there and kill the archbishop of Canterbury, oh my God. It was a long time since William had worn a helmet, and the fringe of chain mail that protected the neck and shoulders kept getting in the way. He cursed his clumsy fingers. He did not have time to fumble anything just now. He spotted a boy watching him openmouthed and shouted to him: "Hey! You! What's your name?"
The boy looked back toward the kitchen, unsure whether to answer William or flee. "Robert, lord," he said after a moment. "They call me Robert Pipe."
"Come here, Robert Pipe, and help me with this."
The boy hesitated again.
William's patience ran out. "Come here, or I swear by the blood of Jesus I'll chop off your hand with this sword!"
Reluctantly the boy came forward. William showed him how to hold up the chain mail while he put on the helmet. He got it on at last, and Robert Pipe fled. He'll tell his grandchildren about this, William thought fleetingly.
The helmet had