At Merton Thomas was soon surprising his teachers by his ability to learn and so confirming his parents’ certainty that he was destined for a great future. It so happened that during harvest time when the great concern was to bring in the corn, the pupils of Merton were sent to their homes to get them out of the way, and during one summer Richer de L’Aigle happened to call on the Beckets. Finding Thomas there, home from school, he suggested that he take him with him to his residence at Pevensey Castle and there instil into him the gracious art of living like a nobleman. Thomas took to the life with as much eagerness as he had taken to learning.
Richer instructed him how to ride like a knight, how to hunt with a falcon and all the accomplishments which could not have been acquired in his London home.
So successful was this stay at Pevensey Castle and so fond had the young knight grown of Thomas that the invitation was repeated often. Mahault was delighted; she saw the change in her son. He had become fastidious in his dress; he spoke not only like a scholar but like a gentleman and she believed that God had sent Richer de L’Aigle into their lives that Thomas might be groomed to take one of the highest positions in the country.
When Thomas was sufficiently educated to have earned his own living doing clerical work for a merchant of London, he left Merton, but his parents had plans for him. The centre of learning was said to be in Paris and no other place would be good enough for Thomas. So to Paris went Thomas.
There he perfected his knowledge of the French language, his great aim being to speak it as a Frenchman; his easy manners - learned at Pevensey Castle - enabled him to mingle with members of high society and he found he had a taste for their company. No one would have guessed that the elegant Thomas was the son of a merchant; and Thomas’s great ambition at this time was to play a brilliant part in the world where he gained the respect of men and women and lived in comfort and luxury.
When he returned to London he had the manners of a nobleman although he was educated far beyond most of them; and although she clung to her belief in the dreams and portents which she swore had come to her, even his mother had to admit that Thomas appeared to have no inclination towards the Church. Instead he became interested in business and joined the municipal administration of London. Here his alert mind immediately called attention to him and many rich merchants who were friends of his father sought to get him to join them in the management of their businesses.
Mahault was not dismayed, so certain was she of his destiny. For several years she had suffered during the winter from a persistent cough, and the damp mist of the river after the dry sunny climate of her native land was having an ever-worsening effect upon her health. Strangely enough one of her daughters showed a desire for the religious life and was found a place in a convent at Barking; the other married a London merchant. They were happily settled; the only one not was Thomas. That would come, she was convinced. So great was his destiny that he must have experience of many ways of life before he realised it.
He was twenty when Mahault died. He was with her at the end and on his knees told her of his love and gratitude. She lay smiling at him thinking of the day she had first seen Gilbert and had loved him and his God. She would not have had it otherwise, for she believed that everything that had happened to her had been but a preparation for Thomas.
‘God has chosen you, my son,’ she said, her eyes glowing with prophecy. ‘I was brought out of my native land that I might give birth to you.’
And so convincing was she that Thomas believed her; and afterwards in his most trying moments he would remember the conviction in the eyes of his dying mother and a belief in himself would come to him, a belief which refused to accept failure.
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.
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