and powers of the new king, which never in fact found their answer so long as he lived.  Meanwhile Henry had raised up for himself a host of new difficulties.  The archbishop had a fresh grievance in the king’s reckless contempt of the rights of Canterbury.  The Church party both in England and in Europe was outraged at the wrong done to him.  Many who had before wavered, like Henry of Blois, now threw themselves passionately on the side of Thomas.  In the fierce contention that soon raged round the right of the archbishop to crown the king, and to deal as he chose with any prelate who might infringe his privileges, all other questions were forgotten.  Not only the zealots for religious tradition, but all who clung loyally to established law and custom, were thrown into opposition.  The French king was bitterly angry that his daughter had not been crowned with her husband.  All Henry’s enemies banded themselves together in a frenzy of rage.  So immediate and formidable was the outburst of indignation that ten days after the coronation the king no longer ventured to remain in England; and on the 24th of June he hastily crossed the Channel.  Near Falaise he was met by the bishop of Worcester, who had supported him at Northampton.  The king turned upon him passionately, and broke out in angry words, “Now it is plain that thou art a traitor!  I ordered thee to attend the coronation of my son, and since thou didst not choose to be there, thou hast shown that thou hast no love for me nor for my son’s advancement.  It is plain that thou favourest my enemy and hatest me.  I will tear the revenues of the see from thy hands, who hast proved unworthy of the bishopric or any benefice.  In truth thou wert never the son of my uncle, the good Count Robert, who reared me and thee in his castle, and had us there taught the first lessons of morals and of learning.”  Earl Robert’s son, however, was swift in retort.  He vehemently declared he would have no part in the guilt of such a consecration.  “What grateful act of yours,” he cried, “has shown that Count Robert was your uncle, and brought you up, and battled with Stephen for sixteen years for your sake, and for you was at last made captive?  Had you called to mind his services you would not have driven my brothers to penury and ruin.  My eldest brother’s tenure, given him by your grandfather, you have curtailed.  My youngest brother, a stout soldier, you have driven by stress of want to quit a soldier’s life and give himself to the perpetual service of the hospital at Jerusalem, and don the monk’s habit.  Thus you know how to bless those of your own household!  Thus you are wont to reward those who have deserved well of you!  Why threaten me with the loss of my benefice?  Be it yours if it suffice you not to have already seized an archbishopric, six vacant sees, and many abbeys, to the peril of your soul, and turned to secular uses the alms of your fathers, of pious kings, the patrimony of Jesus Christ!” All this abuse, and much more besides, the angry bishop