Becket did not remain long in Flanders, since the Count was cold and did not take his side.  He escaped, and sought shelter and aid from the King of France.

Louis VII. was a feeble monarch, but he hated Henry II. and admired Becket.  He took him under his protection, and wrote a letter to the Pope in his behalf.

That Pope was Alexander III,—­himself an exile, living in Sens, and placed in a situation of great difficulty, struggling as he was with an anti-pope, and the great Frederic Barbarossa, Emperor of Germany.  Moreover he was a personal friend of Henry, to whom he had been indebted for his elevation to the papal throne.  His course, therefore, was non-committal and dilatory and vacillating, although he doubtless was on the side of the prelate who exalted ecclesiastical authority.  But he was obliged from policy to be prudent and conciliatory.  He patiently heard both sides, but decided nothing.  All he consented to do was to send cardinal legates to England, but intrusted to none but himself the prerogatives of final judgment.

After Henry’s ambassadors had left, Becket appeared with a splendid train of three hundred horsemen, the Archbishop of Rheims, the brothers of the King of France, and a long array of bishops.  The Pope dared not receive him with the warmth he felt, but was courteous, more so than his cardinals; and Becket unfolded and discussed the Constitutions of Clarendon, which of course found no favor with the Pope.  He rebuked Becket for his weakness in promising to sign a paper which curtailed so fundamentally the privileges of the Church.  Some historians affirm he did not extend to him the protection he deserved, although he confirmed him in his office.  He sent him to the hospitable care of the Abbot of Pontigny.  “Go now,” he said, “and learn what privation is; and in the company of Christ’s humblest servants subdue the flesh to the spirit.”

In this Cistercian abbey it would seem that Becket lived in great austerity, tearing his flesh with his nails, and inflicting on himself severe flagellations; so that his health suffered, and his dreams haunted him.  He was protected, but he could not escape annoyances and persecutions.  Henry, in his wrath, sequestrated the estates of the archbishopric; the incumbents of his benefices were expelled; all his relatives and dependents were banished,—­some four hundred people; men, women, and children.  The bishops sent him ironical letters, and hoped his fasts would benefit his soul.

The quarrel now was of great interest to all Europe.  It was nothing less than a battle between the spiritual and temporal powers, like that, a century before, between Hildebrand and the Emperor of Germany.  Although the Pope was obliged from motives of policy,—­for fear of being deposed,—­to seem neutral and attempt to conciliate, still the war really was carried on in his behalf.  “The great, the terrible, the magnificent in the fate of Becket,”