Chapter Text
He had had no warning. No letter from the king, no knock on the door, nothing. Thomas Becket was taken completely and utterly by surprise. All he had heard was the bursting of the door being kicked open and had quickly turned around. He hadn’t the chance to see, however, because the moment his eyes were set upon the intruders, there was an ax in his face.
The slick metal took away his vision, his eyes closed tightly shut from the pain. Red slid down his face, staining his robe. He was horrified. He was no cardinal, just an archbishop. He was in no position to be wearing red.
The four intruders yelled at him. How rude they were, yelling at an archbishop, at a man of God.
Get up, they yelled. Get up or we shall arrest you!
But I have done nothing wrong! Thomas cried. They grabbed his arms and he struggled to get free from their grasp. His head was still aching, still bleeding. He resisted and resisted until his head was struck again. Until he was looking more and more like a cardinal as the evening went on.
His eyes flew open. He saw them, his people, hiding behind the columns. The monks, watching him bleed. And then he shut his eyes again, the pain becoming unbearable. His head was slammed into the ground by what he presumed was a boot. And then the swings kept coming.
Lord archbishop, Henry had asked him, do you wish to be more than a saint?
Of course, this was Henry’s doing. These were his men that were butchering him, not just some nobles. They had been close, once. Back when Thomas was just his Chancellor, nothing more. Back when Thomas was on Henry’s side of the feud with the church, not on the side of God. But then, the old archbishop died and Henry had hastily appointed Thomas, to the dismay of everyone around him.
I am unfit for one office, let alone two! He had told his King when he had heard. Henry hadn’t listened to him, which was all he did when Thomas was Chancellor. Henry wouldn’t hear anyone else, only him. It was always only him.
Thomas was sure the man was infatuated.
But evidently not, since his brains were now spilling out on the floor.
This is the transformation of the hand of the Almighty.