H. C. Bailey

“ Will you go, my lord?"
"By my soul, I will go on," the King cried. "I will know what the grandam knew, live or die," and he plucked another torch from Sir Hugh and lit it and strode on. And as they went they heard again that thud murmuring through the heavy air.
On a sudden the cleft widened, they stood in a cave, a great chamber in the rock, and stood upon the bones of men. Sir Hugh started back and crossed himself and said a prayer. The King held his torch high. Grey and gold the shape of a man stood out of the gloom.
"God have mercy, brother," Bran said, "which of you twain does homage?" ”

“ There is no evil where you are, little flower."
"The dark man thinks me evil. Is he a priest, Bran?"
"A priest he is and a priest will be, but what is that to you or me?"
"All priests are fierce," she said, and shrank. "Will he be with you always?"
"Nenny, nenny, you have the world to know, little maid, a goodly kind world with gentle priests that save poor folks lost in the dark. And Thomas the priest is a right good man and serves his master as well as he can." ”

“ Becket shrugged. "Let the dead bury their dead, my lord. And give God the glory."
"If you fall by the way, you have had your day and we shall forget your story," Bran droned. "But to win us our prize on dead friends we must rise and so we give God the glory."
The King played with his wine cup. But Becket laughed. "The fool hath found no man righteous, no not one. Vanity of vanities, saith the fool, all is vanity."
"Nenny, nenny, that was a wise man's thought, brother. The fool, he likes his world and the fools that are in it."
Becket turned from him. "What now, my lord? We have well begun. ”