As the Primate retired he meditated in silence on his conduct in the council.  His scruples revived, and the spontaneous censures of his attendants added to the poignancy of his feelings.  In great agony of mind he reached Canterbury, where he condemned his late weakness, interdicted himself from the exercise of his functions, wrote to Alexander a full account of the transaction, and solicited absolution from that Pontiff.  It was believed that, if he had submitted with cheerfulness at Clarendon, he would have recovered his former ascendency over the royal mind:  but his tardy assent did not allay the indignation which his opposition had kindled, and his subsequent repentance for that assent closed the door to forgiveness.  Henry had flattered himself with the hope that he should be able to extort the approbation of the “customs” either from the gratitude of Alexander, whom he had assisted in his necessities, or from the fears of that Pontiff, lest a refusal might add England to the nations which acknowledged the antipope.

The firmness of the Pope defeated all his schemes, and the King in his anger vowed to be revenged on the Archbishop.  Among his advisers there were some who sought to goad him on to extremities.  They scattered unfounded reports; they attributed to Becket a design of becoming independent; they accused him of using language the most likely to wound the vanity of the monarch.  He was reported to have said to his confidants that the youth of Henry required a master; that the violence of his passions must and might easily be tamed; and that he knew how necessary he himself was to a king incapable of guiding the reins of government without his assistance.  It was not that these men were in reality friends to Henry.  They are said to have been equally enemies to him and to the Church.  They sighed after the licentiousness of the last reign, of which they had been deprived, and sought to provoke a contest, in which, whatever party should succeed, they would have to rejoice over the defeat either of the clergy, whom they considered as rivals, or of the King, whom they hated as their oppressor.

The ruin of a single bishop was now the principal object that occupied and perplexed the mind of this mighty monarch.  By the advice of his counsellors it was resolved to waive the controversy respecting the “customs,” and to fight with those more powerful weapons which the feudal jurisprudence always offered to the choice of a vindictive sovereign.  A succession of charges was prepared, and the Primate was cited to a great council in the town of Northampton.  With a misboding heart he obeyed the summons; and the King’s refusal to accept from him the kiss of peace admonished him of his danger.