Edward Grim

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Edward Grim was a clerk from Cambridge who was visiting Canterbury Cathedral on Tuesday 29 December 1170 when Thomas Becket was murdered. He subsequently researched and published a book, Vita S. Thomae (Life of Thomas Becket), published in about 1180, which is today known chiefly for a short section in which he gives an eyewitness account of the events in the Cathedral. He himself attempted to protect Becket, and sustained a serious arm wound in the attack. Whilst there are four other accounts of the events of that day, Grim was the only eyewitness to the actually observe the killing itself. Little else is known of his life, before or after the murder.

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• The relevant section from Life of Thomas Becket

The Murder of Thomas Becket, 29 December

              Edward Grim

Therefore the said persons, no knights but miserable wretches, as soon as they landed summoned the King’s officials, whom the archbishop had excommunicated, and by lying declaring that they were acting by the King’s orders and in his name they got together a band of followers. They then collected in a body, ready for any impious deed, and on the fifth day after the Nativity of Christ, that is on the day after festival of the Holy Innocents, gathered together against the innocent. The hour of dinner being over, the saint had departed with some of his household from the crowd into an inner room, to transact some business, leaving a crow waiting in the hall outside. The four knights with one attendant entered. They were received with respect as the servants of the King and well known; and those who had waited on the Archbishop being now themselves at dinner invited them to table. They scorned the food, thirsting rather for blood. By their order the Archbishop was informed that four men had arrived who wished to speak to him. Nor did the man of wise counsel salute them immediately they came in, that according to the Scripture, ‘By thy words shalt be justified’, he might discover their intentions from their questions. After a while, however, he turned to them, and carefully scanning the face of each one he greeted them in a friendly manner, but the wretches, who had made a treaty with death, answered his greeting with curses, and ironically prayed that God might help him. At this speech of bitterness and malice the man of God coloured deeply, now seeing that they had come for his hurt. Whereupon Fitzurse, who seemed to be the chief and the most eager for crime among them, breathing fury, broke out in these words, ‘We have somewhat to say to thee by the King’s command: say if thou wilt that we tell it here before all.’ But the Archbishop knew what they were going to say, and replied, ‘These things should not be spoken in private or in the chamber, but in public.’ Now these wretches so burned for the slaughter of the Archbishop that if the doorkeeper had not called back the clerks- for the Archbishop had ordered them all to go out – they would have killed him, as they afterwards confessed, with the shaft of his cross which stood by. When those who had gone out returned, he, who had before thus reviled the Archbishop, said, ‘The king, when peace was to your own see, as you demanded: but you on the other hand adding insult to your former injuries have broken the peace and wrought evil in yourself against your lord’…. ‘Now,’ said these butchers, ‘this is the King’s command that you depart with all your men from the kingdom, and the land which lies under his sway: for from this day can there be no peace with you, or any of yours, for you have broken the peace.’ Then said he, ‘Let your threats cease and your wranglings be stilled. I trust in the King of heaven, who for His own suffered on the Cross: for from this day no one shall see the sea between me and my church. I came not to fly; here he who wants me shall find me. And befitteth not the King so to command; sufficient are the insults which I and mine have received from the King’s servants, without further threats’… Confounded at these words the knights sprang up, for they could bear his firmness no longer, and coming close to him they said, ‘We come to kill me?’ he answered. ‘I have committed my cause to the Judge of all; wherefore I am not moved by threats, nor are your swords more ready to strike than is my soul for martyrdom. Seek him who flees from you; me you will find foot to foot in the battle of the Lord.’ As they went out with tumult and insults, he who was fitly surnamed Ursus [a bear], called out in brutal sort, ‘In the King’s name we order you, both clerk and monk, that ye take and hold that man, lest he escape by flight ere the King have full justice on his body.’ As they went out with these words, the man of God followed them to the door and exclaimed, ‘Here, here shall ye find me’; putting his hand over his neck as though showing the place where they were to strike. He returned then to the place where he had sat before, and consoled his clerks, and exhorted them not to fear; and, as it seemed to us who were present, waited as unperturbed- though him alone did they seek to slay- as though they had come to invite him to a bridal. Ere long back came the butchers with swords and axes and falchions and other weapons fit for the crime which their minds were set on. When they found the doors barred and they were not opened to their knocking, they turned aside by a private way through the orchard to a wooden partition which they cut and hacked till they broke it down. At this terrible noise were the servants and clerks horribly affrighted, and, like sheep before the wolf, dispersed hither and thither. Those who remained called out that he should flee from his murderers through fear of death, and refused to go… But when he would not be persuaded by arguments or prayer to take refuge in the church the monks caught hold of him in spite of his resistance, and pulled, dragged, and pushed him, not heeding his clamours to be let go, and brought him to the church. But the door, through which was the way into the monk’s cloister, had been carefully secured some days before, and as the tormentors were now at hand, it seemed to take away all hope of escape; but one of them, running forward, caught hold of the lock, and, to the surprise of all, unfastened it with as much ease as if it had been glued to the door. When the monks had entered the church, already the four knights followed behind with rapid strides. With them was a certain sub-deacon, armed with malice like their own, Hugh, fitly surnamed for his wickedness Mauclerc, who showed no reverence for God or the saints, as the result showed. When the holy Archbishop entered the church, the monks stopped vespers which they had begun and ran to him, glorifying God that they saw their father, whom they heard was dead, alive and safe. They hastened, by bolting the doors, of the church, to protect their shepherd from the slaughter. But the champion, turning to them, ordered the church doors to be thrown open, saying, ‘It is not meet to make a fortress of the house of prayer, the church of Christ: though it be not shut up it is able to protect its own; and we shall triumph over the enemy rather in suffering than in fighting, for we came to suffer, not to resist.’ And straightway they entered the house of peace and reconciliation with swords sacrilegiously drawn, causing horror to the beholders by their very looks and the clanging of their arms. All who were present were in tumult and fright, for those who had been singing vespers now ran hither to dreadful sight. [As he descended the steps toward the door, John of Salisbury and his other clerks, save the Robert canon and William Fitzstephen, and Edward Grim, who was newly come to him, sought shelter, some at the altars, some in hiding places, and left him. And, indeed, if he had wished, the Archbishop might easily have saved himself flight, for both time and place gave occasion. It was evening, a very long night at hand, and the crypt was near wherein are many dark recesses. There was also a door, nearby which a winding stair led to the lofts and roof of the church. But none of these he would take.] Inspired by fury the knights called out, ‘Where is Thomas Becket, traitor to the king and realm?’ As he answered not they cried out the more furiously, ‘Where is the Archbishop?’ At this, intrepid and fearless, as it is written, ‘The just, like a bold lion, shall be without fear,’ he descended from the stair where he had been dragged by the monks in fear of the knights, and in a cleared voice answered, ‘I am here, no traitor to the King, but a priest. Why do you seek me?’ And whereas he had already said he had feared them not, he added, ‘So I am ready to suffer in His name, Who redeemed by His Blood: be it far from me to flee from your swords, or to depart from justice.’ Having thus said, he turned to the right, under a pillar, having one side the altar of the blessed Mother of God and ever Virgin Mary, on the other that of St Benedict the confessor: by whose examples and prayers, having crucified the world with its lust, he bore all that the murderer could do with such constancy of soul as if he had been no longer in the flesh. The murderers followed him; ‘Absolve’, they cried, ‘and restore the communion those whom you have excommunicated, and restore their powers to those whom you have suspended.’ He answered, ‘There has been no satisfaction, and I will not absolve them.’ ‘Then you shall die,’ they cried, ‘and receive what you deserve.’ ‘I am ready,’ he replied, ‘to die for my Lord, that in my blood the Church may obtain liberty and peace. But in the name Almighty God, I forbid you to hurt my people whether clerk or lay.’ Thus piously and thoughtfully, did the noble martyr provide that no one near him should be hurt or the innocent be brought to death, whereby his glory should be dimmed as he hastened to Christ. Thus did tit become the martyr-knight to follow in the footsteps of his Captain and Saviour Who when the wicked sought Him said, ‘If ye seek me, let these go their way.’ Then they laid sacrilegious hands on him, pulling and dragging him that they might kill him outside the church, or carry him away a prisoner, as they afterwards confessed. But when he could not be forced away from the pillar, one of them pressed on him and clung to him more closely. Him he pushed off calling him ‘pander’, and subjection; you and your accomplices act like madmen.’ The knight, fired with terrible rage at this severe repulse, waved his sword over the sacred head. ‘No faith’, he cried, ‘nor subjection do I owe you against my fealty to my lord the King.’ Then the unconquered martyr seeing the hour at hand which should put an end to this miserable life and give him straightway the crown of immorality promised by the Lord, inclined his neck as one who prays and joining his hands he lifted them up, and commended his cause of that of the Church to God, to St Mary, and to the blessed martyr Denys. Scarce had he said the words than the wicked knight, fearing lest he should be rescued by the people and escape alive, leapt upon him suddenly and wounded this land who was which the sacred unction of the chrism had dedicated to God; and by the same blow he wounded the arm of him who tells this. For he, when the, others both monks and clerks, fled, stuck close to the sainted Archbishop and held him in the arms till the one he interposed was almost severed. Behold the simplicity of the dove, the wisdom of the serpent, in the martyr who opposed his body to those who struck that he might preserve his head, that is his soul and the Church, unharmed, nor would he use any forethought against those who destroyed the body whereby he might escape. O worthy shepherd, who gave himself so boldly to the wolves that his soul flock might not be torn. Because he had rejected the world, the world in wishing to crush him unknowingly exalted him. Then he blow he fell on his knees and elbows, offering himself a living victim, and saying in a low voice, ‘For the Name of Jesus and the protection of the Church I am ready to embrace death.’ Then the third knight inflicted a terrible wound as he lay, by which the sword was broken against the pavement, and the crown which was large was separated from the head; so that the blood white with the brain and the brain red with blood, dyed the surface of the virgin mother church with the life and death of the confessor and martyr in the colours of the lily and the rose. The fourth knight prevented any from interfering so that the others might freely perpetrate the murder. As to the fifth, no knight but that clerk who had entered with the knights, that a fifth blow might not be wanting to the martyr who was in other things like to Christ, he put his foot on the neck of the holy priest and precious martyr, and horrible to say, scattered his brains and blood over the pavement, calling out to the others, ‘Let us away, knights; he will rise no more.’