After some more stormy words the knights became irritated by Becket's
contradictions, and swore "by God's wounds" that they had endured
enough, but Becket, putting aside John of Salisbury's suggestion that
he should speak privately to the angry knights, began to complain of
the grievances and insults he had himself received during the preceding
week: "They have attacked my servants," he said; "they have cut off my
sumpter-mule's tail; they have carried off the casks of wine that were
the King's own gift." To this Hugh de Moreville, who was the least
aggressive of the four, replied: "Why did you not complain to the King
of these outrages? Why did you take upon yourself to punish them by
your own authority?" But Becket, turning sharply towards him, said:
"Hugh! how proudly you lift up your head! When the rights of the
Church are violated, I shall wait for no man's permission to avenge
them. I will give to the King the things that are the King's, but to
God the things that are God's. It is my business, and I alone will see
to it." Taking up such an attitude in front of four men who had come
hot-foot to Canterbury with the express determination to seek an
excuse for killing him, Becket was sealing his own fate.

For the first time in the interview the Archbishop had assumed
an attitude of defiance; the fury of the knights broke at once
through the bonds which had partially restrained it, and
displayed itself openly in those impassioned gestures which
are now confined to the half-civilized nations of the South
and East, but which seem to have been natural to all classes
of medieval Europe. Their eyes flashed fire, they sprang upon
their feet, and, rushing close up to him, gnashed their teeth,
twisting their long gloves, and wildly threw their arms above
their heads. Fitzurse exclaimed: "You threaten us--you
threaten us! are you going to excommunicate us all?"