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Richard de Brito: The Forgotten Killer; and a very Dangerous Friend
In legend he struck the final blow; in fiction, he will cause a torrent of trouble for his friend William FitzErneis in Lady of Lincoln.
When Archbishop Thomas Becket was cut down before the altar of Canterbury Cathedral in December 1170, the man who delivered the fatal stroke was Richard de Brito—sometimes styled le Breton. His sword, witnesses said, split Becket’s skull so deeply that the blade snapped on the flagstones.
Unlike the other knights, de Brito cried out as he struck:
“Take that for the love of my lord William FitzEmpress!”
The words stunned those who heard them. He was killing the archbishop not in Henry II’s name, but in that of Henry’s brother—the late William FitzEmpress, Henry II’s brother.
Hugh de Morville: The Knight Who Would Not Repent
Lord of Westmorland and Knaresborough, de Morville escaped execution, but not history’s judgment.
When Thomas Becket fell beneath the knights’ swords on that winter night in Canterbury, Hugh de Morville was there, but whether he struck or simply stood aside remains one of history’s greyest shadows.
He was the oldest of the four and the most powerful: Lord of Westmorland and Knaresborough, baron of the north, and keeper of one of the most formidable castles in England. While Reginald FitzUrse raged, William de Tracy hesitated, and Richard de Brito delivered the fatal blow, de Morville watched . But his silence proved to be as damning as any sword.
William de Tracy: The Penitent Knight of Canterbury
William de Tracy helped slay Thomas Becket—then sought forgiveness on a pilgrimage to Rome and the Holy Land. Can a murderer find redemption?
On that bitter December evening in 1170, when Thomas Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury, fell beneath four flashing swords, one of those four blades belonged to Sir William de Tracy. Chroniclers called him the calmest of the murderers; steady-handed, methodical, a man who believed he was acting under royal command. Yet for the rest of his life, remorse and infamy would drive him abroad.
Reginald FitzUrse: The Bear Knight Who Slayed a Saint
On 29 December 1170, four armed knights pushed through the freezing rain towards Canterbury Cathedral. Their leader was Reginald FitzUrse—a man whose very name meant “son of the bear.” He would live up to it in every sense: fierce, proud, and dangerously impulsive.
When Thomas Becket fell beneath their swords that night, FitzUrse’s roar echoed through the nave. It was he who first laid hands on the archbishop, striking the blow that turned a quarrel between king and church into one of the most shocking crimes of the Middle Ages.
A Knight of the King’s Household
Little is known of FitzUrse’s early life. He came from a respectable Somerset family, holding lands at Willeton and Barham. Like many younger sons of the gentry, he found advancement in royal service. By the 1160s he was one of Henry II’s household knights—trusted, well-paid, and fiercely loyal to the king who rewarded courage and obedience above all else.
That loyalty, however, would prove fatal.