England

Tuesday, June 17

My journey to England began many years ago, on that day in high school when my teacher read The Canterbury Tales aloud. If you recall from my introduction, there were unanswered questions. Where were the people going, and why? If we read further, we find out.

"And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, 

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; 

And specially, from every shires ende 

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, 

The hooly blisful martir for to seke, 

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke."

In 1170, Thomas Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was involved in a years-long dispute with King Henry II. The core issue was which entity had more power, the Church or the State. Becket believed he had duties to the The King, but he always served God first. In exasperation, Henry was quoted as saying, "Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?" Four of his knights overheard the statement and took action. They marched to Canterbury, found Becket in the Cathedral, and murdered him in cold blood.

Soon after his death, he became venerated as a saint and a martyr. People from all over England embarked on the arduous journey to visit his shrine, many hoping for a miracle. These individual stories are what the poem is all about.

Since my trip was inspired by The Canterbury Tales I thought the most fitting end was my own pilgrimage, just like those people from so many years ago. The Pilgrims' Way is a 138 mile trail from Winchester to Canterbury. I didn't have the time to do the whole thing, but I could walk the last 7 miles. Here is my departure point:

It started in the small town.

Then it got more challenging. There are no signs marking the path. 

Just to give you an example, here is an excerpt from the guide I was following:

"At the far end are two oast houses. Just beyond here, go left and at the next junction turn right for a few yards. Take the footpath on the left which runs straight ahead gently downhill. It is lined by carefully planted trees screening the orchards. At the bottom of the hill, cross the field. To the right is a forest of hop poles. On the far side, go right, along a track, and just past a gate. Go left up a steep track lined by trees. At the top, the path enters a field and bends to run down a slope. Go left. Ignore the first gap in the hedge. Keep along the field boundary to cross a (maybe) broken stile."

As you can read, much of the directions are open to interperation. What was once a paved path, quickly changed into something unfamiliar.

And, of course, I was alone the whole time. After many miles, rolling farm fields were finally replaced by a real road.

Eventually, I could hear traffic and knew "to Caunterbury they wende." The old town walls came into sight.

I walked through the gate and found people who weren't dirty, tired, and sweaty, like me.

Then, I spotted Canterbury Cathedral, 1000 years old. My pilgrimage was almost at an end.

This is the location where Thomas Becket was killed. "The hooly blisful martir for to seke"

I paused where the shrine once was and recalled Chaucer's last line: "That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke."

Did the saint help heal me on this trip? I do know I joined the silent march of past souls on an inward exploration masked as an external one. Like my brethren, I believe, I too, may have been in the presence of a miracle.

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