Morgan walked forward to look more closely at the Martyrdom site. Copper candlesticks stood on either side of an altar topped with thick white candles, lit with a steady flame. A wooden rail with a kneeling cushion welcomed devoted pilgrims to prayer and red letters on the stone spelled out the name of the saint, as crimson as Becket’s blood when it was spilled on this holy ground.
She knew the history of England’s most famous Catholic saint, cut down by four knights in 1170 after rash words by King Henry II and canonized soon after. In previous missions, she and Jake had recovered powerful relics of the early Church, physical remains of saints that some believed had supernatural powers. But there should be no relics in an Anglican church. This cathedral hadn’t been Catholic since the six
