It is difficult to sustain a discussion of Canterbury Cathedral, the sprawling monument at the heart of this incisive monograph, without falling into a surfeit of art-historical superlatives. The present church, which served as the seat of the chief primate of England throughout the Middle Ages (and, from 1170, as the site of the cult of the internationally renowned martyr St. Thomas Becket), ranks among the longest, largest, and most lavish medieval churches in Britain. Scholars of the Romanesque period have long celebrated the architecture and sculpture of the extension begun under Archbishop Anselm of Bec (r. 1093–1109). Scholars of the Gothic period have long celebrated the architecture and glazing of the extension begun under Archbishop Richard of Dover (r. 1174–84). And a growing number of studies—including several undertaken in anticipation of the 850th anniversary of Becket’s death in 2020 (the splashiest being a blockbuster exhibition at the British Museum in 2021)—have done much to reveal the cathedral’s place as a vital center for elite material production of various kinds across the medieval period.

David S. Neal and Warwick Rodwell’s book, Canterbury Cathedral, Trinity Chapel: The Archaeology of the Mosaic Pavement and Setting of the Shrine of St Thomas Becket, is one of the happy products of this recent surge in scholarship. Building on earlier studies of insular luxury pavements by scholars such as Paul Binski, Richard Foster, Christopher Norton, Tim Tatton-Brown, and the authors themselves, the volume argues that Canterbury was home to three magnificent floors with few known parallels in medieval Britain, the remains of which are now installed in the western bay of the Trinity Chapel, the purpose-built space for Becket’s commemoration, at the east end of the cathedral. The first and the second were early twelfth-century opus sectile pavements probably created for the presbytery and the sanctuary, respectively, of Anselm’s choir. (Opus sectile, literally “cut work,” refers to a form of inlay decoration comprising precisely cut stone pieces). The third was an early thirteenth-century “carpet” pavement consisting of four dozen figurative stone roundels made for the area in front of Becket’s shrine in the new Gothic east end. All three pavements, it is credibly suggested, were additions to the architectural environment designed for the saint’s cult after a disastrous fire in 1174 (where they have since been altered many times over). The first and the third, which are extensively preserved, have long been known to scholars—though little understood. The second, attested by only a small handful of fragments, is recognized here for the first time.

Neal and Rodwell’s meticulous investigation of these intricate artworks, together with their larger architectural setting, is organized into twelve substantial, if sometimes repetitive, chapters. Chapters one and two comprise a lengthy introduction to the relevant history and historiography. Chapters three and four describe and interpret the twelfth-century opus sectile pavements. Chapters five and six describe and interpret the thirteenth-century roundel pavement. Thereafter, attention shifts to the larger archaeological, architectural, and artistic contexts of the installations, focusing on those areas closely associated with Becket’s cult. Chapter seven digs into complex archaeological issues associated with the east arm of the cathedral—issues that have generated considerable scholarly debate in recent decades. Chapter eight investigates the fitting and furnishing of the Trinity Chapel (the horseshoe-shaped chapel that housed the shrine containing Becket’s body). Chapter nine investigates the fitting and furnishing of the Corona (the rotunda-like chapel that housed the shrine containing Becket’s severed skull fragment). Chapter ten offers detailed reconstructions of the lost “shrine-tombs” located on the lower and upper levels of the Trinity Chapel—both of which were destroyed at the Reformation. (A reconstruction of the similarly lost “head-shrine” situated in the Corona is given in the preceding chapter.) Chapter eleven, finally, delivers a chronological synthesis of the material presented in the preceding sections with a concluding discussion of how the cathedral’s rich interiors may have compared with those of two of England’s other leading Benedictine houses: St. Augustine’s Abbey in Canterbury (site of the shrine of St. Augustine) and St. Peter’s Abbey in Westminster (site of the shrine of St. Edward the Confessor). Chapter twelve, meanwhile, relays the findings of contributor Kevin Hayward’s invaluable petrological examination of the shrine pavements, the shrine fragments, and the architectural fabric of the Trinity Chapel and the Corona.

The insights that emerge from these chapters are manifold. First and foremost, perhaps, are those regarding the materials, methods, and designs employed in the two substantially preserved—and, here, painstakingly recorded—pavements. The consolidated opus sectile pavement, roughly half of which survives, is shown to have consisted of a complex assemblage of carefully cut marble and porphyry pieces set within stone borders and separated by (perhaps gilded) latten bands. Its original design, attributed to an Italian workshop with ties to Rome, is reconstructed as a nested arrangement of rotated squares, rings, and foils filled with minute geometrical ornaments. The dispersed roundel pavement, all of which survives, is shown to have consisted of an assemblage of forty-eight figurative limestone discs furrowed and filled with dark mastic and laid in a marble matrix. Its original design, attributed to a French workshop with ties to Saint-Omer, is reconstructed as a banded arrangement of four rows of roundels depicting fantastical beasts, Virtues and Vices, Labors of the Month, and Signs of the Zodiac. Neal and Rodwell propose that the pavements were installed in two phases: the roundel pavement just before and the opus sectile pavement sometime after the translation of Becket’s body to the adjacent bays of the Trinity Chapel in 1220. But these augmentations, it is demonstrated, were merely the first of numerous modifications to be made to the chapel over the succeeding centuries—the details of which are conveniently illustrated in a series of phased reconstruction drawings. The three-step Purbeck marble shrine platform, which occupied the middle of the chapel, was extended eastward in the late fourteenth century (and subsequently leveled during or shortly after the Reformation). Portions of the roundel pavement were altered in the late medieval period. Portions of the opus sectile pavement were altered in the early modern period. (Both have since been subjected to modern restoration.) The authors’ unprecedentedly thorough analysis of these vicissitudes leads to further eye-opening observations regarding a variety of largely obliterated medieval furnishings in the cathedral—including screens that controlled public access to the east end of the building, beams that supported tapers or votives, brackets that supported tapers or images, altars, tombs, and, of course, the two shrines that came to house Becket’s mortal remains (the proposed reconstructions for which are perhaps a bit too dogmatic given the paucity of surviving evidence).

Inevitably, given the study’s ambitious scope, there are a handful of passages that give one pause. Eyebrow-raising, for instance, is the authors’ endorsement of Peter Kidson’s widely dismissed theory that the fire that ravaged the cathedral in 1174 was deliberately set by the priory’s monks to facilitate the construction of a new shrine space for the ascendent cult of Becket (94–95). Other claims, by contrast, seem to contradict conclusions reached elsewhere in the text itself. Calculations relevant to the assertion that the architect of the Trinity Chapel, William the Englishman, faced “shortfalls” in special materials necessary to erect eight pairs of red marble columns and white limestone columns—thereby explaining the much more jumbled current arrangement—are inconsistent with the suggestion that his predecessor, who had ordered the stone from the Continent, intended to build a much taller east end (177–81, 310–11). The explanation of heavier wear patterns on the southeastern roundels, situated at what was likely the laity’s access point to the chapel, does not consider the effects of processions discussed elsewhere (156­–57, 291). The explanation of lighter wear patterns on the northeastern roundels, situated at what was likely the clergy’s access point to the chapel, does not consider the effects of processions discussed elsewhere (156, 291). And the assertion that monks who stood on the red marble “processional stations” flanking the long sides of the expanded shrine platform would have then been able to proceed past the Trinity altar into the ambulatory and the Corona beyond is inconsistent with the contention that the altar had been removed before this time (291). Such oversights are, of course, relatively minor. Harder to make sense of, however, is the authors’ convoluted account of the great flight of steps leading from the high altar to the shrine space—the belated installation of which, it is argued, necessitated the relocation of the great twelfth-century opus sectile pavement well into the thirteenth century (100–106). The implication seems to be that, for over half a century, there remained a temporary partition just east of the high altar that masked a kind of ledge, gap, or hole between the presbytery and the Trinity Chapel—even after the great translation of 1220. At least for this reviewer, such a prolonged arrangement seems highly unlikely, and it leads one to wonder about other conditions, occasions, and/or motivations that may have inspired the labor-intensive salvaging of what (the authors rightly point out) was an important contact relic.

It would be querulous, however, to place too much emphasis on these matters. Seen as a whole, the book is an undeniable accomplishment on account of the wealth of new information it brings to light, much of which is handsomely presented in the form of exquisite drawings and excellent photographs. (It is regrettable that the volume’s otherwise high production value should be marred by occasional copyediting issues.) New interpretations regarding not only the pavements but also their larger archaeological, architectural, and artistic contexts are sure to generate fresh debate. The result is a welcome step forward in our understanding of one of the medieval era’s preeminent pilgrimage destinations.