He acknowledged their greeting with obvious pleasure and so we rode into Winchester to be greeted by Theobald, the Archbishop of Canterbury.

We were in due course joined by the rest of the company who had reached England, and Henry, having satisfied himself that that portion of the treasury which was kept in Winchester was intact, made arrangements to set out for London.

He was insistent that his coronation should take place without delay, for he firmly believed that a king was not accepted by the people until he was anointed.

So we came to London. I had never seen anything like this city. The sky was overcast and there was a light drizzling rain in the air. There was activity everywhere; the river was crowded with craft of every description; I saw the great Tower which Henry’s great-grandfather, the Conqueror, had built. It dominated the landscape. The cobbled streets were full of people. Everywhere there were shops and stalls; and the great purpose of these people seemed to be to buy and sell. There were two great marketplaces, I discovered later, one near the western gate by the Church of St. Paul, where the folkmote was held; the other in Eastcheap. I was amazed to see what goods were offered; they seemed to have come from all corners of the world. There were taverns and eating-houses. No, I never saw a city like this one. It seemed as if the streets must be crammed full of life as compensation for the leaden skies.

In Paris I had missed the clear brilliance of my native skies; but here, in spite of the weather I felt an uplifting of my spirits. An excitement gripped me. This would be my country. I had noticed the brilliant green of the countryside as we passed on our way to the capital, but this city filled me with anticipation. I was surprised that I should be contemplating living here with pleasure.

I saw from the glint in Henry’s eyes that he was feeling a similar emotion. Of course, it was not new to him. He had lived in this country for several years. But now it was his and I believed he was going to love it with an intensity which neither Normandy nor Anjou could arouse in him.

First we went to Westminster Palace, which was in such a state of disrepair that we could not stay there. Alternative accommodation was found for us at Bermondsey Palace which, though somewhat primitive compared with those to which I was accustomed, was at least an improvement.

Henry said that the coronation should take place without delay. Until he was crowned King he could not be contented.

I doubt whether there had ever been such a speedy coronation.

“These people will expect a grand display,” he said, “and even though there is little time for the preparation we must give it to them.”

Fortunately I never traveled if I could help it without as splendid a wardrobe as I could muster. I was seven months pregnant, but that must be no deterrent. I intended to be crowned beside Henry, for if he was King of this country, I was its Queen.

I was determined to impress the people of England. I wanted to give them the sight of fashions they would never have seen before.

My kirtle was of blue velvet with a collar of the finest gems; over it I wore a pelisse, edged with sable and lined with ermine, with very wide sleeves. It was not unlike the pictures I had seen of the costume worn by the wife of the Conqueror. I thought it would be a good idea to look a little like her, to remind them of the stock from which their King had come. I wore my hair flowing with a jeweled band about my brow.

Even Henry had taken some trouble with his appearance on this occasion. His dalmatica was of brocade and embroidered with gold, but he clung to the short cape which had earned him the nickname of “Curtmantel.” In spite of his rather stocky figure and his contempt for fashion, he looked quite impressive with his leonine head and close-cropped tawny curls. A King they could be proud of.

The people had crowded into the streets to see us as we went back to the Palace of Bermondsey. They cheered but they were not overenthusiastic. It was as though they were waiting to see what would come from this new reign.

They had suffered civil war, and that must always have a sobering effect. But now the succession was settled. This was the grandson of that great Henry, and they knew, now that he was dead and they had experienced life under a weak monarch, that he had been a great King.

The new reign had begun and Henry was eager to put right those wrongs which had been perpetrated during the reign of his predecessor and to introduce his own rule.

Our coronation had taken place on December 19, and although he was impatient to be off on a journey which would take him to the important places throughout the country, he did realize that the people would expect Christmas to be celebrated in a royal manner—he must not make the mistake his mother had. As soon as the Christmas celebrations were over (and he warned me they must be lavish, as I would know how to make them), he would set out to discover what was wrong with the country and what he was going to do to remedy it.

With Petronilla’s help I devised some entertainment for Christmas. I would send for some of my minstrels but of course there was no time for that now. I thought of the pleasure it would give me to see Bernard de Ventadour again. I would create a Court under these gloomy skies which would equal that of my beloved Aquitaine.

But now the time was short. We planned feverishly. We must not disappoint Henry. Nor did we. It might well be that he would not have wanted anything bearing a resemblance to the Courts of Love, but later I should make my own Court to suit myself.

One memory which stands out very clearly from those Christmas revels is that of Thomas Becket, because I first saw him there.

I did not see any great significance in the meeting then; it was only afterward that it became of such importance. But I could not fail to notice him. There was something distinguished about him, and that was obvious in the first moments of meeting him. He had great presence. He was very tall and good-looking, with a somewhat hooked nose which gave him a patrician look, and one of the most compelling pairs of dark eyes I have ever seen. He must have been about fifteen or sixteen years older than Henry.

I had rarely seen Henry take to anyone as quickly as he did to Thomas Becket. He had charmed Archbishop Theobald equally, it seemed, for he had spent several years in the Archbishop’s household and had been favored by him, which of course had aided him in his career.

Henry brought him to me and, almost before the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, he would have him tell me of the romantic love affair of his parents.

“It will please the Queen,” he told Becket. “Doubtless she will make a song of it, or get one of her minstrels to. She has a great liking for poets, and she is one herself.”

Becket and I took each other’s measure steadily, and I knew in that moment that there was some special quality about this man; I was not sure whether I should be wary of it.

“I am honored,” said Becket, “that my gracious Queen should wish to hear the story of my humble beginnings.”

Henry gave the man an affectionate push. I wondered why it was that they had become on such familiar terms so soon; he could not have known the man long. We had arrived in England only a few weeks before. Henry, of course, was open in his dealings with people. If he liked them, he did not disguise the fact; nor did he if it were otherwise. He had no time for subtlety.

Becket was learned and well read. So was Henry. I had gathered that. They made allusions to classics with which they were familiar and which the others might not understand. The difference in their ages was great, but Henry was mature beyond his years; he was not the sort of man who would suffer those about him who bored him.

He urged Becket to tell me the story. It was certainly strange. It went something like this:

His father, Gilbert, had been a native of Rouen, but after the Norman invasion of England, like so many, he decided to seek his fortune there. When he was a boy, in his little village of Thierceville, in Normandy, Gilbert had played with Theobald, who was determined to go into the Church. Theobald was a very ambitious man; he followed the Conqueror to England and in due course became Archbishop of Canterbury. Like many men of his generation, Gilbert decided to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and, taking with him one servant, he set out. He reached Jerusalem without any great mishap but on his way home the party with which he was traveling was captured by the Saracens.

Becket continued: “To my father’s horror, he heard that he was to be taken to the Emir Amurath, who was a sadistic man whose favorite pastime was torturing Christians. My father in due course was brought before him. Now, I must tell you this: my father was a man of unusually dignified bearing and outstanding good looks. The Emir admired beauty in men as well as women, and he could not bring himself to impair such beauty, so he sent my father to a dungeon. My father must have been blessed by God for his jailers were also struck by his appearance and showed him some kindness. He responded and they became so friendly that he learned their language.”

“He certainly was fortunate,” I said.

Henry said jocularly: “Naturally so, good Becket. Providence was determined to put no hindrance in the way of your entry into the world.”

“I thank you, sire,” said Becket, bowing with mock irony.

Yes, I thought, they are certainly on unusually good terms.

“In time,” went on Becket, “the Emir remembered my father and sent for him. He was amazed to see that the only effect prison had had on him was to make him understand their language. My father told him that he had learned it from his jailers. The Emir asked him questions about London. My father knew how to talk entertainingly and he amused the Emir with stories of that part of the world which the powerful ruler had never seen, but of which he had heard much. He was given fine garments, for the Emir made a companion of him; and soon my father had apartments in the palace, and the friendship between them grew so much that in time he was invited to dine at the Emir’s table.”