I hope the charcoal-burners were amply rewarded. I am sure Louis would not forget to do that.

They took Philip Augustus to the nearest castle but by this time the fever had a hold on him and he was delirious. He had become very ill indeed and there was consternation throughout France. His life was despaired of, and it was feared that God was about to take back what He had given.

Louis’s distress must have been great. The story was that he was so beside himself that he could neither eat nor sleep. Fearing that he would die as well as his son, the doctors gave him something to make him rest. He must keep up his strength so that he would be able to bear the blow which it seemed must inevitably come.

He dozed and it was then that he had a vision. He thought that Thomas Becket came to him and told him that, if he repented of his sins and humbled himself at the shrine in Canterbury Cathedral, his son’s life would be saved.

The consternation must have been great when Louis announced his intention of visiting Canterbury. Go into the heart of enemy territory? It must never be! But Louis was adamant. This was a message from God, and everyone must know that he was on special terms with the Almighty. Moreover, what would happen to France if his son died? He himself was a fast-aging man.

He must go to Canterbury. God—through Thomas Becket—would not have told him to go if it had not been for his own good. He had to save his son’s life, no matter what happened to him.

They tried to put up obstacles. None of them believed in the vision. If Philip Augustus was going to die, nothing would save him. Could the King endure the hazardous journey? Everyone knew what the Channel could be like—and at his age ... and in his health ...

I wondered what Henry thought when he heard of Louis’s proposed visit. If rumors were true and he had indeed seduced Louis’s daughter, he must be feeling rather uneasy for Louis would surely expect to see the girl when he was in England.

I wondered how far Henry’s relationship with Alais had gone, and if she were in love with him. Was it possible? He was hardly a romantic figure, apart from his power, but power I believe is one of the most effective aphrodisiacs. I could imagine his storming into the nursery ... shouting orders ... laughing ... standing there, fascinating the beautiful little girl and inspiring her with awe. Would he be able to impress on her that she must betray nothing of their relationship to her father? And Louis? Would he have heard? If he had not, it would never occur to him to suspect. I was very eager to hear the outcome of the meeting.

Henry sent a letter of warm welcome to Louis. He would be honored to receive him, and he would join his prayers to those of Louis for the recovery of Philip Augustus. He would make himself personally responsible for Louis’s comfort and safety while he was in England.

I imagined their meeting. Poor Louis, how did he look now? Particularly old and ill, I guessed, after the sea crossing. Steeped in religious fervor, frantic with anxiety, without the slightest fear of what would happen to himself. Louis had never, at least, been a coward. His hatred of war had had nothing to do with fears for his own safety.

Henry took a brilliant assembly to Dover to await Louis’s arrival. This would give him an advantage, for he would see Louis immediately he disembarked, racked with sorrow and probably ill after the crossing. Henry would be vital, glowing with health ... a little patronizing to his rival. After all, he was opening his country to an old enemy; he was allowing him the benefit of praying at the Archbishop’s shrine. Henry was always one to seize an advantage.

I could picture it so well, remembering Henry as I had last seen him. Although he was showing signs of age, he could still ride through the day without fatigue and his immense vitality had not abated, whereas Louis would look like an old man. Henry would gloat over the contrast. Louis was considerably older than Henry in any case—as I was. A fact of which he had enjoyed reminding me. How I wished I could have seen that meeting!

Together they went to Canterbury. Louis would be talking of his only son and envying Henry, who had several. Henry had suffered every bit as much as Louis but this was due to the perfidy of his sons. Did they talk of their children? Did Louis mention Alais? If so, I was sure Henry would skirt around the subject adroitly. He was such an adept at amorous intrigue. I would never forget how he had kept Rosamund Clifford’s existence a secret for so long.

There was a great welcome for Louis in Canterbury. Henry had ordered that the bells of the city ring out as the French King entered it. The Kings rode side by side to the cathedral amid the crowds, silent, not because they did not welcome Louis but because this was a solemn occasion and all wanted to give the impression that they were praying silently that the life of the heir to the French throne might be saved.

In the crypt Louis knelt at the tomb of Thomas Becket. He remained there all through the day and night, begging Thomas to plead with God to spare the life of his son. When he left the crypt, I heard that he looked like a corpse himself. Stricken with sorrow, fear and old age, it seemed that it was for the King of France people should be praying as well as for his son.

Henry’s mind would be working fast. If Louis died, if Philip Augustus died, young Henry, married to Marguerite, could be King of France. Once that was what he had strived for, but did he pause to think now? His son would indeed be powerful; and he had already shown his father what he could do in his present state. Henry’s mind must have been very busy with possibilities as he joined in Louis’s prayers for his son.

Louis expressed his gratitude by promising the Convent of Canterbury free French wine every year and exemption from customs for goods exported for their use.

He was then ready to return to France, but Henry would not hear of it. The journey had exhausted Louis, as had the day-and-night vigil at the tomb. Henry would take him to Winchester and there entertain him in a manner fitting his rank.

Louis saw the wisdom of this. There was nothing else he could do. He was a man of faith. He believed that his son’s life would now be spared.

In order to impress Louis with his friendship—and perhaps fearing that he might have heard rumors about Alais and himself—Henry took Louis to visit churches, where, I have no doubt, there was more praying; he also showed him the treasury vaults and begged him to take some precious object as a mark of the amity between them. How amused I should have been! If I had been Louis, I should have selected the most valuable object I could find, for I knew how Henry hated to lose anything of value. I believe he would have regretted the gesture as soon as he had made it. But there was little malice in Louis. He had never been interested in earthly possessions and took the smallest object he could find.

Louis declined further hospitality and declared he was sufficiently rested to make the journey back across the sea and return to his son for he was sure Thomas Becket would not have failed him and that God would have answered his prayers by now.

And sure enough, when he returned to France, he found that Philip Augustus had completely recovered. Everyone was sure that his return to health had begun at that moment when Louis was on his knees at the tomb of the martyr.

It was a miracle.

It was of great importance now to go ahead with the coronation. My son Henry was at the French Court with Marguerite. He would be dismayed at the recovery of Philip Augustus, which had put the French crown out of his reach. I hoped he was not foolish enough to show it.

Before anything else there had to be a thanksgiving service at St. Denis. The whole French nation must show its gratitude for the heir’s return to health.

My son was to ride beside the King of France in the procession. Louis had been delighted by the show of friendship which had been given him in England and the fact that the King had prayed with him so earnestly for the recovery of Philip Augustus when the latter’s death could have brought such power to his own son. Louis’s faith in human nature was almost equal to his faith in God. It was nave of him, but rather lovable in a way, and there was so little that was lovable about Louis that I wanted to remember it.

There was an incident during the journey to the abbey.

Louis had been looking ill apparently soon after his return. His wan looks had been commented on, and as they came near the abbey, one of the knights near to him saw him sway sidewards. He was just in time to catch him before he fell. He was carried back to the castle and the doctors were sent for. They diagnosed a seizure and thought he had not long to live.

Louis was paralyzed in his arm and leg, but he did not die immediately.

Now the coronation of Philip Augustus was very necessary. Louis sent for the Count of Flanders and put the care of his son in his hands. The Count of Flanders had been one of those who had joined with young Henry against his father. I wondered what my husband thought to see him in such a position, guiding the new King of France, for with Louis incapacitated, that was what Philip Augustus would soon be. So poor sick Louis—unwise as ever—chose the Count of Flanders to guide his son through the coronation and after. My son with his wife Marguerite was present at this impressive occasion. What bitterness he must have been feeling! I knew my son well. He had come very close to winning the crown, and Thomas Becket had intervened.

The old King had undoubtedly shortened his life by crossing the seas to get assistance.