On the question being put to her, Matilda denied that she had ever been dedicated to a religious life, or had worn the veil of her own consent. The reason she gave for having been made to do so at particular times gives a striking picture of the lawlessness and brutality of the Norman soldiery. "I confess," she said, "that I have sometimes appeared veiled, but the cause was this:--In my youth I was under the care of my aunt Christina. She, in order to preserve me from the Normans, by whose licentiousness the honour of all women was threatened, was accustomed to throw a piece of black stuff over my head; and when I refused to wear it, she treated me with great harshness. In her presence, therefore, I wore that veil, but when she was away, I used to throw it on the ground, and trample upon it in childish anger."[24] Anselm convoked a council of nobles and ecclesiastics, who assembled in the city of Rochester, and to whom the evidence given by Matilda was submitted. Witnesses were examined in support of her assertions, and the assembly decided that the princess was free to dispose of her person in marriage. They cited, as an authority for this decision, the judgment of Archbishop Lanfranc, who, at a time when some English women had taken refuge in a convent from fear of the soldiers of the Conqueror, permitted them to regain their liberty. At the time of the coronation of Matilda, the city of London could not have presented much to attract the eye. The convents were few, and the churches humble. The tall spire, rising like an aspiration towards heaven; the richly traceried window; the carved portal, did not yet exist to form a picturesque contrast with the rude, low houses built in irregular lines. The Thames, crossed by one poor wooden bridge, was not then, as now, crowded by a fleet of merchantmen. At the Tower, the Vintry, and Edred's-hithe, a few small vessels, indeed, might be anchored; and from time to time some tall Norman galley might glide over its silvery waters. On either side of the city, and close to the water's edge, stood the important fortresses of the Tower and Castle Baynard, whilst a rude collection of huts, of the poorest description, formed that general receptacle of thieves and outlaws, the Borough. Close to them stood the convent and church of St. Mary, and far beyond, on the same side of the river, rising above the marshes which surrounded it, might be seen the towers of the palace of Lambeth. As the procession moved on, the eyes of the princess encountered a fairer spectacle; for, on quitting the village of Charing, she entered the broad but irregular road which led to the palace of Westminster, the residence of the sovereign of England. There the hand of improvement, guided by art, had lavished enormous sums of money both on church and hall. The abbey, which had been raised by the pious exertions of the Confessor, was probably no ignoble edifice.