“His son, Aistulf?”
“I’m not sure he can keep the other Lombards in line.”
“Liutbrand is the only one who seems capable of keeping all of them from civil war. That’s why I suggested him. Ateni of Provence?”
“If he is so powerful, why did you have to save him from Maurontus?”
“Look, Sunni, I can’t have both Italy and Provence in rebellion. I need to align one of them more closely so that if the other becomes a problem, I won’t get attacked from two sides.”
“What about Odilo?” Sunni asked.
“I like Odilo, but with you and Gripho, we don’t need further alignment with Bavaria.”
“There just aren’t many suitable choices for Trudi,” Sunni said. “I would rather she wed someone she can love.”
“Duty is a burden, Sunni. It always has been.”
“We are a political marriage and yet love each other. Why can’t she?”
“All of our potential choices should be here for Gripho’s elevation. We can see how she is with them. But, Sunni,” he paused, “no promises. If I need to make a political choice, I will.”
“Yes, milord,” she said, bowing.
Charles threw a pillow at her.
***
Sunni made her way down the hall to her chambers. Charles looked terrible. Others might not see it, but she did. Herbs or poultices would strengthen his blood. She would send for the lore master in town to see about potential remedies.
She ran across a young man who didn’t seem to have enough to do, so she sent him to the stable master to help muck out stalls in preparation for the visiting dignitaries. She stopped to greet Pippin’s mistress, Bertrada, who had come to offer Greta help with the fête. Sunni liked the girl; she was always pleasant and good-natured, if somewhat bawdy. As he had with Trudi, Charles kept Pippin’s marital status open. But anyone could see Pippin was clearly in love with the girl. Sooner or later, they would have children, either in or out of wedlock. And as Charles himself had proven, bastards couldn’t be counted out of the mayor’s succession.
She found Gripho in her rooms pacing back and forth.
“I want you to tell that pious buffoon to stay out of my affairs!” Gripho said.
I don’t have the heart for this, thought Sunni. Not today. “I suppose you are referring to Boniface,” she answered.
“He is making the Church the center of my elevation. First they are having a prayer breakfast—”
“That’s Carloman’s doing. His knights are, after all, called Knights in Christ.”
“Then there is to be a high mass following the ceremony—”
“I couldn’t change that. You know I tried. There is too much precedent.”
“Now they want me to fast for an entire day before I’m knighted. They want me to pray, lying prostrate before the altar all night. They even want me to name a sainted ‘benefactor.’ I could piss on their saints!”
He’s still a boy, Sunni reminded herself. Of course, he’s frustrated. “We walk a tight line, Gripho. You know your father gives a great deal of discretion to Boniface—”
“That sanctimonious old fart. I did all that you said. Learned the lessons, gave the right answers, let him believe I was devout. But I’ll not fast. I’ll not be ‘reborn in Christ’ as a Christian knight. I’ll not join Carloman’s zealots.”
“I’ll discuss it.”
“I already told Boniface and Carloman what they could do with their ceremonies.”
“Gripho—”
“No. Carloman and Pippin walk around as if they are already mayors and I’m one of their subjects. And Charles thinks they walk on water. Why do I have to put up with this? Once Charles makes me a knight, I am their equal, aren’t I? It’s time they started treating me that way.”
Sunni fought to calm herself. “Gripho, you’re fourteen. You are just becoming a knight. They are men. Your time will come. If you make them your enemies now, they will destroy you. Succession is no game. And believe me, this is all about succession.”
“How would you know? Your idea of succession was to be taken hostage. And then you married the man who took you.”
“Gripho—”
“Now you’ve gone over to their side.” He imitated her voice. “Don’t move too quickly, Gripho. Walk a fine line, Gripho. Don’t make them your enemies, Gripho.”
“Gripho!”
“I’m not doing it,” he said and was gone.
Sunni blinked back the tears that lined her eyes. There are times, she thought, when I could strangle that boy.
***
“Your move,” Charles said.
Boniface looked up from the Jeu de Moulin board and wondered if Charles would see the trap. Boniface had made his last three moves look careless, and they all seemed to leave key crossroads exposed. If Charles took the bait, Boniface would have him.
They had known each other for a long time, even before the bishop had taken his Christian name. In those days, he had been “Wynnfred,” a lowly priest who spent his days spreading the faith to pagan strongholds like Frisia, Hesse, and Bavaria.
He had had more success than most. It helped that he was a big man and looked more like a blacksmith than a priest. His hands were huge, and he had a bulbous nose and a craggy face. If not for his habit, he might have passed for a pagan warlord. Still, he often returned from those sojourns needing to be patched up like a knight returning from battle. In recognition of his service, the pope had made him a bishop.
When Charles began to consolidate power throughout Francia, Boniface took it upon himself to minister the faith to Charles’s family and became one of the mayor’s closest advisors. Charles had never hidden his ambitions, and Boniface had never doubted the man’s ability to succeed. The two became fast friends. And when it became obvious to all that Charles was the single power behind the throne, the pope made Boniface an archbishop and legate to the Holy See.
Although he had failed the pope’s mission to return the powerful monasteries and lands Charles had seized from the Church in his younger days, Boniface had succeeded in strengthening the Church’s authority and doctrine across the continent.
Many monasteries were powers in their own right, more moneylenders than houses of God. Some had knights of their own and fighting men. Many displayed holy relics and professed a special connection to one or more heavenly saints. So often did these churches celebrate unique rites that a Christian from one town attending mass in another might not recognize that he was in a church of the same faith. Using Charles’s influence, Boniface had made great progress in bringing the practice of the faith into line and in reminding the clergy of their fealty to the Holy See.
“I need your help, Wynnfred.” Charles moved a piece into Boniface’s trap.
“It must be something important if you are using my given name.” Boniface moved a second piece into line. The third would capture one of Charles’s men.
“It is important.” Charles placed a man across the board.
“How important?” Boniface licked his lips and completed the line. “Tué!” he called and plucked one of Charles’s pieces off the board.
Charles placed a second piece in line across the board. Boniface blocked him, leaving Charles with a devil’s choice. No matter where he placed his next piece, Charles would lose a man. “I want you to preside over my funeral.”
The bishop looked up from the board, his surprise quickly replaced by doubt. He squinted, peering hard into Charles’s eyes. After a moment, he nodded his head.
“Of course, I will. Although I will be sorry to do it, Charles.”
“I haven’t much time. After Gripho’s elevation, I will hold an assembly of all the knights. I will name Carloman, Pippin, and Gripho as mayors and ask the entire assembly to submit their hands to them.”
“Gripho’s not old enough, Charles.”
“Pippin and Carloman were given counties at that age.”
“Those were counties. You are talking about making
him a mayor of the palace. Your other two sons will be furious.”
“I’ll carve out a middle kingdom for him. Bavaria, Provence, the areas closest to the Lombard Peninsula. Sunni’s relations will support him from Bavaria.”
“He’ll need them.”
“Boniface, the boys will be tested on almost every front. They have Hunoald to worry about in Aquitaine, Liutfred in Alemannia, and the Saracen in Narbonne. If the boys fight amongst themselves, they will fail. You must support Gripho and Sunni and keep Carloman and Pippin from going after him.”
“Pippin is not the problem, Charles.”
“I know. Carloman can’t stand the boy. But he’ll do as I say.”
“Are you sure the nobles will support them?”
“By appointing the boys as mayors at the assembly, no one will have an opportunity to debate my decision. And each of them will have to state their loyalty in front of the other nobles. If you make my funeral worthy of a king, the boys will look like princes. The nobles will be awed, and you will keep the peace between them.”
“What if there are calls for naming a Merovingian as king?”
Charles spat. “I don’t think there are any still alive. If they do find one, ignore all such demands. If they persist, shout them down. Under no circumstances allow my sons to name a Merovingian king. They will be kings.”
After a long silence, Boniface returned his eyes to the Jeu de Moulin board. Charles moved a third piece into line to take one of Boniface’s men.
Boniface looked surprised. “You must be distracted; you just sacrificed a corner of the board.” He completed his own line of three and took the last of Charles’s men from the crossroad. He clapped his hands and chuckled.
It took Charles only six more moves to beat him.
***
Many of the nobles returning from the Provence campaign decided to stay on at Quierzy to await Gripho’s elevation and Charles’s new assembly. To accommodate them, Sunni unleashed a small army of servants to ready rooms in the guest wings. She moved Childebrand of Austrasia and Theudoald of Neustria into temporary quarters inside the main house. Both men were related to Charles. Childebrand, a brooding giant of a man, shared Charles’s mother and was fiercely devoted to his half-brother. Theudoald was the grandson of Charles’s father, Pippin of Herstal, and his wife, Plectrude. The man was a dilettante who distinguished himself only by harping on the claim that he was rightfully entitled to Charles’s title as mayor. Sunni put the two in adjacent rooms, knowing that Childebrand would keep an eye on Charles’s “rival.”
As September drew near, nobles from across the continent began to arrive with their contingents. Patrice of Burgundy, Ateni of Provence, Liutfred of Alemannia, and King Liutbrand of the Lombards each made his way along the River Oise to the mayoral residence. Even the rebellious Hunoald of Aquitaine and the pagan Radbod of Frisia came for the elevation. Sunni had arranged for each of them to receive horn fanfares as they approached the villa and again when they entered the villa’s grounds.
Knights on horse led each party up to the main house. For each knight on horse, there were at least six attendants and twenty fighting men afoot. Behind these came carts filled with supplies, gifts, and, on occasion, the nobles’ wives. Another set of knights brought up the rear. For the most part, a dozen knights represented each region. Hunoald, the one-handed knight of Aquitaine, however, came with a contingent twice the size of his peers.
Upon arrival at the villa, the men afoot were dispatched to make camp on the grounds outside Quierzy while Sunni had the nobles and gentlewomen shown to their chambers. Knowing that Carloman would keep the Neustrian camp situated far from the Austrasian camp and the Burgundians far from the Bavarians, Sunni made similar arrangements for her guests’ chambers inside the mayoral residence.
As each party arrived, Sunni had their banners hung from the rampart and in the main feasting hall. The mix of colors and designs gave the grounds a festive character, and soon the people in town began to follow suit, decking their houses and shops in colors and marking up the cost of everything from a loaf of bread to a suit of armor. Booths were constructed on the outskirts of town for those merchants arriving from nearby counties who knew that there was money to be made.
When word came that the Bavarian contingent approached the villa, Sunni was in the kitchen checking on preparations for that night’s meal. She shocked the kitchen staff by squealing for joy and performing the first steps to the Estampie with the head cook. Seeing the disapproval in the woman’s eyes, Sunni stifled a laugh, curtsied gracefully, and rushed to the rampart to welcome her kinsmen.
Despite the distance the Bavarians had traveled, Sunni was surprised to find their retinue fresh and kempt. Men in polished armor rode beautiful white horses into the villa with a measured gait. Each knight sat erect in his saddle and sported a huge and waxed mustache after the Bavarian fashion.
Not Odilo. Sunni found her grandmother’s youngest son riding casually among his men, his face clean-shaven and his armor well used. He looked as if he were taking a leisurely ride in the country. Sunni waved to him, jumping up and down to be noticed. Odilo laughed when he saw her and waved in return. He laughed again when, at Sunni’s signal, trumpets blared into fanfare and the blue Bavarian banners unfurled over the wall.
He blew Sunni a kiss just as Trudi joined her on the rampart. Seeing the young woman take her arm, Odilo graced Trudi with a broad smile and bowed to her as formally as one can bow on horseback.
Both women laughed in response.
“He’s the one?” Trudi asked.
“Yes.”
“He seems young to be your uncle.”
“He is thirty-six, four years older than I.”
“He’s quite amusing.”
That isn’t what she’s thinking, Sunni thought. Trudi’s cheeks already were flushed.
“Do you think he’ll be willing?” Trudi asked.
Sunni smiled to herself. She had helped Trudi shed her plates of armor for attire more appropriate to a young noblewoman at court. She was dressed simply but elegantly in a soft, white robe held together at the waist with a rose colored sash. The sash accentuated the leanness of her body and the strength of her limbs. Trudi’s hair was brushed until it shone and hung luxuriously over her shoulders. She wore a necklace with a golden amulet that Sunni had given her. It was a secret pagan symbol of fertility and a declaration of womanhood. There was no more powerful talisman.
“You are beautiful,” Sunni said. “And it is a sacred right. He will be honored to share it with you.”
Trudi’s fingers played with the amulet. Her eyes never left Odilo.
They found him in the courtyard just inside the gate, giving his horse into the care of an attendant. Sunni swept into Odilo’s arms, and together the two spun in circles like a child’s top.
“How is it that you have been gone three years?” Sunni chided. “You abandoned me to these Neustrians and Austrasians without a second thought. What have I done to deserve such a fate?”
“You married Charles Martel,” Odilo said, a smile on his face
Sunni took him by the arm and drew him toward Trudi.
“I have someone special for you to meet,” she said. “May I present Charles’s daughter, Trudi?”
Trudi smiled and curtsied with all the grace Sunni could have desired.
“How could I have overlooked someone so beautiful?” Odilo asked, bowing. “I don’t remember Charles even having a daughter.”
“You flatter me, sir,” Trudi said, rising.
Sunni almost laughed aloud when Odilo’s eyes caught the sparkle of the amulet around Trudi’s neck. He leaned closer, and his eyes opened wide with shock. He looked to Sunni to confirm what he saw.
“Some gifts are eternal,” she said.
Odilo looked to Trudi. She smiled as well, the blush creeping back to her cheeks.
Sunni could see Odilo’s mind racing through the implications; Trudi was studying pagan lore and preparing for t
he rite of communion. And if that look on her face was any indication, he was meant to share in it.
“We have much to discuss, Uncle,” Sunni said, laughing.
“I should visit more often,” he replied.
Odilo would not miss the political ramifications; Trudi was of age to be married. With Gripho in line for succession and Charles’s only daughter breaking with Christianity, a number of possibilities presented themselves, many leading to official sanction of the pagan lore. It could lead to an end of the purges and the pogroms.
Trudi winked at Sunni and turned her gaze to Odilo. She bent her head a little to the right and swept her hair back over her right shoulder. Odilo’s eyes followed every movement.
Yes, things were moving along very nicely.
Boniface appeared out of the crowd near the main hall and bowed deeply to Odilo.
“May honor strengthen your sword,” he said in the Bavarian dialect.
“And may truth guide its way,” Odilo finished for him.
Boniface grasped him by the shoulders and hugged him to his chest. Odilo rolled his eyes at the display and wrinkled his nose at Sunni.
“Ah, I’m delighted to see you,” Boniface said. “It’s been too many years. How is that new bishopric I put into Regensburg? I trust that you’ve welcomed Gregor with open arms?”
“Of course,” Odilo replied, “although, the bishop seems to spend most of his time preaching to prostitutes and beggars.”
“As did our Lord,” Boniface said. “Having a bit of a family reunion, are we?”
“Sunni was just introducing me to Trudi.”
“And such a beauty!” the priest exclaimed. “Don’t you agree?”
“She is delightful,” Odilo said.
“But where is our guest of honor?” Boniface asked. “Where is Gripho? The Bavarian contingent won’t be complete without him.”
“He is probably in the main hall,” Sunni said. She sensed that Boniface knew he was interrupting something important. His eyebrows had soared when Odilo mentioned Trudi. Sunni could almost hear him thinking. What is she doing with them? Sunni would have to be careful. Boniface knew that Trudi was of an age to be married. She was sure that he would inquire of Charles.
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