“I’m sorry, Tobias,” she said. “I’ll be all right. I wasn’t sure I wanted to live.”
“Not to worry, girl. You’re not the first I’ve known to be with child.”
“What?”
“My wife cried for a month. She—”
“I’m not with child!”
“Well, I’m no midwife, but all that crying and puking usually means a baby’s coming.”
Trudi couldn’t speak. She stood in the swift current, her hands exploring her belly. She focused her senses and tried to feel evidence of life inside her womb. She looked at Tobias questioningly, and he nodded with some assurance.
All she felt was nausea.
***
Every sword on the battlefield was suddenly in hand. Pippin’s blade was pointed at Carloman. Carloman’s pointed at Gripho, and a Knight in Christ had his blade at Pippin’s throat. Gunther and Childebrand formed their retinue into a circle around the parley facing out while Carloman’s army surrounded the circle facing in.
“I gave them my oath,” Pippin said to Carloman through clenched teeth.
“I gave my oath to God,” Carloman said.
“You have no right to do this.”
“It is God’s will.”
They stood frozen in place, their swords poised in an extended chain of death. The rain fell. No one dared breathe. Of those on the battlefield, Sunni alone could see into the eyes of both Pippin and Carloman. And what she saw there appalled her.
Death’s shadow touched them both. Neither would back down. She watched as Carloman’s head turned slowly back to Gripho, his eyes certain and cold. She saw the muscles in his back tense and his sword arm roll slightly to the right. His face stretched and grimaced in anger.
Pippin’s face mirrored his brother’s. His sword arm rolled as he prepared to thrust. A low growl escaped Gunther’s throat. We all will die, Sunni realized. The shadow touched them all.
Sacrifice, Samson’s voice cried inside her head. Sacrifice!
“Stop!” Sunni commanded, pushing herself between them. “Stop!”
Everyone froze. Sunni fought to clear her head.
“Sunni?” Pippin called to her. “Sunni!”
“I abdicate,” she said. “We abdicate.”
“No!” Pippin shouted.
“I release you, Pippin, son of Charles, from your oath. I freely abdicate my role as regent and abdicate Gripho’s role as mayor.”
No one moved.
“Put down your swords,” she said.
Still, no one moved.
“Pippin,” she said, “it is the only choice worth making. Someone has to sacrifice or death will reign today. It is a price too high.”
Pippin’s eyes were unfocused; his sword still pointed at Carloman’s throat. “He violated my oath.” His voice was unrelenting.
“Not if I abdicate. Put down your sword.” The shadow still touched him.
“Pippin.” She had to reach him. His arm tensed. “Pippin!” He looked ready to die.
“I guarantee their safety,” Carloman said. “No harm will come to them.”
“Pippin!” Sunni’s voice was urgent. “This is the only way.” She saw his eyes squint.
“Swear it, Carloman!” Pippin said. “Swear it by God.”
Carloman hesitated.
“Swear it!”
With a sigh, Carloman said, “I swear by God that no harm will come to them. I guarantee their safety before His eyes.”
“Gripho?” Pippin called out to his half-brother. The boy hesitated. He still lay on the ground, looking up at the blade held to his throat. Then he looked to his mother. Sunni nodded.
“I abdicate,” he said.
Pippin yelled so that all could hear. “If either of them dies suddenly in the night, Carloman, I will come for you.” To the priest, Pippin whispered, “And for you, charlatan, I will come for you, too.”
He withdrew his sword. Sunni nearly wept with relief.
At a nod from Carloman, two of the Knights in Christ stepped forward to escort Sunni and Gripho to their horses. They led them wordlessly to Carloman’s retinue. Carloman regained his horse and turned to face his brother. Pippin had not moved.
“You should not have meddled,” Carloman said. “You never understood what was at stake.”
Pippin looked away. It broke Sunni’s heart. He’s been shamed, she thought. I have brought him to this. But when Pippin’s eyes rose to meet his brother’s, they were defiant. “I understand, brother. More than you know. You think this is about religion. You think this is about God and faith. It is not.” His voice rose with anger. “It’s about the power. Despite all your upbringing, despite all your training, despite all your armies, you aren’t prepared to hold it. You have given it away to everyone else. You’ve agreed to raise a Merovingian as king. You make war at the Church’s bidding. You raise arms against your own family.” Pippin shook his head. “You abdicate without knowing it.”
“Huh-yah,” Sunni whispered.
Carloman stared at Pippin, unmoved.
“You will never see me again without an army at my back,” Pippin said.
Carloman was almost to the shield wall gate with Sunni and Gripho before his army realized that they had won. A single shout penetrated the silence, was picked up by others, and three thousand voices cheered wildly in victory. Carloman’s soldiers danced in the mud, embracing each other in celebration.
The sound swept over Sunni, bringing with it the full weight of her decision. Her face reddened, and her eyes misted, but she rode with her back straight and her head held high. Gripho rode beside her, his head down. He was already cursing her.
***
Trudi had no clothes. All she had left were undergarments, and they were covered with blood. She couldn’t travel like that, nor could she show up in Regensburg unclothed. They made a small camp. Tobias built another fire. Then Trudi dispatched him to a village to buy supplies and a dress.
She took some solace in the fact that they were less than half a day’s boat ride from Regensburg. She didn’t think, however, that she could get back into the boat. The thought of being afloat brought waves of nausea to her. They would have to walk.
Tobias’s departure gave her some much-needed privacy in which to bathe. She needed a more thorough cleansing than Tobias’s cursory scrubbing in the river. The bath, by itself, seemed to reinvigorate her. She used sand to wash her skin and her undergarments. What was left of these, she pounded on a rock. She found a secluded spot in the trees in which to hang her things.
She lay down to bask in the heat of the afternoon sun. As she relaxed, she began to consider the possibility that she was with child. She found the idea warmed her as much as the sun. It was as if Bradius had left behind a gift for her.
If Bradius was the father. Trudi counted the weeks. It had been more than three months since the boar hunt. It wasn’t likely that the child was Odilo’s. She frowned. She didn’t need Sunni to map out the politics. It will have to be his now, she thought.
“Trudi!” Tobias’s voice called from the camp. Trudi laughed under her breath. He was making quite a commotion to allow her time to dress.
“I’ll be right there, Tobias!” Trudi scampered into her undergarments, thankful that they had, for the most part, dried in the sun. She rushed back into camp, drawing her fingers through her hair to try to untangle it. “I can’t wait to see what you got—”
Tobias lay on the ground inert. Trudi stared at him dumbly, trying to figure out what he was doing. She looked up and around him.
Ansel. He stood ten paces from her to the right of Tobias, his sword in hand. A ragged scar angled across his face where his left eye had been. The skin there was lumpy and puckered loosely where it covered the socket. It was his right eye, however, that frightened her. It had a crazed look, veering wildly over her body. He reeked of malevolence.
“I knew you would come,” he said, smiling. “I just had to wait. The only question was on which side of the river.”
Trudi’s eyes went back to Tobias. He didn’t move. Ansel’s eyes followed hers.
“I wouldn’t make that mistake twice.” He smiled. “It’s just you and me now.”
“I can’t go with you,” Trudi said. “Please, Ansel. I’m almost there.” Trudi began to circle to her right around the camp.
“I made a sacred vow to bring you back,” Ansel said.
“Did your sacred vow include feeling my breasts?” Trudi spat. He reddened. “Did it include touching yourself?” His eye grew frantic.
“Silence, witch!” he shouted.
Trudi ran for the boat. Ansel crossed the camp to intercept her. He was slow but was able to land a glancing blow to her shoulder with his left arm. It knocked her into the air. She had forgotten how strong he was.
He moved between her and the boat, cutting off her escape. Trudi circled to her left to keep him off guard. He moved to his right. Again he lunged for her. She spun left and kicked him in the side of the head. He went down. She raced for the boat. She reached it but could not untie it before Ansel was on her. She had to run again.
She sprinted alongside the river. She saw a horse. Ansel’s. She dashed, searched his saddle, and found the scabbard for his short sword. She pulled the blade from its sheath and turned back to Ansel, the horse between them. She would not run again.
Ansel slapped the horse to send it away and stopped when he saw the blade. Trudi twirled the short sword, testing its heft and balance. She circled to her right, this time toward his blind eye. This forced Ansel to shift his body to the left and his sword arm forward. Trudi feinted left, then right, looking for an opening.
Ansel stalked her, trying to narrow her room to maneuver. She left him a false opening. He saw it and refused to attack. He waited for her, clearly knowing she could only win if she led him into making a mistake. She had only one choice. She attacked. Her blade arced to his right, again forcing him to turn. She spun left, behind him, attacking down on the backs of his legs. Her blade caught the back of his thigh, slicing through the meat of it. But she didn’t feel bone. He turned to face her. He favored the leg greatly but was still standing.
She attacked again. This time he was ready. Her blade met his. She spun. Their blades met again. She reversed. Again blade struck blade. Ansel attempted an overhand blow. She raised her blade in time to stop it, but its force was too strong. She collapsed into him. She pushed off only to find him staring stupidly at her nakedness.
She feinted, spun right, kicked at his cut leg, and swung at his head. He ducked. The force of her failed blow turned her so that her back was to him. Something hard hit her in the back of the head.
***
He was above her. She tried to move her legs, but they were pinned beneath his. He ripped from her what was left of undergarments and then fumbled with his pantaloons. She beat on him with her fists, punching him in the chest. He pinned her arms above her head and held them in one of his massive hands. She could smell the stench of his breath and the sweat pouring off him. His right hand returned to the cord that held up his pantaloons. He pulled at it until it gave way. His erection loomed above her, large and serpentine. He stroked it with his free hand, watching her.
“No, Ansel!” She squirmed beneath him. “You can’t do this.” He reached down between her legs. A grunt escaped his lips. He looked at her oddly and then grunted again. This time more forcefully. His face looked confused as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. His eye looked down at her breast. He grunted again.
He pushed off her, rising to his knees, and turned. Tobias was behind him, stabbing him with a knife. Ansel caught the hand that held it. Tobias was ashen and afraid. Ansel stood, still holding the merchant by the arm. His right hand closed on Tobias’s throat, and Ansel lifted him off the ground. Ansel began to squeeze.
Trudi scrambled to her feet, looking for anything that might do harm. She grabbed a fallen branch and swung it hard against the thigh that she wounded. The branch broke against Ansel’s leg on impact. He collapsed to one knee. She saw the short blade just paces from her. Seizing it in both hands, she wheeled back to Ansel. He still held Tobias by the neck, his arm extended. She stabbed upward into Ansel’s armpit.
Blood gushed from the wound, flowing down her blade. Ansel dropped Tobias and struggled to turn toward her. Blood cascaded from his armpit, covering his vast nakedness. He looked surprised to find her upright.
“Whore,” he said, his lone eye rolling back into his head.
Trudi kicked him in the chest, and Ansel fell backward. She stood above him, screaming in incoherent rage. Ansel’s erection still lifted above him grotesquely. Trudi hacked down with her right hand, and her blade sliced off his manhood at its base. She reversed her grip and drove its point down into the middle of Ansel’s chest.
The blade bucked on his backbone. Trudi stepped over Ansel’s chest, her legs on either side of him, and threw her weight behind the sword until she forced it through him and into the ground. Ansel gasped at the thrust and grabbed her legs, his huge hands circling her thighs. She leaned on the blade until he died. Letting go of her sword, she stepped out of his hands and away from the blade. Her weapon stood by itself, rising out of Ansel’s corpse.
Tobias lay face down on the ground where Ansel had dropped him. He wasn’t moving, and blood covered his scalp. Trudi’s lungs heaved from exertion, and she bent to put her hands on her knees. Looking down, she was startled by her nakedness and the blood that covered her.
“God help me,” she said and knelt to see about Tobias.
***
By the time Carloman’s army reached Soissons, news of his victory had preceded him. Crowds formed alongside the road, cheering as his army passed. Churches held special masses to celebrate his triumph, and the city officials gave long speeches to honor his name. By the time Carloman reached Paris, his march had become a parade.
Virgins dressed in white twirled long red and white streamers in the air. Priests followed behind them carrying crucifixes on long poles. They led hordes of parishioners carrying makeshift banners sporting the cross and Carloman’s lion of St. Mark. Crowds lined the road on both sides and cheered each passing contingent. At the sight of Carloman, they erupted into shouts of acclaim. Children scurried to march alongside the infantrymen. Local pipers and drummers joined in with the military musicians and took up their marching songs. Mothers lifted their babies to see the conquering hero.
By the time they reached St. Denis, the parade had become a carnival. Boniface allowed himself a broad smile. He stood before the church with Bishops Wido of St. Wandrille and Aidolf of Auxerre as Carloman’s army approached.
“You’re right, Boniface,” Aidolf said. “We should leave the matter of Theudoald’s death to you. After this,” he waved at the festivity unfolding before them, “any further protest would fall on deaf ears.”
“He will always be a champion of the church,” Boniface said. “His faith is unquestioning.”
“Yes, but what about the brother?” Wido said.
“He stood with the pagan,” Aidolf said. “What will we do about him?”
“For the moment, nothing,” Boniface said, frowning. “War erupts around us in every part of the kingdom. Aquitaine has seceded. Bavaria is in revolt. The Saxons are taking advantage in the east, and the Alemannians are burning churches. My sources tell me that Pippin is raising an army to fight Hunoald and Waifar. As long as he is putting down rebellions, Pippin serves our purpose.”
“Does he?” Aidolf asked.
“Does he support raising the Merovingian?” Wido asked.
Boniface shook his head.
“Is he still allied with Carloman?”
Boniface shrugged.
“Will he side with the pagans?”
“No. No. He is Christian,” Boniface said, a little too quickly. He knew that Wido and Aidolf held their suspicions. He looked away into the distance. He would not confirm them.
“I fear, my good bishop,” Aidolf said, pa
tting Boniface’s shoulder, “that we have yet much to do.”
“What about the sister?” Wido asked. “The pope is concerned about the Lombards.”
“She is missing,” Boniface said. “I fear she is dead.”
All three bishops crossed themselves.
“I was surprised,” Aidolf said, “that Carloman left that witch of a stepmother and her son alive. As long as they breathe, they are a threat to him.”
“That surprised me too,” Wido said.
“They abdicated,” Boniface said. “It would have been murder.”
“Yes,” Aidolf said. “You are quite right, of course … forgive me.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Wido said. “What was I thinking?”
A long silence ensued.
“And where is your godson keeping them?” Aidolf asked.
“Sunnichild was taken to the nunnery at Chelles,” Boniface said with some satisfaction. “She has shaved her head and taken holy vows. The boy is being held at Neufchateau in the Ardennes under house arrest. They will cause no more trouble.”
“To be sure,” Aidolf said. The two bishops exchanged glances. “No trouble at all.”
***
Sunni dismissed the novice with a kiss to her cheek. The girl curtsied and then scurried from the garden, leaving her alone with Samson, who toiled quietly by a tree near the wall that kept the nuns from the world outside. She approached him, touching lightly the herbs that grew under his care. Instinctively, she bent to pick a leaf from a rare herb at the edge of the row and tucked it into the pouch at the front of her habit.
Samson looked up as she approached and smiled.
“Beautiful girl,” Samson said.
“Yes, she is. And generous to an old woman tired of the life outside.”
“Not so old, not so tired,” Samson said.
“It is a sin for her to be locked up in here.”
“You must pray for her.” Samson smiled.
“No you don’t, my ancient one,” Sunni chided him, smiling. “Don’t mock my choices. I have taken the vows of my own free will. My life is now inside these walls.”
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