Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex

by Lesley Jepson

  Her father halted and Judith looked up at him in surprise, then turned her gaze forward and realised they had reached the altar. Archbishop Hincmar was directly in front of her, and King Charles took a step back and joined his family. She heard a male voice whisper a prompt, and then the Wessex King was by her side, lifting her hand and holding it out towards the Archbishop. Judith felt the clergyman bind their hands together with his stole, the ceremonial length of fabric smooth on her skin, and heard his voice begin to chant the Latin words that would bind their bodies and their countries together.

  The cold feeling of the gold ring on her finger brought her mind back from where it had wandered, pondering about her new life in her husband’s country. The ring was large, a buttery yellow gold, with milled edges and her husband’s name around the base, with a picture of a vine and a pair of birds pricked into it. Vaguely she wondered if it was one he customarily wore, or if he had commissioned it especially for the occasion. Either way, it didn’t fit. It spun around on her tiny finger, and again she heard a whispered word from Ralf at the King’s shoulder.

  The Archbishop held the ring in place as he blessed first it, then her and then her husband. To her surprise, the priest removed it from her finger and pushed it clumsily onto her thumb, blessing it once more, hurriedly and with an embarrassed flush on his cheek. Judith wondered why such a highly-ranked member of the clergy should be discomfited by a ring not fitting, then she felt herself being pulled up to the dais on which the high altar was positioned.

  Before her, she observed two grand chairs had been placed. Both had arms and high backs, and her new husband led her to sit on one, as he took his place on the other. Archbishop Hincmar produced a vial and, as monks swung the censer and the scent of incense filled the hot, crowded chapel, the Archbishop anointed her forehead and her throat with the oil from the glass vessel.

  The elderly man lifted the circlet of gold and rubies from around her head, and replaced it with a golden coronet, crenelated like the one her father habitually wore. It had a gold cross standing up at the front, and was studded all around with emeralds and sapphires and pearls. Judith felt it being placed on her head, and she was pleased that it fitted; her father must have had it made for her. The archbishop intoned more Latin, making the sign of the cross over her, then over her husband before opening his hands at the high altar and entreating God to hear his words.

  Judith heard another whisper from Ralph, and then Ӕthelwulf rose from his chair and held his hand out to take hers. She looked up at him and got silently to her feet as the King bent and kissed her hand.

  ‘My Queen,’ he said in Latin, so she would understand his words, and she blinked at him in bewilderment. As Judith watched, he nodded at Ralf, who strode onto the dais and dropped to his knees in front of her. He removed his sword from its scabbard, and as he did so all the men in her husband’s contingent did the same. The sound of steel being withdrawn from the throats of scabbards echoed around the vaulted church like huge waves crashing on rocks.

  The Saxon warriors, clad to a man in roughly-woven wool and animal-fur dropped to their knees and placed their hands around the hilts of their swords. Ralf clasped his hands about his own hilt and gazed up at her astonished face.

  ‘Lady, we swear allegiance to you as our Queen. As we are all your husband’s men, we are also yours to command.’ Judith watched as Ralf kissed the hilt of his sword and the other men did the same. She stepped forward and clasped her tiny hands around his large rough ones. Raising her voice, she spoke in Latin and gazed around at the kneeling warriors.

  ‘I thank you all, Lords. I am fortunate indeed to have such loyal men in my service.’

  She saw the twinkle of approval in her father’s eyes as she looked out over the heads of the gathering, and her mother’s nod of affirmation that she had done the right thing. Her shoulders relaxed and her spine straightened; she was the great-granddaughter of Charlemagne, and such allegiance was her birth-right. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Baldwin standing by his father’s side, and she had to smother a giggle as she saw him give her a broad wink.

  As Ralf remained on his knees, Ӕthelwulf took her hand and brushed her fingers with his lips. Then the congregation stood as one and bowed to her, while her new husband led her from the dais and down the central aisle of the chapel into the fresh autumnal air.

  Judith hadn’t realised that her wedding would also be her coronation.

  ***

  Chapter 11

  Baldwin struggled to breathe in the royal chapel, but he didn’t know if it was from the press of so many bodies, or from keeping himself in check. He was aware of his father’s smiles of approval for the scene being played out before them, and he was also conscious of Gozfrid’s hand clasped around his bicep to keep him calm.

  His heart went out to Judith as she stepped slowly towards her future husband, her mantle and coronet seeming to swamp her fragile body. That she kept her head aloft and her voice clear was testament to her strong will and sense of breeding. Then her anointing as Queen of Wessex had made his stomach drop and he had almost tried to leave the church. Only the grip of Gozfrid had kept him still and upright when he wanted to roar his anguish in front of the whole congregation.

  As a Princess, she could never truly have been his, except in his dreams. But seeing her married to this bewildered old man was almost beyond bearing, and then being anointed Queen would take her beyond anything to which he might aspire.

  The affirmation of King Ӕthelwulf’s oath-men to her cause had moved him. That warriors so obviously rough and uncultured would declare their loyalty to a fragile girl such as she had swelled his heart with pride, and when she had caught his eye, he couldn’t help the wink he had bestowed. That it had made her almost laugh at such a solemn occasion gladdened his heart.

  Beneath all the ceremonial robes and pomp of her marriage and coronation, she was still the Princess who had stolen his heart when she was two, and her marriage in no way lessened the love he felt.

  It would be his burden to bear.

  ***

  Chapter 12

  The feast was huge. Enormous platters filled with roasted meats were brought into the great hall, hefted onto the tables by two or three sweating servants. Every type of beast was represented; beef, pork, mutton, venison and chicken. Carp, pike and salmon rested on flat wooden boards, surrounded by wild mushrooms and leafy green vegetables. Baskets heaped with bread rolls were placed in the centre of the table, along with flaky-crusted pies containing tiny songbirds, whose sharp little beaks and beady black eyes peered out from the pastry. Golden chargers were heaped with fruit; piles of green and red grapes from her father’s vineyards in the south vied for space with tiny orange fruits that Judith knew had been brought by merchants from Byzantium.

  Growling, salivating dogs prowled around the long tables waiting to pounce upon scraps and bones that were thrown to them, or accidentally dropped.

  Vast flagons of wine were brought and barrels of cider were rolled into the room so everyone might have his fill. Her father’s musicians played their instruments joyfully, and as the meal had been cooked far away from the hall in the palace kitchens, the centre of the room was filled with dancing courtiers. Judith regarded them all solemnly from her place at the high table, dreading the time when the festivities would be at an end and she would have to share a bed with her husband.

  She might not be a wife in truth, but that wouldn’t prevent the custom of putting the couple to bed, and she hoped it wouldn’t become too vulgar and raucous. Her new husband seemed too dignified to tolerate lewd behaviour.

  Elin appeared at her shoulder, and as Judith looked around the gathered courtiers, she saw some hidden smiles as well as a few frowns. Alys’ little face, red and sweaty from dancing,
grinned at her from the stool where she had dropped to catch her breath. Elin bent and whispered in her ear.

  ‘It is time, Highness.’

  Judith’s brows rose at the honorific, particularly from Elin, who had known her all her life. Then she straightened her spine and smoothly rose from her seat. Turning, she swept her gown clear of the chairs and glanced quickly up at the tall figure of her husband. Over his shoulder, she saw Ralf bend to whisper in his ear, and then the huge hand of the Wessex King took her tiny one and he led her from the dais.

  The assembly clapped and cheered, and there were a few whistles and whoops, briefly loud and quickly subdued. Judith assumed her father had quelled the company with one of his looks. Beside her, Elin kept pace with the royal couple and whispered quickly.

  ‘Princess, you will have to spend the night in his bed.’

  Judith threw a frightened glace out of the side of her eyes, and saw a sympathetic and reassuring smile.

  ‘You will both sleep, that is all, Princess. The King knows well that the marriage will not be truly consummated until you are older, but spending the night will make it legal in the eyes of the law and the church. You cannot be repudiated if you have spent the night in his bed.’

  ‘Repudiated? Why would he do such a thing?’ Judith’s voice was thin with anxiety, but she tried to keep it low. Her husband was striding towards his apartment, her hand still clutched in his huge paw, but he seemed unaware of her conversation with her demoiselle.

  ‘He wouldn’t, Princess. He is an honourable man, I am told. But his court in Wessex might doubt the legality of a marriage contracted so suddenly. This way, they can have no doubt it is a marriage in truth, if not in actual fact.’ Elin twisted her mouth ruefully and nodded at Judith as they arrived at the huge studded wooden door to the King’s chamber.

  Ralf opened the door for his master, and they proceeded into the room, closely followed by Archbishop Hincmar and Judith’s parents. The Archbishop prayed over the bed, blessed it and sprinkled holy water over the coverlet. Judith hoped vaguely that it wouldn’t be damp when he had finished.

  The King disappeared into his dressing room with Ralf and a couple of servants, and Judith’s father caught her by the shoulders, planting a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room. Her mother gave her a similar kiss, then followed her husband more slowly, as her bulk made swift movement impossible. Judith regarded Elin with wide eyes.

  ‘What do I do, Elin?’ she breathed, twisting her fingers together as her crown was removed by one attendant and the brooches of her mantle were unfastened by another. She felt the unfamiliar weight of the broad gold ring on her thumb, and she rubbed it nervously against the knuckle of her forefinger. Elin opened a clothes chest and drew out a finely embroidered linen shift, with a tie neck and long sleeves.

  ‘Put on your nightgown, Princess, and then get into bed and await your husband.’ Judith swallowed hard at Elin’s words, although the tone was kind. Judith’s kirtle pooled at her feet, and she shrugged her arms out of the silken chemise she had worn beneath her wedding attire as Elin dropped the linen over her head. Elin fastened the neck as another attendant braided Judith’s long hair quickly, then Judith scrambled onto the high bed, with its damp fur coverlet.

  Elin patted her shoulder gently, ‘Don’t look so worried, Princess. Lie down. Sleep. We will have a busy day tomorrow, packing your trunks for your journey.’ Silently, Judith nodded, then the door to the dressing room opened and Ӕthelwulf appeared, swathed in a padded woollen robe. Ralf led him around the bed and the King sat heavily, looking up at the younger man, who nodded encouragingly.

  ‘Sleep, Majesty,’ said Ralf, and Judith felt her husband swing his legs onto the bed, yet he didn’t remove his robe. She risked a sideways glance at him, and saw that he lay on his back, already with his eyes closed.

  Judith studied his face. White lines radiated out from the corner of his eyes where he squinted into the sun, and his skin was weathered and brown above his grey-streaked beard. His eyebrows were bushy, and reminded her of the caterpillars which munched the shrubs in the palace gardens. The flesh of his throat was of a lighter hue than his face, and hung in slack folds beneath his beard. A rumble from his barrel chest made Judith start, and she gazed with surprise into his watery blue eyes. She had thought him asleep, not watching her as she inspected him so closely, and she flushed with embarrassment.

  Ӕthelwulf’s look was sharp and focussed, and she realised that this seemed to be the first time he had really seen her.

  ‘Do you own a robe, child?’

  Judith was conscious of the thin nightgown she wore, and she pulled the comforter on the bed a little higher before she answered, clearing her throat to make her voice sound firmer than she felt.

  ‘Yes, Lord. A robe of finest velvet, lined with marten fur.’ Judith beamed inwardly as she thought about her beautiful new robe, which Elin had placed gently on the clothes-chest at the bottom of the huge bed.

  ‘Then put it on.’ His deep voice rumbled in the cavern of his chest and he gestured with his hand. Judith gazed at him in surprise.

  ‘But…..’

  Ӕthelwulf gave a huge sigh, making the hairs in his beard shiver in the draught, and Judith thought he seemed exhausted by the day. He spoke to her with closed eyes.

  ‘We shall sleep, child. The bed is large enough for us both, yes?’ He prepared to turn on his side, away from her and although she knew he couldn’t see, she nodded.

  ‘Yes, Lord,’ she breathed, squirming down the bed and grasping her new robe. Judith pulled it across her shoulders and then dropped her feet onto the cold floor, allowing the velvet to swirl around her legs. She wrapped it around herself, fastening the tie securely and then hopped back onto the bed, drawing the covers over her and lying on her side.

  ‘Good girl. Now sleep. I shall not disturb your slumber.’

  ‘Thank you, Lord,’ she murmured, closing her eyes and pillowing her cheek on her hand. The stone of the floor had made her feet cold, so she curled her legs up inside the fur lining of her robe to warm them.

  ‘You have no need to thank me, child.’ The King’s voice was becoming drowsy, but it was the most she had heard him speak since they had met. Somehow, in the quiet of the chamber, he seemed more alert and less vague. Judith wondered if it was the lack of distraction that enabled him to concentrate his mind, and the good Lord knew how distracting the build up to their wedding had been. The King continued to speak, and Judith tried to pay attention, even though she was almost asleep herself.

  ‘God knows, when we return to Wessex you will have little reason to thank me. I am told that my son Ӕthelbald has set himself up as King in my stead. I may have a fight on my hands when I return home. As if fighting the Danes isn’t enough.’ His voice trailed away, and a huge snore rumbled from his throat.

  ‘Yes, Lord,’ she whispered, before sleep claimed her.

  ***

  Chapter 13

  Days later, after hours of frantic packing, cramming all her new clothes into chests and caskets and coffers, Judith stood on the wooden jetty blinking in the half-light of dawn and huddled into her new chamois cloak.

  The river touched the westernmost tip of her father’s estate, and the barges he had commissioned to take her to the ship and her new life bobbed on the swell of the water. The stench of the slippery weed clinging to the wet wooden spars prickled Judith’s nose, and the commotion of the servants as they loaded her things on the crafts assailed her ears.

  The barge in which she and her retinue would travel was well appointed, being the one her father himself used when necessary. It had a sailcloth canopy at one end, beneath which were benches heaped with soft, down-filled cushions and fur throws. Judith smiled as she saw one of
the kitchen maids hurry aboard with stoppered earthenware bottles filled with hot water, which she placed beneath the throws to warm Judith on her journey.

  The autumnal mist was thick on the surface of the water, rising slowly and making the air damp and cool. Judith knew that the sun would burn off much of it as the morning progressed; the autumns on her father’s estate were usually golden and warm. Absently she wondered if the weather would continue to be kind when she reached Wessex and if it, too, was a land bathed in golden sunshine and smelling of apples.

  She had said farewell to her mother before she came down to the water’s edge; the Queen was too far along with child to risk her health in the morning mist, and Judith had forced herself to be brave. Her mother had held her, and stroked her hair for a moment, and Judith had wondered if she would ever have her hair stroked like this again.

  ‘Go with God, my daughter. Remember who you are, and when the time comes, remember that you will be giving birth to kings.’ Ermentrude smoothed her hand over her own belly and smiled at Judith, who tried to smile back.

  The thought of coupling with the old man who was her husband made her breath tremble in her chest, let alone bearing his child. She did her best to push the fear of her new life away, and she forced her lips to tilt upwards at the mother she might never see again.