Judith, Queen of Wessex and Princess of Frankia
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Chapter 35
The preparations for the Witan became more and more hectic, and Adal ensured that as many beasts as possible were brought to the castle for slaughter. Judith had asked how long the festivities would last, and had been told they would combine the Witan with the celebration for Christ’s Mass, so there would be five nights of feasting.
Every spare room and stable and barn in Winchester was filled with the soldiers and oath-men brought by the Ealdormen and Shire Reeves from the far reaches of Wessex, and Judith knew that her husband’s daughter was due to arrive with her husband King Burgred of Mercia. Ӕthelstan, King of Kent, her husband’s eldest son, would also be at the Witan, and Judith hoped these offspring were more approachable than Ӕthelbald.
A sudden commotion in the passage beyond the door of her solar set her ladies whispering amongst themselves, and then a guard thrust open the door and a tall, slender woman entered, pushing the hood of her fine woollen cloak from her head and gazing round with an expectantly raised eyebrow.
Ghislaine immediately jumped to her feet and bowed her head, as did the other ladies. Judith stood and placed her needlework on her chair, then faced her guest who was approaching with outstretched hands.
‘They told me you were beautiful, my dear, but I never expected you to be so delicate.’ The woman smiled and took Judith’s hands, spreading her arms wide and taking in every detail of her clothes before bending forward and softly kissing her cheek.
‘I am Ӕlswith, Queen of Mercia, and you are Judith, the famous Wessex Queen!’ Ӕlswith burst into merry laughter and pressed Judith’s fingers, looking around for a chair which Ghislaine hurried to provide.
‘Ghislaine? Is that really you, child?’ Ӕlswith beamed at the girl, who nodded her head with a blush and retook her seat beside Judith. ‘Then your handsome brother can’t be far away,’ laughed the older woman, and Judith saw Elin’s cheeks grow pink.
‘So, my dear, tell me all about my father’s court now you are here. I can see you have been busy bringing ladies to serve you.’ Ӕlswith withdrew her hands from her kidskin gloves and clasped them in her lap, regarding Judith with wide, excited eyes as she tipped her head towards the knots of ladies around the room. Judith gestured to Alys to bring them refreshment, and the girl hurried to the table in the corner to fill two cups of the light golden ale Judith favoured. Ӕlswith sipped and nodded appreciatively.
‘This is delicious. How is it made? Did you bring the recipe from Frankia?’
Judith smiled and blinked in the face of so many questions, then nodded. ‘My steward Adal has lightened the brewing for me and my ladies. It makes a paler, lighter ale, not the brown brew the King and his men prefer.’
‘How is my father? My husband has gone straight to the council, but I couldn’t wait to meet you, my dear.’ Ӕlswith sipped again and leaned forward, placing one hand gently on Judith’s arm. ‘How are you finding it, living here?’
‘It has been ….. challenging, Lady Ӕlswith. Not what I am used to in Frankia. But as you see, I have my ladies to keep me company, and I have been busy organising the feast for the Witan.’ Judith kept her voice light and a smile played around her lips, but her eyes grew quizzical at the shocked expression on Ӕlswith’s face.
‘You’ve organised it? Why? Is Emer Cuikishe no longer here?’ Ӕlswith gazed around the solar at the young women who had all resumed their sewing or spinning, and Judith heard a snort of amusement from Ghislaine.
‘Lady Emer is still at court, and she is often in here with us, Lady. But as the Queen, I have not expected her to arrange the food for the Witan. That is my task. I have a steward and he has helped me speak to the servants. I am trying to learn their language, but have not yet had enough time to learn it sufficiently to explain everything I require of them.’
Ӕlswith took another sip of her ale, regarding Judith over the rim of her cup with an amused look in her eyes. ‘I’d hazard that hasn’t pleased her, if you learn the language of the common people, my dear.’ Judith saw Ӕlswith look over her hair and her clothes before meeting her gaze again with a cheerful grin.
Judith’s gown was of smooth green velvet, trimmed at the neck and sleeve with white coney fur. The hem at the front was curved to reveal a golden yellow linen kirtle, embroidered with entwined leaves in gold and dark green thread, which was repeated around the cuffs and the neck. Judith’s dark hair was rolled beneath her circlet and then it hung down her back in a thick dark braid, intertwined with golden cords and green ribbons. Alys, Elin and Ghislaine had chosen complementing shades of green and gold for their gowns, forming a perfect backdrop for the vibrant green of the gown Judith wore, and they made an attractive tableau.
‘Your gown is beautiful, my dear. You must have brought it with you, because you wouldn’t find such a finely woven fabric in Wessex.’ Her tone became rueful and she shrugged at her own gown, ‘Or Mercia. And your beautiful hair. How have you managed that? Has that old troublemaker Ceolnoth finally gone to his God?’
Ӕlswith wore her own hair covered with a fine linen veil, held in place by a milled golden filet. The veil reached onto her shoulders, although Judith noted in relief that she didn’t wear another piece swathed across her throat as Lady Emer always did. The Mercian Queen’s gown was of blue wool, high necked and with tight sleeves. Judith could see the hem of her kirtle beneath the gown, but it wasn’t on show as hers was, and didn’t seem to be embroidered. However, Ӕlswith’s girdle was made from heavy golden hoops, interlinked and set with cabochon stones in a darker blue than her gown. The workmanship of the belt was very fine and Judith gave it an admiring glance.
‘Archbishop Ceolnoth is with the King at the Witan, Lady. He has tried to…’ Judith hesitated, struggling to find an appropriate word. She didn’t know if she could completely trust her husband’s daughter, and didn’t want to say the wrong thing in case her words were reported back. ‘…remonstrate with me about my hair being uncovered, but I explained that God liked me to wear my hair down for His glory. So he ignores it, even though I know he is displeased.’
‘I bet he is!’ stated Ӕlswith tartly. ‘And I’ll hazard Emer Cuikishe is incandescent every time she looks at you.’ Ӕlswith began to laugh, and Ghislaine joined in her merriment, trying to stifle her giggles behind her hand. Judith permitted herself a small smile at their amusement and then looked again at Ӕlswith’s beautiful girdle.
‘Your belt is lovely, Lady. Are there many skilled goldsmiths in Mercia?’ Judith blinked guilelessly at her guest, and the older woman began to discuss fashion at the Mercian court rather than the personalities in Wessex. Judith felt a wave of relief as the rest of the room occupied themselves rather than eavesdrop on her conversations.
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Chapter 36
The air in the council chamber was thick and foul with the number of people pressed into it. The stench of unwashed bodies vied with that of damp fur and animal excrement, and Ralf’s lips twisted ruefully as he tried to breathe through his mouth. The Queen’s plans for the servants to clean properly hadn’t reached this part of the palace quite yet, as the floor was littered with debris and the grimy windows let in very little light.
On the dais at the far end stood the King’s huge chair, and gathered around it were the princes, Archbishop Ceolnoth in his full regalia, and Ralf, ever watchful of the health of the king. He observed as Ӕthelwulf strode around the council chamber explaining to the gathered lords, Reeves and Ealdormen his plans for keeping his borders safe from Danish incursions.
Some of the older lords, with grizzled beards and moth-eaten fur cloaks sat at the front of the hall on low stools, but the younger men remained on their feet and packed themselves closely so they might h
ear the old King’s words.
‘I have decided that my son Ӕthelbald will assist me by ruling the western part of Wessex,’ Ӕthelwulf held his hand aloft to quell the mutterings and murmurs from the gathering, ‘to guard against invasion from both Cornwallium and Wales. Sir Richeld,’ he nodded to the commander of his troops standing beside the princes, ‘will return to his patrols in the east, on our border with East Anglia.’
Richeld, Ralf noted, bowed to the King respectfully but turned a scornful glance on Ӕthelbald when his rule was mentioned. Ralf wondered if the commander had heard a rumour about his wife and the prince.
‘I am committed to supporting Charles of Frankia’s efforts to keep his own borders safe, and we are despatching some troops, led by Prince Ӕthelbald, to fight with his men in the north of Frankia near the border of Flanders.’ Ӕthelwulf took a huge breath, and Ralf saw his King becoming tired. The old man walked back towards his throne on the dais, flanked by Ralf, all the princes and King Burgred, along with Ӕthelstan of Kent and Archbishop Ceolnoth. Ӕthelwulf huffed a sigh as he took his seat.
‘And to strengthen our ties with Frankia, I propose to gift the parklands, forests and abbey of Bishop’s Waltham to the Queen.’
A rumble of discontent went about the room, although it wasn’t as loud as Ralf had expected.
‘Why should we give any of our land to a foreign queen, Majesty?’
Ralf craned his neck to see who had spoken, and as the heads of the other people moved to view the speaker, he saw it was Eanwulf, Ealdorman of Somerset and a close friend of Ӕthelbald.
‘Because she is my wife, and……’ Ӕthelwulf’s words trailed away, and Ralf knew he was tiring quickly. Just as Ralf began to take a step forward, another voice from the crowd reached him.
‘That is another thing, Lord. The King’s wife in Wessex is usually just that. Your sainted wife Osburtha never wanted to be called queen, so why should we call this foreign child our Queen?’ Ralf glanced across and saw Ealstan, Bishop of Sherborne shaking his head at the men surrounding him, inviting them to agree. Another friend of Ӕthelbald, thought Ralf with disgust, catching the smirk on the prince’s face as his friends bombarded his father with questions.
Ralf scowled at Archbishop Ceolnoth and jerked his head to the centre of the dais. The clergyman took the hint, stepped forward and raised his hand for quiet, as Ralf knelt at the side of the king.
‘You are tired, Lord.’ Ralf made it a statement rather than a question. ‘Allow me to escort you to your chamber. We can call them all back later, or in the morning, when your Majesty is rested if you need to tell them anything else.’ Ralf kept his voice low, and Ceolnoth led the assembled lords in a prayer, exhorting God to their cause. The Christians in the group bowed their heads respectfully, and even those who worshipped the old gods touched their amulets and whispered a prayer.
‘Did I tell them about western Wessex, Ralf?’ asked the king in a weary voice.
‘Yes, Lord, and the troops to Frankia.’ Ӕthelwulf nodded his head slowly, his beard touching his chest. Ralf knew he was almost asleep, and wanted to get him to his chamber before the snores began to echo. He glanced up and saw the contemptuous sneer on the face of Ӕthelbald. Turning away, Ralf managed to attract the attention of Ӕthelberht and the fair young man strode forward to help Ralf get his father to his feet.
‘Did they agree to the Queen’s land, Ralf?’ Ӕthelwulf’s voice was querulous as they walked slowly away from the throne with Ceolnoth’s godly exhortations growing louder by the second as he raised both his arms to the heavens.
‘They don’t need to agree, Father,’ said Ӕthelberht sharply, and Ralf looked to see if this son was as jealous as his older brother. ‘It is your land, you may give it to whomever you choose, and Ӕthelbald will just have to get used to it. He gets western Wessex after all.’ The youth’s tone held no rancour, and Ralf was relieved not to have another envious prince to deal with.
‘Your mother won’t be happy at all the quarrelling though. She berates me when you boys argue, as if it is my fault.’ Ralf and Ӕthelberht exchanged a glance as the king’s mind wandered and they tried to hurry towards his chamber. Guards opened the doors as they supported the old man’s weight on their shoulders and they strode as one towards the bed, heaped with fur throws and cushions.
They laid him down, and Ralf divested the King of his boots as Ӕthelberht loosened the straps on his cloak and unlaced his leather jerkin.
‘But my littlest girl will like the forest and the parkland I have given her. I might let her go hunting, if your mother agrees. Ralf, do you think Osburtha will let my littlest girl hunt?’ Ӕthelwulf’s voice was becoming breathy with weariness as they covered him with the throws and tried to make him comfortable.
‘We’ll ask her, Lord. And talk about it tomorrow, when you’re rested.’ Ralf blew out the candle at the side of the bed, and both men walked to the door of the chamber as the King’s snores began to sound ever louder in the room.
‘He’s getting worse, Ralf,’ muttered Ӕthelberht as they closed the door quietly, and Ralf nodded to the guard before accompanying the prince back towards the council chamber.
‘He’s tired, Lord. The days have been long leading up to the Witan, and he’s not properly recovered from the journey over the sea. He’ll be back to himself in the morning, I vow.’ Ralf did his best to keep positivity in his voice, but he too was worried about the King. His periods of lucidity seemed to ebb faster these days, and although when he had his wits, the King was as strong and determined as ever, there were times when he was challenged that he seemed to shrink before their eyes. Then the confusion took over, and he began to think he was at the beginning of his reign, with Osburtha his wife and all his children still youngsters.
‘We’ll have to look to his safety, Ralf. Take some of the worries from his shoulders if we can. If we can just get through to the new year, when the gathering is at an end, then everyone will go back to their own lives. And hopefully Ӕthelbald will be so occupied with establishing himself in western Wessex, or leading the troops in Frankia, he won’t be plotting behind my father’s back.’
‘Yes, Lord. We must protect the King.’ Ralf dipped his head to Ӕthelberht in acknowledgement of their duty, and then the guard opened the door to the chamber, and Ceolnoth’s monotonous voice, still urging God to take up their cause, reached them.
Ralf looked forward to the new year as he dutifully crossed himself with a sigh.
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Chapter 37
'Burgred tells me my brother is really angry with my father,’ whispered Ӕlswith as she sat by Judith’s side, stitching in front of the window in the solar. Judith did her best to keep her face blank, but inside her stomach squirmed.
‘You do know my father is giving you some land?’
Judith nodded silently, not wanting any of the court ladies to hear the conversation. Ghislaine, Alys and Elin were near enough to hear, but she was utterly confident about their loyalty.
‘Well, Ӕthelbald is livid, and he has insisted that my father allow him the western part of Wessex to rule. Burgred says that my father wavers between the warrior king he has always been, and a frightened old man who seems not to understand what is happening around him. Thank God he has Ralf and Ӕthelberht to rely upon; otherwise the Ealdormen might try and usurp much of his power.’
‘But surely they are loyal to their King? And he has many sons, so should he go to meet his God, then one of his sons would become King in his stead. Any bid for power would be quelled by his remaining sons, I am sure.’ Judith began to wonder what her own fate would be when that happened, and she stabbed her needle through the fabric in agitation.
‘What will happen when you have a child, Judith? Where will your child come
in the succession?’ Ӕlswith’s tone was kind, but Judith met her eyes in panic.
‘My….? Lady, I…. We……’ Judith couldn’t think of how to respond appropriately to that suggestion, it terrified her so much. Ӕlswith laughed softly and patted Judith’s arm.
‘I know you haven’t consummated the marriage yet, Judith. And God knows I do not envy you that. When will you be fifteen, my dear?’
‘I will be thirteen on the third day of the new year, Lady. So I have two years from then.’ Judith tried to keep the relief from her voice. Two years was a long time. Anything might happen before….then.
Ӕlswith began to chuckle, and she shot a grin at Judith from the side of her eyes as she bent her head to her stitching. ‘Once you have produced your first child, my dear, you will be able to take a lover. Someone young and strong and vigorous, to bring you the pleasure you won’t get in your marital bed.’
Judith gave a scandalised gasp and widened her eyes. To her other side, she could hear Ghislaine and Alys trying to subdue a fit of giggling, and she also heard a snort of disapproval from Elin.
‘Is that usual, Lady?’ she murmured, and Ӕlswith gave a short laugh.
‘When someone as young as you is married to someone as old as my father, I would deem it a necessity. I’m fortunate that Burgred is of an age similar to mine, and that he is strong and vigorous both on the battlefield and in my bed.’ Ӕlswith beamed at Judith with an excited smile. ‘We have two strong sons and a beautiful baby daughter, with hopefully more to follow. But you, my dear, might produce a child with my father, but equally you may not. And that would delight my brother, I assure you.’
‘I told him that any child I might have won’t affect his inheritance.’ Judith’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
‘But he won’t believe you, my dear. And he will question the child’s parentage in any case.’ Ӕlswith raised a sardonic eyebrow as she regarded Judith calmly, ‘My brother thinks everyone is as duplicitous as he is, Judith. So I urge you to be careful around him.’
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