“Conrad seized control of Swabia and named Burchard, a captain of his guards who had fought valiantly for him for many years, as its duke. The Swabian people had no say in the matter.”
“I have heard of Burchard. He is an ethical man who prefers peace to bloodshed. Who did the king choose to lead Bavaria?”
“No one. Arnulf vowed to avenge his uncles’ deaths but was shrewd enough to realize he could not accomplish this alone. To assassinate a king is no easy feat. With a group of men, one of which carried a white flag of peace, Arnulf crossed the border into Hungary to solicit help from the Magyars.”
Surprised, I sucked in a breath. What folly to seek aid from mortal enemies!
“Yes, it is true. Arnulf, with Magyar troops, crossed into Bavaria. Conrad’s army was no match for the Magyars, who outnumbered his men two to one. Arnulf reclaimed Bavaria.”
“And what of you?”
“Fear not. When word spread of the death sentence levied against me by the bishops, all of Saxony banded together. Men in great numbers joined my army and I assigned them to protect the perimeters of Saxony and Thuringia. No foreigner can set foot onto our lands without detection. My army is at least ten times greater than that of Conrad’s. We can travel freely within Saxony. Neither the king nor the bishops can harm us.”
It was not yet over. A year in hiding, a charge of treason, the threat of death, the risk of war—and it had come to nothing. The two most powerful men of the land, Conrad and Heinrich, had arrived at an impasse—two men unrelenting in a quest for supremacy, both claiming victory. It could not remain so forever. All those months, I had prayed for a resolution. Now that I learned it was yet to come, my disappointment was profound.
Heinrich and I made our farewells in the cloister. We exchanged a brief, dutiful kiss, mindful that anything more was inappropriate within the walls of a religious house. Then he turned and left the cloister to make his way to the men’s monastery where he would lodge until our return to Quedlinburg.
WE RESTED FOR two nights before journeying home. How joyous was our return! It did not take long for us to settle and reassume our duties. The days passed swiftly until winter arrived. It was but a brief interlude. Our joy was short-lived.
On a day blustering with wind and snow, a messenger arrived from Ringelheim. We received him in the Great Hall where we offered him furs and sat him near the fire. How he had managed to travel the distance, and in such horrendous weather, bewildered us. Bedraggled and nearly frozen, his body trembling, through chattering teeth, he uttered, “I bring sad news from your mother, Domina. Your father is dead.”
Caught off guard, I was tongue-tied. Heinrich placed his arm around my shoulder and clasped me to him.
“How did it happen?” Heinrich’s voice echoed from the arches of the ceiling above.
“He died in his sleep on the eighth day of December and was buried two days later in the crypt of the church there.”
Five days ago!
The messenger blew into his nearly frozen fingers. “The weather prevented me from riding forth any sooner. Your mother wanted me to reassure you. She is with your brother and his wife, who arrived for a visit in the month of November. They are tending to her and will remain.”
“This cannot be true.” My shock had given way to disbelief. Why had I not dreamt of it? Why did God choose to forewarn me of some deaths, but not of others?
“I am sorry for your loss, Domina.” The messenger shook his head.
Grief and despair tore at my heart. “I must go to her.”
“The roads are impassable,” Heinrich said softly. “There is nothing to do. Your father is gone and your brother is there to attend to your mother in her grief.”
Through blinding tears, I opened my mouth to argue.
Heinrich continued to hold me close. “I shall take you there as soon as the weather warms.”
No longer able to keep my tears at bay, sobs assailed me as Heinrich escorted me to my bedchamber.
TRAPPED BECAUSE OF the weather and forlorn because I could not be with my mother, I spent much time in our chapel until my grief lifted.
On an evening after the feast of Christmas, Heinrich sat in the antechamber of our quarters. Parchments, ink, and maps cluttered the large table before him. Beside him sat Brother Rufus. I rested in a cushioned seat by the brazier. The air rang with the delighted laughter of Otto and Hedwiga, who played with acorns on a rug at my feet. The nursemaid had already put Gerberga to bed. Beside me, Sister Ricburg kept the children under her watchful scrutiny. Thankmar, who was being fostered by Franco and his wife, had been brought to join us for the Christmas celebrations; he had hurried away to visit the Garderobe. Tall for his age, he would soon attain his father’s height.
Heinrich scrawled a hasty signature on one of the documents and handed it to Brother Rufus, who left the room. Heinrich went to join the children. He ruffled Otto’s hair and pinched his angelic cheek. Hedwiga, aged seven, grabbed one of Heinrich’s legs. Not to be outdone, Otto held the other. They squealed and shrieked in playful mischief. Pride and delight glowing, Heinrich allowed each child to stand on one of his feet. They laughed as Heinrich dragged and pulled himself to the other side of the room with exaggerated exertion. Once there, he lifted each child into his powerful arms and rubbed their faces with his beard. Screeching in mirth, they tried to wiggle away from the onslaught of their father’s love. Heinrich returned them to the ground and they ran to the other side of the room to hide from him.
Heinrich turned in the direction of the large chair. Two little faces peered from behind it. They screamed with glee when Heinrich discovered them, and before they could run off again, Heinrich captured them.
I rose to my feet. “It is time for your dinner and then bed, my children. Give your mother and father a kiss, and go with Sister Ricburg. Soon I’ll come to kiss you good-night.” I scooped the children out of their father’s embrace.
Before Sister Ricburg could grasp their little hands, Heinrich knelt and spread his arms in invitation. They ran to him and he squeezed them together. This evoked more squeals and shrieks. He kissed first one, then the other, on their foreheads before relinquishing them to Sister Ricburg. Smiling, we observed them leave the room.
Heinrich reached for my hand. I could tell happiness ran deep within him this night. “Otto—my legacy to the world! All the days of my life, I’ll build an inheritance for him, one befitting the greatness he is certain to achieve. My father’s heritage and legacy will live on in his namesake.”
“Our son will count himself fortunate to have the life you have already given us.” I did not wish to encourage Heinrich’s preference for Otto, nor his insatiable quest for building such a legacy. True happiness lay not in material possessions, but in the love of family and God. How I wished Heinrich could comprehend it, too.
“It will not be enough. When I become king, Otto shall rule at my side. I’ll find the Holy Lance, and when I do, nothing will stand in my way, not even Conrad.”
A chill ran through me at the recollection of my dream of the bloody lance. I had not shared that dream with him; I was afraid he would dismiss it as a woman’s foolish worry. If I told him I believed the lance would bring death upon my family, I believed he would deny it. I must broach the subject sooner than later.
“The future holds promise, and with good fortune on my side, there are no limits to how much I can accumulate for Otto to inherit.”
I heard a shuffling near the door.
Thankmar lingered there.
I called to him, but with a brief, pained air, he rushed off.
Chapter Nine
A.D. 918
I KNELT IN prayer at the altar in the chapel. The creak of the door swinging open disturbed the quiet. I swung around to see who had made an entrance. Thankmar ran toward me, his face full of fear. I rose to meet him.
“Hurry. Otto fell from a casement and lies injured.”
“Where is he?” I clutched a hand to my lips.
&
nbsp; “He fell from the window of his bedchamber.”
I brushed past Thankmar, my body tight with alarm. As I ran into the inner bailey, I shouted commands, sending servants scuttling.
“Search for Heinrich! Summon the healer! Follow me to assist with Otto!” I ran towards the castle keep and veered to the right following the perimeter walls. When I rounded the corner, I saw my son. Otto lay on the ground, still and ashen-faced. One of the grooms attended him, while a gathering of castle servants and serfs watched.
Nearly faint, I swayed. Then I ran and fell to my knees at his side. He lay unconscious, arms and legs splayed out. He moaned, but his eyes remained closed.
Bile rose in my throat. I bent over him, caressing his head, whispering soothing words.
Heinrich arrived, breathless, with Brother Rufus in tow. As an experienced soldier, Heinrich had witnessed many injuries. He knelt beside Otto and spoke to him in a comforting voice. His hands roamed over our son’s body, head, and neck to determine the extent of his injuries.
“Other than a few bruises and having the wind knocked out of him, he is unscathed.”
“You are certain?” I gasped.
“Otto may have struck his head.” Heinrich gestured to a groom who hovered nearby. “Fetch the healer.”
“I have already sent someone to find him, my lord.”
“Then where is he?” Heinrich shouted. “Fetch him immediately. Bring him to the children’s bedchamber.”
The groom ran off to attend to the matter again.
Heinrich cradled Otto in his arms. “We need to get him inside.”
As we approached the keep’s entrance, I noticed Thankmar off to the side, an apparition, calm and motionless, observing the commotion.
Heinrich called for Brother Rufus, who trailed behind us among the servants. “Speak to everyone. Determine what happened. Find out how and why my son fell from the window. No stone is to be unturned in your inquiry.”
Brother Rufus bobbed his head.
Thankmar’s gaze momentarily met mine, but he jerked his face away.
I had no doubt something was amiss. Had Thankmar had a hand in Otto’s fall? I vowed to find out.
By the end of the day, our son regained consciousness. I sat beside Otto, who was propped on pillows on his bed. Heinrich had ordered Thankmar brought to Otto’s room. While we waited, he paced, a scowl set on his face. Candles on carved wooden stands illuminated the room, emitting calm light. A knock clamored on the door.
“Enter.” Heinrich’s deep voice boomed within the room’s confines.
The latch lifted and Thankmar entered the room, approaching us with an air of confidence. “How fares my brother?” His voice oozed with false concern.
The boys exchanged a strange glare. I prayed I was wrong, that Thankmar had not caused the accident.
“We are fortunate. A fall such as the one Otto suffered could have resulted in a serious injury, but I am sure you are already aware of that.” Heinrich’s words reverberated with warning.
Thankmar did not respond, but I saw him swallow.
Heinrich frowned at him. “You were with Otto when this happened?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Tell me.”
Thankmar shot Otto a stark gaze.
My son’s body stiffened.
This time, Heinrich caught the exchange, too, for his lips tightened, but he said nothing.
“Otto and I spied a squirrel in the tree. He could not see over the window ledge so he pushed a chair to the window and climbed up on it. He leaned forward for a better look, but his foot slipped on the chair, and he tumbled out.”
“Is that true, Otto? Is that how it happened?” I scrutinized first one boy then the other.
Again, the two exchanged harsh glares.
Otto hung his head and nodded.
Heinrich’s scrutiny darted back and forth between the boys. “For both your sakes, I hope you speak the truth.” He placed his hands on Thankmar’s shoulders. “Why should I accept your story when I have doubt?”
“It is the truth.” Thankmar did not avert his glance.
Several long moments passed as Heinrich studied Thankmar. “I accept your explanation, but remember, as the eldest, you are responsible for your younger brother. You must protect each other with your lives. I expect nothing less. Ensure no harm comes to your brother ever again, otherwise the next time, I shall hold you responsible. You may go.”
I noticed yet another silent debate between the boys before Thankmar stormed from the room.
TWO DAYS LATER, Brother Rufus discovered the truth and wasted no time in informing us.
“My lord, Domina, the groom observed Otto at the window. Thankmar stood behind him. He saw Thankmar shove Otto. He heard Otto scream and ran to his aid. When he glanced up, Thankmar glared coldly down at Otto. Thankmar lingered there for quite some time before he left the window.”
Heinrich listened with a stern expression, lips in a tight grim line. “Summon Thankmar,” he commanded.
Brother Rufus backed out of the hall.
Heinrich paced the length of the room, his breathing audible. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. Time passed with excruciating slowness until finally, Thankmar arrived. Instead of his usual grin, Heinrich faced him with a stern countenance.
All color drained from Thankmar’s face.
I could not fathom what could have driven him to hurt his younger brother? Jealousy? I had done much to ensure Thankmar felt himself an integral member of our family, and I hated to think I had failed, but what other explanation could there be? Despite all my efforts, a cold unfriendliness existed between the two boys.
Heinrich stepped off the dais, his green silk over-tunic rustling as he sat, and patted a chair next to him. “Sit.”
I watched from my seat at the head table, my hand folding and unfolding a drying cloth not yet carried off.
Thankmar complied, his movements cautious.
“Do you love your brother?”
Thankmar gazed at the ground. “Yes.”
Heinrich studied Thankmar. “There are no bonds stronger than one’s blood. My brothers are dead and not a day passes that I do not miss them. They protected me at every turn. You are my eldest son. I expect a great deal from you, especially when it comes to taking care of your younger brother.”
Thankmar offered his father a blank expression.
“There is no easy way to ask this of you, so I’ll speak bluntly. Did you push Otto from the window?”
“No. Otto leaned over and fell. That is all.” Thankmar’s response was neutral, void of emotion.
“And if I told you I know otherwise, what would you say to me?”
“What do you mean? Do you say I lie?”
“Indeed I do. A groom witnessed what happened.” Heinrich waited.
“The man lies. Tell me you do not believe a servant over your own son.” Thankmar’s cool demeanor showed signs of crumbling.
“Hold your tongue. I’ll tolerate no falsehood from you. It would be best to admit what you did and face your punishment like a man.” Heinrich’s voice rose in timbre. He was losing patience.
Thankmar did not reply.
“Have you nothing to say?” Heinrich grabbed Thankmar’s wrist and yanked him forward, drawing the boy’s face close. “I expect you to protect your younger brother. Do not ever harm him again. Do you understand, Thankmar? Not ever!”
Thankmar pulled away.
That there was justification for Heinrich’s anger, I could not deny, but I knew Thankmar would not admit his animosity for his brother, or, for that matter, his father.
“I hate you for not believing me. I hate you for favoring Otto. You do not care for me.” Thankmar’s voice trembled.
Taken aback by the venomous words, Heinrich’s tone softened. “That is not true. I love both my sons.”
Thankmar glowered defiantly.
“Have you nothing else to say to me?”
Thankmar maintained his silence.
Thankmar paused, ready to say something. Whatever it might have been, he thought better of it. Instead, he stormed from the hall.
“Come back here!” Heinrich hollered. “I am not done speaking with you yet.”
I grabbed Heinrich’s tunic to stop him from going after Thankmar. “Let him go. He needs time, Heinrich. He is hurt.”
“It is Otto who is hurt!” Heinrich exclaimed. He gave me a pained glance, and strode to the window.
I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, and rested my head against the tense muscles in his back. He put his hands over mine in acceptance of my gesture of consolation.
“It is all I could do.” Disappointment filled his voice.
“Do not forget Thankmar is little more than a child.”
“He is of the age to start his warrior training. I daresay it will do him good.”
I dropped my arms and came to stand at his side.
“Thankmar troubles me.” Heinrich spoke with resignation. “Though young, he carries a weight of anger far beyond his years.”
“I have prayed to God to release the boy from whatever troubles him.”
He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I blame myself for underestimating the level of animosity Thankmar bears towards Otto, and against me.”
“You must not blame yourself, Heinrich.”
“It must not happen again.”
There was so much uneasiness in his relationship with Thankmar, mostly on the boy’s part—a distant iciness Heinrich had failed to breach, even though he had tried time and time again.
He grasped my hand. “I have no choice. I cannot leave Thankmar here with Otto. I do not trust him with his brother. Perhaps, while he is in Thuringia he will learn the value of honor and self-discipline.”
The Prophetic Queen (Women's Biographical Historical Fiction): The Tumultuous Life of Matilde of Ringelheim Page 15