The Prophetic Queen (Women's Biographical Historical Fiction): The Tumultuous Life of Matilde of Ringelheim

by Mirella Sichirollo Patzer

  He also gave Otto a silver shield encrusted with gems and polished to a brilliant shine. At its center was the Liudolfing crest – the black falcon on a golden background. “This shield symbolizes the hardships you will suffer in battle. Place your body between the kingdom and her foes, just as this shield works against any insult to your body.” Heinrich’s hand lingered on Otto’s shoulder. He bore a satisfied expression. “From this day forward, you will sit at my side at council meetings and cast your vote as an equal.” Then he addressed the crowded hall. “Others who are ready to pledge fealty to Prince Otto may now present their gifts.”

  One by one, young men of Otto’s age stepped forward with gifts. Each was the son of one of Heinrich’s inner circle, schooled at court to prepare for entry into military service. These would be Otto’s lifelong associates. In some, I saw genuineness, in others, forced submission. They laid their gifts at Otto’s feet—gauntlets and leg harnesses, a gorget to protect his neck and shoulders during battle, armbands to deflect blows, and greaves as beautiful as Heinrich’s to guard his shins. Otto received several axes and daggers, and a baldric and spear already engraved with his name. The astounding pile of regalia at his feet grew, each piece skillfully crafted, fit for the son of a king.

  I returned my attention to Thankmar. Scorn etched his crimson face. I recalled Thankmar’s manhood ceremony. The tributes for Thankmar had paled by comparison to those given to Otto. Such inequities did not bode well for future relations between Heinrich’s eldest sons.

  Thankfully, many people surrounded Otto, and no one noticed that Thankmar presented no gift. I suffered the sharp edge of this rebuke like salt on a wound. I shook off dark thoughts and returned to the moment. Otto’s future lay bright before him. Each tribute was a means for Otto to prove himself worthy to those he would one day govern.

  When the young men finished presenting their offerings, their cheers echoed through the hall as they encircled Otto, congratulating him with slaps on the back.

  A warrior with a wind-reddened face bellowed from the back of the room. “Let us see if he is man enough to put them to good use.”

  Before the laughter subsided, someone hurled yet another jest. “Forget the weapons. The real measure of a man is how true his aim is to the open target of a willing woman.”

  A nobleman raised his tankard. “When I was his age, I had already gutted a man from gullet to cock!” The room broke out in supportive cheers.

  Despite taunts about his manhood, Otto accepted his new rank. He returned to his seat and everyone followed his lead except for Thankmar, who guzzled the contents of his tankard and departed.

  After a while, I left the hall for the Garderobe. As I walked back, I noticed Otto pass beneath an unlit archway. Thankmar emerged from its shadows to block his way.

  “My pardon,” I heard Otto say as he tried and failed to go around Thankmar.

  “You must believe yourself better than me.”

  Before Otto could utter a response, Thankmar punched him in the head.

  I gasped and ran to Otto.

  Otto landed hard on the ground. Disregarding the pain, he scrambled to his feet and lunged forward, but Thankmar’s strong fists pummeled him to the ground with unleashed fury.

  “Stop it!” I shrieked.

  Otto lay on the ground, his arms raised to deflect the deluge of Thankmar’s blows.

  I tried to pull Thankmar away, but I was no match for his furious bulk.

  Otto grabbed his brother’s ankles and pulled them out from underneath him. Thankmar toppled, striking his head on the stone floor.

  “No!” I shouted. “Stop this instant.”

  Both ignored me. Otto rose and threw himself atop Thankmar, clouting him hard in the face. Thankmar returned a punch that sent Otto flying back onto the floor. Panting for breath, they heaved themselves to their feet. With a roar, Otto charged, and they tumbled into a blur of fists and boots. They rolled into the next archway.

  “Help!” I yelled, but the cacophony in the Great Hall was too loud for anyone to hear my cry. I glanced around, but no servant was nearby.

  Chest heaving with exertion, Otto scrambled to his feet. Thankmar did the same.

  Thankmar lowered his head like a bull. He charged, slamming Otto against a wool-and-silk tapestry of Noah with a dove of peace.

  Otto grabbed it to keep his balance, slipped, and pulled it down with him.

  Thankmar lunged again.

  Otto flung the tapestry at his half-brother. It landed on Thankmar’s head in a cloud of dust.

  Thankmar stumbled around blinded, struggling to pull it off.

  Otto stopped to catch his breath.

  Someone must have heard my shouts. Guards came running from the hall, guests and torch-carrying servants behind them. Men hollered their encouragement to Otto and Thankmar. Franco jerked the tapestry away from Thankmar and restrained him. Otto flailed his limbs to escape Mudric’s grasp. Blood and sweat dripped on his face. Thankmar fared no better.

  “The King!” a man bellowed.

  The crowd parted. One by one, those gathered knelt and bowed their heads.

  “What is going on here?” Heinrich’s voice, thick with rage, commanded a response.

  Thankmar glowered defiantly.

  “Otto, what is this?” Heinrich demanded.

  “Ask him,” Otto thrust his head in Thankmar’s direction and glared at him. “He attacked me in the dark.”

  “Thankmar, explain yourself.” Heinrich strode forward and grasped his shoulders.

  “It was the other way around. Otto attacked me!” Thankmar cast a defiant stare at his father.

  “He lies!” Otto’s face reddened as he renewed his efforts to free himself from Mudric’s grip.

  “You will speak the truth to your father. I saw everything,” I said to Thankmar with my harshest tone.

  “Is that true?” Heinrich glared at Thankmar.

  Thankmar refused to respond.

  “Answer me!” Heinrich’s bellow echoed down the corridor.

  “He provoked me!” Thankmar flung back.

  “I did no such thing!” Otto clenched his fists. “I’ve not spoken to him the entire day.”

  “You came upon him from the dark,” I said. “You appeared from behind that pillar, and you struck first.”

  Thankmar shook off his father’s grasp. “How can he respect me when I am your eldest, without a title, men, or lands to command? I live on your charity. You exclude me from your council meetings, yet you invite Otto.”

  Aghast, the crowd murmured.

  Thankmar seized advantage of the sympathetic reaction. “When you banished my mother, you banished me.” His voice cracked.

  “It is no excuse for striking your younger brother,” I added.

  Heinrich’s face twisted in anguish. “You are mistaken. Beg forgiveness from one another. I want my sons to be loyal and to protect each other.”

  Otto shook his head. “Though he threw the first blow? I am his brother, not mud beneath his boots.

  “No.” Thankmar’s face flushed with intensity.

  “Come.” Heinrich furrowed his brow, his voice resolute, and beckoned to them to draw closer. “Set yourselves right with each other. Thankmar, ask your brother’s pardon. Moreover, Otto, you will give him your pardon, and ask his at the same time.

  After a pause, Thankmar said, “I ask for your pardon, brother.” His voice carried a bitter edge.

  The falseness of the apology set me to grinding my teeth.

  “Otto?” Heinrich’s tone was unrelenting.

  “And I ask for your pardon, Thankmar.” Otto mimicked Thankmar’s tone and words. He offered his hand reluctantly, a gesture to satisfy Heinrich.

  “Thankmar, your brother offers you his hand in peace.” Heinrich’s words carried a cold authority.

  Thankmar gaped at Otto’s extended hand as if it were filth. Instead of grasping it, he clouted it.

  By this time, more people had arrived, filling the corridor to ove
rflowing. Appalled gasps resounded at Thankmar’s slight.

  “I care not for your offer of peace.” Thankmar’s voice shook with emotion. He addressed Heinrich. “I am your eldest, but you give everything to him and nothing to me.”

  “That is enough, Thankmar.” Heinrich’s face turned dark, menacing.

  “I speak the truth.” As if freed from a long carried burden, Thankmar turned his back on Heinrich without seeking permission and stalked into the echoing darkness.

  “Seize him!” Heinrich yelled. “Bring him to my quarters.”

  Franco and Mudric grabbed Thankmar. He did not struggle. Instead, he fixed a contemptuous glare on Heinrich.

  “Otto, go to your bedchamber and await me there,” Heinrich commanded. He turned to address those gathered. “The night is still young. Please, return to the hall where more wine and food awaits.”

  The crowd disbanded and filed back into the hall with a forced air of good humor.

  “YOU ARE THE eldest, yet you behave no better than a venomous snake.” Heinrich spat the words. “You will apologize to Matilde!”

  I observed from a chair in the corner of his quarters as he crossed the room, mantle swishing around his calves as he paced.

  Thankmar looked at me, and then down at his feet. Shame etched his features. “Please forgive me. I let my anger fly unrestrained. I never meant to harm you, to distress you.”

  “But you did, Thankmar,” I said sternly. “When you hurt one of my children, you hurt me. Otto is your half-brother. It is not the first time you have hurt him, but it had better be the last. I will never countenance any form of brutality.”

  “Please forgive me,” Thankmar said, his sincere words matched the soft look he gave me.

  I believed him; my heart softened with forgiveness.

  “It is a sad day when a king’s sons brawl as common peasants in his home,” Heinrich interjected.

  “I wouldn’t have it this way, Father.”

  “Then how would you have it?” Heinrich shouted.

  Thankmar pursed his lips. His words were quiet, understated. “Give me my mother’s lands, the ones of her dowry.”

  “I’ve done the best I could for you.” Heinrich ignored the request. “In fact, better than I hoped at one time. After I learned your mother had taken vows, I kept you at my side instead of sending you to live in some border fortress with her kin. And this is how you thank me?” He clenched and then unclenched his fists. “Have you nothing to say?”

  “Nothing beyond what I have already said.”

  “Since you believe yourself ready, you may have a war band to command. I’ll assign Franco to assist you. From him, you will learn to choose, train, and lead men.”

  “That pleases me, but it is a first step. I’ll not be satisfied until you give me mother’s land and declare me your heir.”

  Heinrich stopped pacing, his expression uneasy. “You cannot be my heir. The Church deems you illegitimate.”

  “Since when have you cared what the Church thinks?”

  I sucked in a breath at the slight and gave him a sharp glare. “You must not speak to your father so.”

  Heinrich clenched his fists. “The best I can offer is for you to join my council. Then, if you prove yourself worthy, I’ll consider granting you lands to rule in my name.”

  “Your lands! They should be my lands! If you do not treat me as an equal to Otto, then you force us into a future of strife. I refuse to follow my younger brother like an obedient dog. Neither am I someone you can conveniently hide away.” Thankmar lacked emotion as he spoke. “I accept your offer, and I assure you I shall prove my worth.”

  “See that you do.”

  “But you may be certain I shall return again to demand what is due me.”

  Heinrich rose from his chair, strode around the table, and pushed his face close to Thankmar’s. “Heed me. Do not speak to me with such disrespect again. If you ever raise a rebellious hand against your brothers or me, you will forever lament it. Son of mine or not, I’ll squash you like a worm beneath my boot.”

  WITHOUT KNOCKING, I swept into Otto’s bedchamber followed by Siegfried, who carried a clay jar. I said nothing as I sat on the bed beside him. The flames in the hearth had faded to a glow. I smoothed my fingers over my son’s cheek and kissed his forehead.

  “This time, Mother, Thankmar did not triumph over me.”

  I inhaled a deep breath. “I came to tend to your wounds.”

  Otto squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, ready to disguise any discomfort, which might arise from my ministrations.

  Siegfried handed me a fresh cloth, removed the lid from the jar, and held it out for me. I dipped a corner of the cloth into the jar. With a feathery touch, I spread the salve on the abrasions. It smelled vile, and when it first touched Otto’s skin, he flinched.

  I worked quietly. He had a cut on his forehead. His lip was fat and bleeding, and his eye had already begun to swell shut. His wrist was bruised and swollen, but no bones were broken. I handed the salve and cloth back to Siegfried. “I want a moment alone with my son.”

  “It is best to seek the apothecary’s advice, Domina. May I have your leave to summon him?”

  I nodded.

  Siegfried bowed and departed.

  “Is Father angry?”

  “His temper will calm, in time.” I embraced him, but a strong movement from my belly forced him to pull back.

  “It is another baby.” I placed his hand on my stomach. “Your new brother already kicks.”

  “Why do you believe it will be a brother?”

  “I dreamt of a son.” A wistful tone resonated in my voice.

  “You do not seem pleased, Mother.”

  “A child is a blessing, but sons bring more worry to a mother’s heart.”

  “Why?”

  “Because men bear the burden of war. No one understands the pain of a woman when she loses a son or husband. Power or greed is at the root of every conflict.”

  “Is that why Thankmar hates me?”

  I sighed and pondered his question. “I cannot say for certain what is at the root of Thankmar’s troubled spirit, but I believe he feels he is in competition with you for your father’s favor.”

  “It isn’t true. If it were, there is nothing I can do.”

  “True, but Thankmar is your brother, of the same blood. He suffered disappointments. It cannot be easy to grow to manhood without a mother nearby.”

  “He has a mother—two mothers—you and Abbess Hatheburg.”

  “I have cared for Thankmar as a son. He is a part of our family, and family must come first. Be generous and keep your heart open to forgiveness, especially with kin.”

  “When it comes to Thankmar that will be difficult.”

  “To be charitable and merciful is never easy, but the sons of a king must always be so towards each other. Remember that. No one can predict the future.” Except through my dreams, I thought briefly, wishing it were not so.

  He nodded, as if my words had embedded themselves in his mind and heart. The light from the crackling fire shed radiance in the room. Fatigue overcame him, and he drifted into sleep. I studied his face; my son, with one foot in childhood and the other in manhood, Heinrich’s chosen heir.

  I understood his life would not be easy, but he possessed great inner strength. I indulged in the moment, for I knew that with Otto’s new rank, the morrow would herald a world of change.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A.D. 925

  THE AFTERNOON EBBED and the sky darkened to dusk. I sat with Heinrich in a comfortable chamber near the Council Hall. By the light of the hearth’s blazing fire and numerous candles, I organized some newly acquired threads in my sewing box while Heinrich and Brother Rufus reviewed numerous parchments and scrolls at a table. From the corner of my eye, I caught a movement.

  Thankmar waited in the doorway.

  Heinrich glanced up and set aside the parchments. “Come in, Son.” Thankmar came to stand in front of the d
esk and cleared his throat. “Father, may we speak privately?”

  With a nod, Heinrich dismissed Brother Rufus.

  I gathered my threads and rose to leave.

  “Please stay.”

  I smiled uneasily, and with thread box in hand, moved to take an empty chair at the table. Of late, matters between my husband and his eldest son had been everything but placid. “Father, I’ve come to ask you again for my mother’s lands. My lands.”

  Heinrich cocked his head and I saw his eyes narrow. “Your lands?”

  “Yes, Merseburg.”

  Heinrich rose and strode to the window and peered at something below. “You demand too much.”

  “I disagree, Father.”

  Heinrich spun around and faced his son. “The Holy Scriptures warn that a kingdom divided is doomed to fall. One at a time, a bundle of sticks can be broken, but not if the sticks are bundled as one. I have pondered this matter. If I divide my realm and grant you your share, then I must do the same for your brothers. Three smaller realms cannot thrive. It would invite the rivalry of those who seek power. That is not the legacy I choose for any of you, for our family. I’ll not squander what I fought so hard to unite.”

  Thankmar’s face flushed pink.

  “Merseburg is a vital holding,” Heinrich continued. “The land is fertile for growing crops and for raising cattle. It is rich in silver and salt. The revenues are needed to fund our armies.”

  “You have plenty of other revenues. I am your son. You have my loyalty. My holdings are your holdings. What difference does it make who holds the lands? We are of one blood, of one family.”

  I could hear the emotion in his voice.

  “I cannot give it to you.”

  My heart sunk with disappointment. Thankmar’s face flushed and his jaw tightened.

  A spark of inspiration moved Heinrich to action; he ransacked the cluttered table. “Ah, here it is; a map of Saxony.” He ran his index finger across it. “I can offer you an estate near Wegeleben. It is a short ride from Quedlinburg with a small, but strong fortress. You will have the rents and revenues, and I’ll not insist you pay public homage to me. It is a pleasant location. The buildings surrounding the fortress may be in disrepair, but I’ll ensure you have adequate resources to restore it.”