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

by Mirella Sichirollo Patzer

  Thankmar rose to his feet first. “I, Thankmar, firstborn of King Heinrich, signify my intention to vie for the crown.” Taking a wide stance, he rested his hands on his hips, his presence imposing. He made eye contact with as many men as possible.

  Despite his dignified composure, I could still envision the little boy who struggled for the attention of his father; his pain from being denied his mother’s lands, the burden of his illegitimacy.

  Thankmar riveted his attention to Otto, who returned the glare with forced aloofness. Like a flash, Thankmar’s eyes glazed over, and he turned his attention back to the proceedings.

  “Your intention has been noted,” the chamberlain said. “And who supports Thankmar Liudolfing in his claim?”

  The man who sat behind him rose. “I am Gero of Merseburg, and I’ll advocate for him.” Gero was Thankmar’s cousin. Their mothers had been sisters.

  “You may be seated,” the chamberlain said.

  Thankmar nodded and resumed his seat.

  The crowd waited, murmuring. My heart filled with pride when Heinz strode to the front.

  “I, Heinrich, prince of the realm, the first son to be born after my father became king, do hereby declare my intention to wear the crown.”

  “And who speaks for this man’s claim?”

  The room crackled with anticipation.

  I rose from my throne. From the dais, I met Otto’s gaze. His body was tense, his expression stony. Guilt made me hesitate, but my heart was steadfast; Heinz would make the better king, so I uttered the words to help make it so. “I, Matilde, Dowager Queen of the kingdom, declare for Prince Heinrich.” I squared my shoulders and stilled the quivering in my legs. I had done what I believed to be right. All that remained was for me to maintain my resolve in the face of my other sons’ indignation.

  Whispers arose at the unfolding drama. My declaration was a public confirmation of dissension within our family. I dared not look at Otto, yet I felt his harsh glare.

  Herman, Duke of Swabia, came forward, followed by Arnulf of Bavaria. Neither had sworn to support Otto as king, and neither had the support of others—Herman because he was young, weak in arms, and too inexperienced to be king and Arnulf because he was least trusted and respected, having long ago developed a reputation for ruthlessness. It would be safe for me to say that, among the men gathered, he was the most disliked.

  The man everyone awaited was Otto. His father had promised him the crown with many of the dukes and nobles already having sworn fealty to him. Soon, we would know whether or not they would honor their oaths.

  Otto made an impressive figure as he rose, head held high, determined. He carried himself with pride, Heinrich’s jeweled scabbard and sword swinging at his side. To my dismay, he held the Holy Lance in his right hand, and I cringed at the sight of it. It announced he was interim king, a clear advantage. When power was at stake, however, nothing could be certain.

  “I, Prince Otto of Liudolfing, interim king, son of Heinrich, declare my intent to wear the crown in service to our people.”

  “And who stands for this man?”

  “My name is Giselbert of Lotharingia, and I support him.” My son by marriage rose. His claim did not surprise me. Heinrich had granted Lotharingia to Giselbert through marriage with Gerberga. Ever since, he and Otto had become trusted friends.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw another man rise. “I, Siegfried, Count and Margrave of Merseburg, also advocate for him.”

  Siegfried was the son of Thietmar, Heinrich’s beloved tutor and Hatheburg’s uncle. He and Otto had completed their military training together. Their bond had fortified over the years. Thankmar was kin, yet the man’s support went to Otto.

  No one else came forward to declare themselves—only Heinrich’s three sons.

  The chamberlain then invited the contenders to make a speech, to declare their strengths, what they could offer should they become king.

  By early evening, the gathering partook of a simple meal. In the Great Hall, servants shuffled by with fragrant platters of bread, roasted venison, cheeses, and fruit. Afterwards, the candidates circulated amongst us, making assurances, reminding one of past victories and skills, speaking with as many as they could until the moment came to reassemble. Both Thankmar and Otto kept silent during the meal, answering my questions with a polite curtness.

  We returned to the council chambers to vote. The chamberlain made it clear only the dukes, margraves, counts, and archbishops were eligible. One by one, row by row, in orderly fashion, each man made his way to the front of the room to cast his ballot. A curtain had been hung in front of the alcove where Brother Rufus and the Bishop of Aachen recorded the votes. I studied each man as he walked out, eager to see if their gaze landed on the man they had voted for, but they gave away nothing. When the last man had cast his vote, Brother Rufus and the bishop tallied the results.

  Meanwhile, servants filled our goblets and tankards with wine and ale. Hushed, speculative conversations commenced, and the waiting did not ease the tension in the room. I sipped the sweet wine in my goblet to calm my racing thoughts.

  The chamberlain walked to the front of the dais with a piece of parchment clutched in his hand, and conversation ceased. He cleared his throat. “The ballots have been counted. By a majority vote and by the grace of God, Otto Liudolfing, Duke of Saxony, is proclaimed King!”

  A great cheer arose as men surrounded Otto to congratulate their new king.

  Heinz and Thankmar lingered on the perimeter of the circle, pushed aside by the growing crowd.

  August 1

  I AM PLUNGED into a vast silent forest. In the distance, I hear moans and wailing. I tremble as I look behind me. A ferocious bear rears up. Standing on his hind legs, he lets loose a horrendous roar. Terrified, I turn and run. Along the path, scattered bodies lay in the bushes to my right and left—men, women, and little children—their bodies bloodied and discarded, their eyes open and vacant. The dead increase in number as I run with the bear at my heels. The bear is responsible for the deaths. Blood splashes from large puddles, staining my feet and gown.

  I arrive at the king’s palace and rush through the double doors. As I go, the dead litter lavishly decorated rooms. Corpses lay in corners, in piles, in chairs, on tables. Blood smears every wall, on every tile, on ceiling and ground. There is a slamming sound behind me. I cease running and glance back. The bear’s head is trapped between two doors. The portal squeezes the life out of the bear until its head detaches and tumbles off. The grisly head rolls and comes to a halt at my feet, its jaws open and bits of bloodied flesh trapped in its teeth. I try to scream but cannot.

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, I sat with Heinz at a table in the antechamber of my private quarters. There came a quick rap on the door and Otto entered. We had not spoken since yesterday’s election.

  Heinz scowled at his brother.

  “I heard I might find you here.” A wary smile graced Otto’s face.

  “We have much to discuss,” Heinz answered.

  Without glancing away, Otto pulled up a chair and sat across the table from us. “Something weighs on your mind, little brother. Say what you must.” His voice was curt. He did not appreciate the way Heinz had addressed him.

  Heinz sat straight as a board. “Now that you have been elected, what role will I play in your kingdom?”

  “I hope you will stand at my side and help me rule as my closest advisor.”

  “Am I not to be given a duchy?” Heinz’s features tightened.

  “I have no duchy to grant you yet.” Otto rose, walked to a nearby table, and poured himself some ale from the silver pitcher. He quaffed it back and turned to face his brother. “I wish it were possible, but it can’t be done at this time. You must be patient. If I strip someone of his title and hand it to you, my brother, I’ll face rebellion. I can ill afford to allow this to happen – not when I am to be crowned king.”

  Heinz stroked his chin in contemplation. “That is not true. You could grant me Saxony.
You are king, and can pass it to me.”

  “I cannot. By tradition, it has always passed from father to son.”

  Heinz grimaced. “Sooner or later, I am entitled to something. I believe Father was wrong in giving you everything: the land, the titles, and leaving the rest of us with nothing.” Heat colored his cheeks.

  “Our father wasn’t perfect, Heinz, but he was a good man who did what he believed was right. You must not let yesterday’s loss affect you. Our father was wise, progressive, and shrewd. I share his point of view. I cannot make any changes.”

  “I remind you, dear brother, that now, more than ever, you need me. It is customary to reward a man’s fealty with land or title.” Heinz leaned forward. “You expect me to swear fealty to you and receive nothing in return? I refuse.”

  Otto’s face reddened. “Why do you threaten me? The crown is not yet on my head, yet you make demands!” He clutched the sides of the table, his knuckles white.

  “Calm yourselves.” I spoke as serenely as I could, as my sons glared at each other. “Such anger resolves nothing.” I understood their individual grievances, though my heart still held true to Heinz. “Otto, you must find a place for your brothers.”

  “You cannot deny me when you already have so much.” Heinz said.

  “And I say there will be rebellion if I do what you ask. You are young and there is plenty still for you to learn. At this point I won’t take any chances or risk our lives.”

  “You manipulated Father into making you his successor. It amazes me he was so blinded by your ambitions that you will not relinquish any authority to me.” A drop of spittle flew from Heinz’s mouth.

  Otto tensed in frustration. “I am not ready to make such a decision. You must be patient. I cannot yet grant you a duchy. In the meantime, prove yourself capable of leading.”

  “And how am I expected to prove myself with no lands or people to rule?” Heinz roared.

  “Heinz is as capable as you, Otto,” I added. “Your father taught him well, too.”

  “You can prove yourself by your actions. You can assist me and stand by my side. In time, when I am convinced of your ability, and when there is a safe opportunity to do so, I’ll consider granting you a duchy, but not until then.”

  “And if I do not accept your conditions? What then?”

  I caught Heinz’s hand. “Otto is right. He is asking you to wait, a wise decision on his part.” I knew Heinz’s anger was due to having lost the election because of his youth and inexperience.

  “I ask for your patience. Nothing more. Then we shall see.” Otto rose. “Those are my conditions. Accept them or not. The choice is yours.”

  “I’ll do as you ask, but I do not like it.” Heinz spoke with resignation then abruptly rose and left the room.

  Otto grabbed his tankard. When he saw it was empty, he slammed it on the table, and turned an icy glare on me.

  I started. “Do not blame your brother. I advocated for Heinz over you for the succession. I did so, not because I do not love you, but because I wanted Heinz to have equal consideration and opportunity. Keep your brothers close. Do what you can to gain their support.”

  I leaned towards him confidentially. “Last night I dreamt of a bear, and I believe it represented you. I have seen blood and death in the path before us. You will soon learn that when a king stands before his people, he stands alone. There are few a king can confide in.”

  “I do not disagree.”

  “Heinz can be a great asset to you. Last night’s dream disturbs me, my son. Do not wait too long to give your brothers what they ask – Thankmar his mother’s lands and Heinz a duchy. You will not regret it.”

  “First, you champion Heinz, and then you come to me asking for favors. At best, you should have remained neutral between us. It would have caused less scandal, less pain.”

  “I did what I believed to be right.”

  “And I must do what I think is best. I cannot risk making enemies, for that is what will happen if I have to oust one of the dukes to install Heinz into the position.” Otto squeezed my hand.

  I was disappointed, but I realized the wisdom of his intentions. “Do not wait too long. Who better to rule a duchy than one of the same blood?”

  “I thank you for your concern, but this is between my brother and me, a matter of politics. It does not concern you.”

  His words stung. So, this was how it was to be. Once a queen, now I was easily dismissed. “You are wrong. The welfare of my children and the kingdom will always be my concern. Do not permit your reign to be plagued with rifts and division.”

  “Thank you for your advice, but I repeat, you need not worry.”

  “You are king and Eadgyth queen. I pray the years of your reign will be different than those I have envisioned in my dream. Otherwise, you will suffer misfortune.”

  I glanced away. I did not want to break in his presence. Uneasily, I wrung my hands together in the long silk sleeves of my over-tunic and left the room.

  August 7

  Aachen

  THE DAY OF Otto’s coronation dawned with sunshine and warmth. I leaned back against the headrest of the chair beneath my bedchamber’s window and closed my eyes against the morning’s brightness. Here in the corridors and chambers of what was once Karl the Great’s palace, I felt Heinrich’s spirit. How I missed him.

  Behind me, on the bed, were the garments I would have worn for the coronation, but I would not go because of our disagreement; mourning was my official excuse. My hands rested on the armrests of my chair as I tried to clear my mind. The discord within my family had reached new heights. I felt the sting of helplessness and I could not amend it.

  New nightmares kept me from sleep; vivid, frightening scenes. This time I dreamt of Heinz. He was listening to a man whose back was all I could see. When the man turned around, it was Thankmar, his brooding face troubled, dark, demonic in appearance. Otto stood nearby. Sensing his presence, Thankmar and Heinz turned and chased him into the dark night until they disappeared into the mists. How long would this conflict between them last? I shook off the memory of the visions.

  I went to the window. Below, the coronation procession was forming behind Otto: noble guests and guards, bishops and dignitaries, dancers and musicians. Around my eldest son’s neck hung the talisman of Karl the Great – two disks of rock crystal enclosing a particle of the true cross. Otto wore a close-fitting tunic of purple silk, its hem embroidered with gold thread and studded with rubies and sapphires. Inside the Palatine Chapel, the Archbishops would present him with the royal insignia: the king’s sword and sword-belt, cloak, bracelets, and staff with scepter and diadem. In his left hand, he carried the Holy Lance. I shuddered.

  As protocol dictated, Eadgyth stood behind Otto. Brun, Gerberga and Giselbert, and Hedwiga waited in a line behind her. Where was Heinz? I searched the crowd. Why was he not present?

  The procession moved forward. Starting at the north end of the palace complex, they would make their way from the front of the Council Hall to the far south end and the Palatine Chapel. From beyond the palace walls the vast crowd cheered. Otto strode forth with head held high, his demeanor befitting a king. His father’s guards flanked him, their insignia flapping in the summer breeze.

  I watched until the last of the procession disappeared from my sight. I heaved a sigh then left my rooms in search of Heinz. When I arrived at his bedchamber, it was empty save for his body servant. The man bowed at my unexpected appearance.

  I glanced around the room. “Where is my son?”

  In his hands, the man held Heinz’s folded tunic. “Gone, Domina.”

  I frowned. “Gone where?”

  “Guards came in the middle of the night to place him under honorable arrest. Count Siegfried of Merseburg will guard him until after the coronation.”

  My legs nearly threatened to fail me as I hurried back to my private apartments. My hands shook as I paced backwards and forth to quell my flaring anger. I dropped on my knees at my prie-dieu an
d prayed.

  THAT NIGHT, THE din of revelry continued unabated from the Council Hall. Bouts of laughter, the dissonance of two hundred or more voices, lively music, and the jingle of bells from the ankles of the dancers, filled the air. I sat alone in my chamber reading my Psalter by candlelight.

  There came a gentle knock at my door.

  “Enter,” I beckoned.

  The door creaked open, and Gerberga appeared in the doorway. Torchlight from the corridor illuminated the golden threads of her purple silk over-tunic.

  “I hoped you were awake.” Gerberga closed the door and came to sit beside me. A gentle breeze blew in through the open window, carrying the fresh scent of the outdoors. Candles on the table between us cast a gentle light. She glanced at the many chests lined up in a row near the door. “You are leaving.”

  I fought back tears and grasped her hand. “I must return to Quedlinburg. Your father wanted an abbey established there for our kin.” I set the Psalter on the small table. “Besides, Eadgyth is queen. There is little for me to do here. Quedlinburg is now my home.”

  “Please, Mother, you must stay. We need you! If you leave, matters will deteriorate.” She now held both my hands tight in her grasp.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, Mother, I’m terrified.”

  “What has happened?”

  “The dukes are angry, as are several others.” She paused and inhaled as if to gather her strength. “On my way to the Garderobe, I noticed Giselbert speaking with other dukes. They seemed secretive and tense, so I hid behind a column and stopped to listen. I overheard them talking about Otto.”

  I leaned closer. “What did you hear?”

  “Arnulf of Bavaria, Herman of Swabia, and Eberhard of Franconia discussing Otto in a most disrespectful way. Giselbert too.”

  “With the exception of your husband, at one time or another, they caused trouble for your father. Disobedient, they refused to recognize Heinrich or send him their dues. With Otto on the throne, so young and less experienced, I am not surprised they contemplate moving against him. But Giselbert—”