“You do have a choice. I am your brother and I gladly offer you my fealty. If you fail to do right by me, you will regret it.”
“You dare threaten me?”
“Take it how you wish, but know this—under no circumstances will I cease to seek what is mine.” A pause ensued. “If you are generous and fair to me, it will secure a strong accord between us.” Thankmar’s voice rose in impatience. “Please give me my mother’s Merseburg lands.”
More silence passed.
“So be it,” Thankmar said. “Mark my words, the day will come when I will march against you to claim my maternal lands. Soon, my standard will fly and yours shall be burned, its ashes loosed to the winds.”
I stepped back from the door as Thankmar stormed from the room. His face scarlet, he ground to a halt when he saw me.
“Thankmar!” I reached out to stop him.
In the arched passageway’s torchlight, his scowl faded. But pain and frustration burned in his eyes; wounds years in the making, a hurt that had become larger than life. My heart broke for him. He had lived on the periphery of family as an outcast.
Thankmar gave my arm a gentle squeeze. Then he strode away, head lowered.
With pursed lips, I entered Otto’s apartments. He glanced up but did not seem surprised. “How much did you overhear?”
“Enough to understand you are making a grave error.”
“It is no mistake. Father was adamant Merseburg remain under our rule.”
“Many a time, I argued this with your father. You take unnecessary risks, Otto. Thankmar asks for so little, only that which should be his by blood. A tiny spark is all that is needed to ignite dry kindling. Please, I beg you to reconsider. Give Thankmar his mother’s lands. If you do not, I fear the consequences will be more than this family can bear. I have envisioned much trouble ahead.” The words of my prophetic dream burned through my mind like a firestorm.
“It is late, Mother, and tomorrow is Hedwiga’s wedding feast.” Otto turned away to dismiss me.
I could not leave it at that. “There will come a day, Otto, where you will regret refusing Thankmar’s request. No good will ever come of denying him his birthright. You have much to learn if you wish to be respected for ruling wisely and with fairness.”
“I do not wish to speak of this anymore.”
“One day, you will repent of this decision.”
He kept his back turned to me and refused to answer.
I made to leave.
“Mother,” Otto called out to stop me.
I spun around.
“I have arranged for you to enter the abbey at Engern. You have already begun its renovations and I have set aside the funds necessary for you to oversee its completion. I hope that pleases you.”
“You have arranged! Am I to have no say in the matter? I belong here, at Saint Servatius, the house founded for the women of our family. You would deny me even that?”
“I thought it would please you to be at Engern and complete what you started. Besides, the abbey there is large, comfortable, and a few days’ journey from both Quedlinburg and Aachen.”
I believed my son sought to diminish my influence within my family. Yet, it was true that Quedlinburg abbey was complete and there would be little for me to do there. I had indeed begun the work at Engern and needed to see it through. Still, I was torn. How could I go anywhere when the threat of discord hovered over my sons? If I remained here, then I might keep a watchful eye over them. “And if I refuse?” I posed the question void of emotion.
“You cannot. My guards will take you.”
“You mean, as your prisoner.”
“That has never been my intention.”
“No? Yet, it is the truth. Otherwise, I should be free to come and go.”
His cheeks turned crimson.
“First you made me renounce the possessions your father bequeathed me. Now you force me to go to Engern. You are piling one grave error upon another. You walk a path contrary to the good will of God. It will only bring trouble. I shall pray for you. May God send you light before it is too late.”
It did not strike me until I was half way down the corridor that I had forgotten to ask his permission to sell the relic.
I ENTER THE nave of an unfamiliar church. Fatigue slows my steps as I follow a trail of blood to the altar. Although I am afraid, I cannot stop. The blood drenches my bare feet as I draw ever closer to the altar. A ray of light bathes the base of the altar in glorious brilliance. On the altar rests a golden torc, thick and ornate. I looked back at the pool of blood. A ripple forms at its center. I hold my breath, unable to move. From within its depths, the tip of a finger rises, an entire hand, and then a brawny arm emerges. I want to flee, but cannot. I realize I am to witness who will arise. A face appears and the body beneath adopts a sitting position. It is a man, so covered in blood, I am unable to identify him.
I watch, transfixed, as he rises to a standing position before me. An arrow protrudes from his neck. The blood pours off his face revealing a stark white face, eyes wide and empty. My fear turns to horror. I know him well. It is Thankmar! He stretches both arms towards me, pleadingly. I back away, stumbling to the ground.
DRENCHED IN SWEAT, I sat up in bed. My heart raced as my eyes adapted to the dim morning light. With every fiber in my body, I wanted to deny what the dream had revealed, but I could not. I must find the strength and courage to warn Thankmar. I summoned my maidservants to help me wash and dress, and then went in search of my stepson.
I found him in the Thermae partaking of the warm water. When he saw me, he waded to the edge of the pool. As our eyes met, the blood-filled vision flooded back, but I forced it away, fighting to keep my expression calm. Except for his dark hair, I could see Heinrich in Thankmar’s features. A man of thirty years, Thankmar was striking and strong, yet forever on the periphery of our family. Without doubt, I loved him.
“I came to speak with you,” I began.
Sadness crossed his features. He leaned back and floated in the center of the pool, arms sculling back and forth, watching me. “You have bolstered my stance over Merseburg many times before with little success. What can you say now that will change anything?”
I knew that the frustration and bitterness in his voice was not directed at me, so I did not respond.
Thankmar swam to the pool’s edge, placed both hands on the side, and raised himself effortlessly from the water. He wrapped a drying cloth around his dripping breeches. Around his neck, he wore a beautiful gold torc, filigreed and enameled and studded with gems.
We made our way to two nearby chairs and sat. “I am sorry to have failed you.”
His eyes widened for a moment, then warmth glimmered within them. “You, above all others, have shown me nothing but love and kindness.” He reached for my hand. “But I doubt there is anything you can do or say that will sway my brother.”
“Nevertheless, I shall try.”
“You need not waste your time on my behalf. You have more than enough trouble. I hate how my brothers are treating you.” Thankmar dried his face with a cloth hanging from the armrest of his chair.
“God’s work can always be done. I merely have to choose other methods.” I gave him a tiny smile. “Thankmar, I did not come here to discuss me. I came to speak of you.”
“You need not worry about me. Like a cat thrown from a roof, I will land on my feet.”
How untrue. I pushed down the grief threatening to surface. “I have long admired your courage and strength. You have persevered even when life treated you unfairly.” I wanted to speak a million words, yet they would not form in my mouth. How could I tell him I had dreamed of his death? “I came to bid you farewell.”
He tilted his head in bewilderment. “Hedwiga’s wedding feast is tomorrow. Surely you will not leave before then?”
“No. Rest assured, I would not miss my daughter’s celebration, but I will depart for Engern early the next morning to enter the abbey there. In this way I can continu
e with my charitable devotions without the wealth I have been used to.” I paused, uncertain as to what to say next. “I do not know when we will meet again.” If ever, I thought.
“I will come visit you as often as I can.” His words were kind and sincere.
“I would like that.” I glanced away. “I ask one thing from you, Thankmar.”
“What is it?” His voice bore the richness of his love.
“I do not need anything. Rather, I need you to do something for yourself.”
He grasped my hand and leaned forward, waiting.
“Care for yourself. Do not anger your brothers or work against them in any way. Rather, support Otto. He is young and impetuous. I do not doubt he will make his fair share of mistakes, but be a good advisor to him. Have patience and aid him to make good decisions as any elder brother would. His heart will soften as the burdens of the kingdom come to bear fully upon him.” I desperately wanted to believe my words of caution might alter his fate.
Thankmar released my hand and slumped back in his chair. He gazed into the depths of the pool for several long moments. “You ask too much of me. I can never abandon my goal of possessing my mother’s lands.”
“Not even if I tell you that money, land, and power will not bring you happiness?”
He inhaled a deep breath and shook his head.
A halo of pain squeezed my heart. “Do not fight, nor initiate any battle. Do not miss an opportunity to go to church and confess. This is all I ask of you.”
He pressed his brows together. “What are you trying to tell me?” A spark of apprehension appeared in his expression.
“I fear harm may come to you if you are in discord with your brothers.”
“You had a dream?”
I looked down at my hands. “Yes.”
He grew quiet.
“Take care of yourself,” I continued. “Do not invite danger or take unnecessary risks. Mothers worry for their sons, and you are a son to me; one I love dearly.”
“As I love you.” His voice trembled.
I rose and he did the same. We embraced and I clung to him with all my might. I inhaled the scent of his damp skin, caressed his face, and seared his features into my mind. In the depths of my heart, the truth lay coiled like a snake—this might be the last time I would hold him. “I will think of you every day. Send word to me when you can.” Tears blurred my vision, and I turned away. With each step, I felt his eyes upon me. I walked out the front doors of the Thermae and ran to the Palatine Chapel weeping.
GRAY SKIES AND the threat of rain marked Hedwiga’s wedding day. Upon awakening, I met the prospective bride and Eadgyth in the second floor chapel for prayers. Afterwards, we broke our fast in the queen’s chambers. Little had changed since my having relinquished these quarters. The same tapestries lined the walls. The simple writing table still sat beneath the window with a neat stack of parchment and an accoutrement of writing quills and clay containers for ink. The bed was dressed with different bed furs, linens, and pillows. The room held sweet memories of the treasures of my marriage and whispered to me of Heinrich’s love, stirring poignant memories: the many dreams we shared in the vigor of our youth as we rested after a day of hunting or a long walk among the hills.
I now entered as a guest and made my way to the casement where I drank in the fresh sweetness of the spring and gazed at the familiar landscape, misty and cool with the damp weather. It seemed forever since I last stood here with my husband’s arms around me. How I missed him. The heartache had yet to heal. Only in the afterlife would his arms clasp me to his chest once more. As long as I lived, so would my grief.
The conflict with my sons and my fear for Thankmar had kept me from restful sleep. On the morrow, I would depart for the abbey at Engern. I both treasured and dreaded these last moments with Eadgyth and Hedwiga, uncertain of what the future would hold.
Through my example, I had endeavored to teach them charity, the running of a noble household, how to be a good wife and mother. Gently spoken words to their husbands might influence them to avert a battle. Compassion and attention to the people could earn respect.
Pleasant banter filled the antechamber as we shared a meal of dried fruit, honeyed milk, and bread. Hedwiga had become a graceful young woman with long golden tresses cascading in ringlets. Not even her veil disguised her beauty. Blue eyes glimmered beneath long eyelashes. Cheeks round and lips pink and full, she had an angelic appearance. To my dismay, she looked pale and barely touched her food; a certain sign of a nervous bride.
“You must eat more,” I urged, recalling my nerves and the humiliation of vomiting on my bridegroom on my wedding night. “You do not want to swoon during the signing of the marriage documents.”
“On the day I wed Otto,” Eadgyth said, “my legs trembled so much that I quivered like a fragile leaf in the wind. Everything here was different from what I was accustomed to in England. And I had a difficult time adjusting.” Her gaze shifted in my direction briefly.
My rapport with Eadgyth had been fraught with trouble from the start. At first, her decadence had conflicted with my tendency towards austerity, but we had formed a fragile bond—until our bitter quarrel over my support for Heinz as king. Our past troubles lingered like a scabbed-over wound between us, reopened by the slightest rub. I wished to prevent any future discord between us. “I have heard much praise regarding your work as queen, Eadgyth. The people admire you for your generosity and I am proud of all you have achieved.”
At first, my words startled her. She glanced at her trencher for a moment, and then back at me. “It was through your example that I learned to be a good queen. I am sorry we quarreled.”
I regarded her with surprise. “I regret it too. We cannot always expect to agree; but I am glad we can work together for the good of the people and our family.”
“As am I.” Eadgyth broke apart a crust of bread and beheld Hedwiga. “From the first moment I met Otto, I sensed we were meant to be together. When I spoke my wedding vows, it was with a calm tranquility, and the wedding night was more pleasant than I expected.”
Hedwiga’s cheeks reddened.
“You have nothing to fear, Hedwiga,” I added. “You have been adequately prepared for your responsibilities and are more than capable. I have purchased some items for your new home: tapestries, tableware, and the like. Servants are already preparing them for you to take with you. Know your chamberlain well, and you shall encounter no problems.”
“You have taught me much, Mama.”
“Then you must trust yourself.”
We fell into an odd silence. Not one of us dared speak of it, yet we were aware the winds of discontent stirred against Otto’s kingship, even from within our family—Gerberga’s husband Giselbert, and Thankmar. Rumors abounded of other disgruntled dukes. It might fall to the women of our family to wield our influence and attempt to keep the peace. I turned my attention to Hedwiga. “Are you well?”
She nodded. “My entire life will change after today, but in my heart I know Hugh is a good man. It is the thought of leaving behind my home and loved ones that makes me sad.”
“Fear not, Hedwiga, it is not so bad,” Eadgyth interjected. “I, too, faced the same worries, but I discovered new friends and a wonderful family. As will you.”
I swirled my goblet and studied the pomegranate juice inside. “It is the fate of women to move from their homes to their husband’s. Though we must part, we can write to each other, and each Easter, we will continue to gather in Quedlinburg. This is how we can hold our family together. You will be content in your new life as Countess of Paris. Open your heart and embrace your new husband. You’ll experience the joys of caring for a family of your own.”
Her countenance relaxed. “I love you, Mama.”
“As I do you.” I continued cautiously. “I have some news to share. Tomorrow I leave for Engern to enter the abbey there.”
A long silence ensued. No doubt they knew it stemmed from my troubles with Otto and Heinz. E
adgyth had been pleading my case to her husband each night, but to no avail. Hedwiga glanced away.
“This is your home, too,” Eadgyth said. “I long for your support. I wish you could stay.”
Worry creased Hedwiga’s brow. “What of Quedlinburg and the abbey there? Your steady presence will be missed.”
“Eadgyth, with Otto’s help, will manage Quedlinburg abbey. It will be in the best of hands.” I gave her a reassuring look.
Eadgyth’s cheeks reddened while she fidgeted, evidence the disharmony between me and my sons troubled her.
“Do not feel sorry for me,” I said. “To tell the truth, I look forward to the peace and tranquility of a cloister.”
“Will you take the veil?” Hedwiga asked.
“I am not certain. The serenity will be good for my soul. I remember how much I loved being at the abbey with my grandmother before I married.”
I saw concern on Hedwiga’s face and shame on Eadgyth’s. It broke my heart. “Please be happy for me. To live in an abbey is something I have longed for. Now I am free to do so. Engern is large with numerous guest quarters so you can visit often.”
They both nodded, and I hoped I had eased their worries. Pushing back my chair, I rose. “Come, it is time to dress our beautiful bride.”
Our cheerful chatter resumed as we made our way to Hedwiga’s chambers. In truth, though, my heart was far from cheerful. A dark dread about the future burned in my soul.
TRUMPETS BLARED AND lutes played when Hedwiga passed through the massive bronze doors into the octagonal-shaped rotunda of the Palatine Chapel. Purple marble columns imported from Rome and Ravenna defined the space. Torchlight reflected off the gold and silver ornaments on the marble walls and the solid brass railings and doors. On graceful stems, the first lilies of spring gleamed white in the shadows of the sacred place. Doorkeepers dressed in opulent clerical robes were poised at each entrance. This most beloved chapel housed a great number of sacred vessels of gold and silver. Most cherished of all, locked in a vault nearby were the four great relics: the cloak of the Blessed Virgin, the swaddling-clothes of the Infant Jesus, the loin-cloth worn by Christ on the Cross; and the cloth upon which lay the head of St. John the Baptist after his beheading.
The Prophetic Queen (Women's Biographical Historical Fiction): The Tumultuous Life of Matilde of Ringelheim Page 38