From the white marble throne of Karl the Great, beneath the frescoed cupola, Otto watched his sister enter. Eadgyth, Heinz, and I, along with his closest courtiers, stood with him. Hedwiga glided toward us, blushing with excitement: eyes radiant, poise graceful, cerise lips parted in a slight smile.
With each elegant stride, she made her way to Hugh, who awaited her next to a table set with vellum, quill, and ink. The vision of my eldest child filled me with intense love and pride. She had grown into a strong capable woman, with a generous heart and a charitable spirit. Her golden silk over-tunic, studded with rubies and amethysts at the sleeves and hem, sparkled in the rotunda’s sunlit brilliance. Above the white veil on her head sat a coronet of gold studded with a rainbow of gems.
Hugh was tall and brawny. His dark brown hair fell in waves to his shoulders, and he bore a thick dark beard and mustache. I had come to know him as a shrewd man of calculating intelligence. His sense of fairness was renowned and respected throughout Francia. Hedwiga had spent nearly her entire life being educated in the confines of an abbey; her intelligence could rival his. I knew she would make a formidable wife and consort.
As she came to stand by his side, Hugh acknowledged her with a bow of his head. When he straightened, he towered over her. Hugh offered her his arm and together they sat at the table. They spoke their marriage vows and then signed the marriage documents. As they rose, the Canon blessed them, and the bride and groom came to kneel before the marble throne to receive Otto’s blessing. In his hand, he held the Holy Lance. I shuddered at the sight of the relic. If I had realized Otto intended to bring it, I would have discouraged him. Already, I blamed the dismal day on its appearance and prayed no ill luck would arise for the bride and groom.
The bridal pair looked at the high throne as Otto, in majestic vestments, descended the steps to bestow his blessing.
Thankmar sat at the far end of the row, his countenance stark. My heart lurched with pain at the sight of him. Heinz sat to my right, tensely avoiding my gaze. Never had this child of my heart opposed me, but now he had broken my heart. A vast distance sprawled between us, a breach so wide I knew not how to mend it.
Hedwiga and Hugh rose from their knees and turned to leave the chapel. From the balcony on the second level of the rotunda came the deep tones of Gregorian chant, sung by priests and acolytes. It commenced with a muted hum and then swelled into full-throated unison; a splendid resonance echoed against the rafters, rising to the clerestory, then waning back into silence. Hedwiga and Hugh stopped before me. I embraced my daughter first and then Hugh. A tear ran down my cheek as I watched the couple follow Otto and Eadgyth from the chapel to the Council Hall.
THE WEDDING FEAST continued long into the night. In the midst of the entertainment, I slipped away to the children’s bedchamber, my scarlet mantle trailing from my shoulders. At the creak of the door, the nursemaids awoke, but I gestured for them to return to sleep and went to the bed of my sleeping angels.
Otto’s and Eadgyth’s children, Liutgarde and Liudolf, shared the room with Gerberga’s children. Wiltrude, Gerberga’s youngest, slept in a cradle, both her hands above the blankets as if in prayer. I touched my fingertip to my lips, pressed it against her cheek, and then made the sign of the cross on her forehead.
Three-year-old Gerberga lay with her golden locks splayed across the pillow. I kissed her forehead, inhaling the sweet aroma of childhood, one of sunshine and wind, lavender and honey. The gift of grandchildren was my greatest joy.
I crossed the room to young Heinrich, who slumbered with one leg sprawled above the bedcovers. In his hand, he clutched a toy warrior. I pulled the blankets from beneath him and covered him. I ran my hand over his hair and placed a kiss on his forehead, too.
Alberade slept nearest to the window. At the age of eight, she had left babyhood behind. A moonbeam fell on her face. How she reminded me of her mother at the same age, with the same oval face and round cheeks. As I bent to kiss her cheek, she awoke.
“Großmutter?” she whispered.
“Yes, my love, it is I.”
Groggy with sleep, she tried to sit up.
“Hush, and go back to sleep. I did not mean to waken you.”
She observed my clothing. “Where are you going?”
At our whispers, Heinrich stirred and kicked his bedcovers off again, but remained asleep. I returned my attention to Alberade. “I must go to Engern for a while.”
A frown crossed her features, and she seemed about to protest.
I raised a finger to my lips, and then gave her warm hand a squeeze. “Can you do something for me while I am gone?”
She nodded, eager to comply.
“You must take care of your brother and sisters for me. Be a good help to your mother, too.”
“I always am.”
“I know, mein schatz. Now give me a kiss.” She sat up and threw herself into my arms. I held her tight then nuzzled her before tucking her back in bed. “Sleep.” She nestled deep in the pillow and I pulled the bedcovers to her chin.
“I can tell you are not happy to go.”
Her words brought me to a halt. Was it that obvious?
“I am always reluctant to leave my children and grandchildren, but I have many duties, as will you one day, when you become a wife and mother and grandmother. We must take care of the people in our lives as best as we can, especially those closest to us.”
She gave a tiny nod and closed her eyes.
As silently as possible, I crossed the room. Torches and candle lamps shed a gentle light in the upper corridor. As I approached the stairs leading to the main floor, raucous laughter and the hum of celebratory voices emanated from the Great Hall. The wedding feast had yet to end.
I continued through the gallery to the entrance hall, where I stepped into the bailey. I ascended the turret stairs to the ramparts.
I gazed in amazement at the sublime beauty of the scene before me, the dormant world bathed in the silvery light of the moon, the shadows of the trees lying across the road from the palace gates. Overhead, twinkling stars from a dark sky gave light to the world beneath. Alone on the battlements, each time I glanced at the heavens, a new bright star gazed down on me. I let my face sink into my hands and allowed my tears to fall.
My sons had struck me with blow after blow. How great my sorrow was on this night when I should have been joyful at my daughter’s wedding. I might have been less vexed if Heinz, whom I loved so much, had not joined with Otto against me. I thought about Thankmar, too. Rivalry kept them from enjoying brotherly peace. Would it never end?
I heard a sound, turned, and caught my breath. Leaning against the wall with folded arms, was Heinz.
My son observed me in the eerie stillness, his expression taut with unease.
I turned away to hide my tears.
“I sought a private moment with you but could not find one.” He came to stand next to me. “I hate what has happened.”
“Do you?”
“I would never willingly hurt you.”
“But you have.”
By his silence, I knew my words had stung him. “I need few resources for myself, but one cannot thwart God’s work without consequence. I am afraid that misfortune will strike you and Otto. I beseech you to try to change your brother’s mind.”
“Mother, we cannot.” Heinz stepped closer and touched my shoulder.
I stepped away. “Then by the hand of God, your actions will come with a cost. I am your mother and will love you until the day I draw my final breath. Search your heart and you will see the error you are making. Help your brother see it too. God will forgive you. I pray that He keeps you both under His protection.”
I turned into the turret archway and descended into the bailey, where my entourage awaited. My heart fluttered at the sound of his voice calling me, but I dared not turn back.
As if I were a hostage, Otto had ordered another large contingent of guards to escort me. Once, I had held the care of the kingdom in the palm of my
hand. Now I did not have the power to order myself a new gown.
My heart continued its racing tread, matching the horse’s quick hooves on the paving stones as I rode through the open gates, my cavalcade surrounding me. As I did, a change swept over me. I ceased to feel myself a queen. Instead, I felt small, insignificant, alone. The clang of the gates closing behind me echoed in my ears like a death knell. A cool morning breeze lifted my veil as I turned to gaze one last time at the grand palace that had once seemed too grand and opulent for my tastes. Sister Ricburg had warned me of forthcoming troubles with my sons; I blamed myself for failing to heed her.
My entourage surged forward and clattered through the streets. Prior to my marriage, I had yearned for the religious life. Now, no longer burdened by the duties of wife and queen, my sons forced me to return to cloistered life. The ache in my heart increased, and the sense of foreboding grew ever stronger inside me. I wished to dispel it, but could not.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A.D. 938
Engern
I HAD ALWAYS longed to live in an abbey, but now that it was so, my days did not always pass as tranquilly as expected. Visitors brought news of the kingdom. I learned that when King Rudolf of Burgundy died, Giselbert, Gerberga’s husband, unexpectedly swore fealty to the new King Louis, instead of Otto, agitating the flames of dissonance against his reign. The consequences would be long reaching and severe.
Contrary to Giselbert, Hedwiga’s husband, Hugh, was at odds with the young King Louis who was determined to regain possession of fortresses and lands formerly held in trust for him by Hugh. Rumor had it that Louis was preparing to invade Lotharingia, which aroused Otto’s wrath and called for his intervention. Thus the rifts between the men in my family grew wider.
Each day, it helped ease my worries if I accomplished small deeds by helping the laundress or rising early to bake bread. With the abbess’s aid, I organized candle-making and embroidery guilds for the poor women of Engern so they could sell the items at market to feed their families. Daily we came and went from chapel. It was my habit to abide in my quarters after Vespers, refusing my evening meal so I might donate it to the hungry who clamored at our gates the next morning. I wished I had more to offer—the resources I had once been blessed with—but I would try to give what I could nonetheless.
Sister Ricburg joined me in my quarters, and we sat together at a table beneath the shuttered window. Lighted tapers shed light. Outside, an evening star shone like a newly lighted lamp in a pale purple sky. The fleet-winged swallows had gone to rest. Low chanting arose from the cells; with their doors open, the nuns sang their prayers.
Worry creased Sister Ricburg’s forehead. “Domina, please, I beg you to eat more. You have grown thinner these past few months. To refuse so many meals will make you ill. It is a disgrace you are reduced to this. You have less than the poorest woman here.”
I rested my hand on the missal in my lap and gazed with affection at my dearest friend. “Do not blame my son. I should have listened to you regarding Otto’s warnings to curtail my spending to appease him, but I did not. I do not regret the loss of possessions. The fact that my beloved Heinz sided with Otto against me troubles me.”
“You fought for him to be king. For him to treat you so...” Her voice faded.
“Do not judge him so harshly. I cannot bear to hear bitter words spoken against him. It pains me to realize my sweetest stands against me, but if he hadn’t, it would have further strained his relations with Otto.”
A glint of admiration vanquished Sister Ricburg’s tears. “It is I who should be comforting you.”
“Do not think badly of my sons. Rather, pray for them because I fear that God will punish them for thwarting God’s work.”
WHEN THE FIRST leaves began to turn into the brassy colors of autumn, Eadgyth came to see me. I received her in the Calefactory, a room with large windows overlooking the surrounding valley. Her face was somber as she rushed to embrace me. Was something amiss?
“What has happened?” I invited her to sit in a padded chair near the hearth.
Eadgyth inhaled a deep breath. From a pouch hanging from her waist, she withdrew a gold torc and pressed it into my palms, her hands lingering over mine for several moments before withdrawing them.
I stared at the precious item. Thankmar had worn it since the days of his youth, and I had admired it on the last day we spoke in the Thermae at Aachen. I clutched it to my heart, the metal cutting into my palms. I brought it to my face, rocking back and forth, my eyes squeezed tight, murmuring, “No, please no. Why did it have to happen? Why did he have to die?”
Eadgyth wrinkled her brow. “You knew?”
“I dreamt of his death before I left Aachen, but did not wish to believe it.”
She paled.
I opened my palm. The sight of the torc blurred beneath my tears. “Tell me what happened.”
“There is trouble in the kingdom. The dukes are angry. First, Otto removed their right to nominate bishops. Then more tensions rose when a Saxon named Bruning, who held Hellmern in feudal tenure for Duke Eberhard of Bavaria, refused to pay Eberhard proper respect. In retaliation, Eberhard burned the entire town of Hellmern and the farms surrounding it, murdering all who lived there. Furious at Eberhard, Otto fined him horses to the value of one hundred talents of silver, the heaviest penalty ever imposed, and for anyone who aided Eberhard, Otto ordered them to appear in shame and disgrace by carrying dogs in their arms. To make matters worse, Franconia has burst into open revolt.”
“What does this have to do with Thankmar?”
“Thankmar marched into Merseburg and seized his mother’s lands. He then joined Eberhard in rebellion. Heinz supported Otto, but Thankmar and Eberhard captured Heinz at Eresburg.”
I gasped. How had things deteriorated so?
“They led him through the streets in bonds like a slave. When Otto learned of Heinz’s humiliating treatment, he marched his army into Eresburg to capture Thankmar. The citizens surrendered in fear. Thankmar fled to the church of Saint Peter for sanctuary. Otto and his men believed Thankmar had taken Heinz there with him. Without Otto’s knowledge, in an attempt to rescue their overlord, Heinz’s men struck the door of the church with their hatchets and rushed in. They found Thankmar standing before the altar on which he had laid down his sword and necklace.”
“A sign that he was surrendering to his king and brother.”
“But the soldiers did not understand; they had found their enemy and ran to kill him.” Eadgyth paused, pulling at a thread on her sleeve. “Thankmar resisted, and he fought with courage, but a spear thrown through a window near the altar pierced him in the back and he died.”
I raised the torc to my lips, to my cheek, and my tears fell. Oh, how I wished to believe Thankmar was not gone. I recalled my dream—Thankmar drenched in blood at the foot of an altar. His death had happened exactly as envisioned. Take this curse of prophetic visions from me, God, I beseech you. Why must I dream of death, only to be denied the ability to save?
“He is buried at Obermarsberg.”
Amid the swirling grief, panic arose within me. “And what of Heinz?”
“Heinz was freed by Eberhard. For a while, the kingdom was peaceful again. Then Heinz demanded Otto reward him with a duchy.”
“Heinz is the king’s brother, he offered his support. It is natural he should rule in some way to aid the king.”
“Otto denied him again.”
“Why?” I dried my tears with my sleeve. “What possible reason could he have for doing so?”
“Otto said Heinz had not yet proven his loyalty. They quarreled terribly. Heinz stormed off with threats to raise a rebellion. We have since learned that Heinz has aligned himself with the new king of Francia, Louis.”
I gazed into the fire. Eadgyth came to hold me in an embrace. My husband’s eldest son was dead at the hands of his half-brothers. My family was crumbling. I gathered my composure. “Otto fares badly as king.”
Ea
dgyth released me and sat. She too, studied the flames. We did not speak for a long time until she finally broke the quiet.
“It is as if a curse has befallen us. Otto has suffered innumerable blows. His once triumphant victories have turned into defeats and his other affairs suffer in turn. Unusually warm weather caused crops to fail. I fear the poor yield at harvest will give rise to hunger in the upcoming year. A newly discovered mine, rich with silver, collapsed killing twenty men. A plague of fever spread throughout Aachen, killing thousands.”
“It is exactly as I feared. God’s wrath!” I gripped Thankmar’s torc anew.
“Everything he does turns to failure. It is as if God has taken vengeance on him on your behalf.” She turned away from the flames to face me. “I have cautioned him, tried to make him understand, but he will not listen. Nor does he heed the warnings of his military advisors.”
“He is young and stubborn. In folly he drives his brothers to set themselves against him. Eadgyth, I fear for him, for my family.”
“Can you reason with him?” Eadgyth pleaded. “He might listen to you. Please, return with me to Aachen.”
My heart lifted with hope. “Did Otto send you?”
Eadgyth shook her head. “I came of my own accord, to bring you news of Thankmar’s death. It is only right you should learn of it from family.”
“You do me great honor, and I am grateful.” How I wanted to return home, to help resolve the rifts between my sons, and share my own political experiences with them. My intervention might prevent further disaster, but they had sent me away. “My son did not ask that I return, did he?”
Eadgyth looked away. “No.” She glanced at me again hopefully. “But I am certain he will be happy to greet you. Despite the quarrel between you, in his heart he loves you. Please, come home. Otto needs you. I need you.”
The Prophetic Queen (Women's Biographical Historical Fiction): The Tumultuous Life of Matilde of Ringelheim Page 39