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

by Mirella Sichirollo Patzer

  Knowing that Otto had not asked for my return wounded me. But if I returned of my own accord, I feared he would be angry. In Eadgyth’s countenance, I could see the burdens of a queen, a weight I could understand. Perhaps I could help her.

  I rose and went to the window. Beyond the abbey gates was another world, one my sons had forced me to abandon. I turned to face her. “I’m sorry, but I cannot.”

  Eadgyth’s shoulders slumped. “You are my last hope,” she whispered.

  “Otto must be the one to summon me. He must want my help. Unless he does, nothing will change.”

  “Without your intervention, matters will worsen.”

  “Perhaps so, but I have learned in life that unless one is willing, one cannot be guided. The lessons of kingship do not come easily, but they are for him to discover. No one can do it for him.”

  “And if he loses all?” Eadgyth’s voice trembled with fear.

  “If it is God’s will, then so be it.”

  “You did not want him to be king.” Her cheeks reddened. “Surely you do not delight in his failures?”

  “By no means. It is no secret I believed Heinz would have made a better king, but I accepted what fate decreed and I was prepared to uphold Otto. I would not wish any harm to come to any of my children. Until Otto seeks me out himself, any efforts on my part would be for naught. Only he can make things right. Can you not you see?”

  Eadgyth put her head in her hands and sobbed.

  Her grief tore at me. Did I have the strength to watch helplessly while my sons destroyed themselves?

  “I believe this is God’s wrath; my sons have thwarted God’s work. Until Otto and Heinz set things right, trouble will continue to pursue them.”

  Eadgyth sniffed. “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  Her expression filled with despair, Eadgyth said, “Yes.”

  “Only you, my dear, can influence your husband.”

  “But I have tried and failed. He listens to no one.”

  “Then you must persist. Do not relent. When one argues for God and the betterment of all, one is never wrong. The kingdom’s peace and that of this family rests upon your shoulders. I will pray that God will be with you and open his eyes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A.D. 939

  DAYS TURNED INTO weeks, weeks to months, and almost before I realized it, an entire year had passed. At the abbey, time slipped away in a constant cycle of prayer, duty, and charity. Having shed the protocols of my royal status like a tattered old garment, I enjoyed working alongside the other women in the kitchen, garden, or laundry, in addition to administering the abbey’s renovations. Cloister walls sheltered us from the troubles of the world, but beyond our gates, people suffered. Each night I dreamed of calamities, of the Lance and its destructive powers, clear warnings of disaster coming to fruition, one by one.

  Eadgyth sent frequent letters apprising me of my family and of the increasing troubles plaguing Otto. Lotharingian nobles had turned on Otto and swore fealty to King Louis of Francia. The duchy my husband had fought so hard to win was in danger of being lost. Most distressing, Heinz was in open revolt. With every loss, Otto’s power diminished. A brutal winter followed by excessive rains in the spring and summer forced crops to fail again. Famine gripped the land. A deadly pestilence razed entire towns and villages, killing thousands upon thousands. The kingdom had never been in such a sorry state.

  Not all tidings I received were bad. One morsel of information heartened me. Hedwiga was happily married to Hugh and she was safely delivered of a daughter whom they named Beatrice. Such tidings sustained me, giving me hope.

  One cold winter morning, as Sister Ricburg and I sat by the hearth in the Calefactory embroidering an altar cloth, the porteress entered to announce a visitor.

  “Who is it?”

  The porteress shrugged. “He did not say, only that he had an urgent message for the dowager queen.”

  I rose and glanced at Sister Ricburg. “Please come with me,” I said, inviting her should I have need of her support. Together we hurried to the entrance hall where a man sat in a chair, both hands clasping a cup with steam rising from it. He wore a fur-lined mantle against the cold. His cheeks were ruddy, and melting frost on his beard left behind droplets of water. At my appearance, he set the vessel onto a side table, rose, and bowed. With hands chafed from the elements, he removed a folded sheet of vellum from a leather pouch at his waist. “For you, Domina, from the Queen. I have been requested to forewarn you the news is not good.”

  Trepidation squeezed the breath from my lungs as I studied the folded document. “Do you require a response?”

  “No, Domina. Now that the document is in your hands, my task is complete.”

  “You must be fatigued,” I said to the messenger, and then turned to the porteress. “Please escort our guest to a receiving room and ask for a hot meal and a fire in the hearth to warm him.”

  With a gesture, the porteress invited the man to follow her. I waited for them to disappear down the corridor, and then ripped open Eadgyth’s seal and unfolded the vellum. My eyes devoured each word.

  Most revered mother of my husband, the King,

  I pray this letter finds you in good health. It saddens me to bring you distressing tidings. Matters in the kingdom have worsened. There has been a rebellion at Birten, near Xanten. Furnished with money and a vast army by King Louis of Francia, Heinz, Eberhard of Franconia, and Giselbert of Lotharingia have rebelled against Otto.

  Otto’s army waited on one side of the Rhein River while ferryboats began the long process of carrying his men across the banks. When Otto and approximately one hundred of his men had landed on the opposite shore, rebels led by Heinz and Giselbert awaited them. Outnumbered, and divided by the wide river from the greater part of his army, Otto raised the Holy Lance to the sky as the agitators fell upon them. My husband and his courageous men defended themselves against overwhelming odds. Despair gave them strength. The enemy, at last, began to yield, and Otto’s soldiers bellowed at the enemy to flee and save themselves. The rebels heeded the warning.

  The battle ended in victory for Otto, who killed and captured hundreds of rebels. Heinz, Giselbert, and Eberhard managed to flee, eluding capture.

  Heinz fought valiantly and killed a good number of imperial warriors. I regret to inform you that the strike of a sword against his left arm severely wounded him. Heinz survived and fled to Merseburg, finding refuge behind the town gates.

  Otto’s men searched both banks of the Rhein for Eberhard and Giselbert, both of whom had been plundering the countryside. Otto’s soldiers came upon them as they waited to be ferried across the river. When the rebel warriors became aware of the impending attack, they fled, abandoning Eberhard and Giselbert. Eberhard fought stubbornly, only to die exhausted by his wounds. It pains me to tell you Giselbert rushed to an arriving boat, but drowned when it sank under the weight of too many men trying to climb aboard at once. Gerberga received the news of her husband’s death with fortitude.

  Otto’s troops blockaded Merseburg. Heinz resisted, but lacking food and water, he surrendered after two long and weary months. He confessed to conspiring with Eberhard and Giselbert. The wound on his arm is a serious injury, the sword having sliced through to the bone, but by the grace of God, he yet survives. Otto sent his best healers to tend to it. He spared Heinz’s life and gave him thirty days to swear his fealty or leave the kingdom. Many of the rebels yielded, but Heinz did not. Instead, he fled to Gerberga in Chevremont, but she would not open her gates to him. “When it is known you are here,” she told him, “the King's wrath will spread like a flood over the land. I am not such a fool as to pay for your misdeeds.” Rejected by his sister, Heinz fled to the court of King Louis of Francia, who gave him sanctuary.

  Otto may have won these two battles, but he has lost many too.

  Domina, I continue to plead to my husband—for peace and for him to allow you to return to us. For the sake of your sons a
nd this family. I beseech you: your influence, wisdom, and experience can help set things right.

  With reverence and endearment, Eadgyth

  The vellum quivered in my hands. Crumpling the page, I stumbled to the nearest chair and hung my head. My worst fears had come true. One son battled another for power, locked in a deadly struggle from which there could be one victor. My daughter’s husband, Giselbert, was dead, and Thankmar, too. How many more men had to die before there would be peace? Gerberga was now a widow, her children fatherless, and Heinz was brutally wounded. I prayed his injury would not be mortal. So much discord, and I, confined within this abbey, helpless.

  Distressed over the welfare of my sons, time sorely tested me. Then one day, I heard a resplendent procession was making its way towards the abbey. Church bells tolled as the retinue proceeded through the streets of Engern. From the window of my quarters, I watched a cavalcade of imperial guards bearing the standard of the king approach the abbey gates. There must have been a hundred men dressed in the king’s gold and red.

  An urgent pounding at my door startled me. It was Sister Ricburg.

  “Brun is here with Wilhelm and Duke Herman of Swabia, and a contingent of bishops and the king’s wisest advisors.”

  We rushed through the passages, down stairwells, and into the courtyard. Brun stepped forward to embrace me. We had not set eyes on each other for more than a year, since Hedwiga’s wedding. At fifteen years, he was tall, and had begun to fill out. He wore a simple, unadorned over-tunic. Behind him came my grandson, eleven-year-old Wilhelm.

  Herman of Swabia hailed me next. He bowed formally. “Domina,” he rasped in his gravelly voice.

  “I am happy to greet you,” I responded warily.

  Brun beamed. “I bring news from Otto.”

  “I am eager to hear it. Come inside and we can speak there.”

  I led them into the abbey. Already, there was a flurry of activity as nuns carried food and drink into the receiving rooms.

  As everyone settled around a large table, Brun pulled me aside and handed me a letter. “Otto wanted me to place this into your hands.”

  Eagerly, I broke the seal.

  Venerable Domina,

  By treating you unfairly, I fear I have brought God’s wrath on us. In order to make amends and regain your favor, I ask you to forgive me, and beseech you to return home. I submit myself, and everything that is mine, to your advisement. Whatever has been unfairly seized shall be restored to you. Nothing shall bring me pleasure until we can be together again.

  Otto, your son, and King

  I grew light-headed and looked back at Brun, incredulous. His grin widened. The sight of him reawakened an ache in my heart, one I had suppressed far too long—the yearning to embrace my children and grandchildren, to be amongst them again, to hear their laughter, and watch them grow. My time at the abbey had isolated me from those I loved. It took several moments to gather my composure. “What caused your brother’s change of heart?”

  “I am not certain, but Eadgyth had much to do with it. She wanted me to give you this. She said it would explain all to you.” Brun removed another letter from the pouch at his waist. Again, I broke the seal and eagerly read the familiar handwriting.

  Domina,

  It is with great joy that I send good tidings. My husband has come to realize how much we need you here in Aachen. As his every endeavor failed, he became afraid his actions against you and your Godly work brought curses and misfortunes that affected the entire kingdom. Priests and other leading men came to speak with me privately, urging me to encourage Otto to recall you honorably to the kingdom. They, too, believed this would bring restoration. I spoke to my husband and suggested that if he wished to dispel his discouragement and sadness, and sweep away the troubles of the kingdom, he must recall you and permit you to occupy first place in the kingdom. Only then could we expect our affairs to prosper and matters to return to their former condition. Stricken with repentance, and with scarcely a moment’s delay, he sent his most trusted advisors to escort you home. I shall prepare your royal apartments and await your arrival with joy. God be with you on your journey home.

  Eadgyth

  “What say you, Mother? Your family loves you and needs you, as does the entire kingdom. Otto commanded me to persuade you and prohibited me from returning home without you. Along with these lords and clerics, we are to escort you to Grone, where Otto and Eadgyth will meet you.” Brun waited for my answer.

  My scrutiny roamed the crowded room, with its expectant faces. Forgiveness filled my heart and I resolved never again to dwell upon the pain my sons had caused me. My family had entered a new era; perhaps, with God’s help, it was not too late for restoration. I was to be a dowager queen with full authority, to work alongside Eadgyth in service to the people. For me, there could have been no greater gift.

  “Yes, I will come home!” I exclaimed, letting Brun sweep me into his embrace.

  THE BELLS OF the solitary church in Grone clanged in unison, heralding my arrival under a brooding sky. A large entourage bearing imperial standards rode toward us. In the forefront rode Otto and Eadgyth.

  Otto’s eyes met mine as he reined to a halt and dismounted, then helped Eadgyth down. I remained mounted with my breath trapped in my chest. I expected him to offer me his hand to help me dismount. Instead, before I could greet him, he fell on bended knee and bowed his head.

  He glanced up, his countenance solemn. “Mother, I am heartily sorry. You are the glory of my glory, my solace in each hardship. Inflict whatever punishment you wish upon me, so that I may be reconciled to your favor. I have sorrowed over the wrongs I have done to you. Ever since I seized your dower lands and possessions, my military successes have turned into setbacks, my strength has been shattered, and my enemies have prevailed against me. I beg your forgiveness, as well as God’s.”

  “Help me descend.” My hands and voice shook.

  Otto rose and I slipped into his arms, giving him the kiss of peace. All bitterness between us vanished as he clutched me tight. With all the joy of a mother’s love, I pulled back, my hands cradling his tear-stricken face. “Do not grieve. God will forgive.” I yearned to comfort his supplicant heart. “You are not solely to blame. I accept my fault in the matter. If I were blameless, you would have done nothing to oppose me. God grant us both forgiveness.”

  At those words, Eadgyth wept, and I opened my arms to invite her into my embrace. She had become a daughter of my heart, no less loved than Hedwiga and Gerberga. She came into our family a young girl, spoiled, naïve to anything other than her own needs. Now she stood before me a woman grown: honorable and loving, a wise queen in all respects.

  “Welcome home!” Eadgyth and Otto said in unison.

  Our laughter vanquished the tension.

  Such were our first tenuous steps towards lasting peace. Otto helped me remount, dismissing anyone else from the honor. With Eadgyth to my left, and Otto to my right, we rode jubilant into Grone. People cheered as we rode past them towards the castle. In the bailey, grooms scurried to take hold of our horses while servants unloaded the baggage carts.

  Later that night, the Great Hall blazed with amber light from a mass of sconces. Smoke rose and collected at the ceiling before escaping from a hole in the eaves. Linen and fresh trenchers covered the trestle tables. Casks of ale set about the room promised hours of forthcoming celebration. The babble of over a hundred people ceased as a herald announced our entry.

  Otto stepped back. “This is your celebration, Mother. As queen of the highest rank, it is my honor to follow you inside.”

  My mouth fell open, and I hesitated at this change in formality. “Queens do not enter before a king, not even the king’s mother.”

  “They do now.” Otto grinned.

  Eadgyth stepped forward to kiss me on the cheek. “Welcome back to your kingdom.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, no longer accustomed to such attention. The gems in my scarlet mantle glittered beneath the torchlight.
Beneath it, I wore a new silk over-tunic in the color of burnished gold I had found waiting in my quarters, Otto’s gift. The clothes were a stark contrast to the comfortable, unadorned abbey garb, but necessary regalia for the king’s court. The fabric rustled as I stepped into the room. If I was to take my place as dowager queen, it was important that I should look the part.

  Guests bowed as I climbed the dais. A young boy with red hair awaited us at the high table and bowed before me.

  “Mother, this is Conrad, the son of the late King Rudolf of Burgundy.” He ruffled the lad’s head. “We have dubbed him Conrad the Red for good reason.”a

  How could I forget the man who had presented Heinrich with the Holy Lance in exchange for the protection of his son? “Rise, Conrad. I remember your father with great fondness. It pleases me to see that Otto is honoring the promise he made to your father by fostering you. He will teach you to be a good king when it is time to take your father’s throne.”

  “I am grateful, Domina. Were it not for the king, who marched his men into Jurane, and assigned good men to rule in my stead to protect the kingdom from usurpers, I would have lost all. It was with great relief that my mother rendered me into the protection of the King Otto.”

  “And your mother and sister? Are they well?”

  Conrad’s expression crumpled. “Before Otto arrived, to lay claim to my kingdom, King Ugo of Lower Burgundy, my father’s long-time enemy, forcefully persuaded my mother to marry him. He also forced my sister, Adelaide, to marry his son Lotario. Thanks to your son’s intervention, I was able to retain control. Ugo fled to Pavia, taking my mother and sister with him.”