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

by Mirella Sichirollo Patzer

  I shout a warning to Otto, but the wind smothers my words. He remains unmoving, unaware, still as a stone on the boulder.

  Words catch inside my throat as I run down the hill, each step sluggish as if I wade through thick mud instead of the parched, forsaken earth.

  One attacker now stands behind Otto.

  I attempt to yell another warning, but my voice is mute.

  Otto remains oblivious to his presence. The wind blows stronger and the mist engulfs everything except their faces.

  I try to run forward, but I struggle.

  The man raises a silver mace high into the sky. As he is about to bring it down on Otto’s head, a ray of light from between the clouds shines on the man’s face. As he lowers the mace, I howl a feral shriek into the buffeting gales. The assassin is Heinz.

  I AWOKE STARTLED. The bedchamber was completely dark. My chest heaved with quick breaths as I fought to suppress the stark fear gnarling in my chest. The door creaked open. Sister Ricburg entered from the antechamber. “Matilde?” she whispered. I heard her footsteps as she made her way to my bedside. “Was it another dream?”

  “Yes,” I declared.

  She lit a taper from the brazier and came to my bedside, the gentle light revealing her vexed state. My dreams unsettled her, yet she never failed to soothe me and help interpret their meaning. She set the candle on the bedside table and held me in a comforting embrace.

  “Stay with me,” I whispered as I made room for her.

  “You are trembling.” Her tone carried both concern and alarm as she slipped beneath the bed furs. Her warm hand touched mine as she rested beside me.

  “I am a woman grown, yet whenever I experience such a dream, it turns me into a tremulous child.” My pulse slowed as she silently permitted me a few moments to gather my wits.

  “I dreamt of Heinz and Otto. Heinz tried to kill Otto, and I could do nothing to stop it. It was a warning of trouble to come.”

  WITH NO WORD from Heinz, my days passed in agony. My instincts screamed. Something was amiss. Something dreadful was happening, and I did not know what form it would take.

  Then, on a cold spring morning when intermittent icy patches of snow lined the roads, six imperial guards ushered a man into the Great Hall. Eadgyth, Otto, and I glanced up from where we sat at the high table after breaking fast.

  The man’s garments were wet with melting snow. Partial baldness formed a circle above a ring of tussled, thinning gray hair. Tension etched his wind-reddened face as he regarded Otto. It was Count Ricwin of Verdun, one of our vassals.

  “King Otto,” he said in a voice harsh with tension. “I bring word from Lotharingia. There has been a rebellion against the duke, your brother. He has been driven out by the people.”

  My body turned rigid with fear. Rebellion? For what purpose? Sensing my distress, Eadgyth reached for my hand.

  Otto gripped his chair’s armrests.

  “Your brother is safe,” Ricwin assured. “I offered him shelter from the rebels. When the worst of the danger passes, my son and men will bring him here.”

  Otto’s expression turned grim. “What happened?”

  The count hesitated, shuffling his feet in discomfort.

  “Why did they rebel?” Otto queried again, this time in a sterner voice.

  The man shifted.

  What could he be hiding that he did not want us to hear?

  “Let the pair of us go into the Council Hall, Ricwin,” my astute son suggested to him. “We can speak privately there.”

  “No,” I said as I rose to my feet. “I will hear it. Whatever concerns Heinz, concerns me.”

  Otto hesitated but acquiesced.

  “Your brother is young. Power intoxicated him, and he often failed to heed the advice of the men you assigned to help guide him.” Melting snow pooled at Ricwin’s feet. “He is indulging in vices.”

  “Vices?” Otto’s expression hardened. “What vices?”

  “There is no easy way to say it.” The man’s gaze flickered to me before switching back to Otto. “Rarely have I seen him sober. Each night there is rampant drunkenness, gambling, and whoring.”

  My hand rose to my lips. “I do not believe it!” My voice sounded shrill against the silence. This was not the Heinz I knew and loved, whom I had supported for the throne.

  “I speak the truth,” the man articulated in a soothing voice. “The nobles feel they have been unfairly treated by the additional taxes Duke Heinz demanded. Those who failed to pay, had their lands and titles stripped and given to others.”

  Otto rose and paced, arms clasped behind his back, his face scarlet.

  “You were not aware?” Count Ricwin queried.

  Otto turned sharply and faced the man. “I was not. Is that the extent of it?”

  “That is all I have to relay to you, but no doubt you will hear more complaints from others.”

  “No doubt.” Otto’s voice dripped with acrimony. “Who are these rebels?”

  “Among them are the lords of Bidgau, Luxemburg, Ardennes, Chaumont, Mortagne and Brixey.”

  Otto stepped closer and faced him. “I thank you for keeping my brother safe and for bringing me this information. I may have need to speak to you more, but first you must take your rest and recover from the cold.” Otto turned to the guard and summoned a nearby servant with a crook of his hand. “Ensure the count is made comfortable and provided with quarters, food, dry clothes, and anything else he needs.”

  The guard snapped to attention and together with the servant, led Count Ricwin from the room.

  “I do not believe it.”

  “Believe it, Mother! You do not understand Heinz as I do. You see him through a mother’s loving eyes; eyes blind to his failings.” Otto paced in silence. With each step, his composure deteriorated. His face became redder, his fists more tightly clenched. Purposefully, he returned to where we sat at the table. “I forgave him, accepted him back into the kingdom, handed him Lotharingia, and made him duke.” He came to a stop and slammed his fist on the tabletop. “And this is how he repays me!”

  “Please, Otto,” Eadgyth soothed. “Until we speak with Heinz, we know nothing for certain.”

  “Eadgyth is right,” I said. “We must not make any hasty judgments.”

  Chin to his chest, Otto peered at me. “You give him far too much credit. Ricwin has always been loyal. I have never known him to lie. Surely, you noticed how it grieved him to bring me such news. Heinz is impetuous and hotheaded. And these are the qualities you believe make a good king?”

  “What will you do?” It was an attempt to distract him, for I did not wish to re-ignite old arguments.

  Otto stroked his chin. “I am not certain.”

  “I ask you to be prudent. Speak to Heinz first. There are two sides in any dispute.”

  Otto shook his head and went to the hearth where he gazed with unwavering silence into the dancing flames.

  UPON RECEIVING WORD that Heinz had arrived at the outskirts of Aachen, we awaited him in Otto’s private chambers. From the window I watched him ride in, his shoulders slumped forward, his bearing somber. He dismounted, tossed the reins to an awaiting stable lad, and spoke with a guard. At the man’s response, Heinz glanced at the window where I stood. We assessed each other before he hastened inside. I returned to the round table where several stacks of vellum rested, and took my place next to Otto.

  Before long, a quick rap on the door announced his arrival. Heinz entered. Otto met him with stone-cold silence. I rose from my chair to greet my son, but Otto stopped me with his hand on my arm.

  Heinz stiffened at the gesture. He acknowledged me with a nod then turned his attention to Otto. “Brother, I sent Count Ricwin ahead of our arrival to bring you word of the rebellion in Lotharingia. I rode here as swiftly as I could so that we can rally our forces to put down the agitators.”

  Otto glowered at Heinz. “You sent Count Ricwin? Rally our forces? Last time I checked, you had plenty of men. Where are they now?”

&n
bsp; “Many joined the rebels.”

  “And you did not foresee the rebellion? The advisors I sent to aid you in your duties as duke failed to warn you?”

  “They warned me, of course they did, but it was too late.”

  “So you took no action to prevent such a treasonous act?”

  “How could I? Had I received enough warning, I would have stopped it before the first sword could be raised against us.”

  “Against us?” Otto exclaimed. “You mean against you, do you not?”

  Heinz gave no answer.

  “I handed you Lotharingia in trust and good faith, and what did you do? According to Ricwin, you turned it into a brothel and gambling den for drunkards.” The vein in Otto’s neck bulged from the exertion of his angry words as he glared at his brother. He rose and paced, fists clenched.

  Heinz stood motionless before his brother’s anger.

  If Ricwin’s report regarding Heinz was true, I could not blame Otto for his anger, or for feeling betrayed. A few years had passed since I had fought like a she-wolf for Heinz to be king. In these tension-filled moments, I now doubted my judgment. How had I been so wrong? Or, were these the impetuous actions of a spirited youth that would diminish with years and experience? I studied Heinz from head to toe, and now saw his failings. He was not the man I thought he was, yet my heart ached for him. Perhaps with maturity, and help from Otto, he could rise above this conflict. I pushed away my disappointment at his dismal failure.

  “You prefer to believe the word of a vassal over mine, your brother?” Heinz asked.

  “You deny it?” Otto stopped pacing and glared at Heinz.

  A twitch of doubt fluttered in my chest. Perhaps Count Ricwin had inflated the truth or worse yet, could he be one of the rebels? It would not be the first time such treachery had occurred.

  “I admit that I held a few celebratory feasts with my liegemen.”

  “And what had you to celebrate? Your victories must have been numerous because I have learned of many more feasts than you are willing to admit to.” Otto pushed several sheets of vellum across the table to Heinz. “The oaths of your vassals. Accounts of your reckless spending. Lands you stole from good men to transfer to favorites. I have here a complaint from a goldsmith who has yet to be paid for the baubles you lavished on whores. There are more if you wish to see them.”

  Heinz’s face reddened as he cast a fleeting, uncomfortable glance at me before facing Otto. “You host lavish banquets and give generously to your supporters.”

  “You dare compare your actions to mine? I am the king! I remain sober in my Great Hall. The gifts and donations I make are to nuns in monasteries, not whores in brothels. I give no land without careful contemplation and the counsel of my advisors, and I do so fairly, with consideration for the women and children who might be turned out of their homes. You have taken land from one man who earned it through the blood of battle or loyalty, only to grant it to a young, impetuous boyhood friend. Your own incompetence stirred the rebellion.”

  “Do not call me incompetent! Many of the nobles would have gladly seen me as their king, as would our mother!”

  Heinz looked to me for support, but I glanced away, stung by the truth of this accusation.

  “As king you would have frittered the entire kingdom away as you have Lotharingia.” Otto strode to the window where he gripped the windowsill. His jaw twitched and his chest heaved, clear signs he was struggling to maintain his composure.

  Long moments passed. I could not stop staring at Heinz, who remained defiant. “Has the taste of power been so sweet on your lips that you have lost your senses?” I queried of Heinz.

  At my words, Otto spun back around, brows raised. He glanced first at me, and then at his brother.

  Heinz ran his fingers through his hair and inhaled a deep breath.

  Before Heinz could respond, Otto stomped away from the window and pressed his face close to Heinz. “I could have had you executed for your earlier treasonous rebellion.” He poked a finger into Heinz’s chest. “Instead, I spared your life. I forgave you. I handed you Lotharingia in trust, as a gift of peace between us. And this is how you demonstrate your loyalty to me?”

  “I am not surprised you side with others against me,” Heinz muttered. “You have rarely shown me any respect.”

  “Respect must be earned, Heinz.” I interjected, “By all accounts, you have fallen short of the mark.”

  Otto cocked his head then nodded with approval. Heinz glowered at me. Never had I spoken such hard words to him.

  “And you think Otto earns respect? All he has done since taking the throne is suppress revolts by his dukes.”

  “I’ve heard enough!” Otto bellowed. “I am stripping you of Lotharingia and giving it to Count Ricwin and his son in your stead; wise men who earned the respect of others through prudence. In the interim, you will remain in Aachen where you will sit at my right hand and learn how to properly govern a realm.”

  Relief coursed through me. I could not have hoped for a better resolution.

  “With no lands of my own?” Heinz’s voice rose, “Like a dog to do your bidding?”

  “To gain valuable experience, to help me lead my vassals. There are a thousand ways in which you can benefit.”

  I rose to address Heinz. “Listen to your brother. Otto speaks wisely. It is what your father would have wanted. Put aside your pride and aid him.”

  Heinz did not heed me. Instead, he trembled with fury and glared at Otto. “You want me to be a puppet and do your bidding. Never!”

  “There is no alternative. If I do not retake Lotharingia, others will!”

  “Heinz, stop and consider.” I gripped my son’s good arm. “We can discuss this again in the morning when your anger cools. Listen to your brother.”

  He cast me a chilled glare then stormed from the room. I tried to follow, but Otto held me back. “Let him go. He needs time to ponder.”

  “I have to make him understand. He is angry, broken.”

  “He will recover, and then he will return.”

  “I pray that is true,” I whispered.

  BUT HEINZ DID not return. He rode to Francia, to the safety of Louis’ court. I prayed for Louis and Gerberga to watch over him, guide him, perhaps even make him see sense in Otto’s suggestion.

  I sent Heinz many letters, but his responses failed to reveal anything significant. He recounted his travels, the hunts and feasts he had attended, falcons he had flown, and new weapons he had purchased. His arm had healed, and he no longer wore a bandage, but he suffered occasional swelling and pain. All I wanted was for him to recover and for the bitterness in his heart to melt away. With time, I hoped his anger would allay itself and he would come to his senses.

  On many occasions, I tried to speak to Otto about Heinz, and though he disregarded my suggestions, he kept informed of his brother’s activities. Just as his father had, Otto maintained paid informants in all regions of the kingdom and beyond.

  With the passing days, Eadgyth and I grew closer, our bond fortified by our charities. Otto denied her nothing, his disposition indulgent, his words tender. She rose joyfully each morning and greeted me with utmost enthusiasm. I could not help but revel in their love, for it reminded me of my own devotion with Heinrich. Eadgyth’s charm and wit endeared her to many and she was much beloved. As queen, she had learned to rule wisely, providing good counsel to my son. Had she been of my flesh, I could not have loved her more.

  One cold winter afternoon, Otto entered my chambers. “I bring good news. I’m sure you will be pleased. “I have summoned Brun to Aachen to become my personal aide.”

  The news made my heart swell with delight. I hoped the same would hold true for Heinz someday.

  “Are you not pleased?”

  “I am thrilled. No one could be prouder, but I cannot help but wish Heinz were here, too, and that matters were not so tense between you.”

  His face darkened then, as it often did when I broached his brother’s name. “I
pray you do not lose sleep over it, for I doubt it will happen.”

  “You must not think that way. Quarrels can mend. It will take time. I am sure he will come around.”

  “Your heart is more hopeful than mine, Mother. My brother is more stubborn and strong willed than most. I have done everything I can for him. It rests with him to accept what I have offered.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A.D. 941

  Quedlinburg

  EASTER WAS FAST approaching. Distance and disputes had kept my family separated but I was determined to bring everyone together in Quedlinburg as we had always done.

  I wrote each one, encouraging them to make the journey. To my relief, everyone accepted my invitation, including Heinz.

  Nothing could describe my joy as I rode once more through the familiar Harz Mountains. The air smelled of spring and the blue sky sharpened the outlines of everything around us. As far as the eye could see, the colorless winter had yielded to newly risen grass, the green vibrant against azure skies.

  It had been three years since I was last in Quedlinburg. I longed to ride through its fertile forests, to sit next to Heinrich’s tomb, to walk through the halls of the new abbey. My heart leapt as we ascended the steep hill, clattered through the gatehouse, and rode to a stop in the bailey. The three-story donjon appeared unchanged and in good repair, as did the armory, stables, and gardens. But it was the abbey where my granddaughters, Liutgarde and Alberade studied that captured my attention.

  Behind its majestic walls of brown stone and beneath its red-roofed turrets, were the treasures I had collected over the last decade—precious manuscripts, sacred relics, and holy liturgical items. Attached to the abbey, Heinrich lay buried in the church’s crypt; I would one day be laid to rest there too. A surge of delight mingled with hope as I alighted from my horse. While Otto commanded the unloading of the baggage carts, Eadgyth and I entered the donjon. Home! All we had to do was wait for the remainder of my family to arrive.