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

by Mirella Sichirollo Patzer

  “WHAT WOULD YOU say if I were to take a new wife?” Otto asked.

  It was late fall and the world beyond Aachen had already turned crimson and gold. We had crisscrossed the bailey and entered the stables. Otto wanted to check on the new stallion he had recently purchased. The warm, steamy smell of horses and fresh straw greeted us.

  “Married? To whom?” I enquired.

  “To Conrad's sister, Adelaide of Burgundy, Queen of Italia. She is nineteen years of age, a widow with one young daughter named, Emma.” He nodded to a groom who placed a halter on the horse before leading it out of a stall. Except for the white above its hooves, the stallion was pure black. Perfect in conformation, the muscular animal was spectacular to behold. His coat gleamed nearly blue against the sunlight streaming in from the open doors and window shutters.

  I studied my son as he examined the newest addition to his stables. “I've heard talk regarding her. They say she is spirited and intelligent, charitable too, admired and respected by her people.” It had been eight years since Edith's death and at eight and thirty years, Otto was still a young man.

  Otto stepped back, obviously pleased with my opinion. From the pouch at his waist, he withdrew a scroll. “Yesterday, a messenger arrived with a letter from her.” He handed it to me to read.

  By the mercy of almighty God, Adelaide, Queen of Italia

  To the most venerable, Otto, King of Germany

  I bid you greetings and grace. My late father trusted you with the care and protection of my brother Conrad. I write to you now because of this trust. From the time of Berengar of Ivrea's successful uprising five years hence, he holds complete power and patronage in the kingdom, and rendered my husband Lotario’s power, nominal at best. My husband's brief reign ended upon his death earlier this year when he succumbed after a long illness. I believe Berengar poisoned my beloved Lotario. Shortly after my husband's demise, Berengar seized me and imprisoned me in a castle on a rocky island in the center of Lake Garda. He declared himself king and his son, Adalbero, co-king, refusing to release me unless I married Adalbero, to confirm their grasp of the kingdom. I refused. With the aid of the Duke of Canossa, I escaped. I am under his protection in his castle of the same name. I have little doubt the threats by Berengar will not cease until he attains his ambition to rule the kingdom through my union with his son. In exchange for your protection and the preservation of my kingdom, I offer you my hand in marriage. Through marriage, we could join our two kingdoms. Together, we could become free, and more powerful, wealthy, sharing our gifts with the people who have chosen us to rule over them. The world would lie before us with vast promise. I beseech you to consider my offer and come to my aid in Canossa. I await your urgent reply,

  Adelaide, Regina

  No man could refuse such an offer, especially Otto who had always been intrigued by the warm, beautiful country of such rich history to the south. “Surely you cannot traverse the Alps with an entire army in winter?”

  “No, but Heinz is in Regensburg. He can easily cross before the mountain passes close. I have asked him to depart immediately with his troops to escort Adelaide and her daughter to safety from Canossa to Pavia where I shall join them with all possible speed.” Otto ran his hand across the stallion’s back. “I’ll wait until after Easter to depart. By then, it should be safe to travel. I have sent messengers to Liudolf in Swabia and Conrad in Burgundy asking them to join me.”

  A moment passed before I realized he had already made his decision and our discussion was solely to seek my blessing. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “God bless you and keep you until you can bring your new bride home.”

  BUT IT WAS not to be so easy.

  Liudolf responded to his father by way of a messenger who arrived on a cold winter morning.

  I bit my lip in anticipation as Otto stood next to the hearth in the audience hall and opened the scroll. He read it then handed it to me. As he waited, his gaze never left me until I finished. The entire time, his jaw twitched.

  I glanced at Otto, struggling to believe what I had read. “Liudolf is refusing to aid you unless he is promised a share in the new kingdom?” Greed was my grandson’s reaction to his father’s plea for help? My posture slumped.

  Otto’s face reddened as his brows pinched together. “Italia is not yet mine and he dares to make such a request!”

  “Otto, stop and think. Perhaps Liudolf feels threatened by your forthcoming marriage to Adelaide. He is worried a son might be born to you who might be named successor in his place, usurping his inheritance and that of his children.”

  “But I have already named him successor, and in spite of it he demands more? The Latin peninsula is not yet mine to give.”

  “But it will be one day. Then what will you do?” It was a futile question, for I already knew the answer. Otto expected his vassals to earn their feoffment and prove their loyalty, as he had once done with Heinz. He would do the same with his son.

  “He will get nothing if he refuses to support me. In fact, he stands to lose what he already owns.”

  I beseeched Otto to be patient and trust in his son, but my words could not sway him. Otto sent a messenger to Liudolf’s court in Swabia with his terms.

  A month passed and winter’s snows melted. He received no response from Liudolf. On the day before Otto was to leave for Pavia, he learned that Liudolf had long departed for the Alps, ostensibly to champion Adelaide of Burgundy on Otto’s behalf, but in reality to lay claim to the kingdom for himself.

  Otto raged at the audacity of his son’s attempt to arrogate the rescue of Queen Adelaide.

  “But how can you be certain?” I argued. “Perhaps he had simply responded to your request for aid.”

  By Otto’s glare, I knew my words are at best a false hope. We knew the truth, yet I wished it were not so. The next morning, I watched Otto and his troops ride away to launch a new campaign against his own flesh and blood.

  LONG MONTHS PASSED with no word. My nerves had worn thin. My nights became a purgatory as I paced my room. Then one day, as Sister Ricburg and I strolled the bailey’s perimeter, a messenger dropped to his knees before me and handed me a scroll.

  My hands trembled as I read, my worries fading with each word. “Otto succeeded in crossing the Alps before Liudolf. He arrived in Canossa and met with little resistance. Berengar fled before Otto's arrival. Otto and Adelaide married in Pavia, and with the help of an enthusiastic multitude, he restored to her the lands to which she could justifiably lay claim to.” I folded the vellum and tucked it into my sleeve. “They are on their way home.”

  Regarding Liudolf, the letter remained silent. I prayed that in this case, silence was a blessing.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  A.D. 952

  Aachen

  IN THE MIDDLE of the night, I awakened to the sound of the portcullis opening. The grating rasp was loud against the silence of the night. Hurrying to my bedchamber’s window, I saw guards and grooms spilling from their living quarters, bustling to prepare for whomever it was who had arrived. Torchlight illuminated the troop of riders who entered, the portcullis slamming shut after the last man entered. Upon his black stallion, Otto reined to a halt at the palace’s entrance. Next to him, seated on a white palfrey, rode a young woman.

  Nervous excitement ran through me for I had not expected Otto and his new bride until morning. With no time to dress, I donned my robe and slippers then hastened to the bailey. Otto and Adelaide had already dismounted. I could not contain my excitement and with arms outstretched, I ran to embrace Otto before greeting my new daughter in marriage.

  Wearing a mantle, the color of a midnight sky, Adelaide strode toward me with confidence, in the same captivating way as her father, King Rudolf, had years before. Despite the harsh treatment she must have endured when held captive by Berengar, she appeared hale of health. Nearly as tall as Otto, an embroidered veil covered her head. A long braid of chestnut hair trailed over her right shoulder. Her brown eyes glimmered with delight.
She smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. Otto’s wife was a woman of immeasurable beauty. I was pleased at the slight swell of her belly. Her expression was gentle and proud, and when she curtsied before me, I raised her up and kissed her flawless cheeks. “Welcome, daughter, to our home and family.”

  “I am honored to meet you, Domina.” Adelaide’s voice was as melodic as a songbird. “Thank you for welcoming me into your family. I shall be forever grateful to you and your son who saved me from a desperate situation. He has shown me nothing but great kindness.”

  “Thank you for saying so. I look forward to getting to know you,” I responded. Already I liked her.

  One of the guards removed a sleeping child from the back of a covered wagon.

  “This is my daughter, Emma.” Adelaide brushed an errant tress, the color of chestnuts, from the child’s forehead. Wrapped in a wool blanket, the little girl was no more than six years, and bore a striking resemblance to her mother with the same round face and delicate features.

  “Poor, tired soul.” I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand. “Please take her inside,” I requested of the guardsman holding her. “One of the servants will take the child to the bedchamber reserved for my grandchildren.” Under a discerning glare, Adelaide watched him enter the palace.

  “Come inside. It is late and you must be tired. Your bedchamber has already been prepared.” I laced my arm through Adelaide’s and led her inside her new home.

  AFTER MORNING PRAYERS in the Palatine Chapel, I strolled with Adelaide through the various halls, galleries, and corridors of the palace, stopping to discuss a tapestry or vase as we went. I could see how delighted she was. I saved our visit to the Thermae for last. She gave a squeal of delight as her face turned radiant at the sight of the pool. Servants helped us disrobe. Wearing only our chemises, we entered the water together. Adelaide released a gratified sigh as the warmth enveloped her body.

  “The Romans discovered these thermal springs,” I explained as I immersed myself to my chin. “Karl the Great swam and relaxed here, often with friends and family.”

  “I can understand why.” Adelaide sank deeper into the water. “How enchanting and soothing it is.”

  A few moments of silence passed.

  “You cannot know how happy I am to be here,” Adelaide declared. “Were it not for Otto, Emma and I would still be separated and our lives filled with misery.”

  Beneath the water, my hand found hers. “I am sorry you endured such suffering, but try to not think of it anymore. You are safe here, and I am pleased to have you among us.” This woman impressed me. From the moment I met her, she showed no signs of bitterness or resentment. Had I been beaten, starved, and imprisoned as Adelaide had been, would I have endured it as stoically as she had—unscathed and untarnished? Or was she merely clever at disguising her suffering? Whatever the answer, I believed her to be a woman of strength, unafraid to take charge, and I admired that.

  When the cleansing warmth relaxed us, Adelaide told me more of her life.

  “I was married to Lotario, the son of King Ugo of Provence. Ugo had been my father’s foe for many years. After my father died, Ugo forced my mother and I into our marriages. When Ugo seized control of Lombardy, he named my husband and I as king and queen. Lotario was a good man and we came to love each other. Our union lasted three years.” Adelaide gazed into the water’s depths. “I wrote to Otto and prayed he would agree to marry me. God must have heard my prayers for Otto came to my aid. I thank God. My father had great respect for your late husband and son, so I knew they were men of honor and that I could trust Otto.”

  My admiration for her increased ten-fold. “Your father was a good man. He was wise beyond his years and saw far enough into the future to protect you and your brother, Conrad.”

  “Conrad will escort Berengar into Aachen for a peace treaty where Berengar is to swear fealty to Otto. I have suffered much because of this man’s actions, and I intend to be present. I want to witness him bow before me and Otto.”

  “Do you believe he repents for what he has done and he abandons hope for the Lombardian crown?”

  Adelaide laughed. “I doubt it. Berengar is incapable of humility. When he gives his oath to Otto, I believe his fealty will be insincere. But he is no match for Otto, and I suspect he will pay a heavy price for what he has done to me and Emma.”

  THE DAY FOR the encounter with Berengar arrived. To demonstrate his scorn, Otto kept him waiting for three days before he consented to grant him an audience.

  Guards lined the room. I sat next to Adelaide whose throne flanked Otto’s. She bore a cold and formal expression. I could not blame her. Brun sat on the other side of Otto. Since becoming Otto’s chancellor several years ago, he always attended court with his brother.

  Otto’s face was a mask of neutrality as he nodded at the servants to open the audience hall doors.

  We sat still, regarding the usurper who walked forward with Conrad.

  So this was Berengar, the tyrant of Ivrea. Head held high, he strode toward us. He was of low stature with balding dark brown hair. An unattractive sallow-skinned man, his black eyes flashed above a crooked nose. His mouth was a narrow slash and when he arrived before us, a forced grin revealed yellowed, uneven teeth. He stopped in front of the dais. His gaze rested on Adelaide for a moment, long enough for me to notice how they flashed with contempt before he glanced away. Otto, ever observant, became rigid, and glared at the scoundrel.

  “King Otto,” Berengar drawled, “I thank you for your warm welcome to Aachen.”

  Otto stiffened at the sarcastic jibe, gave Berengar a hard glare, and kept his silence.

  Berengar coughed and shifted his feet. Conrad fought to hide a grin. Adelaide leaned forward, her expression colder. This man had beaten and cruelly imprisoned Adelaide. Disgust arose inside me as I smoothed my gown on my lap. I was eager to have him dismissed from my sight.

  To his credit, Berengar held himself motionless before us. Not for a moment did he avert his eyes from Otto. In this test of silence, it was obvious to me neither man was prepared to be the first to speak.

  Adelaide broke the impasse. “Berengar, do you have no greeting for me, your Queen?” She regarded him with a most acrimonious expression.

  Berengar flushed. “Domina,” he said as he bowed. When he rose, he bore a scowl.

  Otto turned his attention to Conrad. “I trust you have prepared the peace treaty?”

  “I have, my lord.” Conrad removed a scroll from the pouch at his waist and handed it to Otto.

  Otto passed it to Brun who perused the document. When he finished, he leaned over and whispered the details into Otto’s ear.

  Otto faced Conrad. “The treaty is too lenient. It needs rigorous revisions before I will attach my seal to it.”

  Conrad’s face reddened. “As you wish.”

  Otto snapped his fingers at a nearby guard. “Escort Lord Berengar to his chambers. I would have a word in private with my wife’s brother.”

  Berengar appeared as if he would protest, but before he could, the guard stepped in front of him. With a wheeze and a whirl of his robes, Berengar had no choice but to trudge out of the hall behind his escort. The doors closed behind them.

  “Why do you find the treaty lenient?” Conrad argued.

  “As a first attempt, it is praiseworthy, but it can be improved. The land boundaries need to be increased. I want the amount of gold paid as tribute each year tripled, and the wording must be amended so the treaty will include descendants, those born and unborn.”

  “It will not be easy to persuade Berengar to agree,” Conrad warned. “He is already vexed because you kept him waiting for three days.”

  “I care not whether Berengar disagrees or not. He has no choice in the matter. Have you forgotten how your sister suffered at his hands? How many days she was imprisoned? You will sit with Brun and together you will amend the document. You may be certain Berengar will have no choice but to agree, I will sign it at the
general assembly in May before the entire gathering. Until then, Berengar will be treated as a guest and afforded every comfort.”

  Conrad did not respond. He pressed his lips, and his demeanor cooled. He clenched his hands at his side. Conrad was young, eager to please Otto, and humiliated that he had failed. Conrad’s expression turned dark. I watched him struggle to acquiesce. He glanced at Otto and then at Adelaide who blinked as a signal to her brother not to argue. Conrad bowed, ascended the steps to the dais, and sat next to Brun.

  We left them to their work, but as I walked from the hall, my inner voice warned me the matter was far from settled.

  FROM ALL CORNERS of the kingdom, the dignitaries came—counts, vassals, bishops, and abbots—to witness the submission of Berengar and the signing of the peace treaty. At a table on the right side of the dais, the amanuenses, two senior friars of the Aachen chancellery, prepared their ink and vellum, ready to record each word.

  Trumpets blared as a hundred guests and more rose to observe our entrance; Otto and Adelaide, both crowned and dressed in matching golden silk over-tunics embroidered with red crosses and white roses entered first. In his right hand, Otto carried the Holy Lance. Brun followed. Over his cassock, he wore a green chasuble trimmed with a row of gold embroidered in a diamond and cross pattern. Heinz and I followed him in, I with my scarlet mantle over a midnight colored gown and matching veil held in place with a simple, but jeweled coronet, and Heinz in a bluish-green overtunic, the color of any of the streams coursing through the Harz Mountains. We walked the vast length of the room, past rich paintings of ancient heroes lining the walls on both sides of the room. Brilliant sunlight danced in from two rows of windows and reflected off the embedded gems of our crowns.