Wheel of the Fates: Book Two of the Carolingian Chronicles

by J. Boyce Gleason

  Someone bit his leg and Pippin howled with rage. He kicked down trying to break free. Someone fell on top of him, then another. Pippin managed to loosen his legs and struggled to shove his way free. He pushed his way out of the pile and climbed to his feet, his knife sweeping to find its next target.

  The fighting was over.

  “Very graceful, milord.” Arnot smiled. “Was that a new school of knife fighting? I’ve never seen anything quite like that.”

  Pippin grunted and searched the dead until he found a heavy key ring looped into one of the guard’s belts. Signaling for his men to follow, Pippin headed through the guardroom and up into the tower. They mounted circular stairs until Pippin found a small door on the gate-side of the tower. He attempted several keys before one caught. With his knife drawn, he opened the door.

  It opened onto an empty catwalk leading out over the gate. He and Arnot climbed out onto it and found the huge bar holding the gate closed. It took four men to drag the bar out of its latch.

  Grinning widely, Arnot pulled out a small horn and blew into it three times. They heard a muffled shout from outside the side gate and watched as the huge doors of the castle pushed inward. Several hundred men, who had been waiting outside in the darkness, poured through the open space. They had breached the castle.

  Defenders quickly rushed to stop the incursion, but they were too late and too few. Pippin’s men slashed their way through them, cutting a bloody swath through the courtyard inside the gate. They flooded up the ramparts and onto the wall. Pippin and his men rushed outside and watched the army make short work of taking the castle. Soon, the defenders were yielding in large numbers and the castle was his.

  Pippin climbed down to the courtyard just inside the gates and waited. It was Childebrand who brought the Compte to him. In the meager torchlight, the man looked like a dwarf, especially standing next to Pippin’s tall uncle.

  The Compte de Loches, however, seemed undeterred by his new circumstances. He approached Pippin with a swagger and a sneer that Pippin found amazing.

  “I expect you to honor the vow Lord Hunoald swore, first to my father and then to me,” Pippin said.

  “I will honor nothing,” the Compte de Loches replied.

  “Offer me your hands and I will withdraw, leaving you your castle, your treasure and your dignity. You’ll be held only to the same taxes and fealty due in past years. Your people will be unmolested and unharmed.”

  The Compte looked at the blood that covered Pippin’s armor. After a long moment, he shook his head. “You are no king.” The noble’s eyes did not waver.

  Without relinquishing the Compte’s gaze. Pippin called out his orders. “Destroy the gate. Find his treasure. Take his wife and children hostage.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “Burn the castle.”

  Childebrand raised an eyebrow. Pippin understood his concern. Castles were assets not easily replaced.

  “I want Hunoald, and those who support him, to know that I’m coming,” Pippin glanced back at the Compte and added, “And every noble in Aquitaine should know the current price for breaking his vow.

  ✽✽✽

  After burning the Castle at Loches, news preceded Pippin’s army on his march south. A week later, it took only a brief parley with the Compte de Vieux-Poitiers before the gates of the city opened wide to escort Pippin and his host inside. Fealty was restored, taxes garnered, and men impressed to serve Pippin’s growing, but still meager army.

  He had seized a small barracks within the castle and sat alone, wondering how many more castles south of the Loire he would have to take before Hunoald and Waifar left the safety of their stronghold in Toulouse to fight him. He had delayed in Loches hoping to draw them out, but they had ignored the bait. Now he had two castles. How many would be necessary? Five? Six?

  After a brief knock, Gunther poked his head in. “Y’eve got guests.” He scratched the stubble on his face. “Carloman and twenty knights.”

  Pippin nodded and Gunther closed the door. He hadn’t spoken to Carloman since the siege at Laon. What would bring Carloman here? What was left to say?

  Tilting back his chair, he slapped the back of his head against the wall behind him. The dull sound of his skull hitting stone reverberated through the small room and mimicked the sensation he felt inside his head. With an unerring sense of timing, he repeated the motion every few moments, punctuating the raging voices in his mind as he recalled moments from his childhood.

  “I can beat you!" Pippin was eight, shouting at a twelve-year-old Carloman. Carloman hit him in the nose so fast Pippin never saw it coming. He lay at Carloman's feet, blood streaming from his nose.

  "Don't ever think that again," his brother said. "I don't want to have to kill you."

  “Deus, tu conversus vivificabis nos. Et plebs tua lætabitur in te.” He was nine. Boniface and Carloman were praying above a kneeling knight. Pippin was supposed to be praying with them.

  The man’s hands were tied to a short post erected before him. He was naked to the waist. A whip snaked across his back, summoning huge welts of white and pink flesh. The sound made Pippin flinch with every crack. Boniface and Carloman never even looked up.

  He was ten and dressed in his finest clothes. Childebrand was there. They were saying goodbye to father and mother. He was being sent away. Charles stood with his hand on Carloman's shoulder. Pippin struggled to fight back his tears. Carloman’s eyes were gloating.

  Suddenly, a knock on the door brought him back to the present.

  "Come."

  Gunther opened the door and Carloman strode into the room. Boniface was with him. Carloman seemed surprised by the small confines of the space.

  Pippin sat behind a table facing Carloman. Only an uneaten plate of food and his broadsword separated them. The latter lay at an angle across the table, its pommel to Pippin’s right, and a short distance from his hand. He briefly pondered the significance of his brother’s presence.

  Gunther left the room, but still Pippin didn’t speak.

  “You do not welcome us, brother?” Carloman looked to Boniface as if surprised. Carloman crossed the room, and as he did, Pippin sat up and covered the pommel of his sword with his hand. Only then did Pippin’s gaze lift to meet Carloman’s.

  Carloman sighed. “Is that really necessary, Pippin?”

  “I don’t know. The last time I saw you, you had your sword at Gripho’s throat.”

  “He assaulted a priest!”

  “Who was trying to murder him. He is our brother, Carloman”

  “Half-brother.”

  “Still, you seem entirely too comfortable killing off members of our family.”

  “I haven’t killed anyone in our family.”

  “Can you honestly say that if I hadn’t interceded, Gripho would still be alive?”

  Now it was Carloman’s turn to be silent. He moved to Pippin’s left. Pippin’s hand tightened on the sword. Carloman paused, and then reached down and took a piece of chicken off the uneaten plate. He lifted it to his lips and took a bite.

  “Why are you here, Pippin?”

  “I should ask you that.”

  “Our battles are in the east, not in the west.”

  “Have you forgotten that Waifar spat in the face of father’s corpse? Have you forgotten how Hunoald renounced his oath of fealty? I can think of no more important battle to fight.”

  “The Gasçones don’t fight the way we do.” Carloman sat on the corner of the table and took another bite. “They hide in their castles and force you to expend all our resources in siege. How many castles can you take this spring? It will take years – three, maybe four – to best Hunoald and all his castles, if you have the men and resources. He wants you to attack. He wants us to split our armies. He knows that Odilo is building an army in Bavaria to mount a rebellion. And,” Carloman paused for effect, “He knows Theudebald is back in Alemannia.”

  Pippin’s eyes narrowed at the name. Theudebald was a monster Charles had banished years ago.


  “We can’t let him stay.” Carloman put down the chicken bones.

  “I want Hunoald.” A vein throbbed at Pippin’s temple.

  Carloman nodded. “So do I.” He pulled a map from his coat and spread it lengthwise across the table. “But our spies tell us Odilo is raising an army to rival ours. He’s using Sunni and Gripho’s arrest as a rallying cry for Bavaria.”

  “What did you think would happen when you arrested her? She’s a Bavarian princess.”

  Carloman was clearly ignoring him. “You don’t have to be a Byzantine empress to recognize our vulnerability. The Saxons are encroaching here in the northeast. Odilo is here.” He pointed to the southeast. “Theudebald is between them in Alemannia, amassing an army to cross the Rhine. If he does, it will be a dagger at the throat of Burgundy. And, as I recall,” Carloman said. “Burgundy is yours to protect.”

  Pippin continued to regard him coolly. Carloman continued. “If we’re to survive this, you and I must be united. If not, the kingdom will be torn apart.”

  Again, Carloman waited for a response. But Pippin said nothing. "Don't be naïve. You don't have the treasure to sustain this." Carloman said. "The bulk of our funds still come from the Church and the bishops have little time for your vengeance."

  Pippin leaned forward over the table and traced his fingers along the colored lines drawn across the map. “The world without Gripho.”

  Carloman frowned. “You and I split the kingdom. You rule the south and west - Neustria, Burgundy, Provence and if we take it back, Aquitaine. I’ll take the north and east - Austrasia, Thuringia, Alemannia, and Bavaria.”

  “Now I can see why you want me to fight in the east.”

  “Don’t be childish. All you have to do is look at the map to know I’m right.”

  Pippin didn’t look at the map. He held Carloman’s gaze, his eyes furious. When he spoke, his voice was a cold whisper.

  “You’re not right, Carloman. You haven’t been right for a while. You had no right to attack Gripho. You have no right to keep him imprisoned. You had no right to send Sunnichild – our stepmother – to a nunnery. You made those decisions alone without so much as a token effort to obtain my consent. We could have avoided this civil war. I would have avoided it.”

  Pippin sat forward. “You’ve condemned me to a lifetime of bloodshed and now you are here to ask my help in fighting your battles?”

  Carloman flashed with anger. He pounded the table. “Gripho is pagan! He burned a church! That couldn’t be tolerated. Surely you understand that! He is a sin against God.”

  “You are not the Pope.”

  “I am a warrior in Christ!” Carloman raised his fist as if to strike the table again, but with some visible effort, held himself in check. “I didn’t come to argue. You must know that this kingdom will never tolerate a pagan state. It’s been Christian since the time of Clovis. Even the eastern duchies have officially accepted Christianity.”

  “Only because we forced them to swear on the cross.”

  Carloman began to pace. “We can’t tolerate heresy. It will divide the kingdom.”

  Carloman looked to Boniface for support. The bishop nodded but said nothing. “And now Theudebald has returned to renew the threat. I don’t need to remind you of what he is capable.”

  “I shouldn’t have to remind you of father’s funeral.” Pippin said.

  “At least, I was there.”

  Pippin threw the table aside and stormed towards Carloman. Carloman caught Pippin’s punch and pulled his brother in close to prevent a second blow. “Stop it, Pippin! I didn’t come to fight.”

  Pippin punched with his left fist, catching Carloman on the ear. Carloman roared in anger.

  “Enough!” Boniface was between them, pulling them apart.

  Carloman released Pippin and turned away. When he spoke, his voice was laced with regret. “I’m sorry Pippin. I spoke in haste. You couldn’t have known that he was going to die. None of us did.”

  Pippin had retreated to the darkest part of the room. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper, hollow and distant.

  “I failed him long before that.”

  Boniface put his hand on Carloman’s shoulder and nodded towards the door. Carloman left and closed the door behind him.

  “What do you want, Boniface?” Although Pippin held no anger towards the bishop, he was suspicious of the man’s motives. He had always been at Charles right hand – and now he was at Carloman’s.

  “I don’t care how the two of you split the kingdom,” Boniface said. “I came for another purpose.”

  “Beware, Bishop. I am not my brother. I am no Knight in Christ.”

  “No. I suppose, in that, you are more like your father.” Boniface chuckled. “Your father was a man of faith, Pippin, but his religion was Francia. Where the Church’s needs matched his own, he was our strongest advocate. Where not…” he shrugged.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Carloman wasn’t entirely truthful with you.”

  Pippin’s head came up, but Boniface held up his palm, urging patience.

  “I knew Charles was dying. He kept it from everyone else – even his wife and his children – in the hopes of preventing civil war. He was consumed by the succession. No detail was overlooked, no decision made without debate. Charles kept himself alive until he was sure the kingdom had passed safely into your hands and those of your two brothers. Once that task was complete, he felt he could leave this life for the next. Unfortunately, he didn’t foresee the possibility that Sunni and Gripho would renounce their faith to form a pagan state.”

  Pippin said nothing.

  “Had I known that you and Trudi were taking your leave the night before he died, I would have stopped you. Unfortunately, I didn’t, and neither of you were present to receive his blessing.”

  “Why did he favor Gripho?” Pippin couldn't keep the pain from his voice.

  Boniface seemed to puzzle over the question until he guessed its source. “Neustria,” he said. “You want to know why he gave Gripho Paris and a bigger portion of the kingdom?”

  Pippin nodded. “At least I had helped Charles conquer the kingdom. Gripho barely saw a battle.”

  Boniface sighed. “You know Charles’s history. You know he was a bastard who usurped the Agilolfings. Charles knew they would challenge the succession. Since Sunnichild is related to them, he gave part of Neustria to Gripho in hopes of preventing a civil war. Essentially, he was bribing them.”

  “He could have told me.”

  “He did ask for you. But you and Trudi were already gone.”

  Silence permeated the room.

  “Was he in pain?”

  Boniface nodded. “Charles’s death was very painful."

  Again, there was silence. Pippin's eyes looked away from the bishop. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.

  "Why did he send me away?"

  Boniface looked confused.

  "To Rome," Pippin turned, his jaw set. "Why did he send me to Rome?"

  "When you were ten?” Boniface harrumphed. “The same reason he wanted Trudi to marry Aistulf the Lombard. He wanted an alliance on the Roman peninsula to secure the southern border."

  "Why didn't he send Carloman?"

  "Carloman was older. Charles wanted him here."

  "But not me."

  "Carloman was already a knight. You were still a boy."

  "I never saw her again. She died while I was away."

  Boniface frowned. "Your mother didn’t want you to see her suffer."

  "She knew she was dying?"

  Boniface nodded. “She didn’t want that to be your memory of her.”

  Silence recaptured the room.

  "Why are you here, Boniface?"

  “Your father asked a favor of me. Boniface put his hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “He asked me to give you his blessing.”

  Pippin looked up, his eyes pained.

  “That’s my only purpose here.” Boniface to
ok him by the arms. “Will you accept it from me?”

  Slowly, Pippin nodded. Boniface rested his hand on Pippin’s head. He made the sign of the cross and when he spoke, emotion filled his voice.

  “I give you this blessing as asked, by Charles, son of Pippin, son of Ansegisil.” Boniface paused. “‘My son, in sight our Father in Heaven, I give you my blessing and the blessings of my father and of his father. I give you my word to uphold, our name to defend, our blood to protect, and our will to be victorious. Our line is sworn to preserve the might of Francia and to champion the will of God. I leave this solemn task in your hands and in the hands of your children and your children's children. Be fearless in the face of our enemies and humble in the hands of the Father. Be true, my son. And may the blessing of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost come upon you and remain with you forever and ever. Amen.”

  Boniface stopped for a brief moment and laid his hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “I have known no man who loved his children more.”

  The tears streaming down his face surprised Pippin. He tried to curtail his emotions, but they welled up inside until silent sobs shook his frame. His father’s death had left a hole in his life; one he did not know how to fill. The bishop opened his arms wide and Pippin fell into them, weeping.

  ✽✽✽

  “Excommunicate her.”

  Boniface scowled. Not only had Bishop of Auxerres interrupted his morning meal, the man hadn't even bothered to say, "good morning.” And as a legate to the Holy See, Boniface deserved, at the very least, a “Your Grace.” Nevertheless, Aidolf had detoured from Tours to meet him, spending the better part of a day on horseback to reach Vieux-Poitiers, so Boniface ignored the discourtesy, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and pushed away his food.

  There could be only one “her” to whom he was referring: Charles’s daughter, Hiltrude. “We have no grounds to excommunicate.”

  “She’s pagan.”

  “A malicious rumor, nothing more.”

  Boniface picked up his cup and plate and moved past Aidolf to place them on the counter.