Odilo and Trudi approached the fire. “This ceremony is sacred to us,” Odilo warned. “It’s every bit as holy as your ceremony.”
“Yes, I know,” Trudi said. “I just hope I have the courage to go through with it.”
“It will be disastrous if you don’t.”
Trudi squeezed his hand in reassurance. Despite her reservations, a part of her was, in fact, excited.
When they reached the center stone, the sibyl disrobed and stood naked by the fire. Tattoos wound their way up her torso, surrounding her breasts and ending at her neckline. She turned her back and approached the ash. From the center of its trunk, she opened a door, cleverly carved into the wood so that it wasn’t discernable to the eye. Behind the doors were two wooden figures; one was clearly male with a pronounced phallus, and the other female with an equally abundant belly. The sibyl handed the female to Trudi and the male to Odilo.
The sibyl turned to the crowd. “From the beginning of the world the Fates have lived among the Aesir, spinning the thread of our lives. Living here in the middle realm, we cannot see their purpose, nor know its value. All we can do is accept the brief time they afford us to live, to love, and to create. Creation is the highest form of communion and those who marry before the ash bring from the earth new life and power for us all to witness.”
Standing so close to the fire, Trudi was inhaling a good deal of the smoke from the burning herbs. As the ceremony progressed, she felt as if time was slowing down for her. She watched the sibyl speak and her words seemed to surround Trudi’s body. A warm glow flowed through her and the world became only the fire, the ash, the sibyl, and the nine stones.
“We’re supposed to exchange the symbols of Freya and Freyer,” Odilo said, handing her the male figure. Trudi dutifully handed him the female.
The sibyl stepped to them. “We are of the earth. What is here, is everywhere. All that is in the earth is within us, and all that we become returns to the earth. The spark that gives us life is from the gods. You have come to be united under the ash?”
She looked expectantly to Odilo and Trudi.
“Yes,” they both replied at the same time.
“The right of creation is sacred,” The sibyl intoned. “Enter it with reverence.”
As Odilo had instructed her, Trudi discarded her robe. With that act, the intimacy of the fire disappeared, and she felt the eyes of the crowd upon her. Her skin prickled in the cold air. At first, she felt panic, but seeing Odilo’s eyes sparkle gave her renewed confidence. An unexpected thrill suffused her, and she stood confidently before him in the firelight. Odilo followed her lead and soon the two stood naked by the fire. Silence took the nobles in the clearing.
Trudi placed her wooden figurine next to the fire and lay down beside it, a subtle thrill creeping up her frame. Odilo followed, placing his figure next to hers. He knelt and then covered her body with his.
At this point, according to the ritual, they were supposed to copulate, but all that happened was Odilo started thrusting against her leg. Trudi waited, but nothing more happened.
“What is it?” Trudi whispered. “What’s wrong?”
Odilo looked sheepish. “I don’t know.”
Trudi reached down with her hand to find his erection. It was soft as a wet rag. Trudi couldn’t help herself; she giggled.
“This isn’t at all laughable.” Odilo said. “We must consummate our union.”
“Consummate?” She laughed and rolled him over. “I don’t want you to consummate, I want to – ” and she whispered the rest in his ear.
She began to kiss her way down his torso, and it didn’t take Odilo long at all to recover.
✽✽✽
Since the wedding, Trudi could count on one hand the number of days she had seen her new husband. He was so busy lining up allies for the expected war with Carloman, he was rarely, if ever, in Regensburg.
Thanks to his efforts, the fields west of the city swarmed with knights and foot soldiers encamping for the spring campaign. Thousands of tents were aligned in precise rows and, much to Trudi’s dismay, more arrived every day. She longed to find a way to avoid the impending war, but there was no broaching the subject with Odilo. All her entreaties on that subject were ignored.
With the armies, of course, came merchants, moneylenders and artisans hoping to enrich themselves off the army’s needs. Trudi, however, drew a line at the complementary influx of prostitutes. Using her newfound authority as Duc Odilo’s bride, she forbade them from entering the fortress. As a result, a temporary city of sorts had grown up outside their walls, adjacent to the military encampment.
She had waited a month before announcing her condition. She was already getting thick about the waist and feared any further delay. Odilo had been ecstatic, as had the rest of Regensburg. She was feted from one end of the city to the other and showered with gifts for her babe. Wagers were being made on the sex of the child and it was clear that the early betting favored a boy.
When Trudi asked Odilo about the obsession with her pregnancy, he explained that the Bavarian royalty had been devastated a generation earlier by family infighting. With Trudi’s child, the nobility saw the chance for a fresh start…a new beginning for the royal family in Bavaria. It also didn’t hurt that Trudi’s father was Charles Martel. As the grandson of the mayor, the child would have a strong and legitimate claim to power throughout Francia.
Early on, Trudi had been careful to dress herself in a way that hid her advancing condition to preserve the illusion that the baby was Odilo’s. Despite this caution, Tobias had heard gossip in the inns and taverns, speculating about the timing of her pregnancy.
“It is nothing to fear, milady,” he had said. “Such talk is sport among the common folk. Most shout it down. People want their heir. And you are giving them one.”
The nobles weren’t so generous. She caught whispers of conversations not intended for her ears. There was speculation, to be sure. At least, no one had dared to comment about it in her presence.
✽✽✽
Having put on a set of riding clothes, Trudi went down to the stables to pick out a horse. The stable master, however, refused to saddle a mare for her, saying something about it not being allowed.
“Who told you that?”
The man’s response, of course, was a mystery to her. The accent that she had found so endearing in Odilo’s speech back at court was much harsher and unintelligible among his subjects here in Bavaria. She caught no more than every third word. Getting nowhere with the stable master, she went to search for her husband on foot.
It was because of her pregnancy, she suspected. Ever since they had announced it, she had been treated as if she were made of glass.
Trudi had just about given up her search for her husband when she found him at the Northern gate greeting a small troop of men on horseback. They were covered in dust and their horses were lathered. As she drew closer, it was clear that their leader was related to Odilo. Although much larger and stronger than her spouse, there could be little doubt that the man was his kin. He had the same dark hair, the same tousled look, the same eyes, nose and mouth.
Up close, however, she began to notice differences. A deep scar twisted the man’s face into a permanent smile that showed several teeth were missing. One of his eyes had a vacant look to it and his hands and forearms were heavily tattooed. He was also quite grey. Older, and more battle worn, Trudi thought as the man dismounted. But instead of embracing, he merely clasped Odilo’s forearm. Something had come between them, Trudi surmised. She strode purposefully into the gathering.
At her sudden appearance, Odilo gave a start and looked to his guest. No words passed between them, but Trudi had the feeling that much was said.
She stepped forward and greeted Odilo. “Husband.” Turning to the newcomer, her eyebrows arched. “Your guest looks familiar.”
For just the slightest moment Odilo hesitated. “May I present my half-brother, Theudebald.”
Trudi’s brea
th caught at the name. One of Godefred of Alemannia’s oldest sons, Theudebald had ruled in Alemannia when Trudi had been a little girl. His short reign had been so violent that the priests back home still used his name to scare misbehaving children into obedience. One of the stories they told had been so effective that it had troubled Trudi’s sleep for years. It was said that if Theudebald deigned to sleep in a man’s house, he took “the pleasure” of his host’s wife in return for the honor.
Theudebald had been banished by Charles more than a decade earlier for persecuting a bishop. A gentle man of God sent by Boniface to minister in Alemannia, Bishop Eto had arrived at the Reichenau monastery only to be seized by Theudebald and stripped naked. Saying that he “wished to send Charles a message,” Theudebald had marched the poor man through the streets of Constance, whipping him in a pathetic imitation of the Passion.
Charles arrived several months later with a massive army; he forcibly removed Theudebald from office, and, to send a message of his own, stripped Theudebald naked and had him whipped him down the same streets as he had tortured poor Eto.
Trudi struggled to keep her composure. “I’ve heard so much about you,” was all she could think to say.
Theudebald stared right through her. He made no move to respond. Trudi struggled to hold his gaze, the vacant eye disorienting her. Finally, she looked away.
Theudebald turned to Odilo. “A lovely girl.” A smile took his face. “Thank you, for having me as a guest in your home.”
✽✽✽
“We can’t push our armies that far,” Odilo complained for the third time in as many minutes. “You’ll stretch our supply lines too far and leave us vulnerable to being split by Carloman and Pippin. We need to stay in the east and let them extend their lines.”
“We won’t need a supply line,” Theudebald said. “All of Alemannia will rise to our call. If you join us, we can defeat them in one blow. We’ll be fighting from our homeland. Or have you forgotten who you are now that you have your little throne here in Bavaria?”
“I am Godefred’s son as much as you, Theo.” Odilo leaned across the table. “But you’ve been gone a long time. The Church has made great gains in Alemannia and the Hessians may not be as unified in their hatred as you think. But if we can lure Carloman and Pippin to march this far east with an invading army?” Odilo’s hand slapped the table. “Then everyone will join our fight and we will best Charles’s sons far from their home.”
They were at dinner. The duck was cold, and Trudi was tired. The two half-brothers had talked in circles for nearly three hours and neither had yielded a point. She wondered if all of Odilo’s relations were so bull-headed. She picked at the breastbone, hunting for an additional shred of meat and shifted uncomfortably on the long wooden bench they used to sit at the table.
She found it difficult to listen to her husband plotting a war against her brothers. Unfortunately, there was little she could do about it. From what she had gathered since arriving in Bavaria, it was Carloman who was provoking war with the east. By violating Charles’s succession and imprisoning Sunni and Gripho, Carloman had left little choice to Odilo. Sunni was his niece and a princess of Bavaria. They had to support Gripho’s claim. And by using the excuse that he was combating a “pagan uprising” Carloman was in fact instigating the very thing he sought to oppose.
The passions surrounding the conflict ran deep, far deeper than anyone in her family understood. Bradius had shown her what her family history looked like from a pagan perspective and it wasn’t a flattering portrait. Her brothers were walking into a hornets' nest. She wished she knew where Pippin stood.
“And what does our little spy think?” Odilo was smiling. He must have sensed she was uncomfortable with the conversation. “What should we be, bride of mine, a lion or a snake?”
“Women are only good for two things,” Theudebald barked, “and giving war counsel isn’t one of them.” He glared at Odilo and then turned his attention to the duck on his plate. Silence greeted him. He ripped what was left of the bird into pieces and sucked on its bones.
Trudi ignored the rebuke. “I would suggest that you try talking with them.”
“I did,” Odilo said, “just after your father died. Carloman knew the consequences. I begged him not to attack Sunni and Gripho.”
“What about Pippin? Has he taken the field with Carloman?”
“From the stories I’ve heard, he did try to intercede at Laon.”
“Then he doesn’t support Carloman,” Trudi said. “At least not yet. If you can appeal to him, he may be able to intercede. I wouldn’t want to fight a war against the two of them.”
“Maybe I would.” The anger in Theudebald’s voice stunned Trudi to silence. “Maybe I want a war against both of them. Maybe I’ve had enough of your family meddling in the affairs of Alemannia. Maybe I want to send them a message.”
His glazed eye bore into Trudi. She turned away from it to look down at her plate, blushing with anger. “Like that bishop you whipped through the streets?”
Theudebald’s face went white with rage. “Your father was a liar and a murderer. Your brother is a fiend of the church who butchers women and children even as they pray before the ash. Your family is the scourge of my homeland. The fact that my half-brother married Charles’s little cunt doesn’t change any of that.”
Trudi hissed and rose from the table. Odilo was faster. “Enough!”
Theudebald spat between them. “Send this one back to her brothers, Odilo. How do you know she wasn’t sent here to betray us?”
Odilo was shaking with anger. “She tied the marriage knot before the ash and carries my child.”
“So, she tells you. But you have to admit, her timing seems somewhat convenient.”
Enough, she thought. Before Odilo could move, Trudi seized the knife from her plate, put her right foot on the bench and vaulted across the table. Theudebald pushed backwards off his bench, toppling to the floor and rolled to his right, away from her. He came up into a crouch on the balls of his feet.
Seeing her standing before him, knife in hand, with her day-dress billowing around her, Odilo’s brother started to laugh.
“I told you, we shouldn’t trust her, brother. One night, you’ll wake up with that knife sticking out of your throat.” Theudebald waved at Trudi’s blade. “Did you really think you could have gotten close enough to cut me with that, little girl?”
Trudi slashed down diagonally across his body. Theudebald slapped aside the knife, his face snarling with contempt at her feeble effort.
Trudi, however, never meant for the blade to touch him. Her upper body followed the path of the knife, using it to build momentum as she bent double. Pivoting on her left foot, she whipped her body around, threw open her hips and kicked high with her right heel. It caught Theudebald squarely on the jaw and knocked him to the floor. Trudi stepped over him, her blade slashing downward. She slammed it into the floor next to Theudebald’s face.
“You are right.” Trudi seethed as she stood above him. “I am Charles’s daughter. If I were you, I'd never forget that.”
She walked to the doorway and turned back to face her husband. “I know what my brothers are capable of. So, should you. Talk to Pippin! See if he’s willing to intervene. War is a hard thing to stop once it has started.” She walked out of the hall.
✽✽✽
Tobias was Trudi’s lifeline. Her one-time guide had stood by her, ensuring that she survived her arrival in Regensburg. Now he was her only refuge from the politics of the city. He was both her confidant and her eyes and ears in the court.
“Let’s go for a walk outside the gates. You should get to know the city outside of court.”
“I would love to,” she said, with a gleam in her eye. “But let me change into something less grandiose. If I’m to see the city, I’d like to see it like everyone else. I don’t want the attention that comes from being a Duchesse.
When she returned in a simple robe, Tobias was holding out a scar
f to improve her disguise. She wrapped it around her head and covered the lower portion of her face. Tobias offered his arm and together walked out of the palace and strolled towards the arched gateway on the eastern side of the city.
The city originally had been built as a fortress by the Romans back in the fourth century after Christ. Large thirty-foot walls made of salt block faced each of the four winds and housed the entire city on over one hundred hectares of land. Over time, markets and neighborhoods had developed around the main features of the fortress: the palace, the church, the barracks, and the armory. The palace stood in the northeast corner of the fortress and shared two of its walls. It towered three floors above a small courtyard and was intended to be a fortress of its own. Noble families who had grown rich farming the surrounding countryside had built their own houses inside the fortress walls. The most prestigious of these, of course, were those closest to the palace. The same was true for the merchants and the inns operating inside the city walls. Proximity to the palace came with a price.
Once outside the fortress walls, Tobias showed Trudi the makeshift marketplace just outside the gate. She had heard that it had tripled in size since her arrival, but the sheer magnitude of it still startled her.
Brothels, ale halls and gambling dens were housed in large tent-like structures on dirt “avenues” adjacent to the soldier’s camp. And, to Trudi’s astonishment, whores, cutpurses, and worse plied their trade out in the open air.
Almost as overwhelming as the size of the bazaar was its smell. Without any attempt at sanitation, the odor of urine, vomit and manure was ubiquitous and overpowering.
“The prostitutes have dubbed it ‘Trudiville,’” Tobias said, “in retaliation for your decision to banish them from the city.”
It wasn’t lost on Trudi that the whores had used the western term “ville” rather than the eastern “burg” to highlight her Frankish origins.
“Lovely. How do they stand the smell?” She held the scarf up to her nose.
Wheel of the Fates: Book Two of the Carolingian Chronicles Page 5