“And if I find her?”
“Advise Salau. He’ll report back to me and we will discuss what to do. What happens to Bertrada is my responsibility.”
Miette bowed to take her leave. While she was relieved to be back playing a political role for the future king, she didn’t want to think about what would happen if she actually found Bertrada. She held no acrimony for Bertrada, but that mattered little. She had no choice in the matter. She would have to go to the Abbey.
Still, she recognized part of her hoped to find Bertrada and she was intrigued by the prospect of meeting her. She wanted to know what it was about her that Pippin found so attractive. Was it her brain or her beauty? And why did she end the relationship?
✽✽✽
Miette left the following morning for Chelles. Salau and two armed men accompanied her. It was little more than a day’s ride and the weather was warm. It would have been a perfect day if Salau hadn’t been with her. She had never been with him outside of the king’s presence and the thought frightened her. His eyes held her with the same deadness they always did. If he chose to ravage her, there would be little she could do to defend herself. The thought made her shudder.
“Dreaming of me, milady?”
Miette weighed her response. She certainly didn’t want to goad him. “I’m the king’s plaything, not yours, Salau.”
Salau grunted his dismissal. “So, you tell yourself.”
Miette’s anger won out over her caution. “Do you think he degrades me for your pleasure? Do you think this is about you? He has me fuck the likes of you to humiliate me, to shame me. That’s the source of his passion. You’re only a tool in his fantasies. I, on the other hand, am the fantasy.”
Salau’s ghoulish laugh didn't touch his eyes. “Shall we play a game, you and I? Tell me now, how you’d like to service me the next time he summons: by the hand, the mouth, or – whatever you desire. See if the king doesn’t order it so. Then you shall know if you are my plaything or his.”
Miette shook her head, refusing to take the bait.
Salau shrugged. “In the ass, then. That way I don’t have to look at you.”
“You are a pig.”
✽✽✽
They arrived early that evening. She had never been to an Abbey and was surprised by its size. It was as large as a small city. Rumored to be part haven and part prison for the aging women at court, how one came to be here depended on one’s favor. Miette found it hard to imagine that the sole purpose of the sprawling compound and all who lived there was the care of the Abbey’s secluded women. She left the three soldiers at the entrance and, after being ushered inside, requested an audience with the abbess.
She waited nearly an hour before the abbess appeared. A large woman with a pronounced accent, the abbess was exceedingly cooperative once Miette used Childeric’s name. It affected the woman like a magical command. She stood at once, bowed, and retreated into the Abbey.
After a few minutes, a novice appeared at the door and led her to an exterior courtyard where she was told to wait. She amused herself by watching an ancient gardener tend to the voluminous hedges and plants that surrounded the benches and walkways of the yard. He was a short man with disheveled hair, and he hummed distractedly as he worked. Miette was surprised by his presence as she had assumed that only women would be allowed inside the Abbey.
Although Miette had never met Sunnichild, she knew instinctively that the nun walking towards her was Charles’s widow. She wore a long blue habit that covered her completely, creating the illusion that Sunnichild floated, rather than walked, towards her over the stone pathway. A white cowl covered her hair and shoulders so that only her face remained uncovered. She turned it towards the sun, basking in its warmth as she made her way. A tall woman dressed as a postulant accompanied her. She moved like a dancer.
“Lady Ragomfred.” Sunnichild held out her hand to Miette.
“Sister.” Miette kissed the offered hand.
“I’m a little surprised by your visit. It’s not often that I’m visited by anyone from court, let alone the wife of one of my late husband’s enemies.”
“I try to avoid politics, Sister. I’m here only out of concern for a friend who has gone missing. I believe you are acquainted with her…Lady Hélène?”
It was clear that this was not new information to either woman, but the postulant shifted her feet at the mention of Hélène’s name. It was a small thing, yet it struck Miette as significant. It was the kind of shift a soldier would make when threatened.
“I had heard this news.” Sunnichild motioned that Miette should join her on one of the benches. The postulate remained standing behind Sunnichild as if charged with her protection. “My son Pippin was here not long ago. He was distressed at the disappearance of both Lady Hélène and Lady Bertrada. How can I help you?”
“There are rumors that both women were attacked and remain in hiding out of fear that their lives are in jeopardy. Since Pippin is known to have paid a visit to the Abbey, I was hopeful that they could be found here.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Sunnichild said. “But out of curiosity, what did you hope to accomplish if she was?”
“I’m here with guards loyal to the throne. We could offer them safe passage back to my home where they would be well protected.” Miette kept her eyes on Sunnichild but watched for a reaction from the postulate. The woman’s face hardened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She knew enough to be alarmed by the offer.
“As I said, I’m sorry I can be of no help.” Sunnichild straightened as if ending the interview. “If I should learn anything you should know about, I’ll be happy to send you a message.”
Sunni was about to rise when Miette reached out a hand to stop her and did her best to act like a supplicant. “Sister, if I may ask a boon?”
Sunnichild sat and nodded for her to continue.
“I’ve always wondered about life as a nun. As you know, my husband is an older man, and one who likely will not be long on this earth. As a widow with no heir, my estate will pass to the eldest male in my husband’s family. It’s likely that I’ll need to find refuge and had hoped the Abbey at Chelles would receive me. Might I spend a day or two with you in prayer to prepare for such a day?”
Sunnichild’s face froze. Her eyes squinted in concentration. “You’ll have to ask the abbess for her permission. Such boons are not mine to give.”
“Of course.” Miette rose. “By your leave, Sister.” She turned to the tall postulate, “My pardon. I did not greet you properly. I am Lady Ragomfred.” She held out her hand. The postulate curtsied and kissed her hand. “And you are?”
“Agnès, milady.” When Miette waited for more, she said. “Just Agnès.”
Her accent alone was suspicious, but a name without attribution? Chelles was an abbey for nobility. What was a peasant doing here? What was she to Sunnichild? Happy to have uncovered a clue worth exploring, Miette rose to take her leave. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
She turned to Sunnichild, curtsied, and went to find the abbess.
Chapter Thirty-one
Regensburg
“You can’t go.” Trudi insisted. “The pope’s legate just arrived.”
“So has Carloman!” Odilo’s face was red with fury. “Reports from Theudebald place him just days from here and without Pippin. If we mobilize now, we can trap Carloman between us.”
“Carloman isn’t that stupid. By the time you reach him, he’ll have bested Theudebald and the Hessians. And in all likelihood Pippin will arrive as well.”
“This is our best chance to stop them.”
“Sergius is our best chance. As a Legate of the Holy See, he’s offering to mediate. He says that without a king, the mayors have no right to subjugate Bavaria. He’ll appeal to Carloman to avoid bloodshed until the succession is resolved.”
“Do you really believe Carloman will stop for a legate?” Odilo’s sarcasm was thick as an infantry shield.
“Carloman listens to the Pope. If the Pope is against this, Carloman will be too.”
“You don’t believe I can win.”
Trudi shook her head. “I don’t.”
“I wish you held me in the same kind of awe you hold your brothers.” Anger made Odilo’s voice tremble.
Trudi looked up at him, surprised. It was stupid and irrational, something a boy would say. She saw the hurt and embarrassment on his face. She had held him away and now he wanted to prove to himself that he was man enough for her. If the subject wasn’t so serious, she might have laughed. Instead, she thought about how she had lied to Odilo that he was the father of her child. Guilt stabbed at her and she felt her guard fall. She was being unfair.
He was a good man who had embraced her and defended her without question. She remembered their first kiss and his awkwardness in the cave at their “communion.” She remembered the eagerness in his eyes and the gentleness of his touch. Warmth for him flooded into her, thawing her distaste.
She knelt and took his hands in hers. “I side with you. I left them for you. You are the man I chose, not because you could rival my brothers, but because I want to spend my life with you. I want to have this baby with you. I want him to become a man like you.”
There were tears in her eyes. “I want to stop this madness because I don’t want to lose you. I’ve lived with them the entirety of my life. I’ve trained with their knights. I’ve seen up close the size of their army and the skill of their warriors. I love you, Odilo, but I’m sure of one thing: You. Will. Not. Win. And if you die at either of my brothers’ hands, I won’t live to see this baby born. He’ll be taken from my womb before the day is out. If you care for us – for the future of Bavaria as you have named us – you’ll listen to Sergius.”
Odilo pulled her to her feet took her face in his hands and kissed her. “I will speak to Sergius,” he said.
✽✽✽
Trudi had warned Odilo that Sergius was as pompous as he was tall. The Legate towered over Odilo by nearly two hands. Trudi guided him to a seat and offered him some wine, even though it was only mid-morning.
“That would be lovely.” Sergius tilted his head in acknowledgement as if talking to a servant. “Something red and dry.”
Odilo’s face filled with fury.
Trudi interrupted before he could react “Of course. Does your excellency require anything else?”
“If I do, I will be sure to advise you.”
Trudi gave a slight bow; she had always hated the man. He had a long patrician nose, hair cut square across the face in the Roman fashion, thick expressive lips, and an air about him that exuded arrogance.
Odilo coughed politely to get everyone’s attention. “May we get down to the task at hand?”
Sergius gave a tight smile. “I was relieved to receive Hiltrude’s request. For months we’ve heard rumors of a Bavarian rebellion. And it’s plain to my eyes that you’ve been building up an army to rival the Franks. I am here to implore you not to use it. We already have the political chaos of an empty throne. A war would reduce the continent to rubble. I have reports that half of Hesse is already up in flames.”
“You make the case for rebellion, not against it.”
Sergius waved away Odilo’s objection. “Foolishness. War will impoverish the kingdom and spawn a thousand uprisings. It will be a nightmare.”
“At least we won’t wear the yoke.”
“Is that what you think this is? Tell me, who did Charles leave in charge of Bavaria?’
“Me.”
“So, if you are already in charge, why do you need to rebel?”
“It is more complicated than that.”
“You’re talking about religion?”
“I’m talking about freedom.”
“You’re talking about paganism. Don’t look so shocked. I know you married Hiltrude beneath the Ash. Did anyone stop you?”
“We were married in a church,” Trudi said.
“Words! Nothing but words. You don’t fight wars over words. In many ways, you’ve already won. You have Charles’s daughter.” He gestured toward Trudi as if she were a chair. “If she bears a boy, he’ll have every bit as much a right to Charles’s legacy as does Carloman’s son. Why fight them now? Just wait a generation and the world will be yours.
“By the way, your marriage has really angered the Lombards. Aistulf is taking out his manly frustration against the Mother Church by encroaching on the Papal lands in Ravenna – ”
Odilo cut in. “Your church is not my struggle.”
Sergius looked up in anger. “That is where you’re mistaken. You think of this as a civil war between Bavaria and Austrasia. Between pagan and Christian. I am here to assure you that it is not. There’s a much greater war that we wage, and your rebellion will do nothing but weaken us. Tell me this, if Bavaria and the Franks destroy each other who will be left to pick up the pieces?”
Sergius didn’t wait for an answer. “The Saracen. Our true enemy. From the beginning they’ve been an Arab religion of conquest. They seized Damascus and Antioch and Palestine. They sacked Jerusalem and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. An army of thirty thousand marched on Mecca and it fell without a fight. They conquered Syria and Iraq, Egypt and Mesopotamia, Persia, Sicily and Cyprus. They laid siege to Constantinople, conquered Iberia and India. They invaded Avignon, Nimes and Narbonne. And, if not for Charles Martel, they would have taken Tours and Paris and eventually all of the kingdom.
“You fight over words. You fight over pagan practices that die on the vine like rotten fruit, but only one thing has kept us from Saracen rule: Charles Martel and a kingdom united under Christianity. Destroy that and you destroy us all.”
This is what Trudi wanted. With Sergius making a case against civil war, Carloman would have to side with the Pope and relent. There would be no war. She just had to get Carloman to listen.
Odilo was less convinced. “What does it matter to me that one religion replaces another if neither are my own?”
“As I’ve said, the Saracens abide by an Arab religion of conquest. As we are not Arabs, that would leave us to be the conquest.”
Trudi watched Odilo absorb the discourse, knowing it wouldn’t move him. He felt too strongly about the Church to buy an argument that they were better overlords than the Saracen. But all Trudi needed was for Carloman to hear the argument. If he didn’t fight, Odilo wouldn’t have to.
Odilo nodded. “I don’t agree with your logic, Your Excellency, but I will arrange a parley with Carloman.”
Trudi gave herself a silent cheer.
✽✽✽
It took Odilo the better part of a day to mobilize his army. With ten thousand men, it required a lot more time than he expected. Supply wagons had to be packed and the infantry rounded up from the brothels and alehouses of “Trudiville.” Just getting his army into defined ranks to march took several hours. When they were finally ready to disembark, the sun was already in the afternoon sky. He was so furious that he kept them marching until nightfall, forcing his men to set pickets in the dark.
He was up before dawn to set an arduous pace. The men had grown soft during the winter months. Encamped for so long at Regensburg, they had grown accustomed to sleeping in beds and eating hot food. Even the Slavs had grown used to the comfort.
They marched for two days along the Danube before scouts returned with news of Theudebald’s defea
t. Odilo bristled at the accounts of Hessians being forced to convert. More worrisome still was Theudebald’s disappearance. Odilo couldn’t imagine him running from battle.
Yet, as the next day unfolded, there was no word of his half-brother’s whereabouts or a sign of his army. When his scouts returned without a sighting, it became clear that Theudebald had quit the campaign, leaving Odilo to fight Carloman alone.
Although frustrated at the thought, Odilo conceded that Theudebald already might have done enough damage. He would have to wait for scouting reports to assess the status of Carloman’s army himself.
As the pace of their progress improved, so did Odilo’s mood. Even the Slavs were falling into a disciplined march. He let his gaze drift over the vast army he had built and took a moment’s pride in all he had accomplished. He had blended the barbaric fury of the Slavs with Bavarian professionalism to build an army of a size that Carloman had never faced. It made him almost giddy with anticipation. They were going to win! He had never felt so confident. He pushed the men hard, anxious to engage the battle.
They would reach Carloman’s last-known position within a day. He sent scouts to pin down Carloman’s current location to ensure there were no surprises. He wanted to be as ready as he could possibly be.
As the army closed on the battlefield where Theudebald had met Carloman, Odilo’s scouts returned with troubling news; Carloman’s army had vanished. Aggressive questioning of local townspeople had the Franks heading west along the Danube. Odilo was stunned. Were they running away? Had Theudebald crippled Carloman’s ability to wage war?
It was the only explanation. Filled with euphoria, Odilo pressed onward. It was only a matter of time.
Only it wasn’t. An entire day swept by as Odilo advanced west along the Danube finding little sign of Carloman’s army. He grew frustrated with his scouts. How could an entire army disappear? They questioned everyone they passed, and no one had seen the Frankish army. Something had changed. But for the life of him, Odilo couldn’t figure out what.
Wheel of the Fates: Book Two of the Carolingian Chronicles Page 30