Author: M G Kizzia

M4 Margueritte: The Breton March, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Margueritte sat, still patting Brittany’s back, though Brittany had gotten quiet.  She thought through what Gerraint proposed.  If Abd al-Makti was not permitted to get to her directly, either to have her killed or remove her from the picture in some way, he could still get to her through her family.  He could tie her up with worries and being needed at home, and thus keep her preoccupied forever.  She had no proof that Abd al-Makti might have been responsible for her father’s stroke.  God knew Father did not exactly eat right or properly take care of himself over the last few years especially, but it felt suspicious enough to get her thinking, or get Gerraint thinking.  She squeezed Brittany for a moment and let out a few tears.

“What is it?” Mother asked.

“The building is going well.”  Father felt he had to change the subject, even if there wasn’t any subject yet.

Margueritte nodded and wiped her eyes.  “All of it is going as well as might be expected.”

“Yes, but all the expense.  I scrimped and saved my whole life, and you are making me a pauper.”

“Father,” Margueritte looked up.  “Nobility is supposed to be land rich and cash poor.  Besides, it is worth it.  I will do almost anything to keep the Ahlmoreds of the world from coming here and taking over.”

Father nodded and reached out his good hand to take Mother’s hand, which she gladly gave him.  He looked at her and let out his crooked smile.  “I met the man, you know.”

Jennifer came in from the back where she had been out by the kitchen generally hiding from all the humans.  The servants, Marta and Maven were good friends, and Lolly was a dwarf as well, so that all seemed fine, but that was enough, especially when her hands were full of children.  LeFee kept trying to help, like a grown-up girl, but the boys, Martin, Cotton and Marta’s boy, Weldig Junior, the oldest boy at nearly three-and-a-half, were too much to handle.  Marta’s older girl, Morgan turned seven, but she seemed content to play with Margo’s three-year-old girl, Larin.

“Boys.  Sit.”  Jennifer ordered, and the boys got more or less up on the couch while Jennifer collapsed in a soft chair.  “I never imagined.”

Margueritte smiled at her own thoughts.  “It won’t be long before the boys go sneaking off to go fishing without telling anyone.  Before you know it, they will be getting into big trouble.”

“Getting into trouble is what boys do best,” Elsbeth said, as she came in holding Owien’s hand.

“It is not,” Owien protested.

“It is,” Mother confirmed.

“Soon, the boys will be coming home with frogs in their pockets and innocent faces that don’t understand what they did wrong,” Margueritte concluded.

“What we have to look forward to,” Jennifer said.

“Not my problem,” Margo said, but Margueritte shook her finger at the woman.

“Careful, or you will end up with junior there running after these three sixteen-year-olds yelling, “Wait up.  Wait up.”  Margueritte made a face and waved her hands. People laughed at the image, but Brittany interrupted.

“Ma-ma.”

Margueritte hugged her baby.  “You heard that.  You all heard that.”

Brittany continued.  “Da-da-da-da.”

“Dada is not here,” Margueritte said.  “Here, sit with your aunt Elsbeth for a minute.”  She handed Brittany to Elsbeth and stood to fetch Martin off the couch.  He had started to squirm, so she put him in her lap and brushed her fingers through his unkempt hair, like a nervous twitch while she talked.  She told them about Abd al-Makti, the sorcerer, and some of the harrowing experiences she had been through.  She shared her suspicions about him turning on her family to keep her occupied and out of the way.  Then she apologized, like it was her fault in some way.

“Don’t be stupid,” her father said.

“It’s not your fault,” Mother quickly joined him.

“But maybe what Abd al-Makti does not realize is I don’t have to be in Saxony to work.  The important work is being started right here.  But I am afraid he may figure it out, and then I will be afraid for you all.”

Not me,” Margo said and moaned a little.  She held her stomach.  “I would be more afraid for him if he gets you upset.”  The others generally agreed, but Margueritte thought of something else, and she called.

“Doctor Pincher.”

The half-dwarf doctor appeared, took one look at Margo, and scolded everyone.  “How long were you planning to keep this woman in labor before getting her to bed and calling me?”

“Oh,” Jennifer stood right away and Margueritte also went to Margo.  Mother followed while Margueritte and Jennifer helped Margo get back upstairs to bed.

“Boys.  Stay right where you are and don’t move an inch.”  Elsbeth’s words were sharp, and the boys stopped whatever they were doing and thinking.  Father chuckled.

Several hours later, Jennifer and Doctor Mishka came out of the room, and Mother said, “Well?”

“Sweet Babushka, you have another grandson,” Mishka said.

“Wait up, wait up,” Jennifer said, made the face and waved her hands.  Mishka joined her in a laugh and Mother tried not to snicker as she went in to see her new grandson.

###

Roland and Tomberlain showed up around November first.  Roland said they beat the Saxons back and moved down to thrash the Alemanni.  Charles finally had to let the army disband for a time, and anyway, he promised to meet Boniface in Paris.  Apparently, Boniface made a good start on organizing the church and reducing some of the overlap, but there was more to do, and he was anxious to see what land Charles had to offer.  A few prime spots would help the church, greatly.

It turned November thirteenth when they all sat down to supper in the Great Hall for the first time.  Margueritte thought she had to get more tapestries or something on the walls to deaden the echo.  Father called it the best room he ever saw, and four new rooms upstairs, which they struggled one day to get him up there to see, he said were perfect.  Now he knew his family would be well taken care of.

Brittany turned one on the thirteenth.  Martin would turn three on December second.  Jennifer would probably have her baby between the two, somewhere in those two weeks.  Margueritte probably wouldn’t have hers until after Christmas.  Roland and Father Aden were talking like old friends who had never been apart.  Margueritte thought the only one missing was Thomas of Evandell.  She had to interrupt.

“I trust in Boniface’s mind he is concerned about bringing peace to the church, but what I want to know is why are these bishops so greedy?”

Father Aden, who arrived a whole month before Roland shook his head.  “I would like to think it is not greed, even if I don’t know what else to think.  A monastery needs enough land to support itself, and that is all.  A bishop needs to provide oversight in matters of faith, and that is all.  That is what a bishop is, an overseer.  Anything more than that is of the devil, as Jesus said.  You can’t serve God and money.”

“But it does look like money and power are in the front of the mind of some of these men, and some women,” Roland said.  “Too many noble sons and daughters being elevated as a way to give them something when they are not going to inherit.”

“Money and power,” Margueritte concluded.  “They are generally not worth the trouble, but it does not look good for the church.”

“Attention.”  Father banged his spoon against the table.  He sat at the head of the big table.  The children had their own smaller table off to the side, and Giselle and Goldenrod volunteered to help, now that Margueritte had figured out how to let Goldenrod into the house without setting her father to sneezing his head off.  “Attention.”

Mother sat beside Father so she could cut his food to bite sized pieces.  Elsbeth and Owien were beside her while Tomberlain, Margo and their new baby boy, Adalman were right beside him.  Margueritte made Roland sit next to Tomberlain.  Father Aden sat next to Owien, which put Margueritte and Jennifer on the end, with four seats still empty at the table, but being at the end made it easier if they had to get up for the children, especially Margueritte who expected Brittany to start fussing any minute.

“Attention.  I just want to say how proud I am of all of you.”  Mother stopped him for a minute because he started drooling.  She wiped his chin, and he began again.  “You are all the best a father could hope for.  It was touch and go for some of you for a while.”  Mother wanted to interrupt, but he brushed her off.  “Let me speak.  Tomberlain was a hardhead ten years ago, and Margueritte kept getting whisked away by some monster or other, and Elsbeth.”  Father patted Elsbeth’s hand.  “But you all grew out of it, and this hall, this home is the proof that everything is about perfect.  You have the best children.  You are the best children, including all of you that married or got like adopted.  I am not leaving anyone out.  And right now, Owien wants to say something.”

Owien had no idea this was coming.  He looked at Elsbeth, looked to Mother, back to Elsbeth.  He looked embarrassed.  He stood up.  “Elsbeth said yes.”  Everyone applauded and cheered.  “I mean, we were going to wait until Elsbeth’s birthday to announce our engagement, but I guess we can say something now.”  He sat down, and Elsbeth gave him a kiss in front of everyone.  All Margueritte could think was now Goldenrod did not have anyone to tattle to that Elsbeth and Owien were getting all kissy face.

Father banged his spoon.  “I say, let al-Monkey do his worst.  I got the best family a man can have, and nothing can change that or take that away.”

It was a good little speech, and Margueritte saw Giselle, of all people, crying.  She meant to ask her about it later but forgot for a long time.  Father died within the week.

************************

MONDAY

Margueritte discovers there is far more land in their land grant than she ever suspected.  She will have to survey it all for Count Tomberlain, and in the process, accidentally start the Middle Ages.  Until Monday.  Happy Reading

*

M4 Margueritte: The Breton March, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

He handed his helmet to the young man beside him and immediately began his instructions.  “I have been tending this animal for a week.”  He turned to Concord and laid a hand gently on the horse’s neck.  Margueritte had discovered what the Princess knew all the way in the deep past.  Horses were intuitive.  Any horse she bonded with would be bonded with whatever person of the Kairos she happened to be at the moment, male or female, it did not matter.  The horse knew.

“I have already tested him with myself and the equipment, though we have not yet charged anything, per se.  These are strong animals, not too high strung, but sensitive in several ways.  If you mistreat the animal, they will not forget and may refuse to perform.  If you treat the animal well, it will remember and work his heart out for you.”  Gerraint began to walk, and Grimly made the selections, matching horse to rider as well as he could figure, with a little magic, and he made sure each man got an animal by the lead.  Gerraint led them down the road toward Paris, down the small, gradual hill that rose-up to the Manor house and infant village, down to the long, flat field where Margueritte would not let them plant two months earlier or let the men camp when they first arrived.

A dozen scarecrows stood some distance out in the field.  They were lined up in three rows of four dummies each.  They left about three scarecrows of space between each dummy.  It was way too much space between straw soldiers to simulate real combat, but these men were nowhere near ready to simulate combat conditions.

“Stay on your feet for the moment and just watch.  Touch your horses and talk to them.  Name them if you want, so they can get used to their name.  These part Arabians will get attached to a rider if you give them a chance, and the perfect combination would be man and horse working like a single unit.”  Gerraint brought his horse to the ready.  “Now, Concord.”  He spoke to his horse and patted the horse’s neck.  Concord had already been saddled, so all Gerraint had to do was point to the stirrup.  “Left foot,” he said and mounted.  “You keep your foot in the stirrups.  You will note how it puts your legs and knees at the right place to properly grip the horse.  If it is not right, you can lengthen or shorten the stirrup.

“I will show you how, later.”  The chief saddler, invited to watch, spoke quietly to the men.

Gerraint continued.  “The saddle has a high back for support in combat, but it is wood, so if you take a sharp blow from an enemy, the saddle back should break rather than your own back.  Now, one at a time.”  He got back down as he had mounted, foot in stirrup, and he waved to the young man who had volunteered.  The man, Greffen, about eighteen and a good friend of Owien brought the helmet.  Gerraint put it on to model it before he took it off again to speak.

“Your helmet will protect your head and neck and keep your eyes on the enemy.  I don’t expect to have to fend off any arrows during this demonstration.”  He pointed down the hill to the open field where the bulk of the young men stood behind a rope Gerraint put up.  “But just in case you do not know the rule, you are not permitted to ride into trouble without your helmet.”  He set it on the table they had set up, while the young man fetched his gloves.

“These are gauntlets,” he said.  “They will protect your hands and forearms, but notice the inside is plain leather, not too thick, so you can get a good grip on your lance and shield or sword, as the case may be, not to mention holding the reigns and being able to guide your best friend.”  He handed them back before he took his shield and thought to say something different.

“The golden Fleur-de-lis,” he said, though it really looked like a stylized cross with fleur-de-lis type ends.  “At the center, we fight for king and country.  One leaf stands for all the people, the workers, the women and children we defend.  The other leaf stands for the church and the purity of the faith.  Never forget you are Christian warriors.”  He put on his helmet, his gauntlets and mounted Concord again, his shield at the ready, he reached for his lance.  “The lance is balanced where you grip it.”  He spoke up nice and loud.  “It has its own stirrup, like a cup of leather to hold it straight up when at rest.  When I charge, watch my feet as well.  You will see how I push hard on the stirrups which will do two things.  First, it will put the full weight and strength of your horse into the lance, which is far better than just my arm strength alone. Second, it will hopefully keep me from losing my seat.”  He smiled for the group even if they could hardly see it.  “Now this lance is far longer and meaner than anything I am used to, but the principle is the same.  You see how I can tuck it under my arm.  Pray I make a good demonstration.”  He kept the smile and put his lance back into its leather cup holder, as he called it, and started out at a walk.

Gerraint and Concord walked the road.  When they reached the flat ground, Gerraint pulled up his lance and stared at the boys to be sure they were staying behind the rope.  Then they trotted for a second before they started to canter, and the horse built some speed.  A hundred yards out and Gerraint bent forward, and Concord leaned in with him at a gallop.  He lowered his lance, and they quickly reached the target.  Gerraint drove his lance through the first, second and third straw men like they were straw men, then took his time to slow and turn.  He dropped his lance, pointed to the excited boys to retrieve it, drew his sword, and galloped back through the ranks of straw enemies, slashing outwards, until he came out the other side where again he took his time to slow down.  He cantered back up the shallow hill and dismounted.  Then he paid attention to Concord before he took off his helmet and spoke again to the men.

“I think I scared him when I lowered the lance right beside his eye, and we practiced that to help him get used to it, too.”  He removed his gauntlets and gave them to the young man while he spied the boys down on the field putting the straw men back together.  “I don’t know if any of you men want to try that today.  You might spend the next couple of days getting to know your horses and letting them get to know you.  These are not just some rich man’s horse handed to you before you go into battle.  You can learn to lance and shield, but you need to bond with your horse.”  He looked at Wulfram, Peppin, who was Lord Barth’s sergeant at arms, and Owien who looked like he couldn’t wait to get started.

“A very unusual use of horsemen,” Wulfram said.

“Yes.  But imagine a thousand such men cutting through enemy infantry like the proverbial hot knife through butter.”  A touch of lag time followed before Wulfram’s face it up.  Gerraint could almost see the light bulb turn on.

Peppin grinned.  “I can only imagine Saxons wetting their pants.”

“A colorful suggestion.  Owien?”

“What happens when they face other cavalry?”

Gerraint smiled.  The young man was bright.  “We have much to work on, but let us take one step at a time, please.”  He looked to Concord where Pipes led the horse away.  “Tell Concord I’ll be there after a while,” he said, and Pipes waved while Gerraint turned back to Wulfram with command in his voice.  “You are in charge.  You need to decide what your men are ready for and when.  There is time.  No need to push them too fast.  Now we have about thirty horses that are old enough to ride, and about twenty that may be old enough to start training if you can figure out how to do that. The rest of your men, and sorry Peppin, you will have to do your best with the chargers you have.”

“They won’t be as strong and fast, but we will make it work,” Peppin said.

“You want big, strong animals to carry the weight, but don’t forget the horseshoes.  And you need smart animals, too.  Horses that can bond with a rider will do things that any old horse picked out of a line will not do.  Now, I am sorry, but I need to borrow Owien for a bit.”  He carted Owien off, with only minimal protest, and traded back to Margueritte when they reached the old oak outside the front door.

“Margueritte.”  Owien jumped, but not too badly.  He had seen her do that before.

Margueritte came in her own clothes.  She had not started showing yet, but Jennifer had a little bump and Margo looked big as a house and due any day.  “What is it, July thirteenth, there about?”  Owien shrugged.  “Owien dear, please fetch Elsbeth and Jennifer if they are not in the house.  We have to have a family conference.”  Owien looked at her and realized she was serious.  He went without a word.

Margueritte stepped into the house and found Brittany crying.  “The diaper is clean,” Mother said right off.  “Even your father’s funny faces don’t help.”

“It makes her scream, er, sort of like you were.”  Father’s words were much improved once he realized he could fight this thing.  Margueritte picked up Brittany and paced.  She needed to wait for the others.

“Margo?”  she asked.

“Coming.”  Margo got to the top of the stairs, grabbed the railing, and waddled down.

M4 Margueritte: The Breton March, part 1 of 3

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Margueritte moved her father’s bed downstairs so he could be part of what went on, and she put up curtains for some privacy.  She made him a chair with wheels so he could use his good leg and good arm to roll himself around, and she made him a potty-chair behind the curtain as well.  She had a big cane for him, and it took serious time and effort, with Mother and Jennifer working tirelessly, to teach him to get out of bed without falling to the floor.  Once he got the idea that Margueritte did not see him as bed ridden and hopeless, he became determined to succeed.

Doctor Pincher came by on a regular basis, not only to tend Father, but also to check on the progress of the three ladies.  “And not a man of yours present,” he pointed out the obvious before he spoke to Sir Bartholomew.  “Hardest battle you ever fought,” he called the struggle to get around.

“It is,” Bartholomew responded.  “But it is a battle I am going to win.”

“Good for you,” Margueritte said, and then Mother said the same thing out of her exhaustion and tears.

While Margueritte had things made for her father, she gathered men with skills to make her saddles with stirrups, lances, gauntlets, helmets, and shields.  She got Luckless to come back to the farm, and with his recommendation, got several more dwarf craftsmen.  Lolly also returned with Luckless to run the kitchen, which became a great blessing for everyone.

“I know a few dark elves who would be perfect for the work on the armor, lances and shields,” Luckless said.  “But I think you are right.  That would be too much for this crowd.”  Then Grimly interrupted with a report, or more honestly, a complaint.

“So, you want twice the number of foals as a normal year.”  Grimly looked grim.  “Powerful hard for these poor horses.”  Under Grimly’s direction, they had quite a herd of horses already, most of whom were a combination of Frankish Chargers and the Arabians that were taken after the unpleasant visit of the African Ambassador, Ahlmored.  These horses were very strong and capable, and Margueritte thought they would do just fine for her knights.

“Not double necessarily, but more.  More each year.  Big and strong.  As many as reasonable, and we will have to work out how to train them to be heavy cavalry and carry an armored man with equipment into battle.”

Margueritte moved on before Grimly had another objection.  “Captain Wulfram,” she called.  He came, but he looked at Grimly and made sure he kept Margueritte between himself and the gnome.  “How goes the addition?”  With all she had been doing, that one thing she neglected, though it stood right under her nose.  She contracted with Ronan, a Gallo-Roman builder of some reputation, and then she moved on to other things.

“The great hall is as you see.  Ronan the builder says another week and we can begin to furnish it.  Now that the big new field is cleared, we have plenty of lumber to finish all the work you have drawn out.  Stone is still coming in from everywhere for the foundation, so we are in good shape with supplies.  Ronan says stone it about the only thing Little Britain has too much of.  Stone and sand.”

“And apples,” Grimly interjected.

“We will be ready to start adding the four second-floor rooms in the next few days,” Wulfram finished.  Three of those second-floor rooms were going to be bedrooms big enough for a family. The fourth was going to be the new servant’s quarters for the women, connected to the tower where old Redux the blacksmith and the other male servants were presently housed.  It would also have a set of stairs down the back of the house to the new Kitchen.

“All good, Margueritte said.  She had plans to move Tomberlain and Margo into one big room, Elsbeth, should she ever settle with Owien into the second, and herself and Roland into the third of the big rooms.  They would fix up the one big, old room, the room that used to be the servant’s quarters and was right next to the Master bedroom where Mother still slept.  Jennifer and her children would have that room if she wanted it, whenever Father Aden went away, as he did all spring.  With that, Margueritte’s, Elsbeth’s and Tomberlain’s small old rooms, with the old guest room, could all be cleaned and used for visitors, like Charles, or the king, or whatever lord, chief or count happened by.

“All good,” Margueritte repeated.  “But that is not why I called you.”  She took him into the adjunct area beside the barn, a large roofed in area near the new forges.  Margueritte was both pleased and surprised to have found two farriers who were actually qualified to make and nail real horseshoes.  True, they were used to shoeing mules, but the principle was the same.  Wulfram watched while one of the men carefully measured the hoof and trimmed the nails.

“This is called a rasp,” the farrier said, having noticed he was being watched.  “It is important to trim the hooves and file down nails to avoid any sharp edges.  Prevents snags and splits and such things.”

“I’ve not seen that done before on horses,” Wulfram said.  “What is the purpose of such shoes?”

Margueritte thanked the farrier, and he led the horse away while she talked.  “The iron shoe will protect the war horse from injury when running across rough ground at a full charge, carrying a man and all that equipment on its back.  It is much better than hipposandals.”

“War horse?”

“That is what the Princess called them, and Diogenes too, I suppose.”

“Truly a fine animal, whatever you call it.”  Wulfram leaned down a bit, cupped his hand to his mouth, and spoke slow and loudly.  “The finest horses I’ve ever seen.”

Grimly looked up at Margueritte.  “What?  So now I’m deaf and stupid?”

Margueritte spoke before things went any further.  “Anyway, I need ten volunteers.”  They stepped to where Giselle looked a mess of paints.  She painted plain linen cloth with ugly, mean Saracen faces, as she remembered seeing them in her youth, and she turned out to be quite an artist.  Those faces were going to be plastered on the straw dummies.  “I have a dozen horses that are more or less ready.  Keep in mind they are three and four-year olds.  They have not been training since they were foals.  They have been broken to ride, but not necessarily to the work we will put them through.”  She stepped over near the forges.  There were shields with a golden Fleur-de-lis and a cloth draped over the leaves with writing on the cloth painted on each and a whole stack of lances.

“What do these words mean?” Wulfram asked.

“In the Latin,” Giselle explained.  “It says for king and country.”

“We have enough equipment ready, but here is the thing.”  Margueritte got him to focus.  “I want your best horsemen to start.  We need to develop a way to train the horses when they are young.  That is what I want you and your men to figure out.  As we work through our paces, we may need to adjust the shield and lance, and it will take some work to learn how to lance and not spear the enemy, among other details, but all of that can be worked out and learned.  I know the men will adjust, but we need to have trained horses to do this well.  So, while we work through our paces, you need to be figuring out how to train the horses for the job.”

“What paces?” Wulfram asked.

“Bring your men here in an hour, and we will talk.”  Margueritte had to check on the Children before time got away from her.

In an hour, Wulfram showed up with ten men, including three that Margueritte got to know fairly-well during their journey.  Lambert and Folmar were her wagon drivers, and Walaric was Wulfram’s lieutenant who had the small group that tended to stay around the wagon, encircling it most of the time during their journey.  Margueritte acknowledged her friends before she made an announcement.

“I am going to bring a man who knows the basis of this business to begin teaching you.  Much of this we will have to work out ourselves, but he can get us started.  He is an older man, so be good and listen the first time.  He will be riding my horse, Concord.  We worked with Concord this past week so he could connect with the horse, but I will let him explain.  Now, I have other things to attend to, as you can imagine, so let me get him.  His name is Gerraint.”

Margueritte stepped away from the group and through a door at the back of the stables where several trees gave shelter against prying eyes.  She took a breath and traded places with Gerraint, son of Erbin.  He came in his own armor, the armor made for him by Arthur’s men.  It was not nearly as good as the armor of the Kairos, but he was not going into battle.  It would work fine for the demonstration, and it would not be recognizable as connected to Margueritte.

Gerraint straightened the tunic he wore over his armor.  It looked blood red and had the picture of the Cornish lion on the front.  He looked impressive at six feet tall, despite his gray hair.  Six feet was practically a giant in the medieval world.  With the great sword Wyrd on his left hip and Defender on his right, he felt impressive.  He carried his helmet in his hand when he stepped through the door and walked to face the men.  Everyone stopped talking when they saw him, and that made Margueritte grin in his head.

M4 Margueritte: Trouble All Around, part 3 of 3

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That evening, she confessed to Roland.  “I have to go, but I don’t want to leave.  I just got you back.”

“Owien must be about twenty by now.  That is almost grown up, and Elsbeth is what, seventeen?” Roland asked.  “I married you when you were seventeen.  I thought you were very grown up.”

“Owien is nineteen and Elsbeth is eighteen, and I can only imagine the disaster if I left things in their hands, no offence to Owien,” she responded.

“Now, come on.  Elsbeth is a sensible young woman and probably well grown by now.”

Margueritte could not imagine it but said no more about it.  She felt worried about her father, and what her mother would do when he had gone.  She felt glad Jennifer stayed nearby.  Tomberlain told her they built a cottage beside the church, and some others had come since then and were building their own cottages there, in a place that was safe for Christians.  Margueritte thought that one day there would be a nice little town, and it already had a poor section where the serfs had their huts, just down the hill from the barn.  Sometimes she hated the age she lived in.  She rolled over to rest on Roland’s chest.  Then again, she thought, some things were very nice.  Brittany got fussy so she had to get up, and she thought, or not so nice in any age.

###

Roland gathered a hundred horsemen from the Breton side of the world to accompany Margueritte home.  Boniface would be going with them as far as Paris.  Sigisurd decided to stay on the Saxon border.  She said it felt a land like the place where she grew up, but Margueritte figured Sigisurd and Geoffry would not be single for long.  Horegard and Rosamund had already more or less given their blessing, and even Ingrid seemed to like Sigisurd, and talked to her more than she talked to Margueritte.  Aduan liked everyone, so there was no trouble there, so overall, Margueritte kissed the girl good-bye and sighed as she got up in the wagon that she christened the S. S. Black-n-Blue. 

Relii went with her for the first two days.  Count Adelard was going home, and Herlindis had the good sense to ride on horseback.  Relii bounced with Margueritte for those days, but when they reached the Abbey, Margueritte got left alone with her children.

Marigold came to visit every day they were along the Meuse River, and Tulip came twice.  After they left the River, Tulip took over the visits and stayed with her, at least during the day, every day, until they reached Paris.  

They stopped in Paris for a time.  Margueritte saw that Boniface got well taken care of, and she also got treated well, going back to the same house Charles owned on the left bank of the Seine, the house with the servants.  Rotrude, Charles wife, was not there, but the servants did not question her being there.

Margueritte took the time to visit several local blacksmiths and three saddleries while she was in town.  It was not easy to do with the children along, but she found a young woman to help.  Her name was Giselle, and her family came from Vascon, and came to Paris a generation ago by way of Orleans.  The children seemed to like her, so Margueritte hired her to be an au-pair, though no one knew what that was.  Then Margueritte found out what it would take to make a better saddle, one with stirrups, and how much it would cost to make real lances, a shield to balance the other side, and gauntlets to hold them.  She had samples made of each, found a horse that could carry all that weight, and made Captain Wulfram ride the horse and get used to the equipment.

“My arms will fall off by the time we reach Little Britain,” Wulfram said.

“So you know better how you need to train the rest of the men,” she answered, and she crawled into the wagon.  

For the next three days, Wulfram complained that he could see no military value in what she asked him and his men to do.  “We have horsemen who can ride around an enemy flank and strike where least expected.  All this equipment would make that impossible.  They would hear us clinking and clanking from a mile away.”

“But your horsemen dismount to fight on foot.  With this, you can fight from horseback.”

“That’s crazy.  You can’t fight a man from the back of a horse.  A man can move and turn.  A horse can’t keep up.”

“You will see, when the time comes,” Margueritte insisted.

When they arrived at Margueritte’s manor home, the spring came in full bloom, and Captain Wulfram had only one thing to say.  “Well, at least my sword doesn’t feel as heavy as it used to.”

“You will see,” Margueritte insisted, and she pointed Wulfram and his hundred horse back down the road they just came up.  “Down the hill where the grassland flattens out.  Try and keep your camp to the right side of the road.  We will need the long field for practice.”

“Sorry Margueritte.  Now that we have delivered you, we need to get back to Charles in Saxony.”

“No,” Margueritte interrupted the man.  “I stood right there.  Charles clearly said you were to stay with me until I dismissed you.  Well, you are not dismissed.  Even under the watchful eye of Charles and Roland, I have been kidnapped twice and held for hostage, and I would have been kidnapped a third time by the Saxons if I hadn’t found a way out of that dilemma.  No, captain.  You are not dismissed.  You camp right here.”  She turned away from the captain and spoke to the teamsters who were holding the wagon.  “Lambert and Folmar, just stay here and relax for a bit.  I’ll let you know where to take things in a minute.”

Margueritte’s mother, Brianna came running, Jennifer beside her, and Margueritte smiled to see them, but noticed how old Mother had gotten in the last four years.  Her hair had turned completely gray, and her skin developed some real wrinkles in her face and hands, and crow’s feet around the eyes.  Her eyes overall looked saggy and worn, like she had not slept well in months, but they still had a familiar sparkle when she held Brittany.  The sparkle said mother, or maybe grandmother.

Jennifer’s eldest, her girl named LeFee was five and said to be sweet.  Her boy, Cotton, two and a half, about Martin’s age, had been reported to be a hand full.  Margueritte talked about her own.  “Sigisurd used to call Martin the wrecker.  I hope the house is childproofed.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Jennifer said.  “But everything is put up where Cotton can’t reach it.”

“I don’t know.  Martin is a climber,” Margueritte began, but she got interrupted by a flying streak of light.

“Lady!  Lady!  Lady!”  Goldenrod grabbed Margueritte by the face and kissed her cheek over and over. Margueritte had to grab the fairy by the fairy weave that covered the girl’s butt to pull her off.

“Good to be home, but it helps to breathe,” Margueritte said.  Mother and Jennifer laughed.  Giselle’s eyes got big, but she said nothing.

The next interruption was by Puppy who came up barking and lolling his tongue, a tongue he used to lick Margueritte’s face when she got down to pet him.  “Puppy, you remember me.”  Margueritte felt happy.

“He does,” Goldenrod said.  “And so do I, and me and Puppy take good care of the sheep, we do.”

“I am sure you do.”

“Just like you taught us.  Isn’t that right, Puppy?”  Puppy barked.  Then a grown-up couple came from the barn, and Margueritte had to take a breath.

“Owien with a beard,” she said softly, and Jennifer nodded.  Mother couldn’t seem to take her eyes away from Brittany who cooed in her arms and playing with Mother’s face.  “Owien, son of Bedwin, good to see you, if that is really you beneath all that hair.”

“Good to have you home,” Owien said.

“And who is this well grown woman beside you?” Margueritte asked.

“Elsbeth,” Owien started to answer, but Elsbeth took his hand and stuck her tongue out at her sister, which made Margueritte laugh.

“I see she has matured well,” Margueritte said, and held out her arms.  Elsbeth ran into them for a big hug.  Then she backed up and had something to say.

“About time you got here.”

“It is very hard to get anything done when my workers run off.”  Another woman stood in the barn door, and Grimly stood beside her.

“Me and Catspaw and Pipes are workers,” Grimly said.

“On a blue moon,” the woman responded, with blunt familiarity to the gnome and came out to see the visitors, even as LeFee came out of the house dragging a three-year-old girl by the hand.

Elsbeth spoke.  “That’s Margo, Tomberlain’s wife, and the girls are LeFee and Larin.”

“LeFee is mine,” Jennifer said.

“I remember,” Margueritte said.  “But Tomberlain told me nothing.”  

“They married the year after you left with Roland.  She is Sir Giles’ granddaughter,” Elsbeth explained.  “They met when he went to Paris as Roland’s squire.”

“You must be Margueritte,” Margo said, as she walked up to join the group, Grimly in her trail.  “Tomberlain told me all about you.  I half expected you to fly in on a broom.”

“No.  The broom flying was my work,” Grimly said in a voice that implied it was terribly hard work.

“No, I made the broom fly,” Goldenrod objected from Jennifer’s shoulder where she had taken a seat.  She took that moment to flit to Elsbeth’s shoulder where she clearly felt most comfortable.  

Margo and Margueritte kissed cheeks like sisters, but not much more because Margo was in her sixth month and beginning to round out.

“Got any names picked out?” Margueritte asked.

“Not yet,” Margo said, but she looked like she had a few possibilities in mind.

“Me neither,” Margueritte patted her stomach.  She felt fairly sure she was pregnant, but maybe it was too soon.  Brittany was not quite past five months old.

“Me neither,” Jennifer said with a grin and pat to her own stomach. 

“Me neither,” Goldenrod said.  She thought she knew what they were talking about but did not want to be left out of the discussion.

“I want one,” Elsbeth whined to Owien, who looked like he thought he knew what they were taking about.

 “Now, let me introduce everyone.  This appendage to my dress in Martin.”  Martin, who had been staring, turned his face into his mother’s leg.  “The one holding Mother’s nose is Brittany.  And this one is Giselle, their au pair.  She is from Paris.”

“Oh?” Margo responded.  “News from home.”

These fine gentlemen are Lambert and Folmar, and they are going to unload our things in the house and take the wagon to the barn.  Grimly, show these men where to store the wagon so it is out of the way, and get the mules settled.  I am depending on you.  Meanwhile, why don’t the rest of us go up to the house?”

“Yes,” Mother spoke at last.  “You want to see your father.”

“And tell stories.  We have a lot to catch up on.”

************************

MONDAY

Margueritte returns home to The Breton March and finds trouble following her. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

M4 Margueritte: Trouble All Around, part 2 of 3

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Margueritte said to her little ones, “Thank you, and please make sure they actually cross the river and leave.”

“How many minutes?” Oswald asked.

“I don’t know.  I don’t have a stopwatch.  Just as long as they leave.  And thank you again.”  She clapped her hands and the little ones vanished.  Her armor and weapons also went away, and she became clothed again in her many layers.  They were not as warm as the fairy weave, and her gloves were not as good, but they looked normal.  She had to breathe on her hands against the frost.

“So that was the next attempt?” Relii had come out of the barn with the others to watch.

“Yes, but he changed his mind before anything happened,” Margueritte said.  “I think our sorcerer was afraid for his life.  He got told by a greater power to stop picking on me.”

“Abd al-Makti,” Relii guessed.  “I thought it might be him.”

“Clever girl,” Margueritte said.  “But I cannot figure why, or who he is working for.”  She turned to Geoffry.  He spoke right up.

“Sigisurd told me, but I didn’t believe her,” he said.

Margueritte nodded.  “And keep it that way.  Don’t make more out of it than it is, and don’t be afraid to question even what you see.”  Margueritte breathed on her hands again.  “Relii and Sigisurd, please help our wounded men.”  She pointed.  “And check on the others to see if they are really dead.  Watch out for the Saxons who may just be too badly wounded to escape.  Geoffry and I need to go inside and check on the others.”

“Lady,” Sigisurd said, and curtsied the way she had seen Tulip curtsey.

Geoffry asked a question as they walked up to the door.  “So, are you a witch or a sorceress?”

Margueritte hit him, not too hard.  “I keep telling everyone, I am not a witch,” but when they went inside, she found the guard that Gunther the chief left and forgot about.  He had the children cowering in the corner, seated with their backs to him.  Ingrid, Aduan and Rosamund were in chairs, and Horegard lay on the floor where he bled from a stomach wound.  She had to do something.  “Gunther has abandoned you.  If you hurry you can catch him.”  Margueritte put out her arm to hold back Geoffry while the man looked at her.  He decided.  He looked like he might kill the hostages before he went in case she was not telling the truth.

Margueritte’s hands went up and a blue electrical charge escaped her fingertips and struck the man.  He jerked violently and just missed striking Rosamund’s face before he could no longer hold on to his sword.  The sword clattered to the ground as the man dropped to his knees.

Margueritte called to Oswald and Oswald’s friend, Ridgemont, and they appeared.  “Please take this one to Gunther.  No message.  I just don’t want this one to miss the boat and have to swim home.”

“Very good,” Oswald said, and they hustled him out the back door and then ran faster with the man than humanly possible, but no one other than Margueritte saw, and maybe a few of the children.  Geoffry got busy helping his sisters get their father up on the couch.  The man started getting delirious and had lost a fair amount of blood.

“Let me see,” Margueritte said, “And no screaming.  I am going to go away, and another person is going to stand in my shoes, but she is a physician, and she will do what she can to help.”  Margueritte pointed at Aduan.  “No screaming,” and she immediately went away so Doctor Mishka could examine the wound.  Aduan let out a small shriek, but she was the only one out of them all, including the children.  “Now let me see.”

Mishka had her bag with her, or she supposed in the current day and age it should still be Greta’s bag, but Mishka came because Greta was not a surgeon.  Doctor Mishka practiced all too much battlefield surgery in the first and second world wars.  She began by spreading an anesthetic cream to deaden the area before she looked.  “The wound looks clean,” she said, and got out some thread and a very fine needle and a hemostat.  After Ingrid and Rosamund got hold of Horegard’s hands, it took twenty-one stitches, and then iodine, which stung, and an anti-bacterial spray, and the cleanest cloth Aduan could find.

“I know it is asking a lot, but you must try to keep him off his feet for a few days.  Does he toss and turn in the night?”

Rosamund took a minute to realize Mishka was talking to her.  With Horegard tended to, she got a good look at the Doctor for the first time.  “Uh, some.  Not much.”

“Well, be careful with that, and keep him off his feet.  I will give Margueritte something when I leave that will help him rest and sleep, but only if he needs it.  Now some other men are wounded.”  Doctor Mishka stood and walked toward the front door, but she went away, and Margueritte came back before she got to the door, because Margueritte thought to say something.  “Oh, and it would be best if you did not talk about Mishka.  That is something that is best not to be public knowledge, if you don’t mind.  I am trusting you because you are family.”  She went out.

###

It turned out Grandma Rosamund blocked Mishka completely out of her mind and credited Margueritte with saving Horegard’s life.  Horegard, who was kind of out of it at the time, believed her.  Aduan knew better, but she, Geoffry, Sigisurd and Relii all discussed it and decided that Margueritte had been wise to tell everyone to keep it a secret.  Ingrid also knew, of course, but it seemed the blue lightning Margueritte produced from her fingertips much more than the appearance of Doctor Mishka that bothered her.  She felt sure that Margueritte was a witch, but then Margueritte saved her life, and her father’s life, and apparently, everyone else’s life as well, so she said nothing.  She and Margueritte were never that close to begin with, and Ingrid was not surprised her stupid brother would marry a witch, so nothing really changed between them.  What the children saw and understood remained to be seen in the years to come.  So, nothing much changed, except Geoffry and Sigisurd started spending time together.  If it was another day and age, Margueritte would have said they were dating.

###  

Count Adelard, Herlindis, Boniface and fifteen men at arms showed up about mid-March.  They did some rearranging, as the Count and Herlindis moved into the room with Relii.  Boniface got the eighth room by himself, and Sigisurd made peace with old lady Oda in the servant’s quarters.  Margueritte said Sigisurd could stay with her and the children, but Sigisurd pointed out that Roland would be due in about two weeks, and they should have their own room.

Poor Rosamund fretted about where she could put Charles, the mayor.  It felt like a visit from Royalty.  Boniface offered to share his room, but Rosamund liked to fret about it, and Horegard said it would not do to have the mayor and a bishop in the same room.  It started to look like Geoffry might have to sleep on the couch, and Margueritte could not help the comments.

“Separation of Church and State, huh?  Too bad you don’t have a convertible sofa.”

Boniface became anxious to begin his work in Saxony, but Margueritte delayed him.  She talked about church lands, and in the end convinced him to wait for Charles by practically promising Charles would be land generous to the church.  When Charles finally arrived, and his twelve thousand men tried to camp without destroying every nearby field, he got very mad at her.  He readily roomed with the bishop, but he would not talk to Margueritte for three days.  Margueritte would have been very upset by that if she and Roland were not so busy catching up on things.

Roland explained to Charles what Margueritte told him; that if Boniface went into Saxony just before Charles started his campaign, it would be like suicide for the bishop.  Charles understood that.  In fact, he argued that before gallivanting off into new territory, Boniface should first set about organizing the disorganized and overlapping Frankish church.  He tried to convince Boniface to go first to Paris, where Charles promised to meet him soon and talk about land donations to the church.  Boniface felt reluctant, until Margueritte reminded him that the Franks were his distant cousins as well, perhaps not as close as his Saxon brothers and sisters, but cousins all the same.

In the end, the matter got settled when Margueritte’s brother, Tomberlain rode up to the farm with twenty men from the Breton border, which Sigisurd imagined was on the other side of the world.  The message was not good.  Father had gotten sick; like he went dead on the whole right side of his body, and Elsbeth, Mother, and Jennifer were all worried sick.  They don’t know what to do, and Mother can’t raise Doctor Pincher or anyone.”

“Who is holding the Fort?” Margueritte asked.

Tomberlain looked put on the spot, though Margueritte did not mean that.  “Sir Peppin is there, and Owien is in your old room, plus the north end of the mark is covered now, thanks to Charles, and Michael is doing well in the south, and the Breton are not going anywhere after all the mess they made with the Curdwallah hag.  Everyone is safe if that is what you mean.”

“No, I’m sorry.  It isn’t your job, and you have held the fort long enough.  You deserve a chance to be here with Charles and Roland.  It is my turn to hold things together back home, but from the sounds of it, I doubt there is much we can do for Father, except make him comfortable.”

“Not even—”  

“No, not even with extraordinary help.”  Margueritte said, not wanting to get into it in detail.

“So, I rode a month through the snow for nothing,” Tomberlain said.

“Not for nothing,” Roland said to cheer him.  “I am sure Charles has just the right place for you in the army.  We are headed into Saxony.”

“Charles plans to be the hammer and the Wesser River will be the anvil, and we shall see how well he can flatten the steel in between and put a sharp edge to it,” Margueritte suggested.

“That is very good,” Roland praised her.

“Can I quote you?” Boniface and Charles walked up.

Geoffry came up holding Sigisurd’s hand and she looked shy and embarrassed.

“Let me do the introductions,” Margueritte said, and she took Tomberlain’s hand and took him to everyone and remembered everyone’s names, though Tomberlain would never remember that much.  He was terrible with names.

M4 Margueritte: Trouble All Around, part 1 of 3

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Come the first of January, Margueritte went to Captain Ragobert with the intention of sending his troop home for the winter, since the men all lived in the general area.  The men camped by the barn and had sufficient supplies of their own so as not to burden the family.  Ragobert said his men would gladly volunteer to help around the farm, but they were charged by the Mayor Charles himself with protecting her, and they were not going to be found negligent in their duty.

Margueritte would not hear his objections, but she eventually compromised.  Half of Ragobert’s men would go home for thirty days.  The other half would take the second thirty days, so they would all get a good visit home and be back to full strength by the second week in March, well before Charles was expected.

Grandma Rosamund went wild when she heard Roland and Charles were coming.  Spring cleaning started in January, and everyone was expected to help.  Margueritte noted that Ingrid did a lot of work around the house, and Aduan acted a lot like Margueritte’s younger sister, Elsbeth.  She did not do much, messed up much of what she did, and please don’t let her cook anything, because it would likely be inedible, she would make a big mess, and then not clean up after herself.

One morning in early January, Ingrid went out to the barn to gather eggs.  Margueritte grabbed a basket and followed.

“What are we doing?” Margueritte asked.

Ingrid huffed.  “Someone has to keep this family fed.”

“Eggs,” Margueritte said.  “You know; I grew up on a farm much like this one.  I have a sister who does not do much, so I had to do many things by myself.  I remember once they kept Elsbeth by the oven for a whole week and tried to teach her to make a pie worth eating.”

Silence followed, for a minute, until they reached the chicken coop and Ingrid asked, “What happened?”

“They failed.  Please don’t let her near the oven.”  Margueritte smiled and went to work before she added a note.  “Or near the dishes, or near the laundry, or near the broom.”  Her voice trailed off and Ingrid looked back at the house and laughed.

Margueritte helped and worked around the farm, and she and Ingrid got along just fine from that morning.  Aduan was the type to get along with everyone, and even Geoffry lightened up when Sigisurd came around, Margueritte noticed.  In fact, Margueritte never felt so welcomed in her life.  In part, it might have simply been the joy of being around a farm again—the smell of the barn, the animals, the grain in the bins.  She felt at home, and they all treated her like family.  It felt wonderful, to the point where it made her homesick.

Margueritte loved Rosamund, a large and hugging sort of a woman, and she loved grumpy old Horegard in his way, but she missed her mother, Brianna and her father, Sir Bartholomew, and she worried because she knew father was not well.  Greta called it hardening of the arteries.  Doctor Mishka said he started showing signs of arterial blockages and she would have to watch for a possible stroke or heart attack.  Her older brother, Tomberlain went home, despite his protests about wanting to fight with the army.  He was needed to maintain the farm and the Frankish presence on the Breton border.  Owien was there as well, Father’s squire, though more probably Tomberlain’s squire at this point.

Deep into February Margueritte paused her thoughts to figure the year.  She decided it was 719, and she started getting ready to turn twenty-two, still young.  Owien turned nineteen.  He was easy to figure.  Tomberlain was Aduan’s age and would turn twenty-five in the summer. That meant Elsbeth had to be eighteen.  Margueritte wondered how that could be possible.  The last time she saw Elsbeth, her sister had a runny nose, still looked like a child in her fourteen years, and stayed busy spending all of her time and energy ignoring Owien.   Margueritte smiled at that thought.  She wondered if Elsbeth was still ignoring Owien now that he was nineteen and she was eighteen.  They might be married and Margueritte would have no way of knowing.  She wondered if Tomberlain ever found a good woman.  She paused.  She wondered what those men were doing, fighting down by the blacksmith shed and around the cooking fires.

“Relii,” she called.  Relii had gone to the barn with her, Sigisurd, and Geoffry, though Margueritte was the only one sifting through the potatoes while the others sat around and tried to keep warm.  “Keep everyone here,” she said.  “And if the big ugly men come, do what they say.”

“What is it?” Sigisurd asked.

“Saxon raiders,” Margueritte answered, before she slapped Geoffry and stole his knife so he could not get himself killed.

Margueritte pulled her cape around her shoulders and stepped out of the barn and into the snow.  She tossed Geoffry’ knife into a snowbank and yelled.  “Where is the chief of the Saxons.”  She shouted a second time using the Saxon words Festuscato and Gerraint gave her, though they were two or three hundred years out-of-date.  “Saxons, where is your chief?  I must speak with him now before he does something stupid.”

One of the Saxons sheathed his sword and stepped away from where two of Ragobert’s men lay dead and two were wounded and, on their knees, surrendered.  Two Saxons also looked dead; but the other six of Ragobert’s men were somewhere out in the fields with the men and the mules, despite the snow.  The Saxon stepped up to Margueritte, no weapon in his hand as if the woman posed no threat.  He looked her over, and even though she stood wrapped up in plenty of clothing, like wearing a tent, he grinned a half-toothless grin of approval.  He looked ready to do something stupid when Margueritte raised her hand and shouted, “Defender.”  The long knife appeared in her hand and went to the man’s throat before he could react.

“I am not asking,” Margueritte said.  “Are you the chief?”

“I am Chief,” a voice came from a big man on the porch outside the front door of the manor house.  He appeared, chewing on a leg of lamb leftover from last night’s supper.  “I am Gunther, and I have thirty men here, little witch.  What can you do against thirty men?”

Margueritte stepped a few feet away to be out of arm’s reach.  “I am not a witch, and you don’t really want to know.”  She held up her hand and Defender disappeared.  “But here, I just realized I am not properly dressed.”  She called for her armor and it replaced all of her layers in an instant.  With the fairy weave under her leather, she felt the cold in her knees and elbows, but that was it.  The weapons came as well, with Defender attached to the small of her back and the sword called Salvation slanted across her back.  “Now listen carefully, Saxon Chief Gunther.  You have thirty minutes to pack up your thirty men and get back across the river, and if you harm anyone here, there will be no place in the whole world you can hide.”

Gunther did not look impressed, despite the quality of what he thought were magic tricks.  Clearly, he had something else on his mind, and he spoke it.  “I had thought you were the one to be wife for my son, but you are not her.  I do not know why I thought to find a wife for my son among the Franks.”

“I know why, but the sorcerer’s life would have been in danger if he followed through.  You now have twenty-nine minutes.”

“You are still little, and yet you make jokes.”

“Maywood.”  Margueritte called, and the fairy came and circled once around the Saxon’s head before he became full sized, a fairy dressed for war.  He fell to his knee before Margueritte.

“Lady, I have men here who have been watching you, and my troop gathered as soon as we saw that the Saxons intended to cross the river.  My troop is now here.   What is more, Prince Oswald of the Elves of the deep wood has a troop that followed the Saxons when he wisely figured out their intended target.”

“Twenty-eight minutes,” Margueritte said.  “Oswald,” she called, and the Elf appeared, and like the Fairy King, he went to one knee before Margueritte, and spoke.

“Lady, it would be my pleasure to rid this world of all these Saxon men.”

“Not yet,” Margueritte said.  “Being a woman, I know how hard it can be on a woman to lose her man, and how she will weep.  On the other hand, twenty-seven minutes.”  Margueritte did not wait for the man to reply, this time.  “You better tell your people not to harm any more of my family and friends here.  Defender.”  She held out her hand and let the chief watch the long knife vacate its place and fly to her hand in case he missed it the first time.  She stepped up to the man without too many teeth who still stood there with his mouth open.  “Don’t kill him yet.”  she shouted to the wind and used the knife as a pointer.  “Here, in the leg.  One arrow to make the point, please.”  There were three arrows and they all struck more or less in the same place.  the man cried out and fell to the snow, and the other Saxons that had gathered around looked briefly toward their chief before they started toward the river.

“Twenty-six minutes,” Margueritte said nice and loud before she spoke in a more normal voice to the two little ones who were still on their knees.  “You really must teach your men to count.”  She looked up at the chief.  His mouth stood wide open now, but he wasn’t saying anything, so Margueritte turned.  “You two.”  She got the attention of two of the Saxons.  “You better help this one.”  She pointed to the man in the snow, holding his leg and crying.  The two men picked him up by the arms and carted him off, while Margueritte turned one last time to the chief.  “Twenty-five minutes,” she said, sweetly, and Gunther, the Saxon chief left without a word.

M4 Margueritte: The Saxon March, part 3 of 3

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A time of silence followed, while Relii stared at the fairy, and Tulip tried to hide in Sigisurd’s long blond hair but did not entirely succeed because it was wispy hair.  After a bit, Relii looked ready to speak, but Margueritte got there first.

“So, your job was to convince me to become a nun and be locked away from the events of the world?”  It came out as a question, but Margueritte said it more like a statement.

“I guess,” Relii said.  “I didn’t know that was my job, but I think you are right.  That was what was in the back of my mind the whole time, pushing me.”

“Just so you know,” Margueritte said. “Herlindis and your father were feeling the same compulsion, and that is probably why they encouraged you to go on this little trip.”

“Yes, now that you mention it.  Father is still angry with Aduan for deceiving him.  He wants me to have nothing to do with that wicked girl, as he calls her.  And Herlindis is reluctant to let me out of her sight unless I have two nuns with me to guard me at all times.  But when the opportunity came up to go with you on this journey, they both insisted I go.  That doesn’t make sense.”

“They were enchanted,” Margueritte said.

“You were enchanted,” Tulip spoke to Relii with only her head peeking out from Sigisurd’s hair.

“I must have been,” Relii said.  “But how?”

“Like a bad cold spread from one person to the next, but you are all free now, and so is your father, so we will see if your father decides to come after you.  Meanwhile, I have something to run by you so you can keep your eyes and ears open.  Please don’t talk about this with others, but someone, some great power wants to remove me from this time and place.  I suspect great events are planned for the future and they don’t want me around to mess things up.”

“Seriously?  What can you, a woman, do to mess things up?”  Relii asked.

“Roland said you were responsible for making Charles into a hard taskmaster,” Sigisurd offered a thought.  “He said you kept annoying Charles about training the men to follow orders and hold their position at all costs, and after the defeat at Cologne, he finally took you seriously.  He said you were the one who first suggested the need for a standing army that was there all year to train and be the best, instead of a called-up army of untrained farmers and fishermen.  Roland said you told Charles to select his battleground, to take the advantageous position, to add the element of surprise to his bag of tricks, as you called it.  He said you told Charles about that eastern trick of pretending to retreat and pulling an enemy into a trap.  Roland said you are the reason Charles prevailed in this civil war.”

“These things are just common sense,” Margueritte said, with a shake of her head.  “But I will admit common sense has always been in short supply in the human race.  But here is the thing.  I don’t know what the future holds, exactly, or what my part in it might be, but the fact that someone wants me out of the way is clear.”  She gathered her thoughts and began at the beginning.  “First, it was probably not an accident that Ragenfrid’s men picked me up outside of Cologne.  As far as I know, Ragenfrid did not send any men around to the hill, but suddenly, there they were.  I think whoever is behind this hoped Ragenfrid would just kill me and be done with it, but Ragenfrid thought hostage and Radbod encouraged that thought, and I feel Boniface argued mightily on my behalf, I should say on our behalf, so we survived.”  Relii looked embarrassed so Margueritte asked, “What?” 

“I know the bishop argued several times for us.  I spoke with him several times while we were there, you know.  I was not always sneaking off to get into someone’s bed.”

Margueritte nodded as if not surprised.  She continued.  “Then I think the castor seeds were meant for me, but maybe they were too easy to trace and point a finger, so at the last there came a change of mind.  Something blunted my appetite that night, and Sigisurd’s appetite, so we didn’t have any soup, but then plan B was to have us captured by soldiers from Aquitaine.  If the Neustrians and Frisians failed to kill me, maybe the men from Aquitaine would.  That did not work either, because the hostage idea was too good an idea.  So now whoever it is has to get creative.”

“If you went into the Abbey, you would leave the word behind,” Relii nodded.

“But wait, before the Abbey idea, he tried to get me into a Muslim harem.”

“What is a harem?” Sigisurd asked, not having understood the full story when it was going on.  Margueritte explained and Sigisurd and Relii both got big eyes and said, “Oh.”

“But why are you speaking of this now?” Relii asked.

“Because I want you to look out for whatever the next attempt might be.”

“Why doesn’t this power just kill you himself?”  Relii wondered.

“Oh no,” Tulip joined the conversation.  “To kill the Kairos is very bad Karma.  A sin of all sins.  Even the gods of old were prevented from killing the Kairos outright.  Our Lady might die of natural causes, and those causes might even include an enemy sword, but for any power it would be an invitation straight to Hell for the killer.”

“So, they are trying to manipulate me into a position where someone does the killing for them, or where I voluntarily remove myself from the playing field, like to the Abbey, or involuntarily get removed, like to a harem.”

“So, what will be the next move?” Sigisurd asked.

“So, what is the big coming event where you will play such an important part?” Relii asked.

They were both good questions.

###

Near the end of December, about the twenty-fifth, Captain Ragobert, his twenty men and two overloaded wagons showed up at a farm which sat on a rise above a wide river.  Margueritte thought the manor house looked huge, almost as big as the barn.  An elderly man with a limp came out of the house, stopped when his leg would not go further, and he frowned.  An elderly woman came up to the captain, spoke briefly, and then ran to the wagon.  Grandma Rosamund took baby Brittany in her arms and looked very happy.  Martin went with his mother to confront the old man.  A woman, only a couple of years older than Margueritte came running out of the house and gave Relii a big hug and kisses.  Margueritte thought it looked more than just friendly, but what did she know?  A younger man also came out of the house and stopped to stare at the strangers and imitate his father’s hard glare.  Margueritte guessed the woman was Aduan, Roland’s younger sister, and the young man, about nineteen, was the baby of the family, Geoffry; but first Margueritte had to confront Grandpa Horegard.

Margueritte said nothing.  She had no doubt this was Horegard since he had been described to her in such detail. She stepped up and kissed the man on the cheek, and then brought Martin up to her hip, though at two, he started to get big and heavy.  She spoke to Martin and pointed at the frowning face, turned curious.

“Martin.  This is your grandfather.”  Martin took his cue from his mother and reached out for the old man.  

Horegard looked at Margueritte and asked.  “Margueritte?”  She nodded, and he put his hand out for the boy.  “Let’s go inside.”

Martin took his grandfather’s hand and at two years old, he walked about as well as the man limped, and as long as his mother was right there with him, they went inside to the big open rooms, downstairs in the manor.  Festuscato and Gerraint both said it looked a bit like a great hall in a Roman fort, and the table looked big enough for a family of twenty, which they nearly were.

Ingrid, the eldest, about age thirty, and with her husband Theobald, had two girls and a boy.  Clara was eleven, Thuldis was eight, and the boy Childebear was six.  Roland came next in line at twenty-seven, going on twenty-eight, and Margueritte had two and already started thinking about three of her own.  Aduan and her Gallo-Roman husband Cassius also had three; boy, girl, boy.  Dombert was six, the girl Corimer was three, and Lavius was one.  Then there came Geoffry.  He was not married and said he was not going to get married.

Theobald and Cassius came in from the fields at dark, exhausted.  They welcomed Margueritte almost in passing and reported that they got a good start on clearing the far corner, wherever that meant.  Horegard said they better get it cleared by spring, the way the family kept growing.  Margueritte got an idea of the land in her mind, where the serf houses were, filled mostly with some combination of Gallic and Roman people, and where the dependent free Franks lived, the ones who would make the bulk of Horegard’s fighting force if they should be needed.

Supper became a madhouse.  The kitchen, out back, included two big brick ovens and a fire pit for the pig, lamb or occasional deer or beef.  Most of the time, they ate vegetable stock soup with some eggs, with chicken, or fish from the river.  Not a bad diet overall, but everything had to be cooked in bulk and the washing up took forever.  After supper, as the children slowly dropped off to sleep, the exhausted adults went with them.  Every family had their own room, and they were big rooms, like families were anticipated in the building, and there were eight bedrooms in that big house. Margueritte and her children got Roland’s room, and it felt more than adequate.  They even moved in a small bed for Martin, though he preferred to sleep with his mother.

After the Master bedroom, Ingrid, Roland, Aduan and Geoffry all had rooms.  The sixth room, one of the biggest, was for the servants, which presently consisted of only one very old woman named Oda who did not actually do much of anything as far as Margueritte could tell.   Margueritte guessed the woman might be something like Grandma Rosamund’s nanny, and that had to make her very, very old, like close to seventy if not already arrived.

Relii got the seventh room, with Sigisurd, though Sigisurd got offered a bed in the servant’s room with the old woman.  Sigisurd slept mostly in the room with Relii, though occasionally she preferred to stay with Margueritte and the children.  She said sometimes Relii got carried away with her prayers and devotions and more devotions, and Sigisurd was more comfortable with the children.

************************

 

FREE

Between today and the end of the year, you can get Avalon, the Prequel, Invasion of Memories, Avalon The Pilot Episode, and all six seasons of the Avalon series in e-book format for free.

The free e-books are only available from Smashwords year end sale:   https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos

They can be formatted to your needs, including for the Kindle.  Look for the author M. G. Kizzia (mgkizzia).

Happy Holidays, and Happy Reading.

************

MONDAY

Margueritte settles in, but it is not so easy. There is trouble all around. Until Monday. Happy Reading

*

M4 Margueritte: The Saxon March, part 2 of 3

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The women said nothing, but there was a noise at the door.  A man spoke.  “Brilliant.”  Another man stepped in with another nun at his side.  Margueritte looked and named the man who stayed by the door.

“Boniface!”  That was all Margueritte got out, because the nun who came in wept and hugged her, and then went to hug and weep on Relii, and Margueritte guessed it was Herlindis.  The man with her had to be their father, Count Adelard.  He gave Margueritte the odd look of a man who did not like strangers much.

Boniface stepped over and gave Margueritte a kiss on the cheek and then introduced her.  “Count Adelard, this is Margueritte, wife of Roland, son of Horegard.”  The Count’s visage changed instantly.

“And these children?”

“Horegard’s grandchildren,” Margueritte said, with an excuse me.  Poor Brittany started struggling.  Margueritte stepped to the other table where she could have some privacy.  Martin began to object, but Sigisurd picked him up and held him, and let him bury his head in her shoulder to get away from all the strangers.  Too much talk and too many strange faces stood around for him to be comfortable.

###

Margueritte had to spend one evening at a difficult dinner party.  Count Adelard, a mean and grumpy old man in his fifties, sat at the end of a long table with his Major-Domo, Gerold and Captain Ragobert to his right.  Ragobert came from Count Adelard’s land and left as a young man to fight for Pepin of Herstal, the former mayor and Charles’ father.  He and Gerold were friends of a sort and in their forties.  The thirty-year-olds were to the Count’s left, his daughter Herlindis and Boniface.  Margueritte spent some time studying the faces and conversation of the local men, and decided they were all like Ragobert, not too bright and with no sense of humor.

Margueritte sat at the other end of the table, like the children’s end, next to Boniface, but with Sigisurd to her left hand, and Martin squeezed between them.  Martin had the good sense half-way through dinner to crawl down and go to the blanket where Brittany slept, so he could also lie down.  Sadly, Margueritte did not feel she had that option.

At the actual end of the table, Hildegard sat and said nothing all night, and indeed, she hardly lifter her eyes from her plate.  Hildegard was wife of Thierry, the Count’s only son, who had gone off to fight for Charles, and who Margueritte believed she met once.  A dull knife, like his father, if she remembered.  Squeezed between Hildegard and Relii, who sat opposite Margueritte, were Hildegard’s two children.  Bertrand was seven and seemed a fine girl, but quiet as her mother, or as Margueritte figured, cowed to know her place, keep her mouth shut and mind her own business, or in other words, she was a girl.  Her brother, Poppo, was a four-year-old brat.  He sat between Bertrand and Hildegard and liked to make noise and throw food.  In fact, the only time Margueritte ever saw the count smile was when Poppo got exceptionally loud and behaved especially bad.  While Martin still sat at the table, eating, Margueritte put her hand over Martin’s eyes several times to keep him from watching Poppo and getting any ideas.  Hildegard almost smiled to see that, and that told Margueritte a person might still be inside that shell somewhere.

Relii also stayed exceptionally quiet during supper.  She said she was being good.  Sigisurd stayed her natural quiet self, and also seemed to want to lie down with the children and escape the table.  It was not because of the tension at the table, exactly.  It felt more like a permanent pall that smothered anything approximating joy and good fellowship.  Margueritte heard all about it the next day when Relii accompanied them on the journey to Roland’s family home.

They camped half-way to the Rhine, and the soldiers under Ragobert made a separate campfire for the women and children at the door of their big tent.  Relii waited until they had eaten, but then Margueritte and Sigisurd could not wait to hear what Relii had to say.  Curiously, she did not talk about the difficult dinner and the forced silence of the women, or the behavior of Poppo, or the attitude of the men.  Mostly Relii shared about growing up, though in a way it helped explain those other things. 

“My best friend is Aduan, Roland’s younger sister.”  Relii said.  “Herlindis and Ingrid, Roland’s older sister, were cordial friends, but I don’t think they were ever close.  I turned nine when Mother got killed by Saxon raiders, and Aduan was ten.  Herlindis, at seventeen, had a boyfriend, sort of.  Father did not approve of the boy, so Herlindis got packed up and shipped off to a monastery in Reims, the old capitol.  There, she took her vows and became a nun, so Father, not wanting her so far away, built the Abbey of Aldeneik for women, and brought Herlindis home to be the Abbess.”

“Good for her, I suppose,” Sigisurd responded.  “But how did you end up a camp follower?”

“I got told from the age of thirteen that I was going to follow my sister into the abbey.  It was not what I had in mind, but I did not have any choice.”

Margueritte looked up from Martin who had fallen asleep beside his baby sister.  “You were to be the virgin sacrifice.”

Relii screwed up her face.  “Sort of,” she said.  “But in those days, Father and Horegard, Roland’s father, met all the time and discussed what to do about the Saxons.  They said even with Pepin taking the best for the army, they could raise a solid company of three hundred men and maybe another three hundred that were not so solid.  They played at soldier, and even talked of invading the Saxon lands.  They went over maps and scouted out the blacksmiths and workers to equip the men, but nothing ever came of it.  The only good thing was Aduan and I got close, being near the same age, and as we grew, we talked about boys a lot.”

“Not much else to talk about in this age,” Margueritte said, quietly.

“Yes, well, when I turned sixteen, Herlindis started to school me in the ways of Benedict, and I was not a very good student.  Herlindis thought she had to take Mother’s place and treated me like a child, but I was almost ten when Mother died, and not grown up, but not a baby.  Besides, I did just fine without Herlindis mothering me for three years while she was away in Reims.  I was thirteen when she returned, and I thought I was all grown up by then.”  Clearly, Relii still had some issues there.

“Father was the worst,” she continued.  “He turned hard, if you know what I mean by that word, and not at all like I remember him when I was young.  I think the loss of Mother changed him, but anyway, I put up with the schooling for a while, and snuck out often to visit my friends and boys, and got in plenty of trouble, but when I turned seventeen, I hatched a plan.  Pepin’s army camped near, planning a campaign against the Saxons to push them back to the Wesser River.  Aduan made it look like she and I got taken by Saxon raiders.  She went to stay with her boyfriend, Cassius, and his Gallo-Roman family down the road.  I went to Pepin’s army and attached myself to Mother Mary, who was younger in those days, and not called Mother.  I made up some story about my family being killed by Saxons, and she took me in.  I stayed with the army ever since.”

“But your father and Herlindis, didn’t they think you were dead?”  Sigisurd asked.

“I suppose, for a while, but Aduan eventually confessed herself.  Cassius made her confess before they got married, and good thing they got married because Aduan already got pregnant.  Aduan did not know where I was, of course, but Father and Herlindis kept hope that I was still alive, and so now I am going to be a nun.”

“Good for you, I suppose,” Margueritte paraphrased Sigisurd’s words, and she and Relii both looked at Sigisurd.

“Don’t look at me,” Sigisurd said.  “My family really all got killed, except by Alemans instead of Saxons, and I escaped because I was out tending the sheep at the time.  I cried for a long time, and my neighbors helped me in my need, and offered to take me in, but then I also ran away.  I have a distant cousin in Cologne, and I thought if I could find him, I could be safe.  But Mother Mary found me when Charles first arrived outside Cologne, and she took me in for my own safety.  We were all by the stream, washing clothes when we got captured.  Then I met you, Margueritte, and you saved me for real, and we had children.”

“And now you want children of your own,” Margueritte guessed.

“Yes, please.” Sigisurd smiled and she looked back at Relii, who shrugged.

“If I could have children, I would have a handful by now.  No telling who the fathers might be.”  Relii smiled before she got serious.  “The Lord saved me for himself, but it took me a long time to see that.  If I become a nun now, it will be by my own choice.  If Father and Herlindis agree, that is nice, but not important.  Freely, the Lord has given me his heart, and freely I return it to him.”

The women sat quietly for a while.  Martin and Brittany slept, so Margueritte imagined she could continue the conversation.  “Haven’t you seen Aduan since you have been back?” she asked Relii.

“Yes, and all is good, but I came on this trip for you, and Sigisurd if she wants.”

“What do you mean?”  Margueritte’s suspicious gland, as Festuscato called it, started to throb.

“I have come to tell you about the glory and wonder of life at the Abbey.  I see wars ahead, and so much killing.  But you will be safe at the Abbey.  We pray all day and have wonderful fellowship, and the outside world has no hold on us.”

“Hold it,” Margueritte practically growled.  “Just stop talking for a minute.  Who told you to talk to me about becoming a nun?”

“Why?  No one told me,” Relii said, and she sounded sincere.

“Tulip.” Margueritte called, and the fairy appeared.  Sigisurd remembered her instantly.  That was the way the spell worked.  Relii reacted like a person being attacked by some horrible monster.  She raised her hands, ready to unleash her magic, but she stopped there and remained unmoving when Margueritte stood.

“Lady?” Tulip asked.  Margueritte did not stand there.  Danna, the mother goddess of the Celts came through history to take her place.

“Tulip.  There is a great enchantment here.  It looks like a virus, transmitted from hand to hand.”  Danna traced it back to Herlindis, to the count, to one of the soldiers of Ragobert, to a man in Paris, to a captain in the army of Ragenfrid, and to Marco, servant of Abd al-Makti, the sorcerer, on whom she saw something like a fingerprint, and she sighed.  Danna easily removed the virus from all the carriers, and she sent an unmistakable message to al-Makti.  “Leave Margueritte alone.”  Then Danna left, so Margueritte could return to her own time and place and think about what she knew.  Relii moved again, dropped her hands in a moment of confusion, and promptly threw up.  Sigisurd and Tulip helped her recover.

M4 Margueritte: The Saxon March, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

FREE

Between today and the end of the year, you can get Avalon, the Prequel, Invasion of Memories, Avalon The Pilot Episode, and all six seasons of the Avalon series in e-book format for free.

The free e-books are only available from Smashwords year end sale   https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos

They can be formatted to your needs, including for the Kindle.  Look for the author M. G. Kizzia (mgkizzia).

Happy Holidays, and Happy Reading.

************************

By the time everything got settled in Paris, and Margueritte understood what Gerraint said about the women in Paris only having one brain which they took turns using, the autumn weather hinted of winter.  Roland wanted to leave Margueritte in a comfortable home over the winter, but she insisted on going with him.  If he left without her, she would follow him as soon as the baby got born.  It became their first real argument, but in the end, they had no say in the matter.

Charles would head for Frisia before the winter set in.  He planned to trim Radbod’s mustache, permanently.  He also wanted to be in a position to confront the Saxons as soon as the spring came, because they were raiding into Frankish territory and that had to be stopped.  The Saxons had to be told the in-fighting among the Franks was over, so they raided at their own risk.  And Margueritte would deliver in a couple of weeks at most.  She could not go anywhere, and she could not delay the men.

Charles and Roland rode off and Margueritte’s delivery went without complications.  Sigisurd kept Martin who would be two years old in a mere three weeks.  Margueritte called that recovery time, but the truth was she got little time to recover.  As soon as she was on her feet, one noble after another came to call.  Word had gone out that she had Charles’ ear, and every man and woman in Paris had some beef or gripe or cause to support.  The worst were the bishops and priests, and even the archbishop paid his respects.  It became tiring, not the least because she had to remain pleasant and positive, not promise anything, yet not send them away dissatisfied.

Roland really did understand.  He left a company of men under a Captain Ragobert from his home province on the Saxon March and suggested if Paris got impossible, she should go visit his family and he would find her there in the spring.  Margueritte waited three whole weeks.  Martin turned two and they had a private celebration.  The very next day she packed, and against doctor’s orders, she set out in December for the other side of Austrasia.

Once again, Margueritte had to ride in the wagon, but this time they kept to the roads.  They were mostly old Roman roads, and not that badly kept, so the black and blues were not too bad.  Ragobert was not much of a conversationalist, but he seemed a competent military officer, and this time she had plenty of private time that the soldiers from Aquitaine never allowed.  With that time, she called Tulip, Queen of the Fairies in what was Frisia, and sometimes she called Marigold, Maywood’s wife and Queen of the fairies in east Austrasia and Saxony, around the Rhine, between the Meuse and Wesser Rivers.

On the thirteenth of December, they arrived in Verdun and took rooms at a local inn on the Meuse River.  Margueritte’s baby girl, Brittany turned one month old and already owned her brother Martin’s heart.  Between the children and the fairies, Sigisurd never seemed so happy, and so sad.  She turned eighteen and wanted a good husband and children of her own.  She did not say as much, but Margueritte and Tulip were not fooled.

Baby Brittany caught a little cold in Verdun, but the sun came out the next day and the snow rapidly melted.  “But we shall have a white Christmas,” Margueritte announced, and then she had to explain.

From Verdun, they took a flatboat and traveled for days down the Meuse, always headed north toward the Frisian and Saxon border, with the soldiers riding parallel to their course on the eastern bank.  They finally came to a little village called Aldeneik where they departed and took once again to the wagon.  They did not go far.  They found an inn, though it proved more of a tavern with a couple of rooms at best.

Captain Ragobert went in first.  He had the purse and proposed a warm and comfortable night or two before they moved two or three days across country to the Rhine.  “It’s a one-day trip to old Horegard’s place,” he said, “but your wagon does not exactly move fast where the roads are bad.”

“Great,” Margueritte practiced her sarcasm.  “We will arrive looking like you and your men have been beating us up.”  Ragobert knew enough by then to know she was joking, and he nodded when he went in, but his face seemed frozen in serious thoughts.

“Not so much as a smile,” Sigisurd whispered.

“I bet he doesn’t cry, either.” Margueritte whispered in return.

There were two nuns and a novice inside the tavern, speaking with the tavern keeper.  Nuns were not an unusual sight in those days, even in a tavern, but there seemed something familiar about the young one.  When she turned, and looked at the newcomers, Margueritte knew and shouted.

“Relii!”

“Margueritte!” Relii shouted back and they hugged around Brittany who was in Margueritte’s arms.

“What are you doing here?” both asked before Relii hugged Sigisurd and bent down to see Martin.  Sigisurd held Martin’s hand and Martin held his mother’s dress.  He turned his shy face into his mother’s dress when Relii spoke to him and said how big he was getting.

“Martin, you remember Relii don’t you?” Margueritte said, but Relii shook her head as she stood.

“He was very young.  But what are you doing here?” Relii guided them to a table to sit, and Margueritte spoke plainly.

“I am taking the children to visit Roland’s family.  Now that Charles has taken charge over all the Franks, he has turned first on Radbod and the Frisians before he goes after the raiding Saxons.  The plan is for them to be here by spring.  We shall see, knowing how rarely plans go according to plan.  But you?  I thought you were dead.”

“I knew you weren’t.  After I recovered, a man told me at sunrise he saw soldiers outside the inn and two women, and a baby being forcibly loaded into a cart and taken out of town.  I figured out who it was when they did not find your bodies.”  Relii reached out and covered Margueritte’s hand as the two older nuns came over and sat quietly to listen.  “They all died, Mother Mary and Rotunda, and that nice older couple.”

“Did you have any of the soup?” Margueritte asked.  “The poison was in the soup.”

Relii’s eyes got big.  “I knew it wasn’t witchcraft.  I told the people you would never do such a thing.”

“Me?” Margueritte felt shocked at the suggestion.  “I keep telling people, I am not a witch.”

“You can’t always tell a witch from her looks,” Relii said, and looked down at the table and worried her hands.  Margueritte understood that Relii had some power that was not normal.  Now it made sense why Abd al-Makti the sorcerer never came around at the same time Relii stayed in the camp.  She wanted to ask Relii her impression of Abd al-Makti, but with the nuns there, she thought it better to avoid that subject.

“Anyway,” Relii continued.  “Poison makes sense.  I know I was deathly ill for three days, and everyone died, but somehow, I recovered.  It could only have been a miracle, by the grace of God.  I was in the village, in a home when Charles and Roland came.  The villagers told them what they knew, and I know they looked in on me.  I don’t know if Roland recognized me.  You know, I always avoided him seeing me.  But anyway, they burned the inn to the ground and left.  I recovered, truly a miracle, and I felt then and there it was time to go home and follow my destiny.”

“But you?  A nun?  That is about the last thing I would expect.”

Relii turned a bit red and looked at her fellow nuns.  “It is my destiny.  Father built the abbey for his daughters who he said were never going to be defiled by wicked men.  My sister, Herlindis is the Abbess.  My real name is Relindis, but you can call me Relii.  It is what my mother called me when I was really young.  Of course, Herlindis was always Herlindis, full name.  Did I mention she is the Abbess?”

“Yes, you did,” Sigisurd interjected.

“Your father?” Margueritte asked.

“Count Adelard.  All of this land is his.  We are in the second line of the Saxon Mark, as he calls it.  If the Saxons ever break through the Mark, we need to be prepared.”

Margueritte had a moment of insight.  “It must have been hard for you in the camp, trying not to be recognized.”

Relii nodded.  “There were certain men I had to avoid.”

“I was not aware you avoided any men,” Sigisurd said, and Margueritte pinched her to get her to shut up.

“I was grateful for the way you and Sigisurd took care of me when I was with child and helpless, and the times you helped Rotunda with the cooking and Mother Mary with the washing and the errands,” Margueritte said.

“I didn’t do much,” Relii admitted.  “But I saw your example and I learned.”

“Please,” Margueritte looked down at Brittany and uncovered enough so she could nurse.  “I am no saint.”

“But you are, more than you know,” Relii said, and Sigisurd nodded vigorously.  “And you can do things, such blessings as most people cannot imagine.”

Brittany settled in and Margueritte looked up and got serious.  She looked also at the two nuns to be sure they were paying attention.  “I only do things that are perfectly natural for me.  If I walk or talk, or nurse my baby, no one calls these things miracles because they are perfectly natural things.  If I can do something most people cannot, it does not make it a miracle if it is natural for me.  As much as I love him, Roland would not nurse our baby very well.”  She smiled and the others smiled with her.

“But this is the important thing,” Margueritte continued.  “It has nothing to do with what you are able to do.  It has everything to do with what you are authorized to do.  If I can do some things most people cannot, it is only because I have been gifted, you might say.  But of those who have received much, much will be expected.  Like your sister, Herlindis, who has been given the authority to be Abbess.  She must make good and wise decisions and only do what God authorizes her to do.  She must not overreach her authority, even if she is able, because that would be the essence of pride and sin.  So, I try only to do what I am authorized to do, and it is not always easy to determine.  Just because I am able to do something, that does not mean I am authorized in a given circumstance to do it.  Sometimes I fail.  Sometimes I just plain mess up.  But I thank the Lord every day that I am a forgiven sinner, and I get up every morning and pray that today I may be a good and faithful servant and a good steward with all that God has given me.”

M4 Margueritte: Prince of the Franks, part 3 of 3

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The first evening across the border, they had a visit from a rider.  He caught the captain by the fire, and Margueritte sat right there, listening.  The rider said the duke had moved on to get behind the stout walls of Bourges and they were to meet him there.  From Bourges, he had plans to send word to Languedoc and to Bordeaux and Poitiers to call up the army.

“So, you expect the Franks to follow?” the captain asked.

“I don’t know what to expect,” the rider answered honestly.  “But the duke has the Neustrian king with him, so someone is bound to follow.”

“What happened?”  The captain missed all the action.

“It was a complete disaster,” the rider answered with a heavy sound.  “The king and his mayor were only able to raise six thousand men, and I think they were only the ones dependent in some way on the mayor.  They were able to double that number with conscripts, but you know militia doesn’t always fight well.  The numbers were more even when we got there, but still.”  The man paused to sip his drink.  “It was an utter defeat.  Charles, the Austrasian and Ragenfrid the mayor stared at each other for three days, and Ragenfrid blinked.  That is the only way I can explain it.”  He shook his head.

“So how did the duke end up with the king?”

The rider shrugged.  “I assume the king asked for protection, maybe sanctuary.  All I know is the duke said he was lucky to get out with as many of his men intact as he did.”

“How many?”

“About a thousand.  Nearly three thousand of our men ended up dead, wounded or captured.  It was a disaster.  And I don’t think the king of the Franks saved that many.  Ragenfrid appears to have fled.  Who knows where?”

“And now Duke Odo thinks Charles may be coming here?” Margueritte asked.  The two men turned to stare at her, the rider with his jaw open.  “What?  I’m sitting right here.  You didn’t think I was listening?”

“I heard she is a witch,” the rider said, calmly.

“Hello.  I’m right here.  Are you asking if I’m a witch? I may become one if you don’t answer my question.  Does Duke Odo think Charles is coming here?”

The rider shook his head and spoke plainly.  “I don’t know what the duke thinks, but I think Charles is bound to come, for you if not for the king.”  He turned again to the captain.  “When the duke heard who you captured, he got bad angry.  When he calmed down, he said maybe she would make a hostage, but he said to tell you if Charles or his advanced scouts catch you, don’t harm the woman.  Give her back, unharmed.  He said, no point in pissing off Charles more than necessary,” The rider took another sip.  “I tell you the duke was badly shaken by the way the battle went.  He said Charles was like a cat playing with a mouse.  It was bad.”

“So, wait a minute,” Margueritte interrupted.  “If the duke did not send you to take me prisoner, who sent you.  And how did you know it was me?”

The captain stared at her again and the rider kept looking back and forth between the two of them.  The rider looked for an answer, but in the captain, Margueritte could just about see the millstone grinding away at the wheat in the desperate attempt to make flour.

“I don’t know.  I don’t remember.”

“Well, someone sent ground castor seeds to spice the soup.  Deadly poison.  My friends at the inn where you found me are probably all dead, and I want to know who did it.”

The captain nodded and fingered his lips, like it might magically help him remember.  Margueritte could just about see the water wheel this time going around and round but not getting anywhere.  “So do I,” he said.

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Captain Gilbert and his men stuck around for three months.  They watched the army gather in May, escort the duke, the king and Margueritte to Toulouse in June, and get bored in July.  It started to look like everyone guessed wrong, and Charles was not coming.

Margueritte staved off the boredom by playing chess with Odo.  He seemed a nice enough man, and she did her best to keep the conversation pleasant.  She wanted to be clearly distinguished from Chilperic II, who was an annoying and demanding sort of person that no one would ever guess used to be a monk.  Margueritte, by contrast, got Odo to talk about his favorite subject, himself.  She asked about his people and his land, his staff and counselors and such.  She asked nothing about his army, so he had no reason to be suspicious.  But in all that time she got no indication that anyone might have sent the captain and his men to kidnap her, and she found out nothing about castor seeds.  It seemed like whoever stood behind the crime simply vanished, or maybe they vanished.  She admitted the poison and the kidnapping might have been two different people. 

She heard nothing to indicate it was not Abd al-Makti, but nothing said it was, until an ambassador from Cordoba showed up in Toulouse and became smitten with Margueritte.  All he could talk about for four days was her hair, her fascinating green eyes, her figure.  Good grief, she had gotten four months along and began to show.  Apparently, that did not matter.  The fact that she was married did not matter either.  He got overheard saying unbeliever marriages were not real marriages.

On the fourth night, he offered Odo a great deal of gold for ‘the girl’.  Odo stayed strong and refused.  In fact, everything the ambassador did and said seemed to offend the duke.  The duke prepared to escort the man back to the border, when the ambassador tried to steal Margueritte in the dark.  The man would not settle for no.  All he could talk about was putting her away in his harem.  He said he had to lock her away where she could be safe and not get into trouble.  Captain Gilbert had to kill the man.  His company had to make sure none of the Ambassador’s people, mostly Visigoth slaves, escaped.

The duke went into a tizzy.  Naturally, Charles showed up.  The duke tried to stay strong with Charles, but he mostly worried about what he could possibly say when the Iberians came looking for their ambassador.  He suddenly felt surrounded by strong enemies, and at this point, due to recent experience, he feared Charles more.  He only knew the Muslims by rumor.

Charles made it easy.  He offered to confirm Odo as Duke of Aquitaine for life, as long as the duke did not make any outside alliances with anyone but the Franks.  He also offered to take Chilperic off the duke’s hands, which the duke was eager to allow, so in all, it became an amenable discussion until Charles brought up the issue of money.  Duke Odo got testy.  He had an army of his own.  But then again, he saw what Charles’ army could do, and the money was not worth the risk of losing everything.

“What about the ambassador’s gold?” Margueritte whispered in Odo’s ear.  “That leaves no evidence that the ambassador ever arrived here.”  Odo smiled at the thought and said he could do that.  As a result, the down-payment for Charles’ standing army got paid for by the Caliph.

Roland carried Margueritte out of Toulouse, talking the whole way.  “Charles gave Chilperic a choice.  He could proclaim Charles Mayor of his palace in front of the assembled Neustrian nobles, and Charles would proclaim him King over all the Franks.  Then Chilperic could stay in the palace or go back to the monastery, his choice, as long as he shut up and kept his opinions to himself.  The alternative was to go and meet his maker.”

“He didn’t really say that did he?” Margueritte asked.

“Basically.  Those were his words.”

Margueritte wondered when she stepped into a grade B western movie.  She laughed, then she told Roland about her experiences and concluded with, “That is twice now.  Someone wants me out of the way, and it is getting serious.”

“Poison is serious,” Roland agreed.

“I almost went into a harem,” Margueritte objected.  “If I ended up there, I would look for poison myself.”

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MONDAY

Battles and the political struggle for dominance is nothing. What is hard is Margueritte birthing child number two and them traveling all the way to the Saxon March to introduce herself to Roland’s family. Until then, Happy Reading.

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