Medieval 5: Genevieve 7 Happily Ever After, part 4 of 4

February 21, 2024December 23, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Genevieve’s Latin was reasonably better than most of the people, but not great. Leibulf and her children were much better at the language because they had a teacher. In fact, most of the children of the nobility were reasonably versed in Latin by then thanks to Alcuin and the palace school Charles made. Teachers came from there, and at least the nobles had their sons, and often their daughters educated. The common people, however, were already losing the tongue if they had not already lost it.

Genevieve looked around. Attendance was picking up, but she had other things to worry about other than the people not being able to honestly hear or understand the gospel. She prayed and thought. She did a lot of praying. Surely, the masters would not let something as momentous as the coronation of Charles happen. The Holy Roman Empire, for all its faults and failings and all its wars, brought a level of general peace and security to Central Europe and it allowed the church to grow strong. The Masters would not want that. But where is the enemy?

Genevieve looked up when she heard some commotion outside. She looked back. Charles had arrived. She looked to her right at the aisle he would march down to get to his front row seat, but she only saw church goers and penitents there, all except the remarkably beautiful young woman beside her. The woman sat still and looked down at her lap like she was contemplating something serious.

“Rose,” Genevieve spoke softly to the woman because it was one of her fairies and she knew the woman’s name.

“Lady.” Rose spoke very softly and never looked up.

“Are the fairies of the gardens of Saint Peter’s volunteering to help?”

“Yes, Lady. We know who you are looking for and we are looking everywhere.”

“No need to look everywhere,” Genevieve said. “Antonio is probably somewhere around the church today waiting for the chance to attack Charles, only I don’t know where. He is probably disguised and ready to strike, but everyone in this place seems ordinary enough, and we have a ring of guards all around the church. No one can get in or out without being seen. I don’t understand where he might be, only I can’t imagine he is not here.”

Rose pointed up and tapped her chin with her finger. “There is one inside your ring of guards, but he is not here, in the church, so maybe he doesn’t count.”

“What do you mean?” Genevieve asked. She was fighting back tears of desperation at that point, ready to grasp at anything.

“Just a workman,” Rose said. “He said there were a few loose shingles on the roof and he went up there to nail them down. He is on the roof.”

Genevieve sat still for a minute before she shouted. “Open Windows.” She stood, ran to the front of the church and outside, calling her armor at the same time so she would not trip over her dress. Rose could not move that fast until she reverted to fairy form. Then she raced out ahead.

Charles stood in the doorway and watched her rush outside. He stopped two soldiers from following her. “She is on a hunt. Pray for her success,” he said, and began the long, slow march to the other end of the Basilica.

“This way,” Rose shouted and led the way. They found a guard there near a rope that hung down from the gabled roof.

“Who is up there?” Genevieve yelled.

“Just a workman,” the guard said. “Hammering down a couple of shingles.”

“Do you hear hammering?” Genevieve yelled louder, grabbed the rope, and began to climb. It was too much for her at forty-five years old. She traded places with a young man named Elgar, someone she did not even know yet. He got all the way up to the gabled roof, and it was a long way down from there. Elgar looked down once at the stone walkway far below and swallowed. He traded places with Diogenes of Pella, Alexander the Great’s chief of spies, because Diogenes knew all about sneaking up on an enemy and not being seen.

“Of course, on a wide open roof there won’t be much sneaking,” he mumbled. He did his best.

Antonio, and Diogenes did not doubt who it was, kept his head covered with a hood, dyed his hair yellow, dirtied his face, and gave himself a scar that appeared to go through one eye and down his cheek. He dressed like a workman, and a poor one at that, but the crossbow he cupped in his hand as he looked through the open window looked like an expensive and excellent weapon.

The angle of the roof was not too bad. Diogenes got closer to his man than he expected. Antonio concentrated on the scene down below. Charles walked slowly and reverently up the aisle, a perfect target except he was flanked by too many priests and soldiers to get a clear shot. When Diogenes got noticed, Antonio quickly fired. He was aiming for Charles’ chest. The shaft caught a priest in the throat.

Antonio turned and swung the crossbow at Diogenes. Diogenes pulled his sword and caught the cross part of the bow. He pulled the weapon from Antonio’s hand and sent it through the window where it fell and clattered on the floor below. Diogenes had to let go of his sword to catch his balance. The whole roof was slippery and slick with patches of ice, and the sword slipped down and off the edge.

Antonio wiggled a little like he was not quite steady. Both men reached for the rope, but neither got it. They nearly bumped heads. Diogenes grabbed for the windowsill as Antonio threw his knife. It scraped Diogenes’ arm and made Diogenes back up from the window. Diogenes began to swing his arms wildly in an effort to regain his balance. He nearly swore but traded places with the Princess instead.

The Princess did not immediately feel like she was slipping, though she was. She felt stable enough to let her foot kiss Antonio’s face. A flock of fairies flew in the man’s face, following the foot, and Antonio threw his hands up to protect himself even as he slammed to his back and began to slide down the roof. He tried and failed to get a grip on the shingles. The rope was too far away. He rolled on his side a couple of times before he shot off the end of the roof. He went out of sight headed for the cobblestone walkway below.

At the same time, the Princess tried the wild arm swinging, but ended up falling on her rump, hard. She moaned and traded places again with Genevieve who twisted her ankle as she rolled to her belly. She managed to avoid rolling further but also began to slide down the roof. The rope was unreachable. She counted her life over but was glad at least that she finished her work. When she shot off the edge of the roof, however, the fairies caught her and brought her to a gentle landing.

Her two guards were climbing the rope, nearly at the roof edge, and Gottard was there about to follow them. But it was over.

Gottard said to her as he offered his hand to help her up, “He will give his angels watch over you lest you dash your foot against a stone.”

Genevieve curled her lip, waved off his hand, and rubbed her hurting ankle before she crawled to Antonio. He appeared to have broken his neck. He certainly broke his back. Charles and his soldiers raced up. Antonio still had a spark of life, and he tried to talk.

“The Masters don’t want…” Genevieve hit the man in the mouth so the message never got delivered, and the man died.

“Antonio,” Charles guessed, or maybe he saw through the disguise and recognized the man from his memory.

“Antonio,” Genevieve nodded and mothered her poor hand before she moaned because of her ankle.

Charles reached down and picked her up. She put her arms around his neck for stability, but he began to kiss her, passionately. He slowly let her slide to the ground to stand on one foot while he squeezed her tight. She kissed him right back. When they finally separated, she had something to say.

“History does not need to know what happened here. You need to not write about this or let anyone write about the dark one, Blondy, Baldy, or Signore Lupen. You especially need to leave me out of it. The Masters know they failed, but it is better that they do not know the details, especially about me. I am best not to be mentioned at all, ever.”

“You hear her Einhard?”

“I hear,” one of the young men said.

“Can I take you inside?” Charles asked kindly.

Genevieve almost said yes, but at the last decided otherwise. “I have been here praying and worshiping since eight this morning. I need to go home, all the way home. My maids are packing for the trip back to Provence as soon as we can get a ship to take us.” She poked Charles in the chest. “You, mister, need to go hear what the Pope has to say. And it is like I told you back when you invaded Italy. When you beat the Lombards into submission, you take the crown. Don’t leave it lying around for someone else to take. Now, that is all I am going to say. Boys.”

Her two guards came right up and each put an arm around her waist. She threw her arms over their shoulders. “We are going back to Provence where I will limp around like Otto for the next twenty years and then die peacefully in my sleep and that will be the end of it.

And she did. Of course, that was not the end of it. Among other things, in her last days she had a terrible nightmare about Flesh Eaters invading her happy home. She had to learn to use that sword and use it against Flesh Eaters and Saracens alike. No, not Saracens. Vikings. And she would be a he. His hands would use that sword. She knew she was never the same sex three times in a row. She had been Margueritte, and now Genevieve. Next time she would have to be a man, strange as that might seem. That was as far as her thoughts went. When she died, she found herself floating around in a mother’s womb, slowly growing into a new person of the Kairos.

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

MONDAY

For the second story in this medieval tome we go to Wessex, Ano Domini 820 and the Story of Elgar, king’s man from Somerset. Until Monday, Happy Reading

Medieval 5: Genevieve 7 Happily Ever After, part 3 of 4

February 20, 2024December 23, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The inn sat on one of the back roads out of the city. It also sat right near one set of docks on the river where the riverboats and a couple of old fishing boats could come and go. Clearly, the men gave themselves every advantage if they needed a quick escape. Gottard got the men to surround the building so there would be no escape, then they went in the front door. It turned out Antonio had stepped out on an errand, but Berlio was there, drinking with his buddies.

Genevieve shouted. “Put your hands up. You are under arrest.”

Three of the men complied, but the rest ran for other doors and into the back room. They all got taken except Baldy. He tipped the table, spilling all the beer in the direction of the guards whose natural inclination was to back up and not get soaked. He sent a knife straight at Genevieve. Genevieve fearing for Edelweiss found the primal energy of being the goddess of the little ones rumble in her insides. The knife vanished and appeared behind her where it stuck fast in the wall.

Berlio found two arrows in his middle. He looked surprised before he fell down, dead.

It all happened so fast, the guards did not all get in the doorway. Margo and Nelly quickly put their bows away. Gottard watched, being concerned about the women in the room, but it looked to Gottard like the bows just vanished. “I believe you,” he mumbled.

“Damn,” Genevieve added her own mumble before she turned to Gottard, who seemed to be in charge even if he wasn’t the officer on duty. “Let three men be disguised as ordinary customers and stay here just in case Antonio returns. I don’t expect he will, but if he does, they can grab him before he escapes. And they better not get drunk.”

Gottard agreed and selected the men before he went outside to see to their prisoners. The officer went with him. Genevieve mumbled once more, “Back to the drawing board,” but this time it was not so easy. She figured Antonio would lock himself away somewhere to make his own plans. Sure enough, even the sky sprites could find no sign of him.

Genevieve hugged and cried with Margo, Nelly, and Edelweiss before she sent them home to their families. She said she would call them if she had further need, but for the present there was no reason they had to stick around in Rome.

Genevieve reported back to Charles what happened. When she mentioned Baldy, his eyes got big and he asked, “Who does that leave?”

“Antonio, the son, but no one has seen him and I fear what he may have in mind to do.”

“I guess this proves Pope Leo is innocent of the charges brought against him,” he said.

“No,” Genevieve countered. “But it does say the attack on him was not spontaneous and due to whatever he may have done. I suppose he could swear an oath of innocence.”

“That might do it,” Charles said, thoughtfully.

“But my concern is for you,” Genevieve continued. “I was thinking the attack on the Pope may have been to get you to Rome. I mean, if they ruined or killed the Pope, that would be fine, but mainly they wanted you in their familiar ground and maybe less guarded than normal.”

Charles nodded. “I’ll take the warning seriously. I am sure, as my guardian angel, you will find the son. Meanwhile, you will have to excuse me.”

Genevieve grinned. “Can’t wait to get to your big-breasted… friend? What’s her name, Regina?”

Charles looked at her in all seriousness. “All I need to do is look at you or hear your voice and I get excited.”

“We were young and that was a different world,” she said. He nodded and left the room. She left in the opposite direction.

The weeks sped by. Genevieve wrote a happy birthday letter to her son, Guerin, though she knew it would not get there until spring. On December twenty-third, the Pope swore his oath of innocence and the men responsible, mostly Antonio and Berlio’s henchmen, were exiled. Then, Genevieve fretted through all of Christmas Eve.

She had an audience with Pope Leo, and he hardly talked about any theology at all. It was entirely politics including his distaste for the woman Empress Irene of Athens of the Eastern Roman Empire. He said a woman had no business ruling over the nations, and then he apologized to Genevieve, her being a woman. He showed her the gold and bejeweled crown with which he planned to crown Charles on Christmas day. He said Charles and the Franks had retaken the west and proved themselves to be more than capable as the defenders of Rome. The eastern empire could hardly defend themselves. She said Charles is not going to like that.

“We don’t always get what we want,” he responded. “Sometimes we just have to do our best with the responsibilities that are thrust upon us. I learned that in just these last couple of years.”

She understood, but then she fretted for the rest of the day. She went to bed early. The day had been cold and wet with rain. The night would bring some frost and ice in places. It was cold enough so the ice might melt slowly. Not exactly a white Christmas, Genevieve thought. More of a slippery Christmas.

She woke up early on Christmas day and sat straight up in bed. “Crown. Christmas.” she shouted, and her maids all stirred and got up with her. She felt convinced Antonio would make his move on Christmas when Charles got crowned. She was not sure if it would happen before, during, or after the coronation, but she felt certain it would happen.

Genevieve got her maids to start packing for home and hurried to find Gottard. Two guards from Captain Hector’s troop followed her, but that was a given whenever she went out. She discovered Gottard and his men had been assigned to provide outside security around Saint Peter’s Basilica. Cold duty, but apparently Charles took her warning seriously. When she arrived at the church, Gottard met her at the door.

“The Pope and his entourage have arrived, but not many worshipers yet,” Gottard told her. It was about eight in the morning and time for the second Mass of the day.

“Have your men all seen the picture of the man we are looking for?” she asked, and Gottard nodded. “Good. We have five doors. We need a man at each, and one man at each window and door around the building, even if the doors are locked against intruders. You need to send one—two men with excellent memories for faces to check the Pope’s people from cardinal down to servants.” She took a breath and Gottard took advantage of the brief respite.

“Ruppert,” he called one man and the man looked up. “Go and fetch the rest of the troop. We have ground to cover.”

“Trouble?”

“Not yet, and I hope there won’t be any, but we have to be prepared.” He raised his voice again. “Girard, fetch Clemenc. I have a special assignment for you two.”

Genevieve thought that whole time, wondering how Antonio might gain access without passing by any guards. When Clemenc and Girard arrived, they both acknowledged Genevieve. “Margravine.” They bowed, being a couple of the men from Breisach.

That brought Genevieve out of her introspection and she started again. “You both remember the face of Antonio, the man we are looking for?” She hardly gave them a chance to nod. “Well, I was thinking he may have used makeup or something to disguise himself. That may be why we have not found him. He may have made himself look older, you know, with wrinkles and such. Maybe a bigger nose. He might be dressed like anything from a cardinal to a slave. You have to really look hard. And Gottard, he may have disguised himself and dressed in a wig to make himself look like an old woman. Everyone is suspect. Go on.” She waved them off and entered the church, her two guards on her heels.

Gottard explained things to his guards and then took the newly arrived men on a march around the Basilica to place one or more at the doors and windows and he spaced them out to see each other so no one could sneak by them.

Genevieve checked everyone who had arrived early for Christmas Mass. The Pope would be speaking at noon, but Mass was said, sometimes with a short homily, about every hour since sunup. Charles might come at eleven, or anyway, in time to celebrate the Noon Mass and hear the Pope speak.

She sat down to pray.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 7 Happily Ever After, part 1 of 4

February 14, 2024December 23, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Genevieve interviewed a hundred people that were present at the time the Pope got attacked. Most claimed to be in the crowd that lined the street and were reluctant to admit anything more, but they did not mind when she gave them a chance to cast the blame on others. No doubt they claimed their unruly neighbors were right there in the thick of the rioters, whether that was true or not.

She got the ringleaders of the mob to interrogate, and only added a few names when the Council released the names of who they planned to interview. From her notes, she found the name Antonio came up three times, and the name Berlio came up seven times. Somehow, she suspected, and that was probably in the back of her mind and probably the reason she came. Signore Lupen’s son Antonio and Berlio, alias Baldy were in the middle of it.

It took two weeks at that point to figure out where they were staying. She had three maids with her, women that later in the Middle Ages would be called ladies in waiting, but they were all young humans so of little value in detective work. Likewise, Old Captain Hector, now in his mid to late fifties and who probably should have retired, was not a great help. His ten soldiers made good guards but they did not have the run of a city that they knew nothing about.

Genevieve checked. A small group of fairies lived around Saint Peter’s and visited Rome’s churches and open spaces where the flowers grew. There were gnomes of a sort that could be found scattered around, even as they might be found around any human city, town, village, or habitation, but they mostly worked invisible and only occasionally had fun getting the dogs in the evening into a barking and howling contest. The elves, light and dark, and the dwarfs in between all abandoned the city ages ago. The sprites still swam in the water of the Tiber, and the sky sprites still floated overhead, but between them, only the sprites in the sky might be able to see a couple of men on the ground if they knew what to look for.

Eventually, Genevieve figure she had no other choice. She visited Charles’ garrison of Swabians and wondered how she could explain it to them. She got surprised when she stepped into the office of the officer on duty. An old sergeant immediately recognized her and came to offer his most sincere bow.

“Genevieve, Countess, how may we serve you?”

Genevieve looked at the officer behind the desk but spoke to the sergeant. “Do I know you?”

“Not likely,” the man said. “I am Gottard from Breisach, and I was the miller’s son. I remember growing up and watching you grow up. I knew your stepmother and both stepsisters, Gisela and Ursula, and I remember how sorry I was and how angry I got sometimes at the way they treated you, if I may say so.”

Genevieve’s face brightened. “A friend from home,” she exclaimed, and hugged the man.

“There are seven of us from Breisach, but the others are too young to remember,” he said.

“And what news from home, because I have heard nothing in years?”

“Ah,” he drew out the sound like he had to think. “I came here some five years ago but let me see. Your stepmother passed away a few years before I came. I am sorry if you did not know. They said her heart stopped. But both of your stepsisters married. Ursula married a freeman, the son of a knight down in your stepmother’s old home ground around Hapsburg. When I met him that one time, he did not seem to me to be the brightest light, but I heard they have three children, so I assume they are not unhappy. Your younger stepsister, Gisela, married a good man and has taken the house and the title for herself, since your stepmother passed away. They have two sons, and the farm now has some animals and is much improved. Gisela is tolerable as a countess, much better than your cruel stepmother, if you will forgive me saying so.”

“Forgiven,” Genevieve said, but by then the officer in charge had enough.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” He stood and looked mean and put his hands hard on the desk. “This is a military barracks where women don’t belong. Gottard, this is not a social club.”

“Me?” Genevieve looked coy. “I am the Margravine of Provence, and I have just come from speaking with Charles. I am going to need you and your men to arrest some men when I find where they are.”

The officer sat down and swallowed. “What men? Where?” he asked in a completely different tone.

“They are the men who planned the attack on the Pope, and I am sure you will want to get them locked away.” Genevieve turned to the Sergeant. “Do you remember Signore Lupen’s son, Antonio, and his worker Berlio, the bald one?”

“Yes,” Gottard said. He hardly had to think about it. “But it has been years since I saw them. I am sure they have aged since then, even as I have. They might be hard to recognize.”

“We have all aged,” Genevieve said. “And hard to recognize was just as I was thinking, but you recognized me quick enough.”

“That was easy,” he said. “You are as beautiful as ever. And may I ask how are your maids, Nelly and Margo?”

Genevieve smiled at the sudden memory of Gottard as a young man trying to get Nelly’s attention. She remembered having to tell the young man that they were elves and not available to court, whether he believed her or not. She said they could only be appreciated from afar. “They have not aged one bit, as far as that goes,” she said. “Elves, you know.” She called out in her way, and Margo and Nelly appeared in the midst of them. The officer kindly only screamed a little.

“I believe you,” Gottard said as he got a good look at the two elves in the room with him.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Genevieve said, as two guards came rushing into the room wondering what was the matter. Margo and Nelly put on their old glamours of humanity once they got their bearings and realized where they were, and Nelly smiled for Gottard, whom she recognized. “I have to find a couple of men, Baldy and Antonio. The thing is, I assume they have aged so I am not sure what they look like now,” she told them.

Margo responded. “It would help to know where we are.”

“Rome,” Genevieve answered. “We are in Rome.”

“Going to be hard to pick out two people among so many even if we know what they look like,” Nelly said and smiled again for Gottard.

Genevieve stepped between them. “Don’t get any ideas.” She turned on Nelly. “Don’t go there. That will make me very cross, and that is not why you are here.”

“Yes lady,” Nelly dropped her eyes and Genevieve turned on Gottard.

“I was just thinking they have not aged one bit,” he said.

“Be sure that is all you are thinking,” Genevieve responded.

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MONDAY

Genevieve searches for that elusive happily ever after, but first she has to find the masterminds of the assassins. Until then Happy Reading.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 6 Internal Twists, part 3 of 3

February 13, 2024December 23, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

In 797, Charles and the Franks got handed Barcelona, the greatest city on the Hispanic coast. The Wali of the city and the Emir of Cordova had a falling out. In that same year, Angele turned seventeen and married William’s son, Gaucelm. William, Leibulf, and Louis arranged it all, and Genevieve had no say in the matter. William and Genevieve practically had a falling out.

Louis, wisely stayed away, having heard about Genevieve from his father and not wanting to suffer the woman’s wrath. William came with his wife, Witburgis. He spent no time with Genevieve except in gatherings where he passed pleasantries. She did take Witburgis for while one afternoon so William could spend some time with Guerin, Mother Oda being there to supervise. But most of the time she wanted to yell at William.

Gaucelm clearly preferred the company of his Gothic lieutenant, Sanila. She could not tell if the boy was gay, or what. She instructed Angele that if the boy refused to give her children, she should come home and she would have the marriage annulled. No doubt William instructed his son to do right by the girl, but it remained to be seen what would happen. William elevated his son to be Count of Roussillon as a wedding present, so that was something, anyway.

Guerin, at the end of 797, turned five and was a handful. Genevieve and her son nearly had a falling out as well when Angele married. Oda stepped in at that point and mothered the boy, even as she had done almost since she arrived, and Genevieve let her. In fact, at some point the boy stopped calling her Aunt Oda and started calling her Mother Oda. Oda and Leibulf practically served as Guerin’s parents through 798 and thereafter. That proved fortunate, because the following year, 799, was a momentous year in a bad way.

In the west, The Emir of Cordova reconquered Barcelona for the Umayyads. Louis, called the Pious, had been made king of Aquitaine by his father Charles some years earlier. But being only twenty-one, he turned to William and Leibulf for help and advice, and they raised the armies. William got the men from Septimania who were adjusting to his oversight, and this time, the Basques fought with them instead of against them. In 800, they marched over the Pyrenees and laid siege to the city. They would winter there. The city did not surrender until 801, over a year later.

In the east, on April 25, 799 Pope Leo III was attacked by a mob who tried to poke out his eyes and tear out his tongue. The Swabian garrison left in Rome by Charlemagne succeeded in their duty and quickly rescued the Pope. They dispersed the mob and arrested the ones who appeared to be leading the attack. The excuse first given was that Leo was not from the right social class to hold the office. Later, they made up stories about adultery and perjury, but it very much became a kind of he-said-she-said situation without any real evidence on either side.

Charles received the Pope at his camp in Saxony. He called for the ringleaders of the mob to testify, but nothing was clear, so Charles wisely called for a council of the church to decide the matter. They would meet in a year, in November of 800.

Genevieve also felt called to go because something felt terribly wrong in the events as described to her. She knew from history how once the lynch mob got sufficiently stirred up and began to act, the real instigators would back away and watch, and act like innocent lambs if they should be questioned. They could easily lie and say they were shocked and dismayed at seeing what transpired. The leaders of the actual mob were simply the most fanatic men that bought completely into the scheme, but they were not necessarily the masterminds. She also knew that since the attack failed, the ones who started it all would still be there, able to stand back, evaluate their failure, and come up with a better plan for the next time. She would have to investigate the matter herself to make sure there was no next time.

Genevieve escorted the Bishops from Lyon, Vienna, Embrun, Arles, and Aix. They sailed from Marseille in September, and Genevieve would see Charles again. Before she left, she hugged Leibulf and Oda, and smothered seven-year-old Guerin with kisses, whether he liked it or not. She visited Olivia briefly in June and encouraged her to begin a correspondence with her sister Angele.

“I’m not sure Angele will write back. I was terrible to her when she was young. I wanted to kill the girl, though the Masters did not care about her.”

Genevieve looked serious. “Believe it or not, that is a common, human reaction to suddenly having a younger sibling getting all the attention you used to get. Of course, in your condition at the time, you probably thought about the killing more seriously than most, but you did not do it. I understand your feeling of being replaced by another girl, and one that was Otto’s actual child where you were not. Of course, being daughter of the king has to be worth something.”

“Mother. Hush. No one knows that except the Mother Superior, and she is sworn to secrecy. I have made friends, and that was hard enough as the daughter of the margrave. I will lose them all if they find out the truth.”

Genevieve found a few tears and hugged her daughter. “I am so glad you have friends.”

Genevieve wrote to Angele in August outlining her reason for the trip and her thinking. She waited to send the letter because she did not want to get a letter in return saying she was crazy to put herself in such danger. If the culprits imagined she was on to them, her own life might be forfeit. She knew that and promised herself she would be careful.

The journey was uneventful. She got regaled with theology day and night, but the bishops mostly spoke of the trip and the weather with her, until they nearly drove her crazy with small talk. She decided she would rather talk theology, and that improved the voyage, and at the same time it allowed her to speak in favor of Leo and against the completely unacceptable and unchristian actions of the others.

When they arrive in Rome, Genevieve had four whole weeks to get her notes in order and ferret out the truth. It took more like eight weeks, and the council was four weeks into their deliberations by the time she found the truth of it. She found Charles just before the council began. His fourth wife had died, and he was on his fourth mistress, or concubine, a big-breasted young girl named Regina. He acted at first a little perturbed at her presence, but he agreed to see her in private when she insisted.

“Charles,” she immediately scolded him. “You are fifty-five or six. I am forty-five with my beautiful blonde locks turning gray. I am not here for that. I came to find out what you and a whole basket full of bishops would not find out in a million years. I am tracking down the real culprits—the masterminds behind the plot against Leo. I am close. When I have the truth nailed down, I will let you know and you can come arrest them or do what you want with them.”

“Why did we have to discuss this in private?” he asked.

“Because people in the court have big ears, and people with big ears usually have big mouths, too. If word gets out that I am tracking down the bad guys, they might come after me.”

“Makes sense,” he said, and she turned to leave but he stopped her with his words. “How is Olivia?” Genevieve turned again to look at him. He looked uncharacteristically contrite. “You know, you are not included in any record of my antics. I made sure of that to give credence to Olivia being Otto’s daughter. Only we know better.”

Genevieve said, “She is good. She is happy. She has made friends.” she began to cry softly, scooted forward and hugged Charles before she wiped her eyes, turned, and walked out without another word.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 6 Internal Twists, part 2 of 3

February 12, 2024December 23, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Barely one year later, the Count of Toulouse was fighting in Vasconia and got captured by Adalric, the Basque duke. Arrangements were made to set the count free, but the count made certain concessions to the Basques for his liberty. Charles was not having that. He replaced the count with his own cousin, William, and made him a margrave with say over the counts in Septimania and all the coast to the Spanish March. By 790, William, the new Count of Toulouse, was raising an army to invade Vasconia.

Leibulf raised the army of Provence for his first time at twenty-five years of age. He would support William in Vasconia. Otto, who was completely bed ridden by then, wished him well. Genevieve and Angele could only watch as he rode off with his army to join William. Among others who joined them were the counts of Bordeaux, Clermont, and Septimania. They did not exactly have an overwhelming force, but they won their battle. Adalric was exiled from the land and Vasconia was subdued. Charles was much happier with that outcome.

Leibulf came home in 791 with a surprise. He married a girl named Oda. He was twenty-six. She was eighteen, roughly Olivia’s age, or a little older, and from Nimes which was practically next door to Arles. Apparently, they had been seeing each other on and off since she turned sixteen. Genevieve thought he made those regular trips to Arles to check on his property there and was surprised. Leibulf confessed he did not tell her sooner for fear of how she might tease him.

“I never would,” Genevieve told him, but she might have. She did not hold it against him.

Leibulf brought Oda to Aix so she could meet his father. He had a bad feeling that his father was not long for this world. He was right, but first Genevieve got a letter from William.

William praised Leibulf on the battlefield, though it was brief praise, and he concluded that Genevieve must have taught him well. He said he wanted to check up on her one last time before his duties in Toulouse took all of his time and attention. He wanted to visit with Leibulf and pay his respects to Otto, but his wife took sick with the pneumonia and passed away a month ago. Charles and the family already had a new wife picked out for him, and there is no avoiding it, he said, but he insisted that first he needed time to grieve. He escaped to Orange with the excuse of closing up his old home. He planned to stay in Orange until the spring bloomed. He knew it was asking too much, that she travel in the winter, but he would really like to see her again if at all possible.

Genevieve carried the letter around for two weeks, and Otto passed away. The house mourned, and all of Provence sent their condolences. It took two more weeks before he was buried. The Archbishop of Arles did the funeral and the Bishop of Aix assisted. The days dragged on, but basically, nothing much changed. Genevieve ruled in Provence, but Leibulf was beginning to take more and more responsibility. He sat down and wrote a large bequest to Lerins Abbey in his father’s name. He thought of his sister, Olivia, and wrote a note at the bottom, And for the convent in Cannes. The support of Lerins became a regular thing for Leibulf over the years, and his wife Oda went right along with him. She dearly loved Leibulf and he loved her right back.

Genevieve was happy about that, but she wrote to William and then packed her bag. She said she just wanted to get away for a bit, and Leibulf did not blame her. Captain Hector, now with some gray hair, took the duty upon himself to escort the Margravine with thirty soldiers to Orange where they arrived on the sixth of March. William greeted Genevieve warmly, and they spent two weeks together. They hugged and cried, and after two weeks, true to his word, on the spring equinox William reluctantly returned to Toulouse to marry.

Genevieve explained to Captain Hector. “He is my age, thirty-seven, soon to be thirty-eight. You are what, forty-eight?”

“About that.”

“For some reason William and I understand each other in ways it is hard to explain. Anyway, the loss of his wife, Cunegonde, was very hard for him. I think he is ready now to remarry. I only wish him well.”

“And what of you?”

Genevieve paused to think before she spoke, an unusual thing for her, but a habit she was developing as she aged. “The loss of Otto is hard, but I think in part it is because I spent so much time focusing on him over these last few years, especially when he got to where he could hardly get out of bed. I knew—we all knew it was only a matter of time, but it still came as a shock when it happened. I grieve for Otto. We had twenty good years together, but for me… Now, I don’t know what to do with myself. Now, I am left at a complete loss. Poor Leibulf has had to take over much of the running of the county since more and more of my time got spent on my husband. Poor Leibulf got the job whether he was ready for it or not. But for me, I don’t know. I imagine I will end up in some convent and fade away. Maybe I will go to be with Olivia.”

“Not so,” Hector responded. “I feel you still have much to do, and I felt that way since before I knew about your other lives and all your little ones that follow you around like lost puppies. The people of Provence could not love you more if you were their queen. They will grieve terribly when you fade away.”

“And you?”

This time, Captain Hector paused before answering. “I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. I will not deny that.” He stiffened his face and rode with his eyes straight ahead, not willing to look at her.

Genevieve chose not to respond to that. She knew it was so, but Hector was married and had five children, the eldest of which was a newly appointed member of the guard. She would never go there and spoke again only after a time of silence.

“Well,” she said. “William has moved on, and I have no doubt he will do great things under Charles’ son, Louis. He can be Louis’ Uncle Bernard and keep him pointed in the right direction. And I will go home and help Leibulf if he needs help, and encourage Oda to always love her husband, and find a suitable husband, eventually, for Angele, and let that be the end to it.”

Of course, that was not the end to it. Six weeks later, the midwife confirmed that she was pregnant. Leibulf kindly always accepted the child as his father Otto’s child, even if that meant Genevieve had the first eleven-month pregnancy in history. Leibulf would not hear otherwise, and Oda went right along with him. In some sense, Leibulf and Oda adopted the baby, and all the more as Genevieve aged and it looked like Leibulf and Oda would not have any children of their own.

Angele did not care about any of that. She was twelve and enamored with the whole idea of a baby.

Genevieve had a son, Guerin, a week before Christmas. She never wrote to William to tell him, though he eventually figured it out. Charles never questioned her. When he came through to confirm Leibulf in the position of Margrave of Provence, he said he was glad for her, though she complained that she was too old to have a baby. All the same, he was glad she had a son, and he played with the baby like a doting father. He never asked who the father might be, and she never told him.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 6 Internal Twists, part 1 of 3

February 7, 2024December 23, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Genevieve had another girl she named Angele. Otto wanted a second son, but he was not unhappy with a girl. He said his life was now complete, having a son and a daughter of his own. He wanted to count Olivia, but she was so uncooperative, she made it hard. In those days, Otto stayed home. He limped around the palace and often sat by the window, staring out into the distance. Genevieve imagined he was remembering his youth, and probably his first wife and their love affair. Genevieve did not mind. She did her best to make sure his days were quiet and peaceful.

Genevieve went back to her fortification project, but not with the same fervor as before. After losing so many men and ships, the Saracens got the message and stayed away from Provence, at least while Genevieve was alive, and the pirates, what remained of them, decided to pick on other hapless shores.

Genevieve, herself, got very busy. She was concerned about the poverty and standard of living in her county. No one in Provence would know or even guess the poverty in which Genevieve had been raised, but from her upbringing, Genevieve developed a soft heart toward the poor. Too many people lived ragged lives and did not always have enough to eat. The county had fallen on hard times since the Romans left. The merchants had all gone away, and the river traffic down the Rhone Valley had all but stopped. She decided what she needed was merchants, salesmen, and sailors. Provence had olives and olive oil, wine, and grain that still grew in the Rhone Valley. She needed a way to market these things, and so she arranged things with Charles.

She imported several communities of Jews from Italy. The Jews were the ultimate middlemen and merchants in those days, and they built small communities attached to her five main ports, the places she called Nice, Frejus, Toulon, Marseille, and Arles. Arles especially got all that river traffic. Then her ships got built, at last, and she worked with the Jewish community to open trade all over the western Mediterranean, in the islands, in Italy and Southern France, in Barcelona and Hispania, and even with the Saracens of North Africa.

With all that effort, the standard of living in Provence grew, but slowly, very slowly. She cried to think that in her lifetime there would still be a majority of people in Provence struggling with the hard and rocky soil to make their daily bread. The poor you will always have with you, she quoted to herself.

In 783, when Leibulf turned eighteen, Otto granted him the domains and palace in Arles. He made it allodial land, so Leibulf would not be responsible to any other noble apart from the king. He would inherit Provence when Otto passed away, unless the king was unhappy, but this way he would have something if the king decided to appoint a new margrave for the county. It was Frankish-Germanic tradition to divide the inheritance between the sons. It was a good way to keep the boys from fighting. Everyone got something. But it was bad in the sense that the kingdom got continually broken into smaller and smaller pieces, and often the boys fought anyway to gain a bigger piece of the pie.

In this case, Otto only had the one son, but sometimes kings were not pleased and replaced those who they felt were not doing a good job. In his old age, Otto did not worry about that much. He did not worry about anything much. Genevieve, for all practical purposes, ran the March of Provence, and the various knights, barons, counts, city councils and town elders soon learned to listen to her. Her word was law, and they jumped to it. It became easy for them, however, because clearly Genevieve loved all the people, and most of these men and women, and the people in general loved her in return. Her word might be law, but they knew she only wanted the best for them, and that mattered most.

In 787, Charles came through on his way home from Benevento. William, who had taken up residence in Orange, met him in Aix where he said he wanted to see Genevieve again, and see how she was getting along. She turned thirty-three, and William said he was the same age. They smiled for each other, but then walked away. Charles did not mind. In fact, he placed Cousin William in Orange at the bottom corner of Burgundian territory where he could keep one eye on Genevieve and the coast, including Septimania, and the other eye on Toulouse that faced the Basques and the Spanish Marches.

Otto got up for the king, but he still stayed mostly in bed. Leibulf, who was twenty-three, was excited the whole time. He spent most of the time from the first year after the pirate raid to the present in school first learning his grammar, logic, and rhetoric, and second studying arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. Alcuin sent a student of his, Albinus, and the girls were not let off the hook, though Angele was still too young, only being seven when Charles came to visit. Genevieve had a school built like a boarding school and brought in the children from the other noble families in her territory, so her own children, and Leibulf might have friends.

Olivia did not make friends. Genevieve encouraged her, but Olivia did not appear to want any friends. She turned fourteen and showed no interest in boys, either. She hated Charles. Genevieve reminded her that Charles was her birth father, but it did not matter. She hated Charles and did not cooperate with anything. Charles asked what was wrong with the girl, but Genevieve could only shrug and say she was a teenager.

There was more to it than that, and it all came out one night when Olivia snuck into Charles’ room with a knife. Charles was not so easily taken. He got cut in the arm but got the knife from Olivia’s hand and made enough noise so people came running. By the time Genevieve arrived, Olivia was in the corner screaming threats and horrible words and wracked with tears. Genevieve went to her, but she scooted back on her seat and would not let Genevieve touch her. She said something that made sense.

“Mother, help me. They are torturing me. The pain is unbearable. I am losing my mind. Help me.”

“What can we do?” Charles asked as Leibulf and Angele came in, helping Otto to a chair. They all, guards included, looked at Genevieve who found some tears in her own eyes.

After a good, long scream, Olivia spoke again. “Mother. I have to kill Charles. I have to kill William and Leibulf. Mother! Mother, I want to kill you. The Masters want you dead.” She got up to run at Genevieve, her hands extended like claws. The two guards in the room grabbed her, but it took both of them to hold her as she struggled with unnatural strength.

Genevieve had a face full of tears when she said to Charles. “The nightmare.” It took him a minute to remember, but by then, Genevieve was no longer there. Amphitrite, the Queen goddess of the Mediterranean Sea came out of the past to fill her shoes, and she continued to speak to Charles and the rest of the people in the room. “I am going to try and force her to trade places with herself in the far future.” She did not say if it would work, but after a moment, something changed.

Olivia still looked more or less like Olivia, and yet she did not look right. Her eyes bugged out. Her mouth was full of missing teeth. Her hair was longer, uncut, and sticking out in every wild direction. She looked like she never bathed, or cut her nails, and her mouth could only scream. Something came from the girl like miniature lightning and the two guards were blown back from her side. She had death in her eyes, but she could not move further. Amphitrite had her frozen in place.

“I am sorry Genevieve,” Amphitrite spoke through a few tears of her own. “I am sorry Charles. I am sorry, my poor future child.” She closed her hand and the wild Olivia was crushed into a ball of flesh and bone, the blood squeezed out to stain the floor.

Amphitrite waved her hand and the lump of flesh vanished while Olivia came back to fall to the bloody floor and weep. Amphitrite saw the wisps of darkness that hovered over the girl. They might never leave her alone, always being there to tempt her and torment her for the rest of her life, but they would not be able to enter into her or torture her. It would be a hard life.

Amphitrite went away and Genevieve came back to rush forward and fall to her knees, to hug her daughter and cry with her. Olivia no longer felt the need to kill anyone, but she was not entirely safe. She even told them they could not trust her. It was decided to send her to the convent near Cannes, to build it up with an endowment, and let it be under the watchful eye of Lerins Abbey. Genevieve visited often enough and let the Mother Superior know that Olivia was not to leave the convent under any circumstances, no matter how good, kind, or loving she might become.

“And I hope she may find love, and above all, peace,” Genevieve said.

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

MONDAY

Internal twists continue as Otto takes to his bed, Leibulf goes off to war with William of Gellone, then Genevieve visits William as well before someone tries to assassinate the Pope. Happy Reading

Medieval 5: Genevieve 5 External Attacks, part 5 of 5

February 6, 2024December 23, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Leibulf helped her return to her tent. For some reason, she was hungry and tired, which was unexpected because she just spent the last six days resting in a kind of suspension. She should just be one moment of time from when she stood in the back room in Aix-en-Provence. Margueritte did all the living and working over the last six days. All the same, she was tired and hungry.

When Leibulf left her there, all she could think about was Margueritte’s question. Who would be so evil as to let pirates into the city? She heard from Amphitrite. I could go and look if you want. She did want.

Amphitrite identified the culprit before she arrived in the city, and her arrival in the city was instantaneous. She found a woman—a nun, or one dressed like a nun standing by the river gate waiting patiently for the pirates to arrive. Amphitrite hardly had to probe the woman’s mind to know who was behind it. Abraxas, the so-called god who refused to go over to the other side at the dissolution of the gods, empowered this woman to be his hag. She traveled from Northumbria in the British Isles to Aachen, Charlemagne’s capitol, with the scholar Alcuin. She left the scholars and priests behind and traveled all the way to Provence on her own, not that a monstrous hag would have any trouble reaching her destination.

Abraxas was currently confined to the British Isles. He knew returning to the continent would be his death, but apparently he believed if the people invited him to come, that would negate the restriction and allow for his safe return. Abraxas was counting on the idea that there were still Moslem sympathies in Provence. When the people became confused between Moslem and Catholic beliefs, so they no longer knew what to believe, the hag could move in with word of Abraxas, a living god, and with enough converts he might get that invitation.

“Not going to happen,” Amphitrite decided before another lifetime of the Kairos interrupted her. Danna, the Celtic mother goddess said, This is my place. I am the one who put the restriction on Abraxas’ movements and confined him to my islands. I will deal with the hag. Amphitrite agreed and traded places with the mother goddess. Danna turned up her nose. The hag stood by the river gate surrounded by the bits and pieces of humans, all that remained of the gate guards.

Danna dressed herself in a plain dress and toned down the signs of her goddess nature to practically nothing, so she appeared as an ordinary woman, albeit an inhumanly beautiful one. She also gathered a half-dozen city guards to her side for appearance sake. They were window dressing, as she stood near the gate and shouted to the woman. “Servant of Abraxas. Why are you here?”

The nun who was not a nun looked up and looked surprised before she smiled wickedly and responded. “Since you know who I am, whoever you are, you should know your little soldiers cannot stop me. No weapon forged by man can hurt me.” With that said, she began to change from an old nun into a hairy seven-foot-tall monster who roared as a challenge to the soldiers.

“They cannot harm you,” Danna agreed. “But I can finish you. You do not belong here. Abraxas knows he cannot come back to the continent. To do so will be his death.”

“Who are you to say what will be?” the monster asked.

“I am the Kairos, the Traveler in time, the Watcher over history. You might not know me, but Abraxas knows me and he knows what I say is truth.” Danna sprayed the beast with the fires of her earth, and the monster’s roar strengthened. The monster burned, but it did not hurt the beast. The beast actually grew another foot taler and became stronger but then Danna lifted the beast with her mere thoughts and tossed the hag into the river. The hag screamed of death as the fire, suddenly put out, broke whatever bond of life existed between her and Abraxas, the would-be god. The monster melted in the water. She liquified, turning back into a liquid remembrance of the woman-nun, and floated off in the current toward the sea.

Danna turned to the soldiers who stared, mouths open, but did not know what to say. “Tell the city that Margrave Otto was successful. The pirates are defeated and will not come here.” She vanished and reappeared in Genevie’s tent where Genevieve came back to contemplate what just happened. One day she would have to deal with Abraxas. The world did not need to be filled with hags—monstrous servants of Abraxas.

Genevieve decided to lie down. She had a restful and peaceful sleep for an hour and woke refreshed, though still hungry. After another hour of nothing more than sitting and waiting, Genevieve heard some noise in the camp. She thought she better see what was happening. She stood, slowly, and with a sight groan, put one hand on her belly, and waddled back toward the river. It was nearly noon, and she wondered if someone might be cooking. She smelled beef.

Leibulf found her and came running. It looked like the boy made some effort to clean himself up. He took her arm to help her walk over the uneven ground and brought her to Otto who was talking with a young, tall, dark-haired man who was explaining something.

“We came down the Rhone but turned off at Avenio. We followed the river road along the Durance until the turnoff for Aquae. We probably missed you by a day.”

“We got preoccupied,” Genevieve interrupted and turned to Otto. “I smell beef, and maybe lamb cooking. I’m hungry. You wouldn’t think so since I have been sleeping for the last six days, but is it time for lunch? You need to feed us, you know.” She took Otto’s arm and looked up at tall, dark, and handsome while she patted her belly. “Baby,” she said, and looked down at her balloon. The man appeared to suddenly understand.

“My wife, Genevieve,” Otto said. “William of Gellone,” he introduced the man who could not help speaking.

“You came all this way, and to a battlefield, in your condition, if you will forgive me asking?”

Otto and Leibulf both looked at Genevieve who shook her head to say no. “That is rather difficult to explain,” she answered. “You need to trust me. It was no hardship, for me to be here, I mean.” She looked at Leibulf. “Margueritte says she had some hardship.” Leibulf grinned and nodded.

“Well,” William did not know what to say, exactly, so he continued with his story. “We came to Massilia on the next day, but by the time we arrived, you had already gone. The sea was still burning a bit here and there, by the way. We found out where you were headed, and why. I made the decision to gather the ships to follow by sea. We arrived in time to catch the pirates on the riverbank. We caught the rest as they came racing to our side, begging to be taken prisoner.” He paused and looked at Otto. “What did you do to those men? I have never seen men, much less pirates act that way.”

“Ask my wife.” Otto grinned and looked at Genevieve.

Genevieve did not mind telling. She decided she liked this strapping young man, and he would likely believe her since he had witnessed the results. “The gnomes and fairies started with the arrows, and they don’t miss much. Then Leodek, the dwarf chief with a hundred dwarfs, a few ogres, and a mountain troll, attacked with their big clubs, hammers, and very sharp axes. I would hesitate to see that battlefield. Probably pieces of pirate spread all over the field.” She paused and let a few tears form in her eyes. “And seventeen of my little ones are dead or dying. I am grateful to the dwarfs. We were caught on the wrong side of the river. But I am so mad at them at the same time. Leodek has wisely started the march back to the Alpilles.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Now, I am hungry. Can we eat?” She blew her nose on Leibulf’s shirt sleeve.

Leibulf turned her toward the cooking fire. Otto and William followed. William kept speaking. “I brought some five hundred men from Aachen. I sent a hundred in three ships to assist your Captain Hector in Telo Martius. I hope things are well there. I left a hundred in Massilia to guard your prisoners while your men cleared the port from the burning hulks of Saracen ships, and I hurried here with the rest in five more ships to see if we could catch the pirates before they reached Arles. We arrived in the morning after they began to move up the river. We caught the ones left with the ships, mostly on the shore. Of course, we had no idea they had a small army of pirates. I never knew there were so many pirates, or at least I never heard of so many gathered in one place.”

They arrived at the cooking fire and found the most well-done piece for Genevieve to chew on while the rest of the beast cooked. Otto asked. “So, where are you headed?”

“Rome,” William answered. “Most of the men will relieve the troop left to guard the Pope. Cousin Charles raised mostly Swabians for that duty so he could keep his better trained Franks in his own lines.”

“Cousin Charles?” Genevieve asked.

“Distant. Not too close.”

Genevieve nodded that she understood. She showed a small smile and looked down at her lunch.

“So, you are a relief column,” Otto said.

“I am glad you came to our relief,” Genevieve added, and William returned her smile.

“And will you be staying in Rome?” Otto asked, not exactly happy with the eyes being shared between William and Genevieve.

“No,” William said and turned to focus more on Otto. “We are escorting a Northumbrian and his monks to see the Pope. They are concerned about a place called York and want it made an Archbishopric and the man confirmed in the seat. When his interview is finished, I will be escorting him back to Aachen.”

“Alcuin!” Genevieve suddenly shrieked. “Charles needs to keep the man in his palace to teach his children and the court. I need to write to Charles right away. Parma. That name is in my mind. He needs to meet Charles there. You need to keep Alcuin there until Charles can meet him.”

“They have already met,” William said softly.

“Seriously,” Genevieve continued. “Charles needs to keep the man. He is a teacher, you know. He teaches liberal arts. Both trivium and quadrivium. Oh, it is very important. You need to do what you can to make that happen. It is important.”

“Parma?” Otto asked.

“It is a town or small city or something in Lombardy, or Tuscany or somewhere in Italy, north of Rome. Seriously.” Genevieve paused to hear what William might say. He surprised her.

“I know who you are,” William said abruptly, imitating Genevieve’s outburst. “Charles calls you his guardian angel.”

Genevieve smiled and looked down at her lunch.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 4 Troubles Averted, part 2 of 3

January 23, 2024December 22, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

In the last couple of days before the wedding, at the very end of April, the Bishop of Basel moved the priest from his rooms in the church so Genevieve could have them to prepare for her wedding. Things got hectic and Genevieve reached the point where she could not think straight. Good thing she had Margo, Nelly, and Edelweiss looking after her.

Mother Ingrid, Ursula, and Gisela got invited to the wedding. Genevieve fretted about that along with everything else, but they decided not to come. They gave plenty of excuses. Genevieve felt glad they would not be there, but then she felt guilty about feeling glad.

The day before the wedding, Genevieve felt sick. She feared her wedding dress would show the baby and her life would be ruined. It was early enough in her pregnancy so she did not show anything at all, but her imagination ran away with her. She did not sleep that night, wondering what she could say to the man for the next however long. He was a nice man, as Bernard told her, but in some ways she lived such an isolated life.

Genevieve knew how to cook and clean. She knew how to sew and weave, and even how to hammer the shingles back on when the wind took them. She knew nothing about high society, or how to be part of the nobility. She could not imagine tea and crumpets with the ladies. She did not even know what crumpets were, but maybe she was getting a few centuries ahead of herself. All she really knew was Mother Ingrid, Ursula, and Gisela were not good role models.

She feared she would be really bored with servants to do everything for her. She would probably have to get a nurse, or a nanny for the baby, so even that would be mostly out of her hands. She could learn to read and write and do her arithmetic. She probably ought to learn to ride a horse. She imagined Margo and Nelly could teach her to shoot an arrow. Hunting was acceptable, though she was not sure about women hunting.

She imagined herself weaving tapestries all day, every day. She imagined making small talk with the ladies, talking about the weather. That would drive her mad. and that brought her back to wondering what crumpets were, anyway.

She wondered if Otto would be happy with her. She wondered if she could make him happy. She feared he might get as bored with her as she got bored with the high life. She had no real, honest idea how to rule a household. As she thought, Mother Ingrid was not a good example, but she had no other example. She knew even less about ruling a whole province. She never even had any say in her own county, and never knew which properties around Breisach she actually owned.

She imagined the sophisticated ladies of Aquae, or Aix, as she thought of it would eat her alive. And that did not even cover her relationship with Leibulf, the eight-year-old son. Who knew what direction that might go?

Mostly, she worried about what Otto would say when he discovered she was the Kairos, the Traveler in time, the Watcher over history. He knew nothing about the other lives she had lived, much less about how she could call upon them in time of need. He would inevitably find out unless circumstances always turned in her favor. Like when did that ever happen? More immediately, she worried about what he might say when he discovered she had responsibility for all the liitle sprites of the air, fire, water, and the earth, such as elves and fairies, and including dwarfs and even dark elves that most people called goblins. She had responsibility for trolls, ogres, imps, and gnomes of every shape, size, and kind. The number of little ones had to be counted in the billions. She tried not to think of that lest she suddenly be overwhelmed with exactly how many.

Genevieve instinctively knew that her life as the Kairos would rise up and bite her. Something would happen to threaten history, like yet another attempt on Charles’ life—Charlemagne’s life, and she would have to act. She already had space aliens hiding in the Jura Mountains. She already had a plot by the Masters to kill Charles and her, and maybe several plots if Darky and Blondy were Masters inspired and not just working for Desiderius, King of the Lombards. Something would come up. He would find out, and what would he think? What would he say? What could she say?

She spent a lot of time in prayer. Being in the rooms normally occupied by the priest helped.

When it came time for the wedding, she had not slept for thirty hours. Naturally, the Bishop decided to speak for well over two hours. Genevieve mostly stayed awake. She was surprised an unmarried man could have so much to say about marriage. She vaguely understood after the fact, that much of it was about his own upbringing and the example of marriage his own parents set. She honestly could not concentrate while he was speaking for all that time. All together the wedding took over three hours and Genevieve figured the congregation had to be mostly asleep by the time they finished. Poor Otto had to kneel so long, with his bad leg and all, he had a hard time getting back up when it was time.

After that, everything became a blur. She remembered eating something and saying thank you a hundred times, at least, for all the well wishes and congratulations. She drank the wedding toast but could not remember drinking anything else. First chance she got, she fell into a very inviting bed and passed out. She slept the rest of that day and the full night. Otto said he mostly sat in a chair by her side and watched her and smiled. She felt bad for him. She told herself she would make it up to him.

Charles and the Frankish army left right away. They planned to gather just before the pass that would take them into Italy. Desiderius was gathering the army of Lombardy on the other side of the pass once he knew where Charles would be coming through the mountains. Desiderius imagined setting a trap for the Franks, but Lord Evergreen watched and figured out how to turn the trap on the Lombards. He also kept track of Bernard via the fairy grapevine. Charles would not move until Bernard reached the pass of Great Saint Bernard.

~~~*~~~

Genevieve and Otto stayed a week in Basel while the armies of Aquitaine, Burgundy, and Provence gathered in Geneva and Lausanne. It was a very different sort of honeymoon week than the week she spent with Charles. Charles and Genevieve spent much of that week in bed. Otto and Genevieve spent much of that week getting to know each other and eating. It was on the fourth day that Genevieve had to confess herself.

They picnicked on the Rhine in a secluded garden with plenty of trees and spring flowers. Captain Hector always made sure two soldiers kept an eye on the Margrave and his Lady, but they stayed out of the way. Margo and Nelly were also there, somewhere near in case they should be needed, but they did not intrude. At first, everything was quiet. Genevieve feared she might actually be running out of things to talk about. She felt the shy coming on, but that got interrupted by the sound overhead. A small Ape shuttle slowly floated over the water. It made no effort to hide. The occupants were clearly looking for Genevieve, and Genevieve had to excuse herself. She did not give herself a chance to worry about it.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 4 Troubles Averted, part 1 of 3

January 22, 2024December 17, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

It took two more weeks for Charles and Bernard to so-called figure it out. Obviously, Genevieve had to marry, and the sooner the better, but the pregnant Countess of Breisach could not be married to just anyone. Bernard came up with the solution. Otto, the Margrave of Provence was in his late forties. He had an eight-year-old son, Leibulf, whose mother died in childbirth, and Otto had been a widower since that time. It was not ideal but Bernard said Otto was a very nice man and would never treat her badly.

Bernard fought alongside Otto in the old days under King Pepin the Short. He called Otto a brave and noble gentleman, like Genevieve’s father. Back when Charles’ grandfather drove the Muslims out of Provence, he made the province a March to watch the Muslims in Septimania, and piracy on the coast, and to watch the Lombards in the east. Otto’s father was the first Marquise, or Margrave in the German tongue.

Otto served faithfully for years and was in on the fight when they finally drove the Muslims out of Narbonne. Now, he apparently raised a little army all on his own and was anxious to go after the Lombards. “The problem is he was wounded on the battlefield and needs a cane to walk,” Bernard concluded.

“He will be no good to us in Lombardy,” Charles said. “Nor would I take a cripple into battle. I’ll take his army, but he needs to stay home.”

“It will help everyone if you keep him home during the fighting,” Bernard said. “I will come to gather the men who are presently in Aquae. They can move up to Geneva and meet us in Lausanne where the Burgundians will gather, and we will see what Aquitaine sends. Then we will move into Italy through the Great Saint Bernard pass.”

“We will see what Burgundy raises,” Charles said as an aside.

“Charles will take the main Frankish army through the pass of Monte Ceneri and we will see what Desiderius comes up with.”

“You’re leaving me in Lausanne?”

“Geneva.”

“You’re leaving me in Geneva?” Genevieve whined.

“Not abandoning you. You and Otto will have full escorts all of the way down river to Arles and then across the coast to Aquae. You will be fine.”

Genevieve squinted at Charles. “The pass of Great Saint Bernard?”

Charles grinned. “Fitting, don’t you think?”

“Ha, ha,” Genevieve said without laughing.

“Charles insisted,” Bernard said with a look of resignation in his eyes. He changed the subject. “Otto will be good to you. He knows about the baby and has pledged to raise your child as his own. He is agreeable on all points, and besides, he says his boy, Leibulf, needs a mother’s influence,” Bernard finished and they waited for her response. It was not what they expected.

“I always wanted to have a baby brother. Mine died when he was two.”

“So, is that a yes?” Charles needed to know.

Genevieve paused but did not let the tension play out too long. “If Otto is all that you say he is, then yes. But if he mistreats me or my baby, you will get a knock on the door.” Genevieve understood that she really had no other choices.

“Of course,” Bernard mumbled. “Of course.”

First thing after that they got everyone moving to Basel. Genevieve got introduced to the people in Basel as the Countess of Breisach. The people, basically strangers, deferred to her and she got some slight bows and curtseys. Genevieve was used to the people back home where she grew up and all the people knew her. Back home they liked her well enough, but this was different. This was a heady experience, but she understood it was mostly Charles or Bernard that got the special attention. No telling what they said behind her back, Charles being married and all. No doubt some of the words were not so nice.

Charles and Genevieve tried to be as discrete as they could. It was easy when Charles got busy building his army. New men came into town every day in April, and as the month progressed, Charles got more and more busy. Genevieve had to content herself with Margo and Nelly for companions, and Edelweiss when she was around. Edelweiss got excited because she found her flower.

“I thought they did not bloom until May, or later, like July,” Genevieve said.

“Apparently, they bloom when Edelweiss tells them to bloom,” Margo responded, and Nelly shrugged.

When Otto and a small contingent of men arrived, his eight-year-old son Leibulf in tow, Genevieve thought she was prepared. She was not. She felt awkward and withdrawn. She hardly knew what to say to the man and tended to look down at her boots. At least she got her own boots.

Otto said, “Bernard, you did not do justice in your description. She is lovely, beautiful, very fetching, I must say. What do you think, Captain?” Otto asked his Captain, Hector.

“Very nice, but rather shy and quiet.” Charles and Bernard laughed until Charles got tears in his eyes and Genevieve bumped him with her elbow.

Genevieve and Otto got to know each other, though they avoided talk about the baby. Genevieve did open up after a short while and found the man was as nice as reported. She decided that being married to the man would not be a terrible thing, and she got along well with Leibulf, the son, almost from the beginning. Of course, he was eight going on sixteen so he was not about to do what Genevieve told him, but she expected nothing else. She indeed saw him as the younger brother she was not allowed to have and only hoped she would not tease him too badly when he started showing interest in girls.

“Lady, lady,” Edelweiss came flying into Genevieve’s room when she was packing to move into the church rooms before the wedding. “Lady.” The fairy was excited and Genevieve knew enough not to interrupt before Edelweiss told her news lest she distract the little one and make Edelweiss forget why she came. “I saw Blondy. I saw Blondy.”

“Where?” Margo asked, pulling her head out from the wardrobe.

“When?’ Nelly asked from the floor in the midst of pairing up Genevieve’s socks.

“What was he wearing?” Genevieve asked last.

Edelweiss let out a little shriek, like her little brain could not answer all those questions at once. She chose to answer Genevieve. “He was dressed like a soldier.”

“When did you see him?”

“Just now. I came straight here.”

“Where did you see him?”

“In town. In front of town hall and the church,” Edelweiss said and took a deep breath, pleased that she remembered and got it out before it flitted from her thoughts.

Margo added a question. “What was he doing?”

“Just sitting there.” Edelweiss flew up to Margo’s face. “He was not doing anything.”

“Genevieve?” Nelly called, but Genevieve was already leaving the room. Her face looked determined. Her steps were deliberate. The others followed.

Edelweiss sat on Genevieve’s shoulder as she marched into town. Like elves who could wear a glamour to appear human, fairies also had ways of being around humans without getting big and looking inhumanly beautiful, which might attract the wrong kind of attention. Most often, people see fairies as birds of some sort so people mostly ignore them. They often appear in the corners of the eye, like some movement in the peripheral vision that vanishes when looked at directly. When people do look directly at them, they naturally projected a kind of perception filter which makes them appear like a spot of light or shadow, or something not quite clear. Even when people concentrate on them, they can be difficult to bring into focus. They often present multiple unclear images where the eyes have to dart around the small area in front of the eyes to see anything at all, and even when they see, it is a faded, unclear picture, like someone moving around behind a translucent veil, unless the fairy wants or is willing to be seen. Of course, the people who get to know the fairy can see the fairy perfectly well. Magic can also pierce the veil, and that was what happened with Blondy.

Genevieve arrived at the town hall at the same time Charles rode up with a small troop of soldiers, mostly captains of some sort come for a meeting. Blondy stood, which got Genevieve’s attention. He had two throwing knives in his hands. Edelweiss chose that moment to squirt from Genevieve’s hair and shout.

“There he is.”

One knife headed toward Charles, but the other headed toward Genevieve, though the fairy got in the way. Genevieve reacted like it was an attack on her fairy. Something like lightning poured from her hands. The throwing knife got knocked to the ground. People got shoved back and out of the way. The electrical charge went straight at Blondy. He may have tried to put up a magical shield, but that would have been like a single grain of sand trying to hold back the ocean. Genevieve was not presently an ordinary young woman, but goddess of the little ones and filled with the power of creation itself.

Charles ducked. The knife cut him in the upper arm, but it was no more than a scrape as it essentially missed. Edelweiss threw her hands up to her face so she would not have to watch. Genevieve let out a shout of surprise. The lightning stopped instantly and she threw her hands up to cover her mouth. Blondy was reduced to a smoking cider of what used to be a man.

“Let me,” Genevieve heard the words in her head. Amphitrite, or Salacia as the Romans called her, asked to take a look. It only took a moment. Amphitrite appeared in Genevieve’s place for one quick moment to look. Genevieve came back to her own time and place well before Charles approached her.

“Interesting, whatever you did,” Charles said with a sly smile, pointing at the smoking flesh that used to be Blondy.

“That wasn’t me,” Genevieve said quickly. “I mean it was me, but it was that part of me that watches over the little ones.”

“Your Kairos.”

“Yes,” she said and raised her voice a bit. “He attacked my fairy.”

Charles looked around, but Edelweiss had rushed to Nelly’s shoulder and presently hid in Nelly’s long dark hair. “Good thing that little one and I are friends.”

“Oh, you have nothing to worry about.” she put one hand on his chest to draw on his strength. She killed a man and needed the strength to hold back her tears. She did the deed whether she admitted it or not. She wanted to cry about it, but instead, picked up the throwing knife from the ground. “You are hurt?” They both looked at Charles’ shoulder. Charles had to twist his arm and head a bit to see.

“Only a scratch,” he said. “But say, how would you like to do that on the battlefield?”

“No, that would not work on the battlefield. Little ones in battle face the same chance as any other soldiers. Sometimes they die and I am not allowed to change that. Meanwhile, I checked if you are interested.”

“You mean that other woman in your place? I blinked and almost missed her.”

Genevieve nodded. “Amphitrite,” she called her, thinking Salacia was a name that might be recognized in that post-Roman province. “Mister Lupen, Antonio, and Baldy are still in Lombardy and have no immediate plans to come this way.”

“Good to know,” he said as he pecked at her lips and went to check on his men. Genevieve turned and walked slowly back to her rooms where she finally let herself cry and finished packing.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 3 Troubles Ever After, part 3 of 3

January 17, 2024December 17, 2023M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Only a week before they planned the move to Basel, something serious came up. It was the first time in Genevieve’s life that the Kairos needed to be called upon to prevent a historical disaster. It was her vision not two weeks ago. A battle in space, not far from earth. One ship was destroyed. One ship was seriously injured. One ship was injured but might be repaired. That alien spaceship landed in the Black Forest not far from where she was located. She had to go.

Charles went with her and brought thirty soldiers along for the ride. That was just as well. No telling who might have stopped her or what mischief they might have done if she did not have a troop of soldiers to protect her. She had no real experience on horseback but it would have been too far to travel on foot, so Charles found her a gentle horse. She was just glad she did not fall out of the saddle.

By the time they arrived, Alice of Avalon, the Storyteller in the future, and Martok the Bospori in the far, far future filled her mind with all the relevant information. The ship was full of peaceful Apes. Alice called them Apes. They were shot down by the ones she called Flesh Eaters and needed a place where they could hide and make their repairs. Earth was properly marked on their charts as a do-not-go planet, but it was also noted as a sanctuary planet. They came to Earth hoping the Flesh Eaters would respect the do-not-go designation, not that they expected the Flesh Eaters to respect anything. But the Apes counted on the sanctuary designation and thought they might peacefully make their repairs.

Genevieve got down and walked the last couple of hundred yards to where the Ape ship set down in a clearing. Charles, Margo, Nelly, and three soldiers walked with her. She would not let any more than that come, but Charles insisted on that much. Three Apes left their craft and met them halfway.

Charles raised his eyebrows at the sight. He knew about little monkeys, though he had no idea there were larger such creatures even on earth. These Apes most closely resembled something like a cross between chimpanzees and gorillas, being roughly gorilla in size, a couple of species Charles and the Franks with him did not know. The Apes were vegetarians as well, so they had that in common with the gorillas. Charles did not know that either, but Genevieve knew. These aliens had no interest in eating the Franks. The Flesh Eaters, on the other hand, would delight in the chance to eat some human flesh. Some believe it was the vegetarian Apes that gave the name Flesh Eaters to their mortal enemies, but it stuck because it was true.

As soon as they met in the middle, Genevieve unloaded the Kairos’ standard line. “Hey. You can’t park here. This whole planet is a no parking, no stopping or standing zone.” It took some time for the Ape translation devices to begin working. Genevieve encouraged the Franks to talk freely with each other. She knew the device needed input from the locals to work properly. Genevieve or one of her lifetimes judged it to be a primitive version of the original Agdaline translator. Perhaps it was a home-grown version. Genevieve would not know.

Once they could communicate, and Genevieve’s first message got through, Genevieve unloaded. “These humans consume from the bounty of plant and animal life on this planet, as most species do. They do not eat people, but all the same, it would be best to avoid direct contact with the humans. They also fight among themselves, which some species find strange and disconcerting. Charles here is raising an army to fight a different army of humans on the other side of these mountains. You need to know that war is not unknown to these people, and they are good at it, so stay away from them.”

“We understand,” one Ape said, and added, “I am Captain Grawl, and you are?”

“Genevieve, the Kairos in this present age.” She took a breath before she went straight on. “This is a Genesis planet, one of only a half-dozen in the galaxy where intelligent life begins. This is why you are not allowed to interfere with the current human species, or any other species that might come along. As long as you understand, you may be granted limited sanctuary while you make your repairs. I know you were surprised and attacked by a Flesh Eater ship and your companion ship was destroyed. You came here to hide while you made repairs, but if you honestly want to hide, you need to turn off your engines.”

One of the Apes tried to politely interrupt. “We have kept them running in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

Genevieve shook her head, though she was not sure if the gesture would be understood. “Without giving away any great secret, the Flesh Eaters can track you by the energy signal your engines put out.”

“Some have theorized that,” Captain Grawl said.

“But this is not a good place to hide. I see why it attracted you, being a forest of green, but you are too close here to farms and a town. You will need to move to a more remote location. Come to think of it, I wonder why you were not attracted to one of the jungle environments on this planet.”

“Too hot and humid for some of the delicate equipment that needs repair,” the third Ape spoke.

Genevieve nodded, though she imagined that might not translate any better than the head shake. She turned and pointed. “You need to move south. You will find a ridge of mountains close there, the Jura Mountains. Find a secluded spot away from the people and you can set down, turn off your engines so the Flesh Eaters cannot easily trace you, and fix what needs fixing. If you need a special piece of equipment and do not have the means to fabricate it, you need to come and see me. I will be somewhere along this river, probably in the town on the northeast end of those very mountains. You can scan me if you want to put my imprint in your system in order to find me later.”

The Ape who mentioned the delicate equipment spoke again. “Our system is not capable of picking one out of the many.”

Genevieve frowned, and that time she was glad not every nonverbal expression was universal. “Well, something to work on. I have given you two problems now to solve. Don’t ask for more. It is better for a people to discover things for themselves. Just send a drone slowly up the river, and hopefully, I will see it or hear of it and find you. Now, move. And remember these two things. First, stay away from people.” She paused, but decided she underlined that enough.

“And the second?” Captain Grawl asked.

“Once your ship is repaired, your time of sanctuary will be over. You must leave this world. Good luck against the Flesh Eaters, but please do not come back here again.”

“But what if the Flesh Eaters come here?” the Ape who spoke about needing to make a quick getaway spoke.

“I will deal with them,” Genevieve assured them. “They will be told and given a fair chance to leave peacefully. They may have to be destroyed.” Genevieve shrugged, just to get in a last nonverbal bit of confusion for the Apes.

Captain Grawl bowed, but he explained. “A show of respect and agreement with the words you have spoken.”

Genevieve nodded and returned a slight bow before she turned around to walk back to the horses. The Apes went back to their ship, and Charles spoke.

“At least they know how to bow.”

“Not what you think,” Genevieve told him. “Bowing is their version of a handshake.”

“Oh,” Charles said, and they stopped at the edge of the trees until the Ape ship lifted off into the sky. “And how long will it take them to reach the Jura Mountains?” he asked.

“A half hour at most if they go really slow and take half that time trying to figure out where it is safe to land,” she answered. Charles whistled before Genevieve spent the rest of the return trip yelling that Charles and his soldiers did not see what they saw and they were not allowed to speak about it to anyone, ever. She finished her thoughts with the notion that she hoped the Flesh Eaters did not come to Earth.

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

MONDAY

Genevieve gets married, and an Ape visit forces her to confess herself to her new husband. Good luck with that. Until Monday, Happy Reading