Cinderella

Medieval 5: Genevieve 3 Troubles Ever After, part 1 of 3

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Genevieve and Charles spent the next week mostly in a bubble. In some ways, they were like a honeymoon couple. They did not have much room for others. The guilty feelings did not honestly catch up to her until about the fourth day. Charles was married. She was a fornicator and adulterer. She did not want to think that way, but she could not help it. She felt condemned.

She turned on her side that night and put her back to Charles. It was an exceptionally gloomy night. The clouds completely blotted out the moon and stars so only the darkness remained. The shadows put up by the dying embers of the fire appeared to dance wickedly in the dark. Genevieve closed her eyes and soon fell asleep, but with sleep, the nightmares came.

Genevieve remembered Lydia’s life in her dreams, a lifetime she never knew she had. She remembered Lydia being kidnapped and taken to a brothel where she was beaten and drugged until she could not even remember her own name. The darkness came then—the demons. They entered Lydia and filled her, and her mouth began to prophecy. Time itself filled her and came out of her. Men paid gold. She could not stop her mouth. The demons would not let her.

Genevieve felt something touch her middle. Something got twisted in her belly and she woke up with a scream on her lips. Charles stoked the fire in the fireplace, and the darkness receded with the light. She cried and held on to Charles that night, though she did not get much more sleep. In the morning, she could not explain her nightmare. She forgot all about Lydia as that memory sank into her subconscious. All she could say was it felt wicked—the ultimate evil. Genevieve prayed in the daylight, asking God for forgiveness and grace. She took Charles to see Father Flaubert who was anxious to show him the will and about Genevieve’s inheritance. Genevieve simply knelt by the altar the whole time and prayed some more.

That afternoon, Edelweiss caught Genevieve alone for a moment. The fairy took one look at her lady and spouted. “Lady! You are going to have a baby!”

“What? No,” Genevieve responded. “I can’t do that to Charles. He is married. He has a new wife who just had a baby, their first. According to the Storyteller, they are supposed to have lots of children. Me getting pregnant right now might ruin everything. I mean, I want a baby—wanted a baby—one that can inherit the county after I am gone. Oh! Passive-aggressive can backfire. It makes everything so complicated, and it can ruin everything. Don’t tell.” she paused to give Edelweiss her most serious expression. “Don’t tell anyone, not even Margo or Nelly. And don’t tell any human mortals. Especially don’t tell Charles. Oh! That was stupid and selfish. I may have ruined everything. I need to think. I have to think about this…”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Edelweiss promised, but Genevieve knew the fairy would tell Margo and Nelly at the first opportunity. She could only hope the three of them would keep it among themselves for a few days.

The next day, being the fifth morning of the week, Genevieve went down to breakfast and had a terrible surprise. Mister Lupen, Antonio, and their three ugly workmen were sitting around a table, having breakfast. Uncle Bernard sat at the far end of the room at another table looking over some papers.

“Bernard,” Charles got the man’s attention. “We have strangers in our sanctuary.”

“Yes,” Bernard said. “They are merchants of some sort. They came down the Rhine last night, or early this morning. They came straight here saying they always break their fast in this place before moving up to the house for the month. They are friends of your mother’s?” He asked Genevieve.

“I suppose they are,” she said, sneaking a look. She sat where her back would be toward the other table in case they did not notice. She hoped they would not recognize her now that Bernard and Charles took her shopping and bought her all sorts of new clothes.

Bernard nodded. “Since most everyone is on the road to or from Basel, or off on other errands, or still sleeping…” He underlined that last for the couple. “I felt it would not hurt to let the men have their breakfast. Beltram confirmed their story.”

“You know they are Lombards,” Genevieve said quietly. Both men looked at the other table. Genevieve put her hands softly but firmly on the table to regain their attention. “I am not saying they are spies or any such thing, but you know merchants have sometimes been paid for information they may have gathered while visiting enemy territory.”

“I am sure Desiderius would love to know our proposed route into Lombardy,” Charles said, looking down at the map on the table with lines drawn and certain mountain passes marked in red. Bernard covered the map with both arms before he had a second thought and turned it completely over. He grinned for the couple, both of whom grinned back at him. His action, however, proved well timed as Signore—Mister Lupen and his group got up to leave. Mister Lupen stopped at the table and looked straight at Genevieve, so her meagre attempt to hide amounted to nothing. Antonio hovered over his father’s shoulder as the man spoke.

“We came in early enough yesterday so while the men worked, I made a quick trip to the manor house. Your mother said if I saw you, you need to come home right now. You have work to do and are falling behind. The work is not going to do itself.” Antonio snickered.

Genevieve put on her calm-the-distraught-child voice, a voice she learned very well from Mother Ingrid. “Tell Mother Ingrid that the Frankish hierarchy has me involved in a very important mission and I can’t possibly come home before it is accomplished.” She smiled her lovely I-am-just-an-innocent-girl smile.

Antonio turned serious but his father almost laughed. “I will convey your message,” he said, and they left.

Charles immediately turned to Genevieve. “An important mission?”

“You are important,” she said, and her smile immediately returned to a genuine smile of happiness. “Besides, I know you are going to attack the Lombards, but I know none of the important details. I figure if Mister Lupen and his crew want to try and gather some information they can sell to the Lombards, I would rather act as a decoy. They won’t get any information out of me, unless you want to give me some false information that I can feed to them.”

She let that thought hang in the air for a moment while the two men looked at each other, but in the end they both shook their heads, and Charles said, “Too dangerous.”

“But you know those men by a glance, so if you see them hanging around, you should tell us.”

Medieval 5: Genevieve 2 Prince Charming, part 4 of 4

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Beltram swallowed. “Wait a moment. What are we talking about here? I have a lodger, Missus Berthold. She came from Stuttgart to visit her family but they claim they do not have room for her in their house.” He swallowed and glanced back at his wife. “You mean, the whole inn? Who are we talking about?” He glanced up at Charles and his two men. “I hope we are not talking soldiers.”

“Some,” Charles interjected.

“Well,” Genevieve began. “There will be soldiers, but they will mostly come in and out. Let’s see. The king will need a room, and a room for his sweet Uncle Bernard. I don’t know about other family, but I imagine a duke, a margrave, a count or two may show up. I suppose the rest will be for his generals and certain Captains and such, so, yes, some will be soldiers.”

“The king is coming here?” Liesel put her hand over her heart.

Charles leaned right over Genevieve’s head. “Yes he is.”

“I suppose we can move Missus Berthold to Ada’s place. I suppose she will have to move,” Genevieve mused before she opened her hand. “Here. This will get things started. I want roasted chicken and some of those good potatoes… and carrots if you got any. By the way, how many horses can you take in? I guess that can be worked out later. First, you need to bring your best beer for Charles’ men and Margo.” She looked up at Charles. “Nelly doesn’t drink and Edelweiss is not allowed. She crashes into walls and things.” She looked again at Beltram who stood there with his hand open. She placed the two silver coins there. “Are the rooms open? We need to check them out, especially the king’s room. Are the fireplaces clean and the flues and chimneys all scrubbed out?”

“Wait,” Charles said and placed a gentle hand over Genevieve’s mouth. Her eyes got big but she held her tongue. “Fulko, you stay here and be good company for the lady’s friends and enjoy the chicken. Personally, I prefer beef and game animals well roasted. We will check on the rooms. Hladwig the Younger. You get the hard duty of trudging back up to the house and telling Bernard and the others that we have procured accommodations for the morning, but we will be staying here as long as it is raining, and especially if it turns to sleet, ice, or snow. Be sure to mention that I ordered Genevieve to stay here as well, until morning if necessary.

“Yes S…”

“Sir.” Charles interrupted. “Yes Sir or Yes Captain.” He turned to Genevieve and removed his hand. “He is learning. Now, where were we?”

“Sir,” Hladwig said.

“Wait.” This time Beltram stopped the soldier. He pulled a long coat and a hat to go with it off a hook on the wall behind the counter. “It is water resistant and will help you get up the hill in one piece. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Hladwig put it on and went out into the rain.

“We were going up to check out the king’s room and make sure everything is working, and maybe get the fire going to check it out.”

“Right,” he said.

She took Charles’ hand again and led him to the stairs. She noticed Liesel sent her younger son, Gundhard, to call in the troops, so to speak, while Ruppert was out getting all the shutters closed. Liesel would need help, at least two women and two men, if the inn was going to be full, and if the king was coming. She could not imagine it. The king was coming to her inn.

By then, they reached the top of the stairs and Genevieve began to get cold feet. Not literal cold feet, like she was still out tromping around in the snow and ice, but colder feet in some sense. She steeled herself. Her feet were not going to rule her. Normally, she simply grew melancholy and accepted things as they were. She was not normally passive aggressive, but there was a time and a place for everything, as Solomon said.

“This is called the king’s room because it is where King Pepin stayed when he came to visit my father when my mother died. He did not want to stay at the house for fear the atmosphere would be too sad and full of grief for him to get any work done.” She opened the door and went straight to the fireplace to start the fire. That was something she could do very well. She was well practiced.

Charles looked around the room, saw the shutters on the side where there was a window. They were already shut. He checked them, rattling them a bit. Then he bounced on the bed to check its firmness. “A bit soft,” he said. “I mostly sleep on a camp cot. Very firm.”

“I am sure,” Genevieve said. Once the fire got started, she took a stick and lit the candle beside the wash basin, and the candle on the bed table. “Not exactly palace quality. More like camping out for someone who is used to fancy rooms and beds.”

“No,” Charles said, and looked up at the chandelier Genevieve did not bother to light and which stood just high enough so he did not bump his head as he came into the room. “This will do fine. It is very cozy.”

Genevieve nodded and went to close the door, which was not really proper for a young woman alone in a room with a strange man. She said nothing as she brought Charles to stand in a certain spot before she said, “Stand here for a moment.” She went to the wash basin and pulled out the stool from beneath such as a short woman might use to see her whole face in the brass mirror. She set in in front of Charles, stood on it so she could see Charles almost eye to eye, slipped her arms around Charles’ neck and said, “Okay. I’m ready.”

Charles held her around her waist and pulled her close enough, but he said, “Ready for what?”

“For what you are thinking.”

“You don’t know what I am thinking.”

“I want to have a baby,” she said. “A son would be nice. And you will go off with the army and get yourself killed.” she sniffed back a few tears, took one hand to wipe her eyes, and repeated herself. “Okay. I’m ready.”

She kissed him, or he kissed her, but a couple of tears got in the way and he pulled back. “You have never done this before, have you?” She shook her head and looked down at her cold feet. He frowned, pecked at her lips, and took her off the stool. He sat her down beside him on the bed and said, “Tell me. And this time I want the whole story, the real story, not the fantasy tale.”

Genevieve nodded and they talked all afternoon and into the night. He did sleep with her, and more than once. He could not help himself, and to be honest, she did not resist him. Only one thing interrupted their time together. Alice sent a clear picture to Genevieve’s mind, and it caused her to sit straight up in bed and gasp.

“What?” Charles woke right away. “What is it?”

“A picture.” Genevieve shook her head. “A vision you might say. A battle out among the stars not too far from earth. Like a battle at sea. One ship was destroyed. One ship was seriously injured. The third ship was injured, but if they can find a safe port, they might be repaired.”

“Out among the stars?” Charles asked. He honestly tried to imagine it.

Genevieve nodded, and added, “Let’s hope they don’t come here,” and she laid back down.

In the morning, Charles lay on his side, admiring her. She lay on her back, her eyes closed, smiling. He went to remove a hair from her cheek and her eyes sprang open, and she shouted.

“It’s morning. We have to get out of the king’s bed. We need to make it right away. Oh, it is really messed up. What if the king gets here? What are we going to do?’

“Shh, hush, hush.” He got a word in. “The king is already here. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. She felt very uncharacteristically stupid that morning, or actually since she met Charles. She should have guessed from the beginning. When Charles confessed himself, she got mad, though mostly at herself. He quickly slipped on his tunic, stepped outside, and closed the door while she threw things at the door. After a minute or so she decided she was acting much too much like Amphitrite. Charles was not Poseidon. She slipped into her dress, got her dry slippers from the fireplace, and grabbed her winter shawl. She went out the door all smiles, kissed Charles on the cheek with a sigh and said, “You better put on your pants and boots if you want to have breakfast. I’m starving.”

While Charles hopped back into the room, Genevieve smiled for Uncle Bernard, who happened to be standing there, his mouth slightly agape. She smiled for him and added, “We missed lunch and dinner,” she said. “He could probably eat a whole cow by himself. I prefer chicken.” She shrugged.

When Charles came out, she took his arm and looked up at him. He asked, “Feeling better?”

She nodded vigorously. “Wonderful,” she said. “We should do that some more.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” He smiled down at her as they got to the stairs. Bernard sighed, reached out and gently closed the door to the room.

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

MONDAY

Things get complicated. Genevieve gets pregnant. She needs to marry right away. Mister Lupen shows up. Someone wants to assassinate Charles. And a spaceship lands in the woods. Much to do. Too much to do… Happy Reading.

*

Medieval 5: Genevieve 2 Prince Charming, part 3 of 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Charles paused briefly before he stepped up beside her. “I see no reason why a couple of soldiers might not escort a fine young woman to town and back. I mean, now that the horses are cared for.”

Genevieve glanced back once at the two men following, one old and one young, before she looked up at Charles who kept grinning at her. “You are their captain?” she asked and Charles nodded. “A bit young for a captain,” she concluded and started walking before her feet froze in that spot.

“I’ll be twenty-eight in a week—maybe a month or so,” he said defensively. “How old do you think a captain should be?”

Genevieve shrugged. “I will be eighteen in a month or so. Ursula is already eighteen. Gisela won’t be sixteen until the fall. We are not married, though. Mother Ingrid keeps talking about making an advantageous marriage.” Genevieve shrugged again.

“Your sisters? Mother Ingrid?”

“Stepsisters. Mother Ingrid is my stepmother.”

“You are not a servant in the house?”

Genevieve shook her head this time. “Father Flaubert explained it all to me just three Sundays ago after Mass. Mother Ingrid and my sisters went into the market while Father Flaubert pulled me aside. He has a copy of the papers in the church, and he showed me. Father left everything to me, the land, the house, and all. That technically make me the countess, though Mother Ingrid uses the title, even if it is not hers to use. You see, my mother died when I was four, and father remarried before he went off to fight for King Pepin and got himself killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Long time ago.” Genevieve returned Charles’ smile.

“So, why are you fetching the eggs?” Charles asked, honestly enough.

“I like to eat?” she tried, but Charles shook his head in a definite no.

“It is a long story,” Genevieve said. He indicated that he would listen, a good sign in Genevieve’s book since she liked to talk. She began with the phrase, “Stop me if you heard this one…” and proceeded to tell the whole Cinderella story, including the part about the fairy godmother, the ball, and the slipper. She ended with, “Of course, I don’t expect Prince Charming to show up any time soon, so I get to be servant for a while longer, anyway.”

“That is not right,” Charles drew his own conclusion. “I would not blame you if you threw the woman and her daughters out and took back your home.” Genevieve shook her head, so Charles asked, “What?”

Genevieve looked down. They had reached the town and stopped walking so it was easy to watch her slippers shuffle in the dirt. She had to shuffle them to keep her toes from freezing. “First of all, I’m not grown up yet. I’m old enough to marry and have children, but not exactly what you would call full grown. Father’s will says I get the house and property when I am eighteen, and the outlying farms and serfs and the rest of the county when I am twenty-one. I am sure he imagined I would be married by then, and Mother Ingrid’s daughters would also be married. Secondly, Mother Ingrid has sold everything she can and spent all the money on frivolous things for Ursula and Gisela, so there is not much to inherit. And third,” she looked up at Charles. “I could not do that to them. That would be cruel. They have nowhere else to go.”

Charles smiled. “I can see your heart is as beautiful as your face and form.”

Genevieve’s face turned a little red, easy to see beneath her blonde locks. “I can see your tongue is as glib as you are tall,” she responded.

Charles coughed and put on a more serious face. “So, there is one part of your story I do not understand. The fairy godmother part. The way you tell the story makes it sound like one of those fantasy stories they tell little children. I was never a big fan of those stories, even when I was a little child. I believe there are enough miraculous things on God’s green earth, things we hardly understand. We don’t have to go making up more things like fairies and elves and such.”

“A realist,” Genevieve called him. She gave him a knowing look, so once again he asked.

“What?”

“Would you like to meet my fairy godmother, well, my fairy friend?” Her smile turned to a big grin. “Are you brave enough to let your whole view of the world be shaken?” He looked at her, not sure what to say, and she called, “Edelweiss.”

A young woman stepped out from behind a building. She was fairy beautiful but she did not appear at all fairy-like.

“Fairy?” Charles said in his skeptical best.

Genevieve ignored the young man. “Edelweiss. Would you visit my shoulder please.”

“Lady. Is that wise?” Edelweiss asked. She looked around the area near enough to the market where plenty of people were coming and going.

“It is safe,” Genevieve responded. “This is Charles. He’s a friend.” She looked up. “You are a friend.” She made the question into a statement.

“I hope to be a very good friend,” he said.

Genevieve secretly smiled, but tapped her shoulder and said, “Come, come.” Edelweiss needed no more encouragement. She took her fairy form, and wings fluttering flew to Genevieve’s shoulder and took a seat where she could at least hide in Genevieve’s hair.

Charles shrieked, as Genevieve spoke.

“As a future friend of mine once said, there are more things in heaven and on earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” Genevieve took Charles’ hand and his smile returned. “And just to be clear,” she said. “Margo and Nelly. They must be around here somewhere. I met them about eighteen months—almost two years ago when I was at a very low point and feeling very sorry for myself. I’m not like that, normally. I am usually very upbeat and positive. Only sometimes, I find my life circumstances rather depressing. Margo. Nelly.” She called.

“I don’t blame you, given your circumstances,” Charles said, as he looked down at her hand in his.

“Here we are,” two more young women shouted and came running.

“Lady. You have company,” Nelly said.

“We weren’t sure if it was safe to show ourselves,” Margo added.

“They are elves,” she said frankly to Charles. She lifted her free hand so he could see them without their glamours of humanity. She lowered it again while Edelweiss hung on by pulling gently on her hair. “Just to be clear,” she added with a grin, glad that he did not shriek that time.

“I see you have some interesting friends,” Charles said and looked up. It had begun to drizzle. “I’ll have to ask you more about that, later. Right now, we need to get under shelter. I also need to find an inn where we can house Bernard and the others. I assume your home might not be the best accommodations.”

“I know just the place,” Genevieve said, and did not hesitate to drag him half-way across town. They got inside just before the rain started in earnest. Genevieve had to let go of Charles to shake out her shawl. Edelweiss had to get down and get big. She did so behind Margo and Nelly so as to be hidden. Genevieve raised her voice. “Beltram.”

“You are good at calling for others I see.”

“My captain. You know asking quietly gets you nowhere. Beltram! Oh, there you are.” The man came sleepily from the back room.

“Ah, lovely Genevieve. Always a pleasure. How can I help you?” the man said, as his wife came up behind him to peek around his shoulder.

“I have a captain here who wants to rent your entire inn. All ten rooms.” she turned to Charles. “You do want the whole thing, yes?” Charles paused and looked up like he was counting before he nodded. “The whole inn,” she repeated. “And I want a good price. I don’t want you to gouge my friends.”

“For how long?” Beltram began to wake up.

Genevieve paused to look up at Charles. “For how long?”

“Month,” Charles said. “First of April we need to move to Basel and first of May, or at least sometime in May we move into Italy.”

“March,” Genevieve said with a bit of a smile. “I am sure you can accommodate them for the whole month.” She pulled out two silver coins that Bernard gave her and told Charles. “Bernard slipped me some extra for the eggs and other things Mother Ingrid wanted.” She grasped them and returned to face Beltram. “So, can you get everything ready by morning. They are presently at the manor house, but I doubt they will come down here in the rain before morning.” Genevieve and some of the others looked out the window in the main room.

“Ruppert,” Beltram’s wife, Liesel called. It started to come down hard and Beltram’s young son had to go out to close the shutters.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 2 Prince Charming, part 2 of 4

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The old man paused and stared at her. His mouth wanted to say, “Do I know you?” but instead it said, “We are looking for Count Lothar von Stefan. Is this his house. Are you a servant in the house?”

Genevieve shook her head. “My father died on the battlefield when I was eight. You are Bernard, brother of King Pepin and Uncle to King Charles. I remember you when I was four. You came here at that time searching to strengthen the army to assault Septimania.”

“You were the girl,” Bernard said, suddenly, like he remembered something. “You were only this big.” He smiled and reached his hand down as close to the ground as he could without getting down from his horse. “You have a remarkable memory.” He paused before he added, “And I am sorry about your father. I guess I knew that, but I had forgotten.”

“I live here now with my stepmother and two stepsisters,” Genevieve spoke plainly. “But you are welcome to come up to the house and warm yourselves by the fire.”

“Not your mother?”

Genevieve shook her head again. “She died when I was four. One reason you came here.”

“Of course. I am sorry,” Bernard said, sincerely, as he remembered better.

“I was very young. I am seventeen now. Please come up to the house and I will see what there is in the larder. Maybe Matthild can make some hot tea to warm you.”

“We don’t want to be a bother,” Bernard said, which surprised some of his men. Usually, armies just took what they needed, and if the man or woman was important, they sometimes said thank you, but that was it.

“No bother,” she responded, though to be honest, she could not wait to see Mother Ingrid’s face, not to mention the faces of Gisela and Ursula. “Is Charles with you?” She knew it was cheeky to talk about the king in that manner, but Margueritte sat very strong in her mind at the moment. She remembered Bernard, who was actually King Pepin’s much younger half-brother, having a different mother. “How old is Charles now?” she asked before Bernard could answer since he got busy dismounting. She remembered, or Margueritte remembered Bernard as a young man of twenty or so, standing near Pepin at his father’s funeral. Charlemagne would not even be born for another seven years.

“Yes. He is twenty-seven and nearby. We were sent ahead to search out possible lodgings. We need a place to gather troops in the spring and the Rhine Valley has been fruitful this last year.”

“There are a couple of inns in town and one overlooks the river. The Rhine is slow moving this time of year. Too much ice still in the north. Of course, it may flood in a month, but I don’t think so. We had a cold but mostly dry winter.”

“Thank you for the information. Obviously, we would not want to put you ladies out of your winter home.”

Genevieve stopped on the front steps and faced the man. “You would not want the home in any case. It has been nine years since my father died, and there has not been a man around to keep the place. The winter wind whistles through the walls and the furniture is all worn out. Things do wear out with age, you know.” She nudged the man with her voice and smiled for him.

Bernard rubbed his shoulder and smiled in return. “That is something I know all too well.”

Genevieve laughed, and added, “You may not recall, but when you were last here I remember the snotty-nosed twelve-year-old boy who used to sing off key. It was annoying. I was just wondering if he matured since then.”

Bernard grinned. “Still can’t carry a tune,” he said.

Genevieve smiled, took Bernard’s arm, and brought Bernard inside. She found Mother Ingrid waiting, a most curious expression on her face. Genevieve simply smiled in return. “Mother. May I present Sir Bernard, brother of King Pepin and uncle of Charles, King of the Franks.”

“Lady von Stefan,” Bernard started right in. “Though I am years late, I am sorry about the loss of your husband. He was a good and faithful man to the king and to all the nation.”

Mother Ingrid’s eyes got big like she was barely able to breathe, “Thank you,” before Gisela and Ursula came running into the room. They went and got all gussied-up and used far too much makeup as usual.

“We have guests!”

“We have company!”

Some of the younger men who had been eyeing Genevieve closely came in and did not show the same interest in the stepsisters. In fact, they tried not to make eye contact, because the sisters certainly showed interest in the men.

Mother Ingrid pulled herself together fairly quickly. “Matthild,” she shouted to the old woman in the kitchen who stuck her head out the door. “Put the kettle on. Let us make some tea for our guests.” She turned back to give Genevieve a hard stare and said “Eggs?” Then she added a bunch of other things to the list before she finished with, “And tell Otl to bring the horses into the barn where they can shelter from the cold.” She smiled for Bernard in a way that made Genevieve want to gag.

“Yes, Mother,” Genevieve said without emotion. She smiled a more natural smile for Bernard and stuck her hand out to her stepmother. She would need more money to pay for the extra things Mother wanted. Their credit was running rather thin.

“I am not made of money,” Mother Ingrid complained and headed back to the bureau where she kept her small stash, but Bernard interrupted.

“Er… Let me help,” he said and pulled more than enough coins out of a small purse that hung from his belt. Genevieve accepted them and smiled a bit more.

“It is hard to make ends meet without a man around the house,” she said, and leaned up to kiss Bernard on the cheek. “I’ll bring you the change.” Bernard turned a bit red and returned her smile. “You are as nice as I remembered,” Genevieve added, before she glanced at her stepmother and scooted out the door.

Inside, Mother Ingrid invited her guests to sit and relax, but Bernard was not finished.

“Robert. See what you can do to help in the kitchen.” Mother Ingrid opened her mouth but Bernard held his hand up to stop her protest. “Robert is a fine cook. Don’t let the soldier’s uniform fool you. We need a good cut roasting for Charles when he gets here.” The man nodded and left the room.

“The king is coming here?” Mother Ingrid asked.

“The king? The king!” Gisela and Ursula got excited which caused Bernard to shake his head.

“That might not be a good idea.” He paused to think. “His new wife is pregnant or just delivered. We had to leave her behind to come this way. We have selected Basel as the best, most central place to gather the army this spring, so we will only be passing through Breisach, you might say. You have daughters.” Bernard paused and shook his head. “Charles is very good at logistics, that is the assembly, care, and feeding of an army, and he is very good on the battlefield, especially in selecting and surrounding himself with excellent generals. But when he is not fighting, or doing army things, he has few other interests. He likes to read and learn about new things. He likes roasted meat, and he likes, shall we say, female companionship. He is very charming. Since his wife is not here. You have daughters…”

“No need to be embarrassed,” Mother Ingrid said with a sly grin. “Gisela is fifteen. Ursula is eighteen. Both virgin daughters, and they would be happy to entertain the king.”

“Mother!” At least Gisela understood what her mother was suggesting.

Ursula simply said, “The king?”

Outside, Genevieve arrived at the gate where Otl was talking to a handful of soldiers, just arrived. They looked like Francia’s finest, well turned out for ordinary soldiers. One in particular stood out from the rest, literally. He was a half-foot taller than his companions. Genevieve shaded her eyes as she looked up.

“They are growing them tall in Francia, I see.”

The man gave her a nice smile. “You are as tall as my soldiers. That is pretty tall for a woman.”

“My father was tall, like you.”

“Was? I’m sorry,” the man said with actual sympathy in his voice.

Genevieve nodded. “He died fighting for King Pepin, some years ago. I was eight, so nothing recent. But you. How did you get so tall?”

The man shrugged. “My father was short. In fact, some called him the Short. He also died several years ago, so nothing recent here, too. My name is Charles.”

“Genevieve,” Genevieve said. “My father was also a believer in the stories of the olden days, “When right was right and wrong was wrong”, he would say. “No one doubted who the good guys were back then. Not like today when politics gets everything all jumbled up. I think he wanted a son he could name Arthur after King Arthur, but he had a daughter, so I got Genevieve.” She shrugged very much like Charles who laughed a little and kept smiling for her.

“Lady,” Otl interrupted. Genevieve had to break her eye lock with the tall young man to answer the old servant. He spoke quickly. “Baggins and Littlewood have brought a whole deer for Matthild to roast. Your mother Ingrid will just have to accept that, though I imagine she won’t complain much, given the company. Meanwhile, I thought I might bring the horses into the barn and rub them down. They look like they have been ridden some distance today and should get out of the weather, if we get some rain.”

All eyes went to the sky. It did look to be clouding over.

“Good idea. My thanks,” Charles said, and he told two of the soldiers to help the old man, while Genevieve remembered her errand.

“That would be fine,” she told Otl. “I have to walk to town and get eggs and a few things Mother Ingrid wants to impress our guests, not that they will be impressed given the shabby state of the house and our things.” She started toward town and Charles stepped in right behind her, his other two soldiers following.

“Where are you going?” Genevieve asked.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 2 Prince Charming, part 1 of 4

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The year 772 was an exceptionally good year. The fall harvest from the farm paid very well. Genevieve tried not to imagine her elf and fairy friends had anything to do with that, but they might have. “So, the army is buying up all the food,” Genevieve surmised.

“Who cares,” Gisela said.

“As long as we get the money,” Ursula said. “I need a new dress.” She looked at her mother.

“I wonder who they are going to war with,” Genevieve said out loud.

“Not our concern,” Mother Ingrid responded before she had a second thought. “Unless they come this way.” She seemed to be thinking hard. “Clean up the kitchen,” she told Genevieve and wandered off to do some heavy thinking.

In the end, Mother Ingrid hired an older couple who were in fact gnomes, or house elves, or brownies of some sort depending on who was describing them, not that Mother Ingrid or the girls ever suspected. Honestly, it was all Genevieve could get based on what Mother Ingrid was willing to pay. The old man, Otl would clean up the barn and the grounds. The old woman, Matthild would keep the kitchen and cook. Genevieve still had the housecleaning and the laundry and such, but the old woman helped a bit and that was some relief. In truth, the old man and the old woman were especially kind to Genevieve, at least when Mother Ingrid and the girls were not around, but that was easy because Genevieve, despite everything, had grown into a kind and caring person—very Cinderella-like.

Around the beginning of March in the following year of 773, Genevieve, in good Cinderella fashion, was cleaning out the big kitchen fireplace which backed up to the fireplace in the sitting room. They used the same chimney. The kitchen fireplace was nearly always lit for cooking purposes, but when there was no fire in either, as was the case when Genevieve had to clean them out, what was said in one room would echo into the other, not loudly, but discernable if you were in the actual fireplace. Mother Ingrid could easily be heard.

“Genevieve will be eighteen soon enough, and there are some in town who will make sure she takes full possession of the house and property.”

“But Mother,” Ursula whined. “What does that mean for us?”

“It means no more shopping,” Gisela answered. “No more jewels, or clothes, or fine things for us.”

“Oh,” Ursula let out a small wail. She sounded like she did not like that idea. “But Mother, if we were married we could have husbands who could provide for us.”

“If I could find you husbands… I thought to place you in an advantageous position but that is not going to happen…” Mother Ingrid did not explain.

“Maybe if Genevieve married.” Gisela was thinking. “Maybe her husband could take her away and we could have this place for ourselves.”

“No!” Mother Ingrid practically shouted. “I have had three proposals for Genevieve’s hand, two knights and one baron, and I turned them all down. I even tried to say the eldest needs to marry first and turn the baron to Ursula, but he wanted no part of that.”

“But Mother.” Gisela had some brains but she tended to get stuck on her own idea. “If Genevieve married…”

“No,” Mother Ingrid said more softly in her calm-the-distraught-child voice. “Genevieve would have a son and lay claim to all this county forever. No. She will die an old maid as far as I am concerned, and before twenty-one, if possible.”

“Why twenty-one?” Ursula asked. It sounded like Ursula was trying to think. The poor girl would just give herself a headache.

“Because, even if she inherits the manor house at eighteen, I still control the tenant properties, the income, and taxes until she is twenty-one. She may have to have an accident before she takes it all,” Mother Ingrid said, without spelling out what kind of accident she had in mind.

Genevieve heard footsteps away from the fireplace and rushed to the water basin where she could clean her face and hands up to the elbows. She pushed her blonde locks behind her ears and grabbed a cloth and the wood oil jug and hurried to the dining room. “Genevieve,” she heard Mother Ingrid yell up the stairs assuming Genevieve was up there making the beds.

Genevieve glanced at the kitchen door where she saw Matthild stick her head into the dining room. She had come back in from doing the morning dishes and mouthed the words, “I’ll finish the fireplace.” Genevieve nodded her thanks as an impatient Mother Ingrid called again.

“Genevieve.”

“Here, Mother,” Genevieve responded sweetly and came from the dining room door into the entrance hall.

Mother Ingrid paused to look at the sitting room and back at the dining room as if judging the distance and wondering if maybe Genevieve overheard. She pretended Genevieve had not heard, and Genevieve betrayed no emotions to indicate otherwise. “You need to go into town and get a dozen eggs,” Mother Ingrid said and went back into the sitting room without another thought.

Genevieve brushed herself off and took her shawl from the hook. It was not the warmest shawl, just better than nothing. She looked down at her slippers. Boots would be nice for slushing through the snow that still clung to the roadway, but she did not have any boots. She borrowed Gisela’s big boots once and got in big trouble. She imagined her feet would be half-frozen by the time she got to town.

Genevieve followed Mother Ingrid into the sitting room and stuck her hand out. She said nothing. Mother Ingrid all but growled but went to the bureau in the corner where she kept a few coins in the top drawer. No one knew where Mother Ingrid kept her main stash of money.

“That is all there is,” she said as she put a few pitiful pennies in Genevieve’s hand. “You need to bargain better.”

Genevieve kept her hand out and frowned at the meagre funds. She would be lucky to get two eggs for that little. She put the coins in the pocket of her dress and went to the door without argument. She would figure something out, or she would get a beating.

Genevieve waded through the thin layer of snow to the front gate and only once shrugged her shawl up tighter around her neck. Her mind focused on what she heard. She would never be allowed to marry. She would never be allowed to have children of her own. She stiffened her lips, not just from the cold, and her shoulders began to droop but pulled back up against the wind. Her warmest outfit was not much help when the cold wind blew. She stopped at the gate when a group of men rode up and stopped on the other side of the fence. The old man out front made a comment.

“This is the place. I am fairly sure. It was thirteen years ago, you understand.”

Genevieve looked up and looked closely at the face. There seemed something familiar about the face, and Margueritte, her immediate past life blurted out the name. “Bernard.”

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

MONDAY

King Charles (Charlemagne) arrives and surprises Genevieve. Until then, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 5: Genevieve 1 Cinderella, part 2 of 2

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Signore Lupen first came when Genevieve turned nine. He came when she was eleven, and again when she was thirteen. Each time, he stayed during the month of May and each time Genevieve’s position in the house grew more and more difficult. On the last visit, when she turned fifteen, she was the only servant left in the house. She had to cook and clean and got very little sleep and little to eat that month because their visitors came early that year, in April, the slim month, and Genevieve feared they might stay through June. She imagined she would not survive that long. They would work her to death. It was bad enough when they left around the third of May. She was so exhausted she hardly knew what she was doing.

Genevieve escaped the house and ran through the meadow at the back of the hill. She went into the little woods at the bottom to hide from whatever eyes might peer down from the house above. She found a clearing there and collapsed to the ground on top of all the old leaves and pine needles, and she wept, bitterly, being unable to do anything else.

Edelweiss, the fairy found her first. “Why are you crying?”

“Oh, Edelweiss.” It was all Genevieve could get out at first.

The fairy came close, a curious expression on her little face. “You know my name?”

Genevieve tried to sit up and wipe her eyes, but the tears would not stop that easily. She just nodded before she heard two more voices in the woods.

“Little one.”

“What did you find?”

The fairy flew up to face the two young elf maids that came to the edge of the clearing. “The young lady Genevieve,” Edelweiss said. “She won’t stop crying.”

“Margota and Nellinis.” Genevieve called to the two elf maids and waved them to join her but could not say anything more just yet.

“She knows us?” Margota wondered.

“We know you. How do you know us?” Nellinis asked.

The elf maids came close and sat near her. They found a few empathetic tears though they did not know what they were crying about, and Genevieve’s tears were mostly from exhaustion in any case. Soon enough, Genevieve took a deep breath and settled herself to talk.

“It is Signore Lupen and his son, especially the son, Antonio,” she said.

“Mister Lupen,” Nellinis responded with a frown. Genevieve looked up as she explained. “He is no more a knight than I am.”

Margota said, “He is from Lombard lands. Up here, the Franks and Germanic people have no way of checking. He can claim whatever he wants.”

Nellinis added, “I am sure with a title he expects better treatment than he would get as plain old Mister Lupen the merchant.”

Genevieve shook her head, but she was not surprised. “Anyway,” she said. “I feel there is something wrong with him, and his son, especially the son. His three hired men, the dark one, Blondy and Baldy might just be mean and ugly, it is hard to say, but Signore Lupen—Mister Lupen… There is some seriously wrong there.”

“The dark one?” Edelweiss asked as she settled on Margota’s shoulder to participate.

“Dark hair and dark eyes, never a smile, and always standing in the shadows,” Genevieve described the man. “They have names, but I know them as Darky, Blondy, and Baldy.”

“Good names,” Nellinis decided.

“Anyway,” Genevieve said again. “There is something twisted, something wicked about the Lupens, father and son, only I can’t put my finger on what that is.”

The elf maids nodded, and Edelweiss probably did as well, but she was small, covered by Margota’s hair, and hard to see, so she spoke instead. “My mother told me when they come I need to keep an eye on you to make sure you stay safe.”

“Your Mother Heartsease,” Genevieve said.

“That’s the one,” Edelweiss agreed. “My mother is from the mountains and gave me my name, Edelweiss. Sadly, there are no edelweiss flowers around here, but my father agreed with the name.”

“Your Father Evergreen,” Genevieve said.

“That’s the one,” Edelweiss agreed. “He said your mother died mysteriously and your father married a lady he hardly knew, and then he died. Father worried about you, but he never said why.”

“And you two? Margota and Nellinis—Margo and Nelly. Why are you here?”

Margo and Nelly looked at each other, and Margo confessed. “Lord Alpine had the same feeling as Lord Evergreen. He said there was something special about you, a good kind of special, and given the way your mother and father got killed under questionable circumstances, he said you needed to be watched.”

Nelly added, “We’ve been coming here regularly since you turned six and that Lady moved into the house, and especially when Mister Lupen came here.”

“You feel it too.” Genevieve plainly said it and did not ask it as a question. Nelly and Margo both nodded, and probably Edelweiss as well, but it was hard to see.

“It is difficult getting close to the house when Mister Lupen and his son are here. It feels like the very air around the home is dark and wicked,” Margo explained.

Genevieve agreed, but then they dropped that subject and spent the next hour sharing as all young women do, and becoming friends, as all young women should. After that, Genevieve shared that Wednesday was shopping day, though they all knew that already. After lunch, Mother Ingrid always took Ursula and Gisela to town to look at all the pretty things. Margo, Nelly, and Edelweiss agreed to come to the house Wednesday afternoon and help Genevieve with her work and be her friends. And when they could, they would meet her on the way to town when she got sent on various errands. Genevieve cried again, but just a little, and this time they were happy tears knowing she would not be alone forever.

Kairos Medieval 5: Genevieve 1 Cinderella, part 1 of 2

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Genevieve

After 755 The Rhine to Provence

Kairos 102: Genevieve of Breisach

It is curious how things work out, like the number of times the lives of the Kairos have paralleled certain fairy tales; and it is not because the Kairos has a special relationship with the little spirits of the air, fire, water, and the earth, including the fairies. It is just the way things sometimes work out.

Once upon a time, the Kairos Faya, the word for Beauty in her language, actually fell in love with a beast and also pricked her finger on a sewing needle. She fell asleep and there were thorns and everything until she was awakened by a kiss. Of course, in those very ancient days the gods of Asgard and Vanheim were at war and Faya got caught up in it. And her beast was actually the king of the Were people you know, like werewolves, werebears, and such, but why quibble about the details? The story did take place on the Transylvanian Plateau, so there is that.

Likewise, Greta, the wise woman of Dacia under the Roman Empire, had to travel through the haunted forest to stop another war. Greta and her younger brother Hans first found the old woman, Mother Hulda, who lived alone in the cabin by the woods. The woman had been shredded by a wolf who had such big eyes and teeth. Of course, in this case, it was an actual werewolf, you understand, not one of the Were people. Greta and Hansel went into the woods to do their thing with the hag and the really big oven before they got separated. Greta, a platinum blonde, found another cabin deep in the woods. Yes, the cabin was empty, so she ate some food left on the table, being half-starved, broke one of the chairs—just because—and got caught napping in the loft. You understand, Papa, Mama, and their son were not actually bears; but they were members of the local Celtic Bear Clan, so maybe that counts.

In the case of Genevieve, another blonde, she was the firstborn of a petty Frankish noble. Her mother, an Alemani, seemed a kind and gentle soul from what Genevieve remembered of her. The man went happily to war which was sometimes safer in those days than staying home. His happiness abruptly ended when Genevieve’s mother died giving birth to Genevieve’s baby brother. Genevieve was four. What could the man do? He had obligations to fight for Pepin, King of the Franks. He had been given land in the town of Breisach, on the Burgundian border, where he had to watch the Bavarians in the east and the Swabians in the south, the Thuringians in the north, and sometimes the Burgundians at his back. He was a soldier. What did he know about babies? But that was not the end of his sorrows.

Two years later, Genevieve’s baby brother died of complications from the flu. That was the way life went in those days. The man came home from war unscathed while his wife and son died in the house. It put the poor man in a difficult place. He knew nothing about raising a girl.

As you may have already guessed, about the time Genevieve turned six, her father married a widow who had two daughters of her own, one who was seven and one who was four. He imagined the three girls would be good sisters together, and his new wife would mother them and raise them to be ladies. He went happily back to his war and promptly died on the battlefield. I did not mean to suggest that war was a safe place to be.

Poor Genevieve.

You know the story well enough. Mother Ingrid spent all the money lavishing gifts on her daughters and spoiling them rotten. Genevieve got the leftovers and hand-me-downs, which she soon had to learn to take in because her sisters got fat. One by one, the servants in the house had to be let go, and Genevieve was forced to do the work the servants once did, until she became like a servant in her own house. And make no mistake. Even though Mother Ingrid claimed the house on the hill and all of the property in the county, the house was Genevieve’s. Father made sure of that before he left. Mother Ingrid and her daughters, Gisela, and Ursula had no claim. It was something like a prenuptial agreement Mother Ingrid signed, and it got kept in the town hall, in the hall of records where Mother Ingrid could not get at it. And just to be sure, the Church had a copy.

The house was a big house, too. It sat on the hill at edge of town with some property attached, including a barn and stables, now empty, of course, because Mother Ingrid sold off the horses and livestock long ago. They had farmland well away from town that tenants, something like serfs farmed. That produced a reasonable yearly income every summer and fall. Genevieve, which meant Mother Ingrid, also had the right to levy certain taxes in the county which came in over the summer. The household generally had plenty, or at least enough until about mid-March. After that, Mother Ingrid’s cry became, “Wait until May. The tax money will start coming in May. Things will get better when the summer arrives.” That was not always the case, but Mother Ingrid did go over the tax accounts carefully. At least the man who collected the taxes did not cheat them.

For seven years, life became more and more difficult for Genevieve, and the worst of it was when they had visitors, or rather one visitor who came four times over those years. Signore Lupen’s family in Lombardy and Mother Ingrid’s family in the alps apparently knew each other. Signore Lupen was a merchant of some sort and since Mother Ingrid had gained some position, he wanted to take advantage of that by opening up a new market. To be honest, Genevieve never did understand what goods the man marketed outside of some Tuscan wine which he freely supplied to the house. He stayed at the house, usually for a month, and treated Genevieve like the lowest of servants, making constant demands and criticizing everything she did. Mother Ingrid just laughed at the criticism.

The man was like the worst sort of uncle, and worse than that, he always came with three workmen, all ugly and mean, that left their barge and big wagon on the Rhine and stayed in the barn. She had to clean the place and feed them, too, and they were never nice to her. Worst of all, Signore Lupen always brought his son with him. The boy, Antonio, was a year older than Ursula, or two years older than Genevieve. He treated her worst of all. He touched her once, and she screamed. He hit her twice, though he swore he only slapped her. He shoved her once hard enough to push her to the floor and almost down the stairs. And he always got away with it.

Avalon 8.4 Happily Ever After, part 1 of 6

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After 755 A.D. Provence

Kairos 102: Mistress Genevieve

Recording …

The travelers came out in the mountains. Tony drove the wagon.  Nanette and Sukki helped guide the wagon through the roughest spots until Tony brought it down to a dirt and gravel road that ran alongside a river.  Boston and Katie compared amulets but decided the road by the river was the best they could do.  The valley was not wide in most places, but the mountains looked impossible.

“Somewhere in the Alps,” Lincoln concluded.  “Genevieve should be toward the southwest, maybe west from here.”

“North,” Boston corrected his thinking.

“Almost due north,” Katie said.

“But Provence should be that way from the Alps,” Lincoln protested.  “Unless we are all the way over in the Pyrenees.”

“Definitely the Alps,” Alexis said and pointed to the ground.  “I recognize the edelweiss.”

Elder Stow stared at his scanner, shook it a few times to be sure it was working but reported nothing.  Lockhart looked around for Decker.  Colonel Decker disappeared in the forest that lined the road and the river as soon as they came through.  Lockhart debated calling the man but imagined Decker might have run into something and did not need a blast of sound from his watch-radio.  Decker could call them if he got in trouble.

Decker, at that moment, stopped and stared through the trees.  It looked like a gorilla.  A couple of gorillas, or big apes of some kind.  It felt too cold for tropical apes, like gorillas.  One of them moved, and he saw the gorilla wearing pants.  Aliens, he thought.  Gorilla aliens.  He wanted to flee, but wisely planted himself where he was, and his horse cooperated and stayed quiet.  They had not seen him yet.  He imagined if he moved, they would spot him and then who knew what might happen.  He felt certain they had weapons of some sort.  They would not be out here in the wilderness on a strange planet without protection.

He did not have to wait long before the aliens moved further back among the trees.  They must have finished whatever they were doing, like taking samples of something.  Decker quickly turned around and headed back toward the others, and his watch radio went off.

Katie called.  “Decker, where are you.  We are all waiting.”

“We got gorilla aliens in the woods,” Decker’s voice came before he appeared fifty yards down the road.  The rest caught up and he reported his encounter.

Katie shrugged.  “I’m not picking up any hostility,” Katie told Lockhart.

“Me neither,” Boston confirmed.

“Nothing here,” Nanette agreed.

“Alexis?” Lincoln turned toward her and grinned.

Alexis frowned.  “You know I don’t do that hypersensitive-intuition thing.  They could be looking over my shoulder and I would not know it.”

Lincoln smiled.  “I just wanted to make sure all the witches got heard from.”

She hit him.  He laughed and reassured everyone.

“The Apes—that is the only name for them given in the database—they are essentially peaceful and nonviolent.  It says they land somewhere in the Jura Mountains on the other side of the Swiss Plateau.  I’m surprised we saw some here.”

Lockhart nodded, ignored the couple as Alexis nudged Lincoln again, and started them down the road just when they saw a small craft lift above the trees and head off to the northeast.

“Going our way?”  Katie said.  “Something to look forward to.”  She quoted Lockhart from a few time zones earlier.

###

It took the travelers all day to get out of the mountains and to the lake, even following the road that ran through the river valley.  By the time they arrived and set their camp by the lake, Lincoln identified it as Lake Geneva, and said he had to do more reading.  He said he expected to land somewhere in Provence, southern France, or if Genevieve was really young, like under eighteen, maybe somewhere on the Rhine River, not the Rhone up in the mountains, near the glacier.  He explained over supper.

“Genevieve of Breisach, an old Roman fort town on the Rhine, was daughter of the Frankish chief of the town and an Alemanni mother.  Her mother died after giving birth to Genevieve’s baby brother, who also died at age two.  That left Genevieve as the sole child and heir. After that, the story reads like a remake of Cinderella.  When Genevieve turned six, her father remarried a widow from Habsburg who had two daughters of her own, one a year older and one two years younger than Genevieve, then her father died fighting for King Pepin of Francia.  Genevieve was twelve.  The stepmother was cruel, and Genevieve got reduced to a virtual servant in the house, though it was technically her house.  Then the prince came to town, or in this case, Charlemagne, though he wasn’t called the great yet, so maybe just Charles.”

“Charlemagne,” Boston interrupted.  “I heard of him.”

“Hush,” Alexis quieted her.

“Charles’ wife, Hildegard, age fifteen by the way, was busy giving birth to their first son, Charles the Younger.  Charles was frustrated…for many reasons.  The stepmother offered her two daughters to relieve his tension.  Charles picked Genevieve, also for many reasons, and Genevieve got pregnant, which would not do since Charles was married to someone else.  Besides, Charles and Genevieve ended up in a love-hate relationship.  It says they argued a lot.”

“One question,” Katie interrupted.  “What was Charles doing in Alemanni land?”

“Technically in Swabia, but on the corner of Swabia, Burgundy, and Alemanni land.  He was raising an army to invade Italy, that is, the Lombard kingdom.  The pope appealed to him to get back the papal lands now claimed by the Lombard king.”

“So, we are talking around 773,” Katie concluded, and Lincoln nodded to say that would be his guess.

“So, Genevieve is pregnant,” Boston grinned.  “We saw Margueritte get married and now we have Genevieve pregnant.  Good timing.”

“She is seventeen or eighteen,” Lincoln picked up the story.  “Anyway, Charles getting someone pregnant when he is married, and not married that long, and doesn’t want to upset his new wife who is busy giving birth is not a good thing.  His solution is to marry Genevieve off to Otto of Provence and blame the pregnancy on Otto”

“Otto of Provence?” Tony asked.

“Okay, Otto.  He was related to Pepin in some way, a cousin or something, and he fought for Pepin when Pepin was mayor and when Pepin became king of the Franks.  He gave good service, and when he was crippled so he walks with a cane, Pepin gave him the watch over Provence, made it a march so he could keep an eye on the Lombards in Italy and keep the Saracens—the Muslim Arabs out of southern Francia.  He is a Marquis or Margrave, depending on the language, which means march lord, kind of like Margueritte’s father.  He arrived around Breisach with a small contingent, leaving most of his troops at home ready to fall on Genoa or wherever Charles wanted them.  Charles would take the men, but said Otto still had Saracen pirates all along the coast and was needed in Provence.”

“He was not going to take the crippled old man on campaign in Italy,” Decker concluded.

Lincoln nodded.  “Genevieve was compensation.  Otto had an eight-year-old son, Leibulf, whose mother died in childbirth.  Apparently, that happened plenty in these days, but the man had been without a wife for the last eight years.”

“Wait a minute,” Boston interrupted.  “Genevieve is seventeen and she gets stuck with a fifty-year-old cripple with an eight-year-old son?  That is hardly fair or nice.”

“It was the way things were done,” Katie said, but Nanette shook her head at the idea.

“Doesn’t make it right,” Sukki agreed with Boston, but Alexis shrugged.

Lincoln nodded for Katie.  He was not going to argue.  “The bishop in Basel performs the ceremony.  I would guess that is where they are right now.”

“I wonder if Charlemagne is there,” Katie said.

“When is it, I mean the time of year?” Tony asked.

“Mid-spring,” Boston answered, being an elf and tuned into the seasons.  “About the end of April or early May.”

Tony shook his head.  “Spring planting is over.  He has probably gathered whatever auxiliary troops he is going to get and is on his way to Italy by now.”

“Well, I hope Otto is nice,” Nanette said, and smiled for Decker.  He tried hard to maintain a serious face.

“Feeling protective of the Kairos?” Alexis asked, and after the briefest moment, Nanette said that she did.

“I don’t blame you,” Katie agreed.

Lockhart stirred the fire.  “I remember back in the real world, the Men in Black headquarters got temporarily overrun with marines.  Fyodor, the pilot, had been with us about ten or maybe more years at that point and had seen the Kairos in action. I remember Alice, a newbie in the legal department followed the Kairos to a shed where Fyodor waited.  She took it upon herself to introduce everyone.  She said the big marine sergeant had assigned himself to be the Kairos’ bodyguard for the duration of the trouble.  I never saw Fyodor laugh so hard.  Like the Kairos, of all people, needs a bodyguard.  I swear, for the next hour Fyodor could not look at the big marine without laughing, just thinking about the Kairos needing a bodyguard.”

Boston giggled.  “I remember that…But all the same, I agree with Nanette.  This Otto better be nice.”