Pope Leo III

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

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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

M 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.

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

MONDAY

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

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

M 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.