Anvil of God

by J. Boyce Gleason

  Both men stood back in horror.

  “I told you to stop,” she said weakly.

  Gunther was there. He pulled off her jacket and ripped off the back of her shirt to probe the wound.

  “Trudi?” Pippin was clearly at a loss. “You know about the women in that inn.”

  “It wasn’t him, Pippin. They weren’t his men. They were mercenaries.”

  “Did he? Did he?” Pippin sputtered

  “He didn’t touch me,” Trudi said.

  Arnot and several men seized Bradius and took away his weapons.

  “It doesn’t change anything, Trudi. This ends here. Arnot!”

  “Huh-yah.” The three men holding Bradius dragged him before Pippin and pushed him to his knees.

  “No, Pippin.” Trudi said. “No, please.”

  Pippin slid the point of his knife under Bradius’s chin.

  “No!” Trudi struggled to her feet and stumbled toward them. She pushed Pippin’s blade aside. “There’s been enough killing.”

  “He must be held accountable.”

  “We have enough blood on our hands.”

  “I won’t just let him walk away, Trudi. There is no other way.”

  “Give me your hands,” Trudi demanded of Bradius. He looked at her dumbly. “Give me your hands!” Furious, she shoved Arnot in the chest. He let go of Bradius’s arms, and the man held out his hands.

  Trudi took his hands in hers. “Will you honor my commands and prohibitions?” Bradius looked at her as if she were insane. “Will you acknowledge my right to punish any transgression of my commands and prohibitions?”

  “Trudi, no!” Pippin said.

  Light dawned in Bradius’s eyes. “I honor your commands and acknowledge your right.”

  Pippin swore and threw his knife into the ground. It sank to its hilt.

  “You commit yourself and your vassals to my military service.”

  “I so commit.”

  “You pledge tribute.”

  “I pledge tribute.”

  “You pledge fidelity,”

  “I pledge fidelity. On my life, I pledge.”

  Trudi looked at Pippin and then back to her subject. “Rise, Bradius, vassal of Hiltrude, daughter of Charles, son of Pippin of Herstal.”

  Then she collapsed.

  ***

  “She let him go?” Bertrada rounded on Pippin. “And you let her?”

  Pippin stood in the corner of Trudi’s room and shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t seem to care about Bradius. His only interest was Trudi. Bertrada gave him an exasperated look and sent him back downstairs. She needed to bathe her patient and replace her bandages. After a moment of grumbling about it, Pippin complied and left the room.

  On the face of it, the rescue of Trudi had been a complete success. Trudi had been found unmolested if not unharmed. None, save the two men guarding Trudi, had been killed. And they had completely routed Bradius and his brigands. Nonetheless, she was worried.

  Something was wrong.

  They brought Trudi into the villa and sent for doctors to tend to the girl’s wounds. Fortunately, Gunther’s field dressing had been clean and sound. After feeding Trudi the broth from a stewed chicken, Bertrada let her sleep for the night and an entire day.

  Pippin was something else altogether. At first she had thought him exhausted. But after a full night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, he remained withdrawn. He tended to his men and his horse but did little else save watching his sister convalesce.

  It was Gunther who relayed the story of the chase and Trudi’s bizarre acceptance of Bradius’s hands. Pippin had listened to the tale without saying a word. Why had Trudi spared Bradius? No one had answers. Why had Pippin let him go? Why was he so distant? She needed to get him alone. But first she needed to bathe Trudi.

  “God, help me,” Trudi moaned.

  Bertrada stroked the girl’s hair. “Careful, Trudi. You’ve been hurt. No, don’t try to sit up.”

  “Oh, Bertie.” Trudi’s eyes welled.

  “I know, dear.” Bertie leaned forward, taking the girl in her arms. “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you.” She rocked her, letting Trudi weep. She stroked her hair and cooed her name. When Trudi’s tears were exhausted, Bertie laid her back on the bed and dried her eyes. Some color had returned to her cheeks, but Trudi looked pasty and weak. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and a large bruise colored the left side of her face.

  “Bradius?” She looked around her.

  “He’s gone, Trudi. He can’t harm you.”

  The girl sighed and closed her eyes. “He won’t harm me.”

  “What happened, Trudi? Why did you let him go?”

  The girl shook her head, her eyes still weepy. “We’ve got enough blood on our hands.” She took Bertrada’s hand in hers. “Charles killed his men, took his land, and destroyed his place of worship. Carloman … Carloman … murdered his son right in front of him. I thought our family had done enough harm.”

  “How can you be so sure he won’t try again? How do you know he won’t come back to take you hostage?”

  “He wanted revenge,” Trudi said. “He hates Charles. He wanted to take his revenge but couldn’t do it. He didn’t have it in him. By letting him go, I forged a temporary peace.” Trudi chuckled.

  “What?” Bertrada turned, grasping at hope that the girl could smile.

  “Charles is going to kill me,” Trudi said, shaking her head.

  “Oh, honey.” Tears sprang to Bertie’s eyes. “Of course you don’t know.”

  “What is it?”

  Bertie laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Charles died just after you left Quierzy. Sunni, Carloman, and Gripho were with him. The burial was over a week ago.”

  Trudi seemed to crumple in on herself. Her hand went to cover her mouth. The gesture had little impact as a howl of despair poured from her. She wept in huge racking sobs that left barely enough time for her to inhale. Bertrada tried to take her back into her arms, but Trudi refused her, shying away into the recesses of her bed. Burying her face in her pillow, she waved for Bertrada to leave.

  Pippin appeared in the doorway and rushed to Trudi’s side. Seeing him, Trudi reached for him. He took her in his arms. She tried to speak but could not. She looked into his eyes, and her hand rose to his face in a silent plea. Pippin shook his head slowly, and his sister hid herself in his arms. In moments, they both wept openly. Bertrada moved to Pippin’s side and put her hand on his shoulder. There was nothing more she could do. She left the two of them to their sorrow.

  For three days, Bertrada refused to entertain any notion of a return to Quierzy. She insisted that Pippin stay with his sister. She forbade any political or military discussions and twice had to stare down Childebrand when news arrived of Carloman’s pending siege. She let them heal. Slowly, Trudi’s color returned, as did her strength. When she was able to get out of bed, Pippin took her on short walks through the city. Bertrada fed them well, watched over them, and to her great relief and satisfaction, eventually saw them smile.

  When at last Bertrada acknowledged that they could return to the world, she announced a great feast to celebrate Trudi’s recovery. All her out-of-town guests, Pippin’s men, and Childebrand were asked to join her in celebration before finding their way home. She accepted no refusals.

  Early, the morning of the feast, Bertrada slipped into Trudi’s room alone. “We need to talk.” She handed Trudi a letter. “I’ve been waiting until you were well to give you this.”

  She watched as Trudi’s hand caressed the edge of the letter and turned it over to check its seal. Her finger played with the brown melted wax. It had run a little to one side and was thinner in some places than others. It was crudely done, but the seal was clearly Odilo’s. Trudi handed her back the letter.

  Bertrada couldn’t hide her shock.

  “I can’t read,” Trudi said, frowning. “Could you do it for me?”

  Bertrada smiled in relief and sat on the edge of the bed. Trudi sat down
next to her to look over her shoulder.

  “My dearest Trudi,” Bertrada began.

  “I hope this letter arrives in your hands and that you are now safe and well. I am haunted by the nightmare of your abduction. I will never be at peace until I know you are safe and with me. I came to Reims to find you and learned that any effort on my part would only increase your jeopardy.

  “As you can see, I cannot be there to welcome you. Events have overtaken us. Carloman is preparing to make war on Gripho, and should I stay in the West, I would likely be imprisoned. I must go east.

  “I must tell you the simple truth. I love you and want you to be with me. I have left four of my best men behind. They are there to escort you on the road to Bavaria. They are there to bring you home to me.

  “Our lives are forever intertwined. Odilo.”

  Bertrada was crying by the time she finished the letter. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked up at Trudi expectantly.

  Trudi wasn’t crying. She looked very small and frightened on the bed.

  “Don’t you want to go?” Bertrada asked.

  “I don’t know,” Trudi said. “It seems so long ago. Is it real?”

  Bertrada folded the letter and gave it to Trudi. She put her hands over the girl’s. “Only your heart can tell you that,” she said gently. She leaned over and kissed Trudi on the forehead. “His heart is in this letter.”

  ***

  Candles stood in all the windows, and small white carved angels lined the mantels. Wreaths hung on every door, and garlands framed the windows. A fire snapped in the hearth and filled the villa’s main room with the rich scent of burning oak. Trudi lifted one of the angels, admiring how delicately it was made. Bertrada’s decorations held her enthralled. It was something Trudi would never think to do. All her life, she had dismissed such things as silly. But today, Trudi was touched by them.

  The feast began early in the afternoon with boar’s head paté and quail’s eggs. As soon as Bertrada had the wine poured, Childebrand began the toasts.

  “To Pippin, the ghost who never sleeps.”

  “Huh-yah!” Cups upended, only to be refilled by waiting servants.

  “To Trudi, lord of the outlaws!” Pippin quipped, laughing. And again, cups were raised. By dinner, most of the thirty-odd guests were drunk on the region’s fine wines. The room was boisterous, thought Trudi, and just a little dangerous.

  Ansel was there. He had come with Monty and Brand. There could only be one reason for his presence. He was sent by Carloman to take her home. She refused to meet with him. But Bertrada had invited him, and now he stood across the room staring at her. His eyes were strange and nervous, and he was sweating. She avoided him.

  She had been arguing all day with Pippin, who wanted her to return home. He said they needed to rejoin their family. She countered that Carloman had already left for Laon to lay siege to Gripho.

  “Maybe we can stop it,” Pippin said.

  “It’s too late,” she said. “Besides, what about Odilo?”

  Pippin frowned at this. “You know he will likely lead the independent duchies to rebel. He may declare war against Carloman and me.”

  “Don’t war against Gripho. Stop Carloman. Odilo won’t rebel if there is nothing to rebel against,” Trudi said.

  They had reached a truce. Trudi promised to consider returning home. Pippin promised to consider letting her leave with the Bavarians.

  Bertrada wouldn’t discuss it. “Your heart should decide this,” was all she said.

  The feast roiled with laughter and exuberance. Pippin’s men feted their success in avenging the town of Loivre while Childebrand seemed to beam in his newfound role as the mayor’s emissary to Reims. He wore the medal around his chest, and Trudi was sure that the man would never take it off.

  One of the men started to sing “The Widow’s War,” a doleful song of great sorrow, valor, and loss. One by one, each of Pippin’s men took up the ballad, and soon the whole room was singing. The sadness of the widow’s story filled Trudi with emotion. When the song was finished, a respectful silence followed as each guest pondered its significance. A soft voice called, “Huh-yah!” and cups were upended again. Trudi wondered how much she had had to drink.

  Later, after the meal had been served, Gunther again took up the toasts. He slurred the words so badly, however, that no one understood what he said. An awkward silence followed, and he glowered at the crowd for their temerity.

  “Huh-yah!” Trudi shouted, giggling.

  “Huh-yah!” the room shouted, and all was forgiven.

  Bertrada stood, and the room quieted, as much as could be expected at that time of night. “To Trudi, may she find her heart, wherever it may be, at home or in Bavaria.” As before, cups were raised and drained. This time, however, one cup remained full.

  “Bavaria? What nonsense is this?” It was Ansel. He stood, cup in hand, with a perplexed look on his face. “Trudi is going home.” The room fell silent around them.

  “I haven’t yet decided,” Trudi said.

  “It isn’t up to you,” Ansel said. “I have orders from Carloman. I don’t know what all this talk about Bavaria is, but you’re coming with me.”

  Trudi flushed with anger. She didn’t take orders from Carloman, and she wasn’t going anywhere with Ansel.

  “It’s not up to you,” Pippin interjected, to Trudi’s surprise. His words were slurred, but his tone clear. Pippin stood, his chair scraping the floor behind him.

  “My apologies, Mayor Pippin. As a Knight in Christ, I am bound to follow orders from your brother. Those orders take precedence over yours. She’s going with me.”

  Pippin’s sword leapt to his hand. Its point was an inch from Ansel’s throat. “Get out, knight,” Pippin said. “You’ve overstayed your welcome. My sister goes where she wishes. It isn’t up to Carloman anymore than it is to you.”

  Ansel did not move.

  “Get out.” Pippin’s voice lowered to a whisper.

  It was Childebrand who finally had the sense to intercede. “Off you go,” he said, wrapping his arms around Ansel’s shoulders. He walked the knight to the door. “Think on it, man,” Childebrand said. “That was no farmer with his sword at your throat. That was one of Charles’s sons. You best be on your way now.”

  Ansel turned his head to seek out Trudi. “I will be back to—”

  “You’ll be leaving now.” Childebrand nearly threw Ansel out the door.

  Trudi had not moved. Her silence and fury infected the room.

  “Pay him no mind,” Pippin said. “He can do nothing to you. I won’t let him.”

  Trudi shook her head, her eyes distant. He didn’t understand. How could he? “What if you’re not there, Pippin?” she whispered. “What if you’re outnumbered?”

  “No one would dare touch you,” he insisted.

  She continued to shake her head, finally knowing what to do. “I have to go.”

  Pippin’s eyes were brimming. “Don’t,” he said. “You and I are all that’s left.”

  “No, Pippin. Find Carloman. Make him stop this nonsense. You’re the only one who can. I’m going to Bavaria.” Trudi took her brother’s face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. “You have the power to save us all,” she whispered to him. “It will have to be you.”

  Pippin stared at his sister for a long time. Finally, he shook his head with a self-deprecating, wry smile and raised his cup to her. “May honor strengthen your sword.” His voice filled the room.

  “Huh-yah!” their guests shouted.

  ***

  They squandered the morning. And Trudi, for one, was grateful. Bertrada had surprised them all by having her cook prepare an elaborate breakfast. Each of her guests was offered a large omelet tailored to his or her tastes. The cook rolled out a table filled with ham, bacon, sausage, onions, and several kinds of cheese. Trudi laughed when Gunther, unprepared for such largesse, had simply said, “Yes,” when the cook had shown him the table. After eating th
eir fill, they lingered in Bertrada’s great room by the fire.

  It was then that Trudi delivered her surprise. She descended from her room dressed in the armor her father had given her. Gunther had recovered most of its pieces during their hunt for Bradius, and Bertrada had ordered them repaired and polished. She had added a green cape, Pippin’s color. Trudi thought it added a touch of femininity. With the exception of the need for a sling to hold up her right arm, Trudi felt as if she had been made whole. She acknowledged the whistles and applause she received by performing a mock pirouette for the room. The metal of her armor gleamed in the firelight.

  Like a good general, Bertrada swept in to announce that it was time to leave. Outside, the sky was a bright blue, and the air crisp with the chill left by the last of the morning dew. They made their way to the city gate and split into two groups, Bertrada joining Pippin and his men to head north, Trudi joining the Bavarian knights to go south.

  Outside the gate, Pippin’s men dismounted to say good-bye. The discomfort they had felt around Trudi during the early days of their journey was gone. During her convalescence, Trudi had forged a growing intimacy with the unit. She had used the time to seek them out, one by one, and thank them. She asked about their families and learned the names of their children. At the gate, she hugged each knight, whispering her thanks.

  As a group, she joked with them, knowing that they were more comfortable with such banter. They laughed when she made fun of Arnot’s sheepishness around women and Gunther’s inability to smile. She found herself lingering with them, not wanting to let go of the security they represented.

  She choked up when she came to hug Gunther. The gruff, short man blushed at her show of affection and stammered until she laughed in spite of her emotions.

  Childebrand kissed her on the forehead and tousled her hair. “Your father loved you, Trudi,” he said, “even if you always pissed him off.” He smiled then and let her go.

  The four Bavarian knights sat in their saddles, waiting.