Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex

by Lesley Jepson

  ‘So, what we present to the enemy is a solid wall of shields, each overlapping the other.’ He thrust his staff at the shields and all the men held their position. He nodded in approval and then asked, ‘But how do you fight behind a wall? If we’ve got a wall, and they have a wall, how do we fight?’

  Swiftly, with one end of his stave, he hooked a shield downwards and through the gap the tilt had created, he pushed a wooden sword up into the leather-clad side of the warrior holding it.

  ‘Like that. You hook the top of their shield, and the man on your right shoves his seax into the gap. You cannot fight with long swords in a shield wall. Did you hear me? I said….,’ Gaston was bellowing now, ‘..you can’t fight with long swords. But your seax will be your best friend.’ He paused and gazed around at the men all paying attention to his words.

  ‘And you don’t charge. Ever. The man who charges is the man who gets himself killed, and his friends killed.’ He pointed his staff at the two rows and nodded. ‘You won’t run at the same pace as the man on your right, will you? Or in stride with the man on your left. And if you don’t run at their pace, what will happen?’

  ‘The w..wall b..breaks,’ called Louis from the fence, and Gaston turned and bowed to his young audience.

  ‘Indeed it does, Lord.’ He turned back to the troops. ‘Did you hear the young Lord? The wall breaks. And we don’t break the wall for anything. So we don’t run. We tread. One step at a time. With a shout, if you like. There’s no more terrifying sight to the enemy than a shield wall approaching, grunting with each step.’

  Abruptly, Gaston bowed and Baldwin turned to see the King and his father, the Count, standing behind the three young princes, watching the troops being drilled. King Charles waved his hand for Gaston to continue the lesson, and Baldwin tried to turn his attention back to the shield wall. Behind him, he could hear the King speaking quietly to his sons.

  ‘Never allow your men to believe that you are unaware of the sacrifice they make in your name.’ Charles’ voice, although lowered in order not to distract from Gaston’s words, carried over the courtyard. He spoke with quiet authority and unconscious clarity, and Baldwin heard the truth in the King’s assertions.

  ‘They do not expect you to fight alongside them, but they do expect you to lead them, understand their pain.’

  Baldwin heard his own father’s voice addressing the princes, calm and reasonable as always. ‘You may be kings of your own lands one day, Lords, and you should learn the truth of your father the King’s statement.’

  ‘Then why is the cripple watching, Father? He will never be a king.’ Prince Charles spoke with venom in his voice, and Baldwin couldn’t help but turn his head. Lothaire was biting his lip and trying not to cry. Baldwin caught the little boy’s eye and shook his head slightly, giving the child a broad wink which made him smile and swallow his tears.

  ‘No, but he will be an Abbot. He will have wealth and power of a different kind.’ The King hardened his voice at the disparaging words of his middle son, and clapped a hand on Lothaire’s back affectionately. ‘He shall offer comfort and blessings to fighting men, and he should know of where they receive their wounds, that he might help them meet God in their suffering.’

  ‘But he won’t have any land to defend, Father. He doesn’t need to know how to stand in a shield wall.’ Charles’ tone was dripping with scorn for his younger brother, and Baldwin clenched his jaw in irritation.

  ‘But he will see the damage a shield wall can do, Charles. As for land, you are mistaken. The Church is exceptionally wealthy when it comes to land, and I intend for Lothaire to be the Abbot of St Germain and Auxerre. The land under his domain will contain the entire Burgundian region, the wine making, the trade routes along the river Yonne. He will be wealthy and powerful without having to strike a blow.’ King Charles beamed at his youngest son and patted his arm affectionately.

  ‘Will he have more land than I will, Father?’ Charles’ face was becoming suffused with anger at the advantages joining the church might bring to his small sibling, and he jumped down from the fence onto the grass. Baldwin could hear, over the shuffling feet of the shield wall, the resentment in the prince’s voice.

  ‘You will rule over men on earth, Charles. You will have deference and respect from the people you command. But Lothaire will have influence with God. It will be up to you to decide if you think his power is greater than your own.’

  Charles looked at his father and gave a disgusted snort. ‘He is welcome to his God, Father. I shall be a mighty King, with more wealth and power than he has.’

  ‘Then learn to use your power wisely, my son, or his God might take it away from you.’

  ***

  Chapter 6

  The days of late summer changed imperceptibly into a golden autumn, but Judith never had the time to notice the leaves crimp with gold at the edges. The farm workers for the royal estate toiled hard to bring in the harvest, the barley and wheat piled high in stacks or stored safely in the many dry barns. The fruit, layered into huge baskets, was transported into the castle still-room to be bottled and preserved for the winter.

  Judith was the centre of attention and saw none of this. When she wasn’t being instructed in Latin and Greek by Brother Pierre, she was in her mother’s solar being fitted for a complete new wardrobe. The Queen’s demoiselles embroidered garment after garment that the royal seamstresses produced. Thin silk chemises, diaphanous as cobwebs, made to be worn under heavier yet still fine linen shifts, were stitched with delicate patterns. Outer garments were crafted from costly silk and finely-woven wool, and her mother insisted that merchants from the East be summoned to the palace to show their newest wares.

  Judith stood still while fabric after fabric in a myriad of colours was pinned about her body, then removed, only to be pinned again a day later. She had a beautiful winter cloak made of soft chamois leather and lined with white marten fur. The seams were ornamentally criss-crossed with golden thread, and the hood fell in folds to her shoulders. Jewelled girdles were fashioned to match each of her silk and wool kirtles, and a heavy satin houppelande with dagged sleeves and hems was made to a unique pattern brought by a merchant from Byzantium.

  Brother Pierre showed her on a faded map the journey she would take, down the river Seine from her father’s palace on huge boats crewed by slaves to the port of Harofluet, then across the wider sea to Ferneham. From there they could be rowed up the inlet right to her future husband’s capital of Winchester. For the journey, her father would send guards and a small coterie of demoiselles to serve her until they reached Harofluet. Then she would be allowed to keep with her Elin and Alys but the servants on the ship to Wessex would be of her new husband’s household, as would those that guarded her.

  Escaping briefly from her mother’s rooms while the Queen spoke to Demoiselle Elin about Judith’s care once she was in Wessex, Judith walked along the well-kept paths in her father’s favourite garden. The leaves were starting to fall, and the men who worked in the garden busily swept them from the walkways. Huge tussocks of Michaelmas daisies formed purple islands as she passed, accompanied by her own Demoiselle Alys, a fair haired girl of fourteen years who had been with her since she was born. The daughter of one of her father’s noblemen, Alys had been her companion and playmate for as long as she could remember, and Judith was relieved that Alys was to be allowed to accompany her.

  Rounding a bend into a small enclosed stand of willow trees, whispering and trailing as the breeze blew through the branches, Judith came upon a sobbing Lothaire being comforted by the two Saxon princes. The older boy was looking abashed as Lothaire wept on his shoulder, and the younger one stood thoughtfully by, regarding the two and then turning abruptly as Judith and Alys entered their hiding place.

  ‘Lothaire. Whatever
is the matter?’ Judith flung herself onto the damp grass and put her arms around her brother, much to the relief of Prince Ӕthelred who scrambled to his feet and bowed.

  ‘We were playing Tafl with your brother here and your other brother, when....’

  Judith shot a sharp look at the prince, who was speaking to her in carefully worded Latin. Judith had to concentrate, as his accent wasn’t what she was used to. Lothaire was sobbing and muttering in French, and Judith was trying to listen to both languages.

  ‘Which brother, Lord?’ asked Judith as she gently rocked the weeping boy, and Alys helplessly rubbed his back.

  ‘Charles,’ wailed Lothaire, lifting his face from Judith’s shoulder with a huge sniff. She found her kerchief and tenderly wiped his nose and his eyes. ‘He says the monks are going to come and take me away before your wedding, and I shall have to live with them and never see you or my family again.’ He began sobbing once more, interspersed with hiccups as he tried to catch his breath.

  ‘Lothaire made a mistake, Lady, and it cost him and your brother Charles the game. Charles lost his temper and began shouting, and Lothaire became upset, as you see.’ Ӕthelred’s tone was sympathetic, and the other prince, Ӕlfred, nodded.

  Judith sighed heavily, knowing that even if Lothaire had made a mistake, it was after all only a game. But she also knew that Charles would have delighted in frightening his younger brother with half-truths and outright lies. She jumped to her feet and shook out her skirts, as Lothaire clung to Alys, shuddering and trying to compose his breathing.

  In calm, clear Latin, Judith spoke to the two princes, ‘I thank you both, Lords, for looking after Lothaire when he was upset.’ She nodded and smiled, and they nodded back, obviously understanding her words. ‘We shall take him inside now, and let my father deal with Charles.’

  The Wessex princes bowed as Alys helped Lothaire to stand and find his balance. With his clubbed foot, he needed time before he began walking; otherwise he was likely to fall. Judith dipped her head in acknowledgement, and Alys bobbed her knee.

  They moved steadily along the paved path, both girls slowing their steps to match Lothaire’s struggling pace. Judith kept her arm around the young boy’s shoulders and he did his best not to cry.

  Abruptly, they rounded a corner and were halted by Baldwin and Gozfrid hurrying in the opposite direction. Gozfrid immediately snatched up the prince and began to swing him around, making the boy yelp with laughter, sobs forgotten. Baldwin bowed to Judith and then tipped his head towards her brother.

  ‘The prince is upset, Princess?’ He spoke in a low tone, never taking his eyes off the pair cavorting on the grass. Judith nodded.

  ‘My brother Charles upset him, Baldwin. He told Lothaire that the monks would steal him away before my wedding, and keep him prisoner while he is still young.’ Her voice shuddered when she spoke about her forthcoming marriage, but her face remained serene.

  ‘Forgive me, Princess, but your middle brother is cruel. Prince Lothaire is but a baby really, and should be allowed to enjoy some of his childhood before the duties of royalty are pressed upon him.’

  Gozfrid rolled on the grass, tickling the child gently and taking care not to hurt his damaged foot. Lothaire began to tickle him back, and Gozfrid begged for mercy.

  ‘I shall miss him, Baldwin.’ Judith’s voice was low, and she turned eyes shining with unshed tears on her companion.

  ‘Your brother, Princess?’

  ‘Him, everyone in my life here,’ she shrugged as the boy’s laughter carried over the garden. Alys had seated herself on one of the stone benches, calling encouragement as Gozfrid began wrestling with Lothaire. ‘But most of all, I regret leaving him to be taunted and tormented by Charles. Louis will do his best to protect him, but he has other duties, learning to be a King.’

  Baldwin nodded, and shot a look of cunning towards Judith, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘Then we shall protect Lothaire on your behalf, Princess. And your other brother might get his comeuppance yet. He trains with Gaston, as do we, and once he has been knocked on his arse a few times, he might learn kindness. Or humility, at least.’

  Judith twisted her mouth doubtfully. She would have enjoyed watching Charles receiving rough treatment from Baldwin and Gozfrid and her father’s other soldiers, but she didn’t believe that her brother would ever learn humility. He would simply keep a tally of all the humiliations he received and then punish them at a later date, regardless of how long he had to wait. There was no forgiveness in Charles.

  ‘Thank you for offering to look after Lothaire, Baldwin. It will put my mind at ease that he has a protector, but you mustn’t put yourself in danger from Charles. He will never forget any loss of dignity, so I implore you to be careful.’

  Baldwin bowed, with his hand on his heart and Gozfrid and a very overheated Lothaire joined them. Judith pushed Lothaire’s hair back from his sweaty forehead and held him to her side with a smile.

  ‘I am always careful, Princess.’

  ***

  Chapter 7

  Ralf smiled to himself as he heard the faint crunch of footsteps along the stones of the pathway, and he tilted his head to watch the girl in green walk towards him.

  ‘Might I walk with you, Lady?’

  Elin stopped abruptly, surprise plain on her face as Ralf rose from his seat on a stone bench in the garden.

  ‘If you wish to, Lord,’ she murmured, sliding her eyes up at him doubtfully before continuing her walk.

  Gazing at her properly, Ralf saw her eyes were vivid green, framed by amber lashes and creamy skin. Beneath the small, diaphanous veil held in place by a braided silver filet, her hair was a shade of auburn that held the sun within its depths, changing with the light. Her gown was of soft sage-green wool, the weave smooth and fine, with a butter-coloured kirtle beneath, intricately embroidered in matching green thread at the hem, neck and cuffs.

  ‘It is unusual to see you without the royal children, Lady. Am I interrupting your free time?’ Ralf asked the question more to break the silence than anything, and he heard Elin chuckle softly.

  ‘I might say the same of you, Lord. I only see you with your King, so is this your free time also?’

  Ralf grinned at her. ‘The King is asleep, Lady. The pilgrimage to Rome has taken its toll, I’m afraid, and he tires more easily these days. The young princes are with your sword-master. Gaston, is that right?’

  Elin nodded and returned his smile. ‘My princes are there too, Lord, and my Princess is with her mother so I thought to take some fresh air before I am recalled to my duties.’

  ‘You have no husband to require some of your time, Lady?’ Ralf could not contain the question. He had been watching Elin since their stay began, yet he hadn’t seen her pay attention to any one man. She was more concerned with the royal children, although he couldn’t help but ask.

  ‘No, Lord. I am unmarried. My duty is to the Princess, and her brothers when they are not required elsewhere.’ Elin smiled up at him shyly. She was a good head shorter than he, and he slowed his stride so she didn’t have to hurry to keep pace.

  ‘And do they keep you busy with their squabbles, Lady? Sometimes they seem argumentative.’

  Elin twisted her mouth ruefully and nodded. ‘Charles is jealous of the others. Jealous of Louis for being the eldest boy, jealous of Judith for being the eldest child and, remarkably, jealous of Lothaire because the other two like him and make a fuss of him. When Charles is occupied with his sword-craft, the others get along beautifully.’

  ‘I have a sister,’ laughed Ralf. ‘I know how envious siblings get of one another. She cried for weeks when she found she couldn’t accompany me on the pilgrimage and had to stay behind.’

&n
bsp; They turned a corner of the path, and Ralf saw before him a straight line of stone bisecting yet more grass and bordered by plants in varying shades of purple. Tussocks of Michaelmas daisies separated by the silver and violet shades of scented lavender emitting their soothing aroma as they passed. Ralf was amazed at the amount of land given over to flowering plants in Frankia. He had seen the kitchen garden, and the herbs planted in neat rows beneath the windows of the still-room, but plants and grass grown for the simple pleasure of walking among them was unheard of in Wessex. He wondered absently what the Princess and her attendants would think of the gardens surrounding the King’s dwelling in Winchester, full of turnips and carrots.

  ‘Did she stay with your parents?’ asked Elin with a smile, and Ralf shook his head.

  ‘Our parents are dead, Lady. My sister stayed at court, in our apartments there. She will have been looked after by some of the court ladies, but I will be pleased to get back to her. I have missed hearing her laughter.’ Ralf spoke with a smile of reminiscence in his voice. ‘She is of an age with the Princess, I fancy. I hope they will become friends in time.’

  ‘I shall look forward to meeting her, Lord. The Queen has decided that only I and Alys may accompany the Princess to Wessex, so a friendly face there will make our stay more pleasant, I am sure.’

  ‘Ghislaine is full of life, Lady, and full of laughter,’ he pursed his lips in a smile, ‘perhaps too full sometimes. Since the death of our mother, she has had little guidance in deportment and proper manners. I have done my best, but my days are full with helping the King.’

  ‘Is she much younger than you, Lord?’ He heard the timidity in the question and smothered a smile, wondering how old Elin herself actually was.