At the gesture, the maidservants relaxed, as did Sister Ricburg who nodded with gratitude.
The women applied ointments to our bodies that softened our skin and left a floral fragrance. Afterwards, they combed and plaited our hair. A fourth maidservant entered with an over-tunic and veil.
“Another gift from Lord Heinrich?” Sister Ricburg beamed.
I ran my hands across the exquisite garment. Made of silk, the color of red wine, its intricate embroidery with silver threads swirled in a detailed pattern around the hem. I peered at the object with awe, though I suffered a pang of guilt for owning such luxuries after the austerity at the abbey.
The women then left us, the eldest promising to return after the dinner feast to help me prepare for bed. The reminder of my imminent bedding ignited my nerves. My cheeks grew hot—a condition fast becoming familiar.
We descended the stairs and as we neared the Great Hall, the sounds of merriment became louder. Heinrich waited for us in the doorway and at my approach, his smile widened. With a gallant bow, he kissed my hand. Heinrich wore a white under-gown beneath a red over-tunic. How I admired his golden locks and handsomeness as he wrapped my arm around his and led me into the room to greet the wedding guests. Revelry halted as we made our way to the dais amid a sea of unfamiliar faces. The crowd burst forth with applause, raucous cheers of congratulations, and blessings for a son and heir. When the clamor subsided, we took our seats at the high table.
Numerous pages entered with pitchers of ale and flagons of wine. Fine tapestries graced the walls and smoky torches provided a hazy, overcast light. The aroma of roasting meat made my stomach rumble. Heinrich’s father sat with us. Members of the local nobility occupied two long rows of tables set at right angles to the high table. Heinrich’s men dominated the furthest ends. A number of servants attended us with herbed water in which we washed our hands then dried them with the long scarves draped around the servant’s necks.
I cleared my throat and mustered my courage. “After meals, my mother and grandmother collected trenchers and remnants of the feast to distribute to the poor. It would please me if I could do the same.” This was my first request of Heinrich and I was anxious for his reaction.
With a wave of his hand, Heinrich beckoned a servant and relayed my wishes to him.
The servant bowed. “Any food that remains shall be set aside as you wish, Domina.”
I exhaled my pent-up breath, grateful for his support.
Next, servants brought platters of roast boar and venison, and dishes of bread, cabbage, lentils, and barley. The feasting carried on for hours, long after I was sated. The guests grew more raucous with the endless supply of wine. Dancers, minstrels, jugglers, and bards kept us entertained. Occupied with anticipation of the marriage bed, I paid scant attention to the revelry. I saw all, but because of my uneasiness, everything blurred in my mind. As the evening progressed, I grew weary, yet wanted the celebrations to continue because the longer the feast, the longer I could delay the bedding.
Heinrich touched my hand. “We must stay until the food is finished. Then we can retire. I’ll ensure no one follows us into our bedchamber.”
I stiffened. These were the words I had been dreading. At least Heinrich would attempt to spare me the embarrassment of having the guests follow us to the bedchamber to witness what would occur. My stomach roiled from too much food and nerves. The music, laughter, and banter merged with the smells of smoke from the fires, and sweating bodies. My head spun as I fought to control my rising gorge.
When it seemed as if the guests lost interest in us, Heinrich leaned over to me. “Let us take our leave.” He grasped my hand and we rose. Heinrich began to escort me through the smoky room. A drunken guest noticed us and teased Heinrich about his steed’s ability to rise. Others joined the wordplay. From across the room, Sister Ricburg cast me a sympathetic glance and mouthed a silent blessing. Mortified by the vulgar exclamations, I prayed for an unhindered escape.
Musicians, dancers, and guests gathered around us. Overcome by the body heat and smells, I broke out in a cold sweat. Heinrich tightened his grip around my waist. A wave of humanity surged forward, laughing and hollering about the bedding. My legs weakened and my face simmered with heat. Heinrich quickened his step, pulling me through the crowd to the stairs. Drunken celebrants followed, but Heinrich out-maneuvered them. He tightened his grasp and sprinted to the chamber door. Once inside, he bolted the door against the drunkards who continued to hurl unending jibes.
Heinrich faced me, his victorious expression one of affection.
I looked away and focused on the surroundings. A fire in the brazier cast a gentle glow but the eagles engraved on the bed’s headboard seemed threatening. The bed’s presence was overpowering. Someone had scattered dried herbs and flower petals on the bedcovers. I glanced away as a shiver rippled down my spine. The heat of his gaze both thrilled and frightened me. He laid his hands on my shoulders. I did my best to control my trembling, but I feared he felt it. My legs weakened, my stomach heaved. The room spun with dizzying speed.
“Matilde, what is it? You are white-faced.”
Unable to control the urge, I spewed my stomach’s contents onto his garments.
Aghast, Heinrich released his hold on my shoulders and stepped back, hands held out from his sides. Sour vomit stained his over-tunic and puddled on the floor between us. I could now add humiliation to the tumult of emotions I had endured these last few days. Ashamed, I turned away.
He helped me to the bed then removed his soiled robe. He filled a goblet with water and offered it to me. “Here, this will make you feel better.”
After a small sip, more to please him than me, I handed it back. Too abashed to meet his intent stare, I pulled at a loose thread from the pillow.
He set the tankard on the bedside table. “Rest while I summon a healer. Your illness will soon pass.”
Grateful for the reprieve, and eager to be alone with my mortification, I nodded.
He studied me for a moment, and then placed his ear against the door. His eyebrows lifted and he returned. “Most of the revelers have gone, but a few may still be waiting. I’ll send someone to clean the chamber and bring you fresh clothes.”
I clutched my tunic to still my shaking hands and managed a weak smile.
With that, he left, but his presence seemed to linger. As my nausea receded, I pondered what was to come. I wished I knew what to expect. Grandmother’s explanation sounded simple enough, yet dread clawed at me with icy fingers.
From the corridor, I heard Heinrich call for servants. Almost at once, two women entered, closing the door behind them. The eldest of the two studied me with motherly concern. “The duke said you are unwell.” The other opened the window shutters to release the rank smell from the room then began sweeping away the vomit-drenched rushes.
“I am grateful to you.” I succeeded in smiling. The elder one helped me wash with water in the ewer and basin on the night table. I rinsed my mouth with herbed water. They helped me into the bed to cover my nakedness. My nausea may have passed, but the knot in my stomach persisted. I longed for the familiarity of Grandmother’s reassurance in place of the expressionless faces of these kind, yet unfamiliar strangers. The maidservants curtseyed and the door closed behind them with a click of the latch. The fire in the brazier shed comfort and warmth, but the silence gave me no solace. I waited, my apprehension nigh unbearable.
The door latch lifted again and Heinrich re-entered. He had changed into a plain linen nightshirt, rich in cut and quality. His long golden hair fell loose over his shoulders. I cherished the tenderness in his eyes. Bashfully, I pulled the bedcovers to my chin.
“You need not be afraid, Matilde.” Heinrich strode to the bed. “You must be feeling better. Color has returned to your cheeks.”
“I am much better, thank you.”
From a flask on the bedside table, he poured wine into two silver goblets, and offered me one. Still recovering, I shook my head.
<
br /> “Try, Matilde. This will calm and lift your spirits.” His expression softened. “Your vulnerability makes me want to protect you with my life.”
I grasped the goblet and sipped. The warmth trickled down my throat into the icy pit of my stomach. Unable to meet his gaze, the awareness that I was naked in his presence kept me unsettled.
Heinrich kissed my hand. I had no words to speak; any that came to mind jammed in my throat.
“Matilde, you are beautiful. I am happy you are my wife.” He leaned forward and kissed me, and I trembled. He backed away, furrowing his brow. “Upon God’s word, Matilde, I would never hurt you.”
Was my unease so evident? I nodded to show I believed him.
“There’s no need to hide your apprehension. It’s natural for you to be wary, though I think I can ease your mind.” He pinched the candle flames with his fingers; the fire in the brazier the sole light as he returned to the bed. “Kiss me, Matilde, as I kissed you earlier this day.” His voice was thick with undisguised desire.
I yearned to please him. Tentatively, I placed my lips on his, forcing myself to not back away. I was surprised to discover the kiss contented me.
Heinrich brushed his fingers across my cheek. His breathing quickened. Then his expression relaxed and a pensive appearance overcame his features. “Tonight is not the night.”
I exhaled a trapped breath, but his announcement confused me. Had I displeased him?
“I want you more than life itself, Matilde, but only when you are ready. You must want me, too. I want you to come to me with an open heart. Our marriage happened suddenly, but we can wait. Besides, you are unwell.” He handed me my robe and turned his back to give me the privacy to put it on. “Come and sit with me next to the brazier.”
He smiled graciously, which put me at ease. We sat on two cushioned chairs at a square table. Heinrich retrieved our wine and set the flask on the tabletop between us. He handed me the goblet from which I had sipped earlier. Relaxed, my husband leaned back with his legs spread before him.
At first, we spoke of insignificant matters: the wish for warmer weather, Walhausen, the color of the Rhein in the spring after the snow melted. Soon, the wine and warmth dispelled my awkwardness. I recounted stories from my childhood, pleasant memories of Ringelheim and Westphalia, and spoke of the special bond I shared with Grandmother.
Time progressed in languid congeniality until the first rays of dawn lightened the bedchamber, and I struggled to keep awake. At one point, I caught myself nodding off.
“Come, I fear I have kept you awake too late.” Heinrich scooped me into his arms, carried me to bed, and covered me with the bed furs. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Sleep, and when you awake, we’ll explore Walhausen together.”
He placed one of the bed furs on the floor near the brazier, and lay on it.
In the dimness, I sensed his presence. This time, rather than unnerving me, I found it comforting. Wearily, I snuggled deeper into the bed. Perhaps marriage would not be so bad. After this thought, sleep came immediately.
I WOKE ALONE. After dressing, I went first to the Great Hall and then to the bailey in search of Sister Ricburg. I found her in the herb garden, sitting on a stone bench reading a breviary; my grandmother had ensured every woman in our abbey read and wrote Latin. At my approach, she closed the book. “Is all well?”
I sat beside her and nodded. “We spent the entire night talking. I did not have to pay my marital debt.”
“Truly?”
I touched her hand. “It was splendid. I learned much about him. He is a good, patient man.”
“Then I am happy for you.”
A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. In the distance, a bird trilled. The scent of fresh earth mingled with the mint growing in clusters in the garden beside us. I studied our surroundings. A feeling of satisfaction, of being one with the world, warmed me.
“I cannot believe Walhausen is mine.” An overpowering need to act pressed upon me and I pondered for a few moments. “Let’s feed the hungry as Grandmother did. It will be my first act as Duchess of Thuringia and patroness of Walhausen!”
Sister Ricburg’s face brightened then fell into a frown. “People knew they could always find aid at the abbey, but how will the hungry of Walhausen know to come here?”
“I’ll ask the commander of Heinrich`s guards to take some men into the town and bring back anyone they find begging.”
“Your grandmother would be proud.”
We located Franco in the guardhouse yard with his men. A few were occupied honing their daggers at the whetting stone while others repaired leather trappings or polished armor. When they noticed us, activity ceased and the men rose and bowed. Franco stepped forward with a nod. “Domina and Sister Ricburg! How may I aid you?” Rays of sunlight danced on his long, curly hair.
“I seek a boon.” I cast him my warmest smile.
“All you have to do is ask.”
Unused to commanding, I gathered my resolve. “I require you and your men to ride into Walhausen, find anyone who is begging for food, and bring them here.”
His thick yet elegantly shaped eyebrows rose and the men behind him exchanged wary glances.
“Is something wrong?”
“The duke said nothing about this.” His declaration brought a hushed silence.
“He is unaware of my plans.” My words hung in the air. “I am on my way to tell him. My husband encourages such charitable acts.” As soon as I uttered this, I regretted it, for it sounded childish and defensive.
Mercifully, Franco did not interpret it that way. His initial wary expression became one of respect. He gave me a lopsided grin as he bowed. “He mentioned your benevolence on many occasions. I shall seek him and advise him of your plans.”
“I prefer to tell him myself. I am eager to begin preparations. It would please me if you could depart as soon as you are ready.”
He hesitated, but inclined his head. “As you wish.”
My heart sang with delight as we hurried to the kitchen to oversee the food preparation. Swept up in the activity, any thought of speaking to Heinrich slipped from my mind.
BY THE HOUR of Sext, I waited at the castle gates next to several tables laden with food: venison, root vegetables, fruit, and loaves of baked bread. Behind me, I sensed Heinrich’s presence and turned to face him.
“My husband,” I said with a curtsey. “You were not there when I awoke.” The memory of what had transpired between us last night returned to mind, giving rise to a renewed embarrassment.
“I rose early and went to the mews to check on the hunting fowls. When I returned to our chamber, you were gone.” A tinge of worry laced his voice and his gaze roamed the tables. He popped a morsel of cheese into his mouth. “What goes on here?”
“Please come and sit and I’ll explain.” I gestured to a nearby bench and we both sat. I had assured Franco I would speak to Heinrich of my plans and now chided myself for my forgetfulness. Heinrich’s face bore a frown. Sensing his disapproval, I inhaled a bolstering breath. “I have invited several people for a meal.”
“Who are they? I was unaware you knew anyone in Walhausen.”
“It is true that I don’t know anyone, but I hope to meet some people this morning.”
“You have invited strangers without consulting me?” His glower deepened. “My men approved this?”
I bit my lip and nodded, thankful for Franco’s prudence. I knew a crowd of people already waited beyond the gates, kept in queue by the guards.
Heinrich ran a hand through his hair. “Who are they?” The pitch of his voice had risen.
“They are beggars who wait beyond the gates with your men.”
I followed Heinrich to the portal set within the gates. At his nod, the guard opened the aperture. We peered at the long queue of indigent persons. Three young waifs with sunken eyes clung to their mother. An old blind man gripped the arm of his scrawny wife. A man dressed in rags carried a one-legged lad in hi
s arms. An elderly hunchbacked woman leaned against a rickety cane. All waited patiently. More lingered behind them—a collection of penurious people—desperate, hungry, and dirty.
“Here? Inside the bailey?” Heinrich glared at me with pinched lips.
I winced at the way he emphasized here and inside. “Please do not be angry with me.” My voice quavered, but I refused to show any timidity.
His one movement was a twitch in his jaw.
“Please say something,” I dared utter.
“I cannot believe you brought these people here. It is customary to give alms by sending servants and aids into the village, not to prepare them a feast within our boundaries. You put us at risk.”
I bit my lip at my folly. Circumstances were different now, and I must learn to adjust. “My lord, forgive me for not speaking to you beforehand, but I am unrepentant. These people are hungry. It is easier for the servants if we feed them near our food stores. It is my wish, and your promise to me, that I give alms to those in need. We did this at the abbey. I was unaware charitable acts are done differently here.”
He clenched his jaw and breathed a heavy sigh. “Finish what you have started today, but in the future, you must find other ways to demonstrate our generosity. It is unwise to permit strangers within our walls. If we feed ten today, we will have to feed twenty tomorrow, and greater hordes thereafter, and it will never end.” He turned away from me as if to leave, but stopped, his cheeks red with frustration. “We will leave Walhausen in the morning.”
I clenched my hands so hard, my nails bit into my flesh.
Heinrich spun on his heel and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him in the morning breeze.
Who was this man I married, who said one thing, yet meant another? Indeed, I was at fault, of that there could be no doubt, but I was determined to be more careful the next time. And there would be a next time because I intended to make the feeding of the poor a regular practice.
HEINRICH SPENT THE rest of the day in the armory with his men. I found no opportunity to speak with him until he entered our bedchamber after Vespers.
The Prophetic Queen (Women's Biographical Historical Fiction): The Tumultuous Life of Matilde of Ringelheim Page 4
