Carloman wasn’t surprised to see the Alemannians take the center of the line. They were clearly the more veteran soldiers, unlikely to panic or flee.
At a barked command the two shield walls, three rows deep, began their orchestrated shuffle forward to the center of the battlefield; left foot first, right foot behind, left shoulders supporting a shield aligned to create an impenetrable wall.
With a piercing battle cry, a group of the Hessians broke ranks and sprinted downhill towards the Frankish line, screaming obscenities. A foolish gambit, thought Carloman, but still he held his breath as the cohort streamed down hill.
To a man, they leapt high above the Frankish pikes and shields in an attempt to bludgeon or hack apart the first line. Pikes gored them as they leapt, and swords pierced them as they fell. Most were dead before they hit the ground. The Frankish line stepped over them, advancing up the hill as if they had never attacked.
Both armies unleashed their archers and waves of arrows arced over the battlefield. Shields on both sides tilted up to catch the bolts. Not all were successful and dozens in each line fell as arrows found flesh.
As the lines closed on each other, both sides reared backwards to hurl their shields against the other’s wall. Five hundred throats roared as the shields slammed against each other.
“Thrust!” A voice shouted, and pikes and blades stabbed above and below the shields into the faces and feet of the enemy. Screams and shouts cut through the crisp morning air as eyes were gouged and feet cut away.
It was grim work. Hours ground by as the shield walls struggled in a game of wills. Periodically, one side or another would use axes and pikes to weaken the enemy wall and take advantage of a break or a fallen man, but always the line would coalesce, and the struggle would continue undeterred.
Carloman ordered his first surprise. Drogo led extra men to the right side of his shield wall in an effort to “wheel” the line. Three new rows pressed into the back of the shield wall, pushing the right side of the line forward. As it surged, the shield wall appeared to spin as the enemy tried to keep its forward line intact. Carloman readied his cavalry to rush the end of the wall as it came into view.
Seeing his line wheel, Theudebald shouted for his own cavalry and entered the fray to shore up their position at the wall’s end. He met the first of Carloman’s cavalry with fury, chopping off the leg of a warhorse as he passed and slamming into the next with his shield. Hamar moved to join the charge, but by the time he arrived, the wheel had lost its momentum and the Alemannian cavalry had propped up its wall.
The battle returned to the desperate, close-in fighting along the shield wall.
As time progressed, Carloman could see his men weakening from the effort of pushing uphill. Although he was forced to reinforce his side far more frequently than Theudebald, he was never in doubt that his line would hold; he had plenty of reserves to throw at it, but his overarching problem remained; he needed to end the battle and end it soon.
Carloman called for his second surprise. Hamar rode through their reserve line giving instructions.
“Ready, my Lord.”
Carloman gave the order and his archers dipped their arrows in tar and flooded the air with flaming arrows. The arrows arced high above the gathered forces and streamed into the forest directly behind the enemy line. A second volley targeted the infantry and set several men ablaze. Carloman’s men started shouting, “Fire! Fire!” They screamed as if in a panic.
The Hessians who had lived through the forest conflagration, began to panic. Theudebald shouted for them to maintain order, but their attention shifted to the woods behind them and their shield wall lost cohesion.
It was enough to do them in. Drogo’s cavalry swept into their ranks and the line broke on the wall’s left side. The Alemannian regulars tried to fill in the gap, but it was too late. Drogo’s cavalry drove through them like a storm. The panic among the Hessians spread and almost as one, the combined army broke and ran.
An Alemannian captain formed their regulars into the four walls of a box to protect against the cavalry charge, but it soon became clear the battle was lost. Carloman’s men surrounded what was left of Theudebald’s army and ordered his men to halt so that the hopelessness of their position could be realized. The Alemannian captain drove his sword into the ground and ordered his men to lay down their arms.
Theudebald was nowhere to be found. Carloman ordered an extensive search of the captured army and of the dead, offering a bag of solidi to the man who brought him the Alemannian leader. No one came to collect. When the line collapsed, Theudebald and his primary lieutenants had fled to fight another day.
Carloman’s Knights in Christ herded the vanquished enemy into makeshift ranks, stripping them of all their weapons. A great mound of armaments grew on the side of the conquered hill. When at last they were weaponless, Carloman ordered the captives to be arranged into three lines. His Knights in Christ erected a makeshift cross before each of the lines. Beside each cross, they placed a large wooden block.
Carloman rode forward. “Rebellion is not tolerated. I have the power and the right to kill you here and now for your insurrection. But, as a merciful man, I offer you one last chance to live. Pledge your vassalage to me and swear an oath of faith to our Lord Jesus Christ. Recognize Him as the one and only true God in heaven and you may return home.”
He signaled for the first man to be brought forward. The Hessian struggled against his captors as if the cross was a mortal threat to him. Two of the Knights in Christ dragged him before the cross. Hamar followed sword in hand.
Carloman lifted his voice so that all could hear him clearly. “We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth and of all things visible and invisible. And in the one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, begotten of the father before all the worlds, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten not made being of one substance of the father, by whom all things were made. If you so testify, signify by kissing the cross. Then may you live to serve me in vassalage.”
The Hessian’s struggles increased. The Knights in Christ forced him to kneel. The Hessian looked up into Carloman’s eyes and spat on the Cross.
Carloman nodded and the Knights took him to the block of wood, draped him over the side, holding his hands behind his back. Hamar swung his sword in a downward arc. The Hessian tried to buck away from the block, lifting his head at the last second to avoid the blow. He failed. The blow cut his head in two, leaving his brains to spill from his head. A second blow severed the head completely. They dragged his body to the side of the hill.
Carloman nodded and another man was brought forward. Without hesitation, he knelt and kissed the cross and was released to stand in the field behind it. One by one the Knights in Christ herded the Alemannian and Hessian soldiers forward to kiss the foot of the cross and swear allegiance. Few hesitated.
Until Hodar. The Hessian leader was brought forward. He didn’t struggle. He strode to the cross with his back straight and his head held high. When he stood before Carloman, he raised his voice so that all men could hear him.
“You violated the blot and now you defame our gods. You have but one god, Carloman, but we have many. They will defeat your God just as we will defeat you.”
Carloman showed no emotion. “Either kiss the cross or die.”
Hodar turned, walked to the block and placed his own hands behind his back. Carloman nodded and Hodar’s head joined the pile on the ground.
Carloman watched as every one of their captives knelt and chose to live or die. In all, only about twenty men chose to meet their fate.
The last to choose was Rasling, the only remaining Hessian chieftain. He stood before the ranks of his men who had kissed the cross and the severed heads of those who had refused. He said nothing to disparage Carloman, bent his knee and kissed the foot of the cross. Carloman took him aside to take him into vassalage and motioned for Rasling to rise.
“Take your men and go home.
Rebuild from the fire. If I see you on the field with Odilo, there will be no mercy for you and yours. Do you understand my commands?”
Rasling didn’t flinch. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Now, get out of my sight.”
Hamar, Carloman and Drogo watched the Hessian organize his men into ranks and lead them into the north.
Hamar spat. “You should have killed him.”
“We have to leave someone in charge. He obeyed the forms and swore the oaths. It might as well be him. If we killed everyone we defeat, we’d have no one to lead in our absence. They all saw him pledge.”
“He doesn’t believe in the Lord our God,” Drogo objected.
“Yet he kissed the cross. And again, they all watched him do it.”
Hamar shook his head. “We’ll see him again on the field with Odilo.”
“Then he’ll meet his fate.” Carloman spat. “How badly were we damaged?”
“In two days of battle we lost close to six hundred men - either killed or severely wounded,” Hamar estimated. “We’re down a thousand soldiers since leaving Paris.”
Although it could have been worse, Carloman was still reluctant to face Odilo without Pippin.
“How far away is Odilo?”
“Less than a week away.”
“Any news of Pippin?”
Hamar looked dour. “We may have to fight without him.”
Carloman frowned. “Maybe not.”
“My Lord?”
“Strike camp. We aren’t staying here.”
Chapter Thirty
Paris
During his exile in Narbonne Childeric had developed a taste for some exotic spices available only from the east. To meet his demand for them, Miette had ordered a case brought north at considerable expense. She had developed a taste for them as well and spent many an afternoon in the kitchen sampling the sauce being prepared for the evening meal.
“A little more of the black pepper.” She handed the spoon back to the cook. It was the rarest and most expensive spice of the lot, but the one she favored most. The cook knuckled his head in acknowledgement and Miette was about to move on to selecting the wine – another expensive indulgence upon which Childeric insisted – when she was interrupted by one of the Merovingian’s servants.
“Milady, his royal highness summons you to his presence.” The servant was a young man who had yet to lose the boyish softness to his face. And although he bowed deeply, it did little to hide the scarlet color rising to his cheeks.
Miette smiled at his embarrassment. She had dropped all pretenses surrounding her affair with the Merovingian. Where once she had hidden the relationship from her husband and the court, she now openly shared Childeric’s bed when he called for her. She waved for the boy to lead the way upstairs to Childeric’s quarters.
As she walked, her mind drifted to her “affair” with Pippin. She had taken great delight watching Pippin’s desire for her grow with each successive meeting. She loved the way his face blushed at the touch of her hand, and how his eyes followed her every move. She relished stretching his desire to the breaking point. She wanted him to ache for her.
She hadn’t lied to him. She was attracted to powerful men and, if Pippin was anything, he was powerful. She also got a perverse pleasure in knowing that Pippin could evoke such paralyzing fear in her husband.
Both Childeric and her husband were more than pleased with the information she had obtained from Pippin. Much of it had proven useful. With it, she had dissuaded Childeric from assaulting the palace to assert his right to the throne. The one garrison Pippin had left behind was more than enough to mount a strong defense and the drawings in Pippin’s chambers she had copied from memory showed defensive tactics capable of stopping anything Childeric might attempt.
Her husband had joined with her in cautioning Childeric against overt military action, preferring a political solution or an attempt later when the two mayors had been weakened by the war.
At the foot of the stairs, Miette stumbled and the young man guiding her was quick to catch her arm. If possible, he blushed even more deeply. Miette had to restrain a chuckle at his expense.
She stopped outside of Childeric’s chambers to prepare herself for the encounter.
Childeric’s infatuation with her was based on his inability to completely dominate the relationship. Her beauty gave her power over him, which violated his need to be in control. And the more he desired her, the more he wanted to debase her to prove his dominance. And yet, when she willingly embraced his degradation, she frustrated his sense of control and he became all the more aroused. It was a game of cat and mouse and her survival required her never to give the cat everything he wanted.
But she wondered how far he would go…and how much more she could tolerate. What started as sex play had become something dangerous. Each time with him brought a new indignity that she had to endure, and the defilement was taking its toll on her. Bruises covered her body and she never felt clean, no matter how many baths she had the servants draw.
Childeric waved her into his chambers and with a cruel smirk on his face offered her to two men of his guard that she had never seen before. They were coarse, brutes of the battlefield with ugly scared faces and misshapen teeth. At first, they hesitated, unsure of what Childeric had put them to but soon settled into the job with great delight. When she resisted, they beat her, striking her in the face until she quieted.
For the first time, Miette grew frightened for her life. They took her, both at the same time while Childeric masturbated beside the bed.
She recoiled before their assault, shrinking inside herself to a place they couldn’t touch. Although she wanted to beg them to stop, to beg Childeric to stop, her survival relied on her ability to overcome her degradation–to not let him break her. He was watching her, his eyes holding her gaze, reveling in her humiliation.
She knew what she had to do. With every ounce of her will, Miette pretended to wallow in her defilement, begging for more with each violent thrust.
She nearly wept with relief when the brutes climaxed. Childeric stepped forward and Miette held his gaze in triumph while he stroked himself until his semen splashed over her.
He sent her away, his frustration for her resilience plain. She rose from his bed like a queen and walked naked from his quarters through the residence all the way to her chambers. She dismissed her servants, and crawled into bed, wrapping herself in a blanket.
Only then did she unbridle her fear and allow her body to quake. She had been a fool. Childeric would be twice as cruel the next time and the time after that. She had let her pride think she could master him. If she didn’t find a way out, one day soon, he would kill her.
✽✽✽
Childeric sent for her the very next day. Miette was with her husband conferring about some of the nobles at court when the servant arrived with her summons. She couldn’t help but groan at the directive. She had spent much of that morning trying to hide the bruises on her face and arms. She didn’t think she could suffer through another bout with Childeric so soon.
“What is it?” her husband asked.
“I…I can’t.” Her eyes filled with tears and she clutched her husband’s arm for support. “I can’t do it anymore.”
Ragomfred looked confused. “You have to go. He is the king.”
“It’s gone too far. He keeps upping the stakes. He’s going to kill me. That’s the only way it will end. You have to stop it.”
Ragomfred stared at her a long moment as the meaning of her words sank in. He shoved her hand away his eyes alight with indignation. “You were so smug, openly betraying me with your new lover in my own home...and then you dare to complain to me about it?” He cocked his arm towards her with the same gesture she had once taunted him. “You started this game and you’re going to have to see it through to the end. There is no exit for you, no savior waiting to absolve you. You will serve the king in any way he desires or I’ll have you killed myself.”
; He stalked out of the room.
The rebuke sobered her. She swore under her breath at her stupidity. Of course, he wouldn’t help. Miette shook herself to regain her composure. There had to be another way. She straightened her back, wiped away her tears, and strode down the hall to the king’s chambers with all the dignity she could muster. When she entered, she portrayed none of the fear raging inside her.
She curtsied low before the Merovingian.
He motioned for her to rise. “I have an assignment for you.”
Miette did her best to smirk and began to disrobe.
“Not that.” Childeric waved for her to stop. “Salau has learned that Pippin stopped at the Abbey at Chelles on his way to Regensburg.”
“He was likely visting his step-mother, Sunnichild. She was imprisoned there by Carloman.”
“Do you know her?”
Miette shook her head. “I wasn’t an accepted member of the court then.”
“But surely you share acquaintances.”
“Yes. Lady Hélène for one.”
Childeric’s eyes widened. “It was Lady Hélène who aided Pippin’s mistress after the ball.”
“Yes, they left with Tedbalt of Soissons and her sister.”
“Don’t you find it odd that their carriage was attacked by three of my men and somehow all four of them survived?”
Miette nodded. “It is odd.”
“How well do you know Lady Hélène?”
“She was one of the few women at court who were kind to me before – before your arrival.”
Childeric nodded. “That should be enough for you to gain entry. I want you to pay Sunnichild a visit, out of concern for your friend Lady Hélène. See what you can learn about Bertrada’s disappearance. A nunnery is a perfect place for women to hide.”
Wheel of the Fates: Book Two of the Carolingian Chronicles Page 29
