The Forsaken Monarch Page 12

  “Thank you, but my mind is made up. Apart from Adalbert’s very tempting offer of life in a nunnery, I see no good reason for me to stay, though I shall miss seeing the three of you.”

  She moved a bit closer to me on the carpet and said softly, “I hope you are not doing this on my account. I will not feel threatened by having a former empress still in Germany.”

  “I know, and I respect you for that,” I replied, “but England needs me far more than Germany does, and I find that I miss my home land greatly. I suppose I must have longed for it all this time, but kept my feelings buried deep inside. Now the possibility of a return seems to have awakened them within me. After the grief of the past year, watching my husband suffer and die …”

  Here I was forced to pause for a moment as the grief hit me anew. Judith placed a hand on my arm and rubbed it gently.

  “I am sorry. Perhaps I should not have said anything.”

  “No, you did nothing wrong,” I assured her, patting her hand with my own. “Actually, the joy of going home has helped me in my grief. I am ready for a new beginning. It is a return to England, but not to the past, for my mother and brother are gone. Yet I look forward to what the future holds for me there.”

  We embraced and then I returned to the block tower I had been building for the little one, who seemed to be having more fun pounding one block against another. After a few minutes, Duke Frederick suddenly spoke.

  “This is interesting.”

  “What is interesting?” I asked, looking up from my work.

  “It is a letter from my groom, Otto,” he replied, holding it up as if to prove the point. “He is staying up in Braunschweig.”

  Hearing a noise, I turned my head back to Master Frederick and saw that he had knocked down the tower I had so carefully constructed. With a sigh, I stood up and walked over to where the duke was sitting, leaving Judith to care for the boy.

  “Why is your groom not with you here?” I inquired. “I should think you would want all your servants with you now.”

  “Actually, as I am not hunting or traveling at the moment, I thought it would be a good time to allow him to visit his father, who is quite ill and near death.”

  “Oh. I am sorry to hear it. But what does he say in the letter?”

  “He was having dinner at a local tavern, when he heard two men at the table behind him discussing the election. He turned around and saw that one was in the employ of Duke Lothair of Saxony and the other was a deacon at the cathedral of Mainz.”

  “So an acolyte of Adalbert,” I concluded, for Mainz was Archbishop Adalbert’s see.

  “Yes, that is correct. Apparently, Otto returned to staring at his food while still listening to what they were saying. However, they began whispering and he could hear nothing of their discussion. He turned his head again and saw the deacon hand a letter to the other man which bore the seal of Archbishop Adalbert, or at least he was fairly certain that it did. He could not get a perfect look. The servant of Duke Lothair then walked off while the deacon gave Otto a pointed glare and said, ‘Mind your own business, dullard! No one likes a lurker.’”

  “And that was the extent of their conversation?”

  “Yes. Here, you can read it for yourself,” he said, shoving the paper in my direction.

  “There’s no need for that,” I said, pushing it back in his direction. “What I want to know is what you think of it?”

  He shrugged. “I think it is interesting that they all happened to be in the same tavern.”

  “Yes, fortunate that we should have a spy in their midst.”

  “Why should we need a spy?” he asked, the look on his face one of honest confusion.

  I began to wonder in that moment if it was not Duke Frederick who was the dullard and not his groom, but I was hardly going to say that—particularly not in front of Judith and the child. Instead, I attempted to explain things kindly.

  “You have just told me that a representative of Archbishop Adalbert, who is the chief elector, met with a representative of Duke Lothair of Saxony, the only other person who could make a strong challenge for the throne of Germany and the imperial crown, and handed him a secret letter bearing the seal of the archbishop, all of this taking place in a tavern where they must have been fairly certain that no one would notice them, and when someone did seem to notice, they instantly broke off their meeting and chastised him?”

  There was a moment’s pause in which Duke Frederick looked off into the distance, his eyes darting back and forth as if he was attempting to process all the information I had just given him. Finally, he looked back at me and shook his head. “I’m sorry. What is your point?”

  Keep up, man! Honestly, you’re going to be an emperor! I thought.

  “My point is that Archbishop Adalbert has secret confidences with Duke Lothair of Saxony, which means that he is likely going to support him in the election, and may even attempt to direct the proceedings so that Lothair is assured of victory,” I warned.

  “What?! No!” he cried, smiling. “That is incredible, which is to say that I do not believe it. Archbishop Adalbert is a good friend of mine. Even when he was at odds with your late husband, he bore no ill will toward me. Since the emperor’s death, he has been in communication with me constantly, helping me through the process and giving every indication that he wishes to see me elected.”

  “And what do you make of this secret meeting?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips and bending forward.

  “I make nothing of it,” he said, also bending forward in his chair. “People meet all the time. Everyone is discussing the election. It is not strange that these two men should do so.”

  “I do not think your servant would have informed you unless he suspected as I did that something treacherous was afoot. I warn you, Frederick, be on your guard against Adalbert!”

  “Please!” Lady Judith suddenly said, standing up and holding Master Frederick in her arms. “You two are upsetting the child!”

  The lack of tears on young Frederick’s face and howls escaping from his throat led me to believe that it was Judith who was truly upset, but we obeyed her in any case. Duke Frederick gathered up all the letters and departed the room, followed soon after by his wife and son. I was left standing there amid the columns, pondering what had just occurred. No matter how much I turned it over in my mind, I still came to the same conclusion: Adalbert would attempt to have Duke Lothair elected, and my husband’s dying wish would be betrayed.

  As the princes of the realm continued to descend upon Mainz, I was filled with concern that there would be a split between the men of the North and those of the South, in addition to the ever present tensions between the ecclesiastical and secular officials. I feared that Adalbert was also aware of this possibility, and that he would use it to his advantage. Sadly, Duke Frederick paid no heed to my warnings. Although I sent him a letter to the same effect as what I had said to him before, I received no response.

  We were advancing quickly toward the election. With each passing day, the men made camp on either side of the Rhine: Bavarians and Saxons to the east, Franconians and Swabians to the west. There were some ten thousand permanent inhabitants of that city, but during the month of August, the number increased six fold. What a boon for those manning the shops and market stalls! Even the monks of Saint Alban’s were receiving daily requests to purchase food and drink from their stores: one by one, the messengers prevailed upon the cellarer to provide this sustenance for their noble masters. I was told that the visitors consumed in the space of two weeks a year’s worth of wine. Less honorably, we saw carts passing by each day with women from near and far, ready to take part in a rather different trade.

  Now, this was how the assembly proceeded. The number of electors, clerks, priests, and the like was so great that no hall could contain them. Therefore, they all met at the cathedral. Duke Lothair of Saxony and Duke Henry of Bavaria were in attendance, but the Salian brothers were both absent, Duke Conrad of Franconia being on p
ilgrimage and Duke Frederick of Swabia hoping to avoid the appearance of undue meddling in the proceedings. The vote of those four duchies—Saxony, Bavaria, Franconia, and Swabia—would determine who sat upon the throne of Germany.

  I was also absent, for Archbishop Adalbert had made a general announcement that it would not be appropriate for women to attend the election. I was beginning to suspect that along with his suggestion that I go to a nunnery, this was simply an effort to keep me from influencing the vote.

  Although the election was said to be free, there were certain conditions placed upon it. Only those men of highest birth were considered worthy of the crown of Germany, and it was most typical that the eldest surviving son of the former emperor—or in this case, the eldest surviving male relative—would gain the crown. It may not have been a matter of legal necessity, but it was the strong tradition of that land. Moreover, only those who resided in the kingdom of Germany were allowed to cast a vote. Despite this, the Church of Rome was not content to sit by idly. It seemed best to Pope Calixtus to send two legates to the assembly. Their aim was to ensure that the laymen did not attempt to pervert the election.

  Thus it was that on the first day, the assembly met in the great cathedral of Mainz. Although I was not there, I can imagine how the scene must have looked, for it was the same church where I was crowned. They must have filed into the nave sharing the latest rumors in hushed voices. No doubt, the parties of dukes Frederick and Lothair congregated together on opposite sides, with Adalbert and the other high ranking officials seated before the high altar. For the rest, I have my account from the chronicles.

  The Saxons and the Swabians each supported their own dukes, making the opinion of Franconia and Bavaria all the more vital. Furthermore, the bishops on the council disapproved of both Duke Frederick and Duke Lothair and nominated another lord, Margrave Leopold of the Eastern March. Wishing to avoid either the greatest supporter or the greatest enemy of the former emperor, this must have seemed to them the choice that would most benefit the Church. However, it placed Margrave Leopold in an ill favored position, for Duke Frederick was the son of his own wife, Margravine Agnes, and thus he felt a debt of loyalty to the Swabian duke. Good man that he was, he refused the crown and withdrew his name from consideration. The next thing I knew, Drogo informed me that Duke Lothair of Saxony had also refused election.

  “I cannot think of why he would do such a thing,” he told me. “Everyone assumed he wanted to be emperor.”

  It was indeed strange. I had become certain of Archbishop Adalbert’s intent to direct votes toward Duke Lothair, who I was convinced wanted to be elected. However, even as I was wondering how I could have been so wrong, another possibility occurred to me.

  “Perhaps he is only feigning humility, as great men are often wont to do,” I said. “Make no mistake: he still wants to be emperor. He hopes that the electors will force the crown upon him.”

  I spoke with more confidence than I actually felt, for there was no way to know exactly what was passing through the minds of those men. Whatever Lothair’s true intentions, Duke Frederick was left as the only choice, and he therefore attended the assembly the following day with a large crowd of his supporters. I prayed to God that he would be elected quickly, that any treachery in the heart of Adalbert would be overcome, and that my last duty to my husband would be fulfilled.

  As the hours passed, I heard nothing of the proceedings, but given that his adversaries had been forced to back down, I felt assured that the vote would bring forth a happy outcome for Duke Frederick. I spent the early part of the day assembling things for my departure. I had already written to my father the king and informed him that I would be making for Normandy along with my possessions. He had summoned me to join him at the castle of Caen. It was lovely for once to worry less about the election and think more of the happy days that lay ahead.

  Late that afternoon, I was sitting under a tree in the garden that looks out over the confluence of the River Main and the River Rhine. Such a pleasant view! From there I could see the whole city of Mainz, which appeared as a collection of thatched roofs along with the odd stone building. The great cathedral towered over all. I think I might have sat there and enjoyed it for ever. It must have been hot, but I have no memory of that. I remember only the constant hum of the bees as they flitted from one flower to the next. I was as much at peace as I could have been in that moment, reciting the Psalms to myself and praying that all might proceed according to the Lord’s providence, although I certainly hoped that the Lord’s providence would bend in the direction of my desire and place my husband’s relative on the throne.

  Hearing the crunching sound of steps upon gravel and the slight clink of metal upon metal, I turned to see the guest master of that house, Hatto, approaching, with the keys to the monastery attached to his belt.

  “Attend, Brother Hatto, for I have found the perfect verses to pleasure the ears of the bees,” I said. “‘The fear of the Lord is clean, and endures for ever: the judgments of the Lord are truth. They are righteous altogether, and more to be desired than gold, yea, than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey, and the honeycomb.’ Now, what think you of that?”

  “Very good, Your Highness,” he replied, arriving near my position. “I see your time among us has not been spent in idleness.”

  “I do not believe in idleness. Remember, I lived among the monks of Trier.”

  “Ah, yes! I had forgotten that. You are more accustomed to our ways than most of our visitors. Are you sure you do not mind sitting in the grass? There is a bench just around the corner,” he said, pointing to the left.

  “I am quite all right, thank you. So what was it you needed to tell me?”

  “Oh my! I quite forgot myself when listening to the musical tones of your voice,” he declared, clasping his hands behind his back and smiling broadly.

  You see, the monk could flatter with ease, which I suspect was how he assumed his position as servant to the monastery’s guests.

  Still looking rather pleased with himself, he said, “Duke Frederick is here to speak with you.”

  “What?! You might have begun with that!”

  At once, the look on his face was one of fear. “Forgive me, but, the musical tones—”

  “Never mind that! Send him over.”

  The poor monk ran back up the hill toward the monastery and returned a few minutes later with the royal visitor. I rose to greet him, and Hatto departed.

  “Good afternoon, Duke Frederick, or is it now good evening?” I asked cheerily.

  “What the sky tells us, I cannot say, but in my soul it is blackest night.”

  These words surprised me greatly. Looking at his face, I could see that he was indeed saddened. His eyes were pointed at the ground, as if he was ashamed to meet my gaze. I instantly grew afraid, but told myself, Stay calm, Maud. Hear him out before you give him up for dead.

  “What’s this?” I said to him, half laughing. “Come and sit with me. I will hear it all.”

  I motioned in the direction of the stone bench Hatto had mentioned. It was only about fifteen paces away. During the short walk there, I had time enough to consider several different explanations for his mood, each more awful than the next, and all threatening my late husband’s wishes.

  We sat for a moment side by side as I waited for him to speak, but he seemed too troubled in spirit to form the words.

  “What happened?” I finally asked with some unease.

  “I’m not sure. We were all gathered there this morning. Everything was set. Then Archbishop Adalbert …”

  “Adalbert! I knew it!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. Do continue.”

  “Very well. Adalbert stood before the assembly. He began to speak about the importance of official neutrality. ‘Free choice’ he called it. He used those words again and again.”

  “Oh no …” I muttered, beginning to sense where this story was leading.

  Frederick’s
eyes looked at me, then down at his lap, then back at me, then back at his lap. I was about to command him to continue, but he finally did so of his own accord.

  “He said it was in the interest of all that the next king be elected according to the clear conscience of all men. I supposed that he merely hoped to appear considerate, or to please the papal legates. I was just waiting for him to call for the vote. Then he spoke to me directly.”

  Here he paused yet again. His delays were torturing me, but somehow I found a way to endure. At length, he continued.

  “The archbishop said, ‘Duke Frederick, your brother lords have acted in accordance with Christian goodness and sought to remove themselves from all possible taint by declining to put themselves forward as contenders. Would you not follow their example and submit yourself to the will of this divinely guided assembly, rather than openly seeking out this office as would a conqueror?’ The rest was all confusion to me. He kept speaking along those lines, bidding me to remove myself from consideration. One thing I do remember clearly: he said, ‘It is better to be seen as Cincinnatus dragged from the plow than Caesar processing in triumph.’ Well, what was I to do? I deferred to the will of the assembly. They will begin again tomorrow as if none of it had happened.”

  By this point, I was in something close to a rage. I had listened to his account in silence, each sentence provoking me further. Was he an idiot? Could he not see that he had been played? Calm yourself, Maud! I thought, but how could I do so in the face of such cowardice? My late husband’s nephew had just sacrificed everything for which his uncle had fought. He had let Adalbert win.

  I finally stood and began moving to and fro, even as Duke Frederick awaited my response. The tribulations of the past year played over in my mind, and as they did so my pain seemed to multiply into a surge of anger that longed to be set free. The untimely, painful death of Emperor Henry: he had longed to know that the Salian dynasty would continue after he went the way of all flesh. It was one of his few comforts in his dying hours to know that both I and Frederick would do our utmost to make that happen. But Duke Frederick had not heeded my warning about Adalbert. He had trusted him when he ought not to have done so. He had been convinced to take himself out of consideration and start the election process over again. He had given up the chance of certain election for God only knew what.