Ragingot’s men lifted her onto their boat, and it turned towards Soissons, towing the smaller one behind it. She could see the port up ahead at the base of the city. It was busy; already merchants rushed to get clear of the royal craft. She saw now how big Soissons was, much wider and higher than Noyon, with crowds coming and going – on horseback and by foot, in ox-drawn wagons – through three portals in a large stone gate.

To the right of the city, she saw a double bridge, one row of arches set on another. “A bridge? On land?”

“A bridge for water,” said Ragingot. “An aqueduct.”

By now she knew who had built such wonders. “It is Roman?”

“Of course.”

She looked back at Framberta and the two men. “What will happen to my people?”

“They will be rewarded and returned to Athies.”

She prayed this was true. After all, they had only done what was expected. But she feared for them nonetheless.

Men leading horses met them at the dock. Radegund leapt readily on to hers and joined Ragingot at the front of a small group. As they rode through the middle gate, she saw a scene much as at Noyon, but busier and more crowded. Frankish huts were interspersed with old Roman stone houses, deeply sloping thatch alternating with the Roman red tile. As at Noyon, many of the Roman houses were in disrepair.

They went up a short distance to a long Roman road which stretched to either side, rising slowly at the right. As they turned onto it, Radegund saw a market below, with wagons turned sideways to show their goods. Ahead the stone paved road continued on between close rows of houses, coming out in a square beside the cathedral, a long rectangular building which loomed over the town. Around the sides of this square, shops – houses opened on one side – offered goods of every sort. Riding past them, she saw glints of silver, bright piles of cloth, bowls filled with colored spices.

Beyond the cathedral, they came to a gate in a long white wall. Guards, holding spears, swords and shields, stood to either side of it. As Radegund rode in, she saw rows of columns stretching off to either side, beneath a second floor lined with windows. The villa at Athies could have fit in this several times over.

They stopped before the main entrance, which rose to a third story and a slate covered roof. Between each floor, a frieze was inlaid with gold. It took Radegund a moment to realize that the inlaid patterns represented bees, just like the insignia Ragingot wore.

“It was Clovis’s father’s emblem,” said Ragingot. “The King has taken it for his own.”

A steep flight of stairs led up to the main floor. She dismounted and Ragingot escorted her up to the great entry hall, which was painted in the Roman style, with a marble floor showing scallop patterns. They went through it to the other side, where she found a large rectangular courtyard. Two square herb gardens, slashed with walkways, took up the middle. Fruit trees stood at each corner, with rose bushes and beds of lilies along each side.

“It is very beautiful,” she said.

“It is the palace of a king.”

Women came to meet them in the garden. “They will take you to your quarters,” he said, and left.

Her room was on the second floor, along the right side. As they came up to it, she started to stick her head out a window, only to hit something hard. Looking more carefully, she saw circles in the air. This was glass, but far finer and clearer than at Athies.

The room itself was not so different from her own there. The walls had been white-washed, hiding damaged frescoes, making the whole room look cleaner.

A round wooden tub stood in one corner, the water in it steaming. The women took off her simpler woolen robe, then washed her and dried her off quickly. They brushed her hair, then dressed her in dark green silk and put on her earrings, necklace, fibula, pendants, bracelets and buckle. When they were done, they said, “Your brother awaits you, my lady.”

Berthefred was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He embraced her, then escorted her out to the courtyard.

“It is so much bigger than Athies!” she said.

“It was the palace of the last Roman king, Syagrius. The one Clovis defeated.”

“What happened to him?”

“He fled south, among the Goths. But Clovis threatened to attack them if they did not hand him over. They did, and he was put to death. Slowly.”

Radegund shuddered. “I thought the Goths themselves were to be feared.”

“By many, yes. But not by the Franks.” He said this with pride. She thought again how like them he had become. She wondered with horror if he too had burned and looted towns, smashed children’s heads against walls… She drove all these thoughts from her mind.

“You are to have a fine wedding,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

“As befits a valued slave,” she said bitterly.

He winced. “You will be a queen, Radegund. A queen can do many things.”

“All I ask,” she said, “is to do my duty as a Christian wife.” A duty which was to cost her her dearest dreams.

They had come to one of the herb gardens. Scents of mint and sage sweetened the air. He looked all about to be sure they were alone. “You must learn to be a queen, dear sister. One day Chlothar might rule Thuringia. Our people will need you then. Did you know Erfurt has been rebuilt?”

“Already? And is there a palace there?”

“No. But one day I will build one.”

“For Chlothar?”

He narrowed his eyes. “For myself. When Thuringia is ours again.”

“Oh Berthefred!” She clutched him close to her. “You must not say such things!”

“I never do, except to you.” He stroked her hair tenderly. “But you must allow me my dreams.”

The wedding -->