Chlothar woke with a headache and got sick in a chamber pot. He poured himself some water from a bronze ewer, swirled it around his mouth and spit it out. Then, to Radegund’s horror, he squatted over the pot, right in front of her. She turned away until he was done.

Each put on a colorful silk robe. Servants brought them wine and freshly baked balls of bread. He avoided her eyes as they ate at the small table, but muttered, “I must give you your morgengab.”

“But –” She had not thought of this. “A man gives a woman her morning gift when she has given him – “

“You did give it to me!” He rose to his feet and stomped around the room. “I took what was mine! I laid you back, I spread your legs and I broke your maidenhead!”

She flinched. Did he really believe what he was saying? After all, he had been so drunk.

Chlothar went on. “And when I give you your morning gift, all my court, all my dukes and counts, all the clerics, will know that. There will be no question!”

Ah. Now she understood. Whatever happened between them, only one thing could be true to others.

In the reception hall, all the trestle tables had been broken down, and only one small table with clawed legs set in the middle. The dukes and counts and Chlothar’s brother kings formed a circle around Chlothar and Radegund, seated at the table on facing stools.

An inkhorn sat in its stand between several hollow reeds, sharpened at the ends. A long box lay open by the table. Chlothar said proudly to the gathering, “My wife has done her duty and given me what only a woman can” – several men snickered, and Chlothar grinned suggestively – “And now as is the custom I give her gifts in return.”

A cleric in a white robe, Chlothar’s scribe, stepped forward, holding a sheet of papyrus. Chlothar signed it and handed it to Radegund. Joy filled her as she read it. After the usual thanks to Christ and enumerations of Chlothar’s titles, she saw the word “Athies”. Chlothar was making her a gift of Athies, with its houses, storerooms, vines, forests, fields, meadows “and all other benefits”.

The home she had grown to love was hers. Now she could indeed welcome others to it.

A servant brought a small branch – a branch from a tree at Athies – and put it in the box. Then Chlothar gave her the deeds to other estates, including Peronne, to the north of Vitry. For each, a branch from that estate was put in the box. Soon the long box was piled high with branches, showing how generous Chlothar was being – and, to those watching, how pleased he was with his first night with Radegund.

She was overwhelmed at the thought of ruling over so much land, and knew little of the other places. But the gift of Athies brought her, for the first time in years, true exaltation.

She was a queen now. One of several, but the newest and the youngest. The others had rooms some distance from hers. That is, Chlothar’s, since he took her into his own bed. Aside from Ingund, who had become resigned to her successors, the others remained aloof. Guntheuc showed no interest in Chlothar at all. Surely when she had married her husband’s brother, she had never dreamed he would slaughter her own sons. She spent much of her time alone in prayer. Chunsind watched Radegund warily, unsure how to match this younger rival. Only Aregund was frankly hostile. She had been the beauty after all, even after Chunsind, and for some time it seemed she had been in Chlothar’s favor. But her constant demands, her insistence on the King’s attention, had wearied the aging monarch. And now she was no longer the youngest of his wives.

Ingund still treated Radegund much as she had at Athies, almost as a daughter. Sometimes she would wistfully twine her graying hair, then stroke Radegund’s shining locks. “How could he not desire you, beautiful as you are?” She coughed between her words; she was falling ill. Still, she found the strength to advise Radegund on her dress and ornament, having the slaves hold up the brightly dyed wool and shimmering silken robes, comparing the shawls and headscarves, even Radegund’s belt and crown. She helped the slaves braid and put up her hair in various patterns: tight plaits, open ringlets, a bun on the top of her head, artfully inserting hair pins so that Radegund’s shining hair was studded with gold and jewels, a work of art in itself.

Radegund allowed her to do all this, taking more pleasure in her tender attentions than in the end result. When a slave held up a mirror and she saw the sparkle and sheen of her own beauty, she looked as if at a stranger, feeling admiration but no vanity on her own account.

At supper, when she came out beside Chlothar, many, especially the women, fell silent. Ingund always dressed her so beautifully, choosing just the shade of blue, purple or red for her dress, just the white, yellow or gold for her shawl, and set her gold, silver and jewels so exquisitely about her that, seen by torch and candle light, she almost seemed a holy vision.

Chlothar insisted she wear a gold tiara, inlaid with garnets and sapphires while all her sister queens wore more sober caps. Ingund and Aregund sat to either side of the couple. The others dressed as beautifully as they could, trying to do with intricate patterns from the East, and a wealth of garnets, sapphires, emeralds, rubies and diamonds what their aging faces could not, and indeed in the light of candle and torches, the illusion almost worked, enough that Chlothar could revel in the beauty of his many wives.

The grandeur of the palace and Soissons itself overwhelmed Radegund. It amused her now to think she had thought Rome to be like Athies. Clearly, it would be more like a great city such as Soissons. Noyon, the only other city she had seen, was nowhere so big, nor so filled with traffic of every sort. Walking to the cathedral, she saw old women almost trampled by horsemen hurrying down the main road. Only one ox-drawn wagon could fit its width, but often a line of them came up from the port, horses, camels and porters slipping around them.

She no longer went to Mass at a chapel, though one could be found among the many rooms in the palace. Instead, she went to the cathedral, joining the other women on the right side, taking Communion from the bishop himself. Chlothar only went for the great holidays, but assured her that on other days he regularly attended Mass at the chapel.

At Athies, most of the sick and hurt had stayed in their homes, waiting for what care their families could provide. Here she saw faces wasted by devouring diseases, beggars with open sores, some missing arms, legs, even feet and hands. Many made their way to a long white building beyond the cathedral, a hospital for the poor and the sick. Chlothar himself had endowed it, sure this would count for him in Heaven. But it was small and few could stay for long. Others soon returned to the crowds on Soissons’ streets.

Such images haunted her as she sat at the long table, covered with embroidered cloth, watching huge platters of pork, boar, deer and hare go by, smelling the pepper and the cumin, the fishy odor of garum, in ornate stews where the meat was transformed beyond recognition. When she tried to turn a new portion away, Chlothar roared, “You must eat, girl!” And all the lords and warriors laughed knowingly, sure that her belly would soon swell. But she and Chlothar both knew that would have been a miracle. Several times since that first night, he had tried to take her again, brutally, as she lay unresisting, resigned to doing her wifely duty, but relieved each time her husband’s power failed.

Soon he could no longer bear the humiliation, and lay beside her resentfully, gruffly granting her request to go to the latrine, where she spent an hour on the hard floor, joyfully thanking her one true Lord.

Loss and renunciation -->