From Frankish Court to Kentish Throne

Bertha's Tale: A Novel - episode 3

A creative retelling, based on truth but not intended to be read as historical fact.

Bertha’s Voice 
c. A.D. 580 
Canterbury, Kent

Bertha arched her back to ease the dull ache that had persisted for the past few hours, the unfortunate companion to any long journey. She had been travelling for days - first by horse, then by boat, and now by horse again. Each step the animal took jarred her back and her legs were growing tired. She couldn’t wait to reach Cantwareburh (Canterbury).

Kent was not so very different from her homeland, certainly not as far as the landscape was concerned. The little riding party had spent much of their time journeying along well-trodden earth roads that wound through deep shaded forests. A damp chill hung in the air despite the bright blue skies she caught glimpses of now and then. Bertha was surprised, however, by how few buildings were made of stone: most of the homes she’d seen on her journey were simple rectangular earthen or wooden structures with central doorways and thatched roofs, set back from the road. There seemed to be little order to the settlements they passed through, the houses dotted here and there rather than along the grid pattern she was used to. Each plot had its own animals for milk and garden for growing their vegetables, and groups of women sat, despite the cold, around their doorsteps chattering away while going about their tasks.

Bertha felt the glare of many of the villagers as she rode past them, her fine woollen cloak and gold-and-garnet encrusted jewellery betraying her status. She had wanted to dress more austerely for her journey, fearing that evidence of her wealth might make her vulnerable to the thieves known to hide out in woods and forests. Her men were capable fighters, she was sure, but she didn’t want to have to test their combat skills so soon after arriving in her new home. Bertha was also conscious of the words of St Peter, who urged believing women to put aside external beauty for that of a pure and gentle spirit, much for fitting for a faithful Christian to be devoted to. It would be important, in this pagan land, that her faith was adorned by good works; she was sure that God had brought her here to play a role in the conversion of the Kentish people. The Parisian court, however, had insisted on sending her off wearing dress that befitted a Frankish princess, displaying, they hoped, the splendour and majesty of the kingdom she left behind. A deep sense of shame warmed her cheeks as she looked upon the gold rings that glinted as she stroked her horse; the people she had passed so far seemed to live at the very edge of subsistence while she had wealth to spare.