Bertha's Tale: A Novel
11. in which early married life is blissful - until it's not.
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Bertha’s voice Canterbury, Kent c. A.D. 580
Our first few weeks together had been idyllic. It was everything I’d dreamed of.
We woke early each morning, with the rising of the sun, to the sound of birdsong, light streaming through the palace windows, dappled by the trees outside. A chill still hung in the air - spring had only just sprung - so we huddled up in bed together under layers of blankets and furs, using one another’s body heat to keep warm.
It felt as if nothing - and no one - could ever get between us.
“Tell me about your homeland,” he’d asked me once, and I’d told him all about it. I’d laughed and cried as I’d remembered what it had been like to feel the warmth of the sun on my face, to smell the lavender that adorned my palace home, to hear the mighty river rush past on its journey to the sea. I’d shared our sudden, dramatic change in fortunes when my father had died. No longer the daughter of a king, I’d been whisked away to a small chateau outside of the city of Paris, outside of the bustle of court life, away from the centre of politics. Although I’d mourned my father’s loss, I had welcomed the move: I had always dreamed of a quiet life.
“My grandmother was Frankish,” Æthelberht had told me. I was stunned; this meant we had shared ancestry and made sense of the rumours I’d heard before leaving Paris. “She was beautiful, just like you.” He touched my cheek tenderly, smiled as his hand traced the contours of my face. “Are all Frankish women beautiful? If so, we really must visit!” He has a cheeky, mischievous streak, the prince.
I blushed. “Not all of us…”
“It was my grandmother that taught me the Frankish language. She would refuse to speak to me in the Kentish tongue, pretending not to hear or understand. I knew she did understand; it was our game.” He paused and looked deep into my eyes. This was something he did often, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was so different to how he’d treated me before our wedding; he had been so cold. He’d told me since that this was because he didn’t know what to do with the way he’d felt about me, that he’d been confused by attraction and affection for a woman he’d expected to loathe, the physical embodiment of a forced marriage. It was hard to believe that had been just a few days previously.
“What was it like to journey across the sea? You must have been terrified! I’ve travelled by sea a lot, but always along the coastline. I’ve never been so far that you can’t see the land anymore.”
“Well, it was only because the weather was so awful that we couldn’t see the land. I’m told that on a clear day you can see Francia from the white cliffs where we landed here.”
He nodded. “I’ll have to take you one day. We will shout as loud as we can and see if anyone of your kinsmen respond.” We laughed heartily at the ridiculousness of the suggestion.
I traced the line of a scar that wove silvery-white across his shoulder. “What happened?” I asked. A shadow crossed his face.
“It was a bear. A huge one. With really big claws and teeth. But I fought him off.” He winked. I looked blankly at him. “No, not really.” He looked downcast. “That’s just more heroic than what actually happened. I was in battle with my father a few years ago when I came into hand-to-hand fighting with one of the enemy men. He looked me right in the eyes with such ferocity that I’ll never forget; it froze me to the spot and even though I’d trained my entire life for war I panicked. He raised his spear and I just stood still, thinking I was going to die right there. It pierced my armour right through and hit the bone. It was awful.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Still, that’s the life of a prince, isn’t it? We have to fight to keep hold of the kingdom. I’m sure that I’ll gain many more scars over the years; this one won’t be the last.” I hated to think of something piercing his body, causing him pain. I’d come to love his body, its strength and softness.
It was idyllic.
Everything I’d dreamed of.
Until it wasn’t.
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