Chapter II: Queen and Confidante

"Madam," said Chrotechilde to Brunhild, "for whom do you intend the one of the two female slaves whom you expect to buy?"

"You really ask me?"

"Yes, madam--"

"Chrotechilde, age seems to dull your powers of penetration--perhaps I may have to look for some other confidante."

"Madam, please explain yourself--"

"I mean to test how far the present dullness that seems to have come over you may go."

"Truly, madam, I am at a loss to understand you--"

"Tell me, Chrotechilde, did not my son Childebert, when he died assassinated by Fredegonde, leave me the guardianship of his two sons, my grandchildren, Thierry and Theudebert?"

"Yes--madam--but I was speaking of the two female slaves--and not of your children."

"At what age was my grandson Theudebert a father?"

"At thirteen--at that age he had a son from Bilichilde, the dark-complexioned slave with green eyes, for whom you paid a big price. I still see her wild looks, as uncommon as her style of beauty. For the rest, she had a nymph's waist, and wavy and jet-black hair that reached the floor. I never in my life saw such hair. But why do you look so somber?"

"The vile slave! Did not that miserable Bilichilde gain a fatal ascendency over my grandson Theudebert, despite the many other concubines that we furnished him?"

"Indeed, madam! So fatal was the ascendency that she gained over him, that she caused us to be driven out of Metz, both you and me, and led prisoners as far as Arcis-on-the-Aube, the boundary of Burgundy, the kingdom of your other grandson, Thierry. But all that is an old story, madam, that is dead and should be forgotten, together with the principal actors in it. Bilichilde is no more; she was last year strangled to death by your grandson, the savage idiot Theudebert himself, who passed from love to hatred; afterwards, beaten at the battle of Tolbiac by his brother, whom you hurled at his head, he was himself shorn of his hair and stabbed to death; finally, his five-year-old son had his skull broken against a stone. Accordingly, that score was thoroughly settled. Were you not amply revenged?"

"No; with me, hatred survives vengeance, it survives death itself, as the dagger survives the murder. No; my vengeance is not yet complete."

"You are not reasonable. To hate beyond the grave is childish at your age."

"And is your mind not yet enlightened by what we have just said?"

"With regard to the two handsome slaves?"

"Yes, with regard to the two pretty girls."

"No, madam, I cannot yet fathom your thoughts."

"Let us, then, proceed, seeing that you have become so obtuse. Tell me, what was the nature of Theudebert, before we gave him Bilichilde for companion?"

"Violent, active, resolute, head-strong and above all proud. At eleven years he already felt the proud ardor of his royal blood. He used to say loftily: 'I am the King of Austrasia! I am master!'"

"And two years after he possessed the dark-complexioned slave with the green eyes and curly hair, whom you so judiciously chose for him, what was then the nature of my grandson? Answer me, Chrotechilde."

"Oh, madam, Theudebert was unrecognizable. Unnerved, irresolute and languid, he had no will except to go from his bed to table, and from table to bed with his concubines. He hardly had enough spirit to hunt with falcons, a woman's amusement; the hunt of wild animals he could not think of, it was too tiring. I was not at all surprised at the change. From being robust, pert and loving noisy games since his early childhood, he became sickly, weak, puny, dreamy, and preferred darkened rooms as if the light of the sun hurt his eyes. In short, he had given promise of becoming a man of large size, but he died stunted and almost beardless."

"It was that I aimed at, Chrotechilde. Precocious debauchery unnerves the soul as much as it does the body. Accordingly Theudebert's issue was not born with vitality enough to survive."

"True enough; I never saw such puny children--but what else could be expected from a dwarfish and almost imbecile father?"

"And yet, as early as his twelfth year, Theudebert used to say haughtily: 'I am the King of Austrasia! I am master!'"

"Yes, but afterwards, whenever you sought to converse with him upon matters of state, and you called his attention to his being King, the boy would regularly answer you in his languid voice and with his eyes half shut: 'Grandmother, I am King of my women, of my amphoras of old wine and of my falcons! Reign in my stead, grandmother; reign in my name, if you please!'"

"And it did please me, Chrotechilde. I reigned in Austrasia for my grandson Theudebert until the day when that vile slave Bilichilde, availing herself of her influence over the imbecile King, drove me from Metz--drove out me--Brunhild!"

"Ever the remembrance of that occurrence! Again does the storm gather over your forehead! Again your eyes shoot lightning! But, by the heavens, madam; the slave has been strangled, the imbecile and his son are both dead--they have both been killed and lie in their graves. I even forgot that, in order to complete the hecatomb of those malefic animals, Quintio, the stewart of the palace and Duke of Champagne, who took an improper part in the affair of Metz, was put to death upon your orders. What more can you wish? Besides, in exchange for the Austrasia that you lost, did you not gain a Burgundy? If Theudebert drove you from Metz, did you not take refuge here, in Chalon, near your other grandson Thierry? Enervated and besotted through overindulgence with the women that we furnished him with, did you not drive him to undertake a merciless war against his own brother, whom he overcame at Toul and Tolbiac, and who, after these defeats, was himself, together with his son put to death, as I reminded you a minute ago? Thus revenged for being exiled from Metz, have you not ever since held sway over Thierry and actually reigned in his stead? When Aegila, the stewart of the palace, made you apprehensive by reason of his growing influence over your grandson, you promptly rid yourself of Aegila, and you substituted him with your lover Protade, who thereupon became the mayor of the palace--"

"But they killed him, Chrotechilde--they killed him--they killed my lover, my Protade!"

"Come, madam; we are here among ourselves; admit that a Queen never suffers any dearth of lovers. You need only choose among the handsomest, the youngest, the most appetizing nobles of the court. Moreover, madam, without meaning to make you any reproaches on that score, if they did kill your Protade, did you not in turn kill their Bishop Didier?"

"Perchance he did not merit his fate?"

"Never was punishment more condign! The wily prelate! He schemed to supplant us in our amorous manoeuvres! Why, the fellow plotted the marriage of your grandson to the Spanish princess, in order to snatch him from the voluptuous life in which we kept him, and thereby withdraw him from your domination! And what happened to the tonsured schemer? The current of the Chalaronne washed his corpse down the stream, while the Spanish woman, upon whom he reckoned in order to evict you and, by means of her, to rule Thierry and through Thierry Burgundy, that Spanish woman has been repudiated by your grandson, she went back to her own country only six months after her wedding, and we have appropriated her dower. Finally, Thierry died this year of a dysentery," added the hag with a horrid smile, "and so you now are absolute mistress and sovereign Queen of this country of Burgundy, seeing that Sigebert, the eldest son of Thierry, your great-grandson, is now only eleven years old. We must prevent these kinglets from dying out, else Fredegonde's surviving son would fall heir to their kingdoms. All that is needed is that they vegetate, in order that you may reign in their stead. Well, madam, they vegetate. But all this takes us far away from the young female slave whom you wish to buy from Samuel."

"On the contrary, Chrotechilde, the review leads us directly to the slave."

"In what manner?"

"There can no longer be any doubt about it; age is softening your brains; formerly so quick to grasp my purposes, it is now fully a quarter of an hour that you have been giving me distressful proofs of your waning intellect."

"I, madam?"

"Yes; in former days, instead of asking me what I intended doing with one of Samuel's slaves, you would have guessed on the spot. I have been able to convince myself at leisure of the senility of your understanding--it is sad, Chrotechilde."

"As sad to me as to you, madam. But deign to explain yourself, I pray you. For me to hear is to obey."

"What! Dullard! You know that I have the guardianship of my great-grandchildren, and yet you stupidly ask me what I propose to do with one of the two pretty slaves! Do you now understand?"

"Oh! Yes! I now begin to understand, madam; but yet your reproaches were unmerited. You forget that Sigebert is not yet eleven."

"All the better! The debauch will begin so much earlier."

"That is true," remarked the other monster with a horrid peal of laughter. "That is true; all the better. The debauch will start so much sooner."

During this shocking conversation the august bronze effigy remained motionless in the case of medals on the ivory stand; it never once as much as winked, nor did its metal mouth utter a cry of malediction to shake the walls of the apartment like a trumpet blast of the day of judgment.

The conversation between the two matrons proceeded.

"You mean to furnish a concubine to your great-grandson, Sigebert," said Chrotechilde to the Queen, "although he is not yet eleven."

"Yes," repeated Brunhild; "but what happened with Bilichilde makes me pause: I do not know which of the two slaves to take. What is your opinion, in view of your experience?"

"The tall brunette who weeps constantly will never be dangerous; she is mild, candid, and stupid as a sheep. There is no fear that the silly thing will ever instil Sigebert with evil thoughts against you."

"I also am strongly inclined in favor of the weepful one; the other girl seems to me rather too bold a piece. The impudent thing never once lowered her eyes before mine, that terrify the otherwise firmest and most daring men."

"It is quite possible, madam, that the frisky little imp may have too large a measure of what the tall one has too little--there may be profit in that. Let us look at things as they are. Sigebert is not yet eleven, he is very childish, thinks only of his top and huckle-bones; besides, he is quiet and timid, a veritable lamb. Now, then, if the tall silly thing associates with him like a sheep--you understand me, madam? On the other hand, the little gay imp might set our lamb afire. I always remember the fear of Theudebert at the sight of the girl with the green eyes and curly hair. The matter requires careful consideration, madam. Let us first study the nature of the two girls. Moreover, there is no great hurry in the matter. Sigebert is now in Germany with Duke Warnachaire, the mayor of the palace of Burgundy."

"They may be back any moment. I should not be surprised to see them back to-day. Moreover, I am in all the greater hurry to procure a slave girl for Sigebert, seeing that I fear Warnachaire may have gained some influence over him during this journey into Germany. If so, whatever influence Warnachaire may have gained over the boy will be speedily lost in his experiences with love."

"But, madam, if you mistrust the duke, why did you confide Sigebert to him?"

"Was it not absolutely necessary for Sigebert to be a part of the embassy? The sight of the royal child, with his sweet face, was certain to interest in his behalf the German tribes on the other side of the Rhine whose alliance Warnachaire was to secure for me. Their troops will double my army. Oh, in this last supreme effort, in this merciless war that will now break out between me and Clotaire II, this son of Fredegonde will be ground to dust--it must be--it must be--my vengeance must be complete."

"And it will be, madam. Until now, your enemies have all fallen under your blows. The death of Fredegonde's son will crown the work. I must, nevertheless, admit that this Duke Warnachaire makes me feel uneasy. Madam, these mayors of the palaces, who, forty-five or fifty years ago, under the reign of the sons of old Clotaire, began with being the intendants of the royal palaces, and who, ever since, have by little and little become the actual governors of the people, I fear me that these mayors of the palaces will end by swallowing up the kings, if the kings do not suppress them. These able folks say to the princes: 'Keep concubines, drink, play, hunt, sleep, squander the money that we fill your treasuries with, enjoy your lives, bother not with matters of government, we shall take charge of that burden.' These are dangerous and wicked proceedings, madam. That a mother, a grandmother should act in that manner towards her sons and grandsons, that is allowable; but with mayors of the palace it becomes usurpation; and this Warnachaire, whom you allowed to retain his office of mayor after Thierry's death is bent, it seems to me, upon dominating Sigebert and ousting you, madam. I know that with the tall or the short slave we shall be able to hold our own against the duke--but never forget your exile from Metz, madam!"

"You are preaching to one already converted. I recently wrote to Aimoin, who returns with Warnachaire, to kill him on the way back."

"Oh, glorious Queen, why did you not say so before! I would have spared you my rhetoric."

"But unfortunately Aimoin failed to carry out my orders. Warnachaire is still alive."

"Why did he not obey?"

"I do not yet know; I may learn the reason to-day."

"At any rate we should not be hasty in thinking ill of Aimoin. Perhaps no favorable opportunity presented itself; who knows but you may yet see him return alone with Sigebert. And if not, once Warnachaire is back at Chalon, in this castle, his fate, madam, will be in the hollow of your hand--and you should not hesitate to strike. Oh, these mayors of the palaces, these mayors of the palaces! I look upon them as the gravest danger to the royal family. You may be certain, madam, that the royal family will never enjoy safety until it will have rid itself of these daily more dangerous rivals."

"We need time to overthrow their power. They have drawn around them all the beneficiary seigneurs whom the royal generosity enriched. Oh! Time! Time! Oh, how short is life. I need time; combined with it, will-power and force can do all. The time that I need is a long reign; I shall have it. The barbarian tribes on the other side of the Rhine have responded to our call; they will join our army. Thanks to their reinforcements, the troops of Clotaire will be crushed, and the son of Fredegonde will fall into my power! Oh! To inflict upon the son a slow death under the protracted tortures that I prepared for his mother! To avenge by his agony the murder of my sister Galeswinthe, and of my husband Sigebert! To take possession of Clotaire's kingdom and reign alone, the undisputed mistress of all Gaul for many a long year! That is my aim. And it will be reached. I feel myself full of life, strength and will-power!"

"You will live a hundred years and more."

"I believe it. I feel it. Aye, I feel within me indomitable will and vitality. To reign! the ambition of great souls! To reign like the Emperors of Rome! I wish to emulate them in all their sovereign omnipotence! I wish to count by the millions the instruments of my will! I wish, by a mere gesture, to cause the power of my arms to be felt from one confine of the world to the other! I wish to increase my kingdom to an infinite extent! I wish to be able to say: 'All these countries, from the nearest to the most distant, belong to me! I wish to concentrate the forces of all nations into my own hands and to cause all the peoples of the earth to bend under my yoke! I wish to raise in all parts of Gaul the marvels of art that now cover Burgundy--fortified castles, magnificent palaces, gold-naved basilicas, wide and interminable highways, prodigious monuments, all of which will in all the centuries to come re-echo the name of Brunhild! Should I allow vulgar scruples to stay my hand, having such grand designs in view? No! No! Could these children whom I unman, could these men whom I kill because they hinder my progress--could they or any of them as much as conceive my gigantic designs? Of what value to the world is the life of these obscure victims? Their bones will have turned to dust, their names will be buried in oblivion, when my name, repeated from age to age, will continue to amaze posterity!"

"And these will be valid reasons for the priests and bishops, who besiege you with applications for grants of land and money, to pardon your crimes."

"I forbid you to say an evil word against the priests; it is they who draw my triumphal car--"

"The team is rather ruinous."

"Not to me. Do the gifts that I bestow upon them impoverish me? Is not that which I give them, the overflow of my overflow? Moreover, they will aid me in restoring the imposts formerly decreed by the emperors, and thereby to replenish my coffers. Here, take this key; open the little coffer yonder on the table, and look for a roll of parchment tied in a purple ribbon."

"Here it is, madam."

"Kiss the parchment, it is written on by the hand of the representative of God on earth, a Pope--the pious Gregory himself--"

"And does the sovereign pontiff, the successor of St. Peter, as he claims, he who holds in his hands the keys of paradise, promise to open them wide for you?"

"It is but just. Have I not amply gilded those keys of paradise? Read over again to me what the parchment contains."

"'Gregory to Brunhild, Queen of the Franks. The manner in which you govern the kingdom and preside over the education of your son give witness to the virtues of your Excellency, virtues that must be praised and that are pleasing to God. You did not content yourself with leaving intact to your son the glory of temporal things, you also laid up for him the great riches of eternal life by causing, with pious maternal solicitude the germs of the true faith to take root in his soul.'"