BERTHE AU GRAND PIED
(BERTHA BROADFOOT)
Based on two romances in verse of the 13th century
Modern French by Loius Brandin 1924
Modern English by Nol Drek 2024
BERTHE AU GRAND PIED (BERTHA BROADFOOT)
Hear ye, Lords, a true story…
One Friday in April, when the meadows were green and the trees were
burning with the desire to be covered in flowers, I went to
Saint-Denis to pray there. I was fortunate because, to reward me
for my piety, God placed me in the presence of a very courteous
monk whose name was Savari. This holy man made me read the
Chronicles which are kept in the noble Abbey: he allowed
me to copy the old parchments where they are written.
This is where I learned the story that follows,
recounting the doleful adventures of Bertha
Broadfoot, the wife of Pépin, the mother
of the great emperor Charlemagne. By
many jongleurs this story has been
treated and mistreated. Listen
today, lords, to the
true story.
CHAPTER 1 - THE EMBASSY
All day King Pépin, the son of the valiant Charles Martel, took active
part in the feasts he gives in his palace. Now the tournaments are over,
the carols have stopped, the wines are drunk, the tablecloths are
removed, the harps, the mandolins, and the lyres are done, as well as
the jongleurs. In the golden candelabras wax twists do not throw more
than a flickering flame. A great silence falls and a minstrel, famous
among everyone, who knows many languages, stands up, approaches King
Pépin, and, accompanied by a vielle, in a soft tone he sings thus:
O king, long live your pomp, your wealth,
Your exquisite dishes and your divine claret.
For every jongleur seeking gold and joy
There is no court except the court of Pépin.
Or if it happens that sometimes on your forehead
We see heavy and painful pain pass by,
Far from it, we need to seek the reason:
The king of the Franks cannot live without a queen.
Sire, I know a maiden in Strigon
With big blue eyes, long golden braids;
There is no more beautiful creature on earth
And her heart is a treasure of kindness.
A simple detail that I was going to forget
And that perfects the outline of this portrait:
The beautiful one is called Lady Bertha with the Big Foot,
Because her right foot is bigger than her left.
Sixteen years ago, Queen Blanchefleur
Gave her as a daughter to King Floire.
For Lady Bertha and her future lord,
Necromancers then predicted great glory
"From them there will be born," they said, "a valiant king,
The flower of nobility and chivalry,
Who will exalt the law of the Christians
And will destroy the vile hated people."
But I see the wax melting from the twisted candles:
One more word, just one, and I will be silent:
Do what you must and for a long time, Lord,
May you live in love and peace!
The minstrel has finished. He bows deeply before the king, with whom he
remains alone with the high barons, while the other guests withdraw.
Duke Aquilon of Bavaria, leaning on a knotted stick, then addresses King
Pépin. "Sire, the song of this master jongleur tells you what we all
think. You cannot refuse to give your approval to his advice. If you did
not remarry, if you did not have a son, you know that your vassals, one
against the other, would be incited to fight to dispute your
inheritance."
Pépin smiles and replies, "You, jongleur, your verses please me very
much and I feel beautifully in love with the maiden of whom you sang so
well. For your advice, now here are rich robes of silk from the Orient
and samite from Syria, and a palfrey with a golden saddle. Moreover, the
day when I become Bertha's husband, I will cover you with so much gold,
silver, goods, and riches, that you will no longer have to worry about
the art of the jongleur and, at your complete ease, you will be able to
lead a joyful and indolent life. As for the rest of you, my high barons,
be thanked for your frank words. I accept with all my heart the wishes
you express for me and my lineage. Tomorrow, you, Aquilon of Bavaria,
Bernard of Clermont, and Grifon of Hautefeuille, will leave with nine of
my noblest other vassals. You will go to find the King of Hungary, the
rich and valiant Floire. You will tell him that I would like to marry
his daughter, if she is willing to accept a man who is only five and a
half feet tall and who is young, but far from handsome. Return from your
embassy as quickly as possible. If you bring Bertha back to me, long
live my Joy - although I would have preferred to see my wife's two feet
of equal smallness. If by chance you return here without her, there is
more than one noble and kind lady of whom we could think well."
With that, the high barons withdrew. Young Pépin, somewhat tired of the
feasts and emotions of the day, retires to his solitary and royal bed.
And the story says, that night his sleep was singularly restless and in
his dreams many beauties passed, some with small feet, others with
medium feet, others with very large feet, others, finally, with feet of
wildly unequal dimensions.
* * *
The next day, on their richly caparisoned coursers, the twelve
messengers, clad in their golden armor, spur their horses, without
forgetting the provisions and presents which are loaded on the backs of
thirty choice mules that are as fast as the most experienced destriers.
They cross France and Germany and soon find themselves in Strigon, the
capital of the Kingdom of Hungary. Over the field they go, at the
invitation of King Floire, who was waiting for them at dinner.
Seeing the dishes served on boards laid directly on the marble slabs of
the great hall, they are filled with surprise and suddenly their
laughter bursts out. "Ha! Ha!" said the valiant Duke Aquilon of Bavaria,
"Lord king, are we so poor in your country? Do your noble barons live
here like the crooks and the common people do? If you see no harm in it,
tomorrow we will set up tables on trestles. Around them we will place
benches with backs. This is how knights and city dwellers in France like
to settle down to have a good meal. You will take a seat next to us and
you will recognize that, to eat, this posture is very pleasant and
particularly helps digestion. However, we have a great hunger and an
urgent mission. We will lie down on the ground to taste your dishes and
your wines, and in return I will deliver you the message of my lord, the
king of the Franks."
* * *
While spinning wool, Bertha arrives to create a tapestry of a thousand
things with her mother's motto on it. Suddenly, King Floire of Hungary
enters. "Hear this great news!" he cries. "My daughter, the king of the
Franks wants to take you as his wife."
"The king of the Franks!" said Bertha. She lets go of her spindles,
blushes, and a gentle warmth penetrates her body. "The king of the
Franks! What a knight of high renown! He must surpass all others in
beauty and grandeur!"
"No, my daughter," said King Floire, "the messengers have said of him
that he is small and ugly."
"Is it possible, father?"
"But his shoulders are thick and his sides are broad."
"Ah!" said Blanchefleur, "is that all that has been confided to you?"
"No, not all. Although his body is small, his courage is unlike any
other. One day, and this happened several years ago, a lion escaped from
a cage and appeared in the gardens of the palace where King Charles
Martel, father of Pépin, was feasting with a large company. The
ferocious beast knocks down two young noblemen who are playing on the
grass and it chews them with his teeth. Seeing this, Pépin enters a
room, takes down a lance, rushes against the lion and, without a minute
of hesitation, pierces it with a confident blow. The beast rolls dead at
his feet."
"Oh, my father! Is it possible that a body so small houses a heart so
valiant! To such a hero, who could refuse her love?"
"This, my daughter, is what I had to say to you. The messengers of King
Pépin await your response and want it as quickly as possible. Pépin is
king and does not like delays."
"Daughter," said the queen, "before making a decision, think carefully.
You are so beautiful, despite the singular shape of your feet! Do you
think such a husband would suit you? You are still a young maiden and
you have only just entered your sixteenth year. We have plenty of gold,
silver, lands, and fiefs. We can still keep you with us, and for you it
would be easy to find a man of good countenance, of tall stature, who
would be more attractive to you than this little infant."
"He is small, my mother, but small trees often bear good fruit and there
are large ones that are worth neither a penny nor a stitch."
"My daughter, it is true that a husband built like King Pépin can give
great pleasures of love to his wife. Besides, whoever you marry, whether
big or small, you will have to live thousands of days and thousands of
nights with him. How, if you have never seen him, can you know that you
will like this Pépin?"
"The King of France wants me as his wife. He will make me the Queen of
France. Think, my mother. I will wear a crown of shining gold on my
head! Can I ever aim to a higher destiny? I am sure I will love such a
husband. To tell you, my mother, I already love him."
"In you, girl, I recognize my blood. No count, no marquis, even your
father, the King of Hungary, dares to hold my gaze when I stare straight
into their eyes. Like me, you have a bold heart and you are quick to
decide. Stay here. I will speak to the messengers of the king of the
Franks myself."
* * *
When Queen Blanchefleur sees the knights of France and their golden
helms which flash with a thousand sparkles in the sun, she feels filled
with jubilation. She determines which one has the most brilliant armor
and quickly grabs his hand. She shows him a most amiable face and
addresses him with sweet words, "Sir messenger, you are greatly thanked
for coming to our court, as are those who accompany you. And may my
response give joy to all of you! My daughter, bright-faced Bertha,
already loves your king. Yes, you can take her with you to sweet France.
And now, lords, you appear so fine and your armor shines with such
splendor that I would like to know who you are and to which valiant
knights I will entrust my daughter."
"Lady," said Aquilon of Bavaria, "we are the high barons of the king of
the Franks. The least of us owns many castles and cities. That your
daughter is destined to become the companion of such a king, such a
valiant knight, of such heart and courage, must fill your heart with
happiness and pride."
Queen Blanchefleur smiled happily. "Who are you then, noble lord, who
speaks so beautifully? Are you a count or duke, and are you a friend of
the king?"
"Lady queen, my name is Aquilon of Bavaria. I have supreme affection for
King Pépin and, of all his high barons, it is me that he holds most
dear. So, he appointed me as chief of the messengers you see here."
"Sire, I have often heard of your rare virtues. Your visage is as
beautiful as your great fame. I entrust my daughter to you. Lead her to
your king and let him do his will!"
"Queen, a thousand thanks! But before taking your daughter, I must tell
you this. In our kingdom there is an inviolable custom. When one of our
kings takes a wife, he has her stripped of all her clothes and he
observes her carefully from the front and from behind. If there is any
defect in her that she must hide, she must say goodbye to marriage."
"Lord, that is a strange custom and these words surprise me somewhat.
May the will of the King of the Franks be obeyed! One who examines my
daughter will find she has nothing to hide, except that her right foot
is larger than her left. In her you will only find a subject of
admiration."
"Queen, I have full confidence in you and your word will be enough for
me."
"No, lord. I do not want to give anyone the opportunity or pretext to
blame me. Choose one of your companions and follow me together into this
room. In my presence you will be able to see the noble maiden and
examine her at your leisure. You will be pleased by everything that
appears to you."
"At your orders, Queen. Bernard of Clermont and I will follow you to the
room of Bertha with the big foot and clear visage."
CHAPTER 2 - THE DEPARTURE OF BERTHA BROADFOOT
"My daughter, now that the high barons have judged you in every way
worthy of the king of the Franks, listen to my advice."
"Let me recover from my turmoil, my mother. I certainly had no idea that
there had to be such ceremonies before the wedding."
"My daughter, think now only of the great love and the shining golden
crown that awaits you. Before we part, listen to my words. It is a king
of a foreign country that you are going to join. I will have fifteen
mules loaded with red gold, white silver, coats of brocaded silk, shirts
white as meadow flowers, coats trimmed with embroidery and adorned with
precious stones, bliauds, silk hose, and gray and white squirrel furs.
You will distribute your funds to the poor and the children. You will
distribute robes and vestments to the noble knights, to their ladies,
and to the minstrels. To everyone, great and small, you will always show
courtesy and a good face. You will constantly strive to please the
sergeants and the squires as much as the most powerful knights and
barons. As for the one who will be your lord and master, you will give
him complete and loyal love. You will faithfully obey all his desires
and whatever he may demand of you, you will never refuse him anything."
"So it shall be, my mother."
"Lady Blanchefleur," said King Floire, "the messengers are eager to
return to their lord. Take care to provide Bertha with what she needs
and see that she lacks nothing of all the things necessary for royal
brides."
"Lord king," replies Queen Blanchefleur, "be careful with your speeches.
I already have advised her of everything. Not a sole is missing from our
daughter's shoes and her ceremonial dress has been completely renewed."
Bertha kneels before King Floire and takes leave of him, shedding many
tears.
"Bertha with the clear visage, do not be so sorrowful. Your mother will
accompany you as far as she can. For me, stuck in this palace, I let you
go by giving you a kiss of peace, happiness, and love. One last word,
follow your mother's advice and be like her in every way."
"God save you, my father!" said Bertha, giving King Floire a sweet kiss
mixed with tears.
And there she was, mounted on her bay palfrey.
* * *
For three days they all rode, the high barons of King Pépin, Bertha
Broadfoot, and Queen Blanchefleur with some of her retinue. They stop at
the edge of a meadow. On the green grass, black woolen sheets were
thrown to allow the noble ladies to rest without fear of damaging their
magnificent dresses.
"Bertha, my daughter," said Queen Blanchefleur, "the time has come to
say our goodbyes. Before leaving me, remove the golden ring from your
finger and entrust it to me. Once I return, I will often cover it with
kisses and tears and, when I take it between my fingers, I will feel the
gentle caress of your hand more keenly."
"What grief I feel, my mother, in leaving you like this!"
"So that the separation will be less harsh, I will give you Margiste,
her daughter Aliste, and their cousin Tibert. I redeemed all three from
serfdom and you know how affectionate they are for us. Margiste saw you
born and never left you for an instant in your life. Aliste was raised
like your own sister, no two meadow flowers are more alike than the two
of you, and when you were side by side during our ride, I could barely
distinguish one from the other. As for Tibert, you can also count on his
dedication. Show friendship and courtesy towards him, and towards
Margiste and Aliste, and you cannot fail to have good and faithful
companions in them."
"As you wish, my sweet mother. I will love them like my family. I will
always rely on their advice. I will help them with anything they need
and I will try to marry Aliste highly and honorably."
"May God reward you for your goodness, dear daughter! And now I will be
able to return to your noble father with a less heavy heart. I do not
like to leave him for long in his palace of Strigon without my advice."
"My sweet mother, God keep you!"
"I would die of pain if you were to suffer due to bad luck."
"Oh, my sweet mother, do not go away! It seems to me that a dagger blade
is penetrating my heart in my chest."
"What foolish words, my daughter! Now be all joyous and cheerful. You
are going to France. This should reassure you, because there is no
country in the world where there is more gentleness and kindness. To
God, through whom the sun shines, I commend you, my daughter."
Many tears are still shed. Queen Blanchefleur climbs back onto her
palfrey. More than once, she turns around to see Bertha again, who never
takes her eyes off her. Suddenly, the Queen of Hungary disappears around
the corner of the road and Bertha falls swooning on a sheet of black
wool.
CHAPTER 3 - THE MARRIAGE OF BERTHA
In the still fresh air of a pretty August morning, in the woods where
the birds chirp softly, the hills covered with vineyards, the broad
green sheet of a river where light boats garlanded with roses glide,
tall towers, hundreds of houses, some two stories high, with wooden
walls decorated with green branches or lined with gold, silver, or rich
purple cloth, the streets strewn with grass and so wide that the
numerous floats which travel down them can pass through without danger
to the flowers with which they are decorated, in the meadows, where the
perfume that rises from the censers mixes with the sweet odor of the
plants, the ladies who, adorned in their richest finery, sing in
accompaniment of their own song, or dance with knights to the sound of
vielles, mandolins, and harps, the notes of twenty bells ring out
joyfully from all points of the city. It is Paris, Paris during a
festival, which awaits Bertha Broadfoot and all her entourage.
When the watchmen give the signal of arrival, one thousand seven hundred
knights, clad in their gold and silver armor on their richly caparisoned
coursers, ride to the front of the procession. A crowd of nobles,
townsfolk, and peasants follows them as fast as their legs can move.
From ten thousand breasts comes the cry, "Welcome to the queen!" Bertha
feels her heart melting within her with emotion. With her right hand,
she gracefully greets the crowd and, as she passes, everyone says, "By
Saint Clement, what a young and charming maiden we have in our new
lady!"
Bertha stops in front of the steps of the palace. Lords come running.
They help her to descend from her bay palfrey. Then they lead her into
the paved hall, decorated with tapestries in shimmering hues. Pépin sees
the maiden enter. He gets up and with his rough right hand he grasps the
gentle hand whose sweetness delights him.
"Welcome to you, lady!" he said. "May we spend thousands of days and
nights together in our palace full of happiness!"
On an oak chair, softened by soft feather duvets, Bertha sits next to
Pépin. She leans against the high back with dignity and places her feet,
shod in cordovan embroidered with gold, on the stool nonchalantly.
"Saint Mary," said Pépin to himself, "they both seem the same size to
me. Is this illusion produced by the artifice of a skillful worker? Or
did the master jongleur lie to me and try to make a fool of himself? In
any case, I will soon know for sure!"
Pépin gets up again. "Lady queen, the days have seemed very long since I
have been waiting for you, so we will go to the church without delay. I
cannot wait to see the crown on your head, whose gold will blend so well
with that of your long blonde tresses. Much more, I am eager to receive
the kiss of peace and place it immediately on your lips. Moreover, I am
very hungry and I will not feel any mourning in going to the feast with
you, when we have been blessed in the church."
"Lord, I feel a little tired from my long ride, but I would not want to
delay your meal and my happiness for a moment, not for anything in the
world."
* * *
Under the tents set up in the king's garden, the feast has been going on
for hours. The rays of the setting sun purple the blue silk of the
master pavilion where Pépin and Bertha, surrounded by the highest barons
and the noblest ladies, indulge in sweet words of love. When the
servants come to light the large wax candles, Bertha raises her hand to
her head to adjust her rich golden crown, truly so rich that in a fair
sale she would have been paid a hundred thousand marks and more, and she
said to the king, "Lord, on my way to church today and on my way back, I
heard too many jongleurs to want to hear again those who are now going
to present themselves. Neither Gautier, so skilled on the vielle, nor
Garnier, unparalleled on the harp, nor the famous flute player whom you
praised so much and whose name I cannot remember, could hold my
interest. It also makes me sad not to be able to dance the first dance
of the ball with you. But I feel so tired that I must take leave of
you."
CHAPTER 4 - THE TREASON
In her room, Bertha rests for a few moments, breathing in the smell of
herbs, roses, gladioli, and rushes that have been placed there on the
king's orders. Then she calls Margiste.
"Lady queen," said the servant, "you know how I love and cherish you.
So, I would like to tell you a big secret."
"What is this, my good Margiste? Your sad face fills my heart with fear
and anguish."
"Only my affection for you pushes me to speak to you as I am going to
do, if you grant me it."
"Speak, my good Margiste."
"Lady queen, know that on the first night of a new love, King Pépin has
never known how to show the slightest consideration. Sometimes his ardor
changes to such violence that he only thinks of killing the one in his
arms."
"Lord God! Is it possible? I cannot believe that the heart of the one
who just spoke sweet words of love to me could be so cruel. From whom
have you heard this terrible thing?"
"From one of his high barons, whose name I cannot reveal to you and who
greatly fears that this night your royal husband will have such a fate
in store for you."
Bertha bows her head and tears flow freely from her eyes.
"This was confided to me long ago, but I kept waiting to reveal it to
you."
"What to do?" said Bertha. "My premonitions have not deceived me! Oh
Lord, what adventures in a few weeks! I already felt overwhelmed with
lassitude. This new ordeal will make me lose my senses."
"Lady queen, do not fall into such turmoil! Here is what I thought of to
save you."
"Speak, my good Margiste."
"Once the royal bed is blessed, I will bring all the lords and ladies
who remain there out of the room! You will come to the next room where
you will spend the night with me. My little Aliste, who will be
completely undressed, will jump into Pépin's bed and slip into the place
you left empty. I will extinguish all the candles lighting the room and
Pépin will not suspect anything.
"But will he kill Aliste, like he would have killed me?"
"Aliste has more experience with men than you. Moreover, she is of rare
vigor. If the king shows any criminal intent, she will be able to
successfully defend herself, I hope. I confided this plan to her and she
gives her complete approval. She loves you to the point that, for your
sake, she will not shy away from any affront or danger. But, for your
part, observe exactly what I am going to tell you. At dawn you will wake
up. Pépin will still be plunged in a deep sleep. You will push the door
of the room that Aliste will have left open. Aliste will then tell you
how you should act. Follow the orders she gives you to the letter. When
Pépin wakes up, he will find you at his side and will never suspect the
trick we played on him."
"My good Margiste, I will do just as my sweet sister commands me."
"In your future loves after this night you will no longer have anything
to fear, and from then on you will be able to enjoy the ardor of your
husband without the slightest risk of it being fatal to you."
"My good Margiste, a thousand big thanks to you, to Aliste, and to the
Lord God and to all his saints who have inspired you so beautifully!"
* * *
"How great is my happiness to think that tomorrow I will be able to
sleep without danger in the arms of my lord, the king of the Franks!"
murmurs Bertha as she falls asleep in Margiste’s bed.
········································································
"The minstrel made a jest at my expense. Her two feet were equally
small, but what amazes me is that I have never found a finer ankle in
the daughter of a queen or a king. It does not matter to me after all.
In love, this girl from Hungary certainly has no equal and it would not
surprise me to receive a robust offspring from her in a few months."
This is what Pépin thinks as he falls asleep, happy and tired.
········································································
"Tomorrow I will be the mother of a queen!" sneers the hideous Margiste,
casting a cruel look on Bertha's peaceful face.
········································································
"Tomorrow I will be queen of the Franks!" thinks Aliste the deceitful,
impatient under her blanket.
········································································
"Tomorrow I will speak to the barons of Pépin as their master!" Tibert
said to himself while stroking his moustache.
········································································
* * *
In the broad royal bed Aliste opens her eyes. She slowly extends her
right arm and carefully pulls open the rich curtains. Without wrinkling
it, she wraps the sheet around her. Without taking her eyes off Pépin,
who is sleeping soundly, she glides like a cat over the grass and
flowers that cover the flagstones. She pulls the latch and opens the
door without making it creak.
Tibert is at his post. He hands a dagger to the servant Aliste. "Take
it," he whispers, "in a few moments Bertha will be here. Your mother and
I will follow her closely."
Aliste is careful to push the door without closing it. Then she sits
down slowly on the blanket. With great care she passes the point of the
dagger on her thigh. The blood flows a little but she persists and the
blood flows more strongly and at great length. Quickly Aliste wrapped
herself in her sheet.
Bertha tiptoed in and approached. "What a joy to see you alive, my sweet
sister!"
"Hold this dagger tightly in your hand and do not let it fall until I
signal you. The success of our enterprise depends on this."
Suddenly there is a shrill cry. "Lord Pépin, help me! It is your wife
who is being murdered!"
"What is it? Who is there?" exclaims Pépin, awakened with a start.
In the room lit by dawn, he sees a woman holding a sharp blade stained
with blood in her hand. Near this woman he recognizes Margiste and
Tibert. He throws himself out of bed and sees the sheet in which the
queen is wrapped stained red. "Who dared to commit such a crime?" he
shouts.
"Lord king, I am truly ashamed to say it. I would never have believed
that in Aliste, my daughter, there was such a vile soul. In her favor, I
do not even dare to cry for mercy. All the love I can feel for her is
destroyed by her crime. Go, I curse you, unworthy serf!"
"Bind Aliste, and take her out of here," shouts Pépin.
Then the old woman gives Bertha a strong blow to the eyes that
completely blurs her vision. The maiden, however, does not show her
emotions, as confidence is so strongly planted in her heart. The hideous
old woman pushes her out of the room. Tibert grabs her and pulls her
with such violence that he tears her coat.
"God," cries Bertha, "God, my Lord, these people certainly want to ruin
me. Is it in vain that I implore your help?"
She wants to speak again, but Tibert takes a thick rope handed to him by
the hideous old woman. By force he opens Bertha's mouth and, using the
rope like a bit that you put on a horse, he passes it between her teeth
and ties it so tightly on the back of her neck that for a hundred
thousand marks the unfortunate maiden would not have been able to say a
word. Then he ties her hands. He throws her on a bed and tosses a sheet
over her body.
"Hey! Now we will listen to you," said Tibert, snickering.
"If you move at all," adds the hideous old woman, "we will not delay in
cutting off the cursed head that you carry on your shoulders."
Bertha raises her eyes to pray to the God of majesty, but her eyes see
nothing under the sheet which smothers her. She tries to move, but she
cannot move at all. Her soft chest gasps and she falls into a swoon.
"Tibert, watch her carefully," said Margiste, "while I go and get orders
from the king and queen."
* * *
The hideous Margiste composes a face of sorrow, mournful and full of
ire. "Lady queen," she said, "in the name of him who made the sky and
the dew, I ask you for mercy! If you knew…"
"Be quiet," interrupts the king, "Your treason is certain. Together, you
and your daughter wanted to assassinate the queen, my wife. Your
daughter will be burned and you with her."
"Lord king," Aliste interjects, "do not dare make such an accusation.
The thought of treason never entered into the mind of the serf Margiste.
From here to the Frozen Sea, you could not find a more virtuous and
devoted woman. Towards her daughter she has always shown too much
weakness, this is the mistake she has always made. Lord, you took me as
your wife and placed the golden crown on my head, grant the first prayer
that I address to you. By the faith that you have sworn to me, promise
me to keep secret and hidden the crime that has just taken place. Shame
and dishonor would crush me if it was known what young girl I had chosen
for my companion. Order three of your servants to seize her and take her
to a far country. I don't care what torture will be inflicted on her,
provided that her death is not delayed."
"Lady queen," agrees Margiste, "these are wise words. By my soul, I
would like to see the wench beheaded or drowned in water to fall into
the power of the devil."
"Lady queen," says Pépin, "may your request be granted! I am going to
find the three sergeants myself and give them my orders."
"Lord king," Aliste begs, "do not leave me alone for long. I suffer so
much from my injury. Your choice made, come back here. Margiste and
Tibert will take care of the rest."
"Sweet queen," said Pépin, "so it will be."
"Lord king," Margiste continues, "have full confidence in me. In the
name of my just Lord, I will take such measures that you will never hear
from this murderess again. It is not my daughter who dared to treat my
lady queen so cruelly, whom I cherish so much. So that you have no doubt
about the effect of your revenge, I will order Tibert to tear this
wench's heart out of her chest and he will bring it to you in your
palace."
"So be it, faithful Margiste," cries Pépin. As for you, sweet beloved,
forget this girl. I am completely overwhelmed when I think that, if she
had stayed here for a long time, she would have killed you with a dagger
or with a subtle drink."
CHAPTER 5 - THE FOREST OF LE MANS
Bertha rides on a roussin. Many blankets were piled on top of her so
that no one would recognize her. Tibert and the king's three sergeants,
Morant, Godfrey, and Bertrand, accompany her. The sad ride lasts for
five days and five nights. At each stop, Tibert locks poor Bertha alone
in a room. Noone other than him can approach her. He only removes the
rough gag from her mouth to allow her to eat bread and water. And, to
frighten her and to prevent her from speaking and making noise, while
she drinks and eats, he points his sword blade at her, which he holds
bare in his hand. Finally, when the poor queen finished her meager meal,
he hastened to put the rope between her teeth, to tie her hands, and she
remained alone until the following dawn.
Under an olive tree, on the sixth day, everyone stops. "Lords," said
Tibert, "we have arrived in the forest of Le Mans. By Saint Richer, we
have no need to continue our march, let us dismount."
With that, Tibert and the three sergeants dismount. Tibert immediately
rushes at Bertha, throwing her roughly from her mount and stripping her
of her blankets and clothes. "Companions," he sneers, "see how beautiful
she is. Now that she is stripped of her purple cloak and her white coat
and the only clothing that she has is this rope which she bites with her
pretty teeth. You will quickly judge my skill in handling the blade.
With one fell blow, I am going to cut off her head."
"Stop!" said Morant, holding back Tibert's already raised arm. "Stop! By
the Almighty, if you try to touch her, it is you whose head and limbs
will soon be cut off by my own sword, even if the price for my action is
that I will never be able to return to France."
Bertha lies naked on the heath. She places her mouth gently on the
grass, because the rope does not allow her to utter a word.
"Back off, I tell you, and let me get this over with as soon as
possible."
"You have a heart as hard as stone," cries Morant. "By our sweet Lord
Jesus, if you do her the slightest harm, I affirm that all the gold in
Germany will not prevent me from littering the ground of this wood with
your corpse. Come, Godfrey and Bertrand, seize this evildoer by the
sides and do not let go of him until you have received my order."
With this, he removes the gag from Bertha's mouth. He removes the bonds
from her slender, white hands. "I will help you, beautiful lady, to lace
up your bliaud. My wife Geneviève has long accustomed me to such a
service and she often praises me for the skill I have acquired. Take
your coat too and run away as quickly as possible. May the sweet
goodness of God guide you and remove you from all danger!"
"Lord Morant," said Bertha, chattering her teeth, "thank you very much!
And may God allow me one day to repay you for your good heart!"
When Bertha has disappeared in the distance, at a sign from Morant, the
two sergeants allow Tibert to move. "All three of you have committed a
vile felony," cries Tibert. "As soon as the three of us return, I will
have you hanged."
"Alas," sighs Morant, "my heart tightens with mourning and pity. This
forest is full of bears, wolves, and leopards and it will not take long
for the unfortunate woman to be devoured. You see, Lord Tibert, that
despite everything, you will have your revenge."
"It is true," replies Tibert. "But the heart of the young girl that I
had promised Margiste, how can I give it to her?"
"Listen to me. We will cut out the heart of a pig and present it to Lady
Margiste. If you refuse to do so, Tibert, we will kill you."
"This is very good advice, said Tibert, and capable of destroying all
suspicion against us."
········································································
A few days later, at the palace of Pépin, there were only happy people.
"We are at peace now. She was, let us face it, the worst young girl in
the world!" exulted Margiste, throwing the heart that Tibert had brought
into her hand.
"Tibert," said Aliste, lovingly embracing her cousin, "Jesus be praised!
For your work you have well deserved to become my friend."
And Pépin bestowed gold, silver, and rich robes of white and gray
squirrel fur to the minstrel who had discovered his good and noble
bride.
* * *
A storm rises, lightning illuminates the sky, and the sound of thunder
mixes with the howls of wolves and the cries of barn owls.
The rain falls in torrents and the wind twists the trees and breaks many
branches. As sometimes happens in August, the cold follows the fierce
heat. What a cruel ordeal for a lady who, without any company, finds
herself alone in a wood! "Ah! God!" said Bertha, kneeling on the
dripping grass, "have pity on me! If I did not feel you were ready to
help me, I would lose my mind. Holy Mary, noble mother of Jesus, come to
my aid in my torment! Save me from the cruelty of Margiste, this hideous
woman. I place my fate in your hands and I beg you to lead me to a
refuge such that no cruel beast can devour me."
Her prayer finished, Bertha gets up. She advances with painful steps.
There is no mule loaded with chests, no crate from which she can take
sheets, and no house in sight where she can find shelter. She is tired.
Her face is pale. Ah! Know it well, she hardly thinks about dancing or
swinging. She lifts her mud-covered skirt with difficulty. Hunger and
thirst torment her. She would like to drink, but she only finds water as
cloudy as beer and she does not dare to taste it. Shivering with fear,
she looks to right and left, spreads the sides of her coat, kneels,
sheds tears on a cross on the grass, lies down, and kisses the earth
with her lips.
"My sweet mother, if you knew what an evil adventure I fell into, your
heart would break in your chest. Ah! will I ever see you again, as well
as my noble father, King Floire, and my sister who legally married the
Duke of Saxony? When I was married to the powerful King Pépin, I thought
I had ascended to high honor, but my mistake was cruel and I see very
clearly that everything is going from bad to worse for me! And how can I
tell anyone in the world that I am alone and abandoned in this forest?"
She pronounces these words pitifully. She shivers in her coat. She pulls
the top of her bliaud down over her face to protect herself from the
cold and she falls into a swoon on a rock.
* * *
She comes to her senses and sets off again. A sharp stone pierces her
shoe and penetrates deep into her flesh. The blood flows as if she had
been punctured by a nail. "Ah! I am tired!" she said, "I would shout,
but I fear in doing so I would attract the wild beasts that howl around
me. Ah! King Pépin, I barely share in your possessions, you have so much
and I have so little." Despite the pain, she keeps walking. The brambles
tear her dress which she ties over her body again and again. She sits on
a seat made of a horse-drawn hoe that she happens to find on her way.
But her faith in God does not lose strength and she often addresses him
and his sweet mother.
"Ah! fortune," she said, "how you make me pout! How you plunged me into
the mud from so high! Certainly, I am not to be compared to the fish
that swims in water. I am more like the finch or the lark that the hawk
holds in its claws. God, you know that I belong to you entirely. May you
obtain from your mother that she will have love and pity for me and that
she will take me to paradise, she who has snatched the souls of so many
sinners from the hands of the devil!"
* * *
The queen fled deep into the woods. She found a shelter made up of seven
or eight shrubs. But in vain she gives up on raw or cooked food, no
bread, no meat, no wine, no cakes, and no biscuits. She bows her
fainting head on her chest. She protects herself from the wind by
pulling a few branches over her.
"God," she said, "what dangers I face! Certainly, this hiding place was
built by wild beasts, they will soon return. They will not wait until I
have been cooked to eat me. They will devour me alive and raw with as
much pleasure as a wolf swallows a trout. What a sad palace for me, the
wife of King Pépin! Neither house, nor room, nor floors, no duvet, no
cushion, no sheet, no pillow, no rug to relax my body on, neither lady,
nor maid, nor sergeant, nor squire to serve me and comfort me!" She
piles up olive leaves into a small mound and stretches out her body,
exhausted with fatigue.
Suddenly there is a noise, a rustling of branches. Bertha stands up.
"Jesus!" she said, "it is a beast that is coming to eat me." She
listens, trembling and quivering, and she hears two men talking.
"The pretty white bliaud," said one. "I am going to run and kiss the
beauty who wears it."
And the other responds, "Good bargain! Better than the merchants we were
lying in wait for."
"What? You are going to leave her to me, you vile felon! By Saint
Richier, she will belong to me!"
"Truly, kind sir, you consider yourself worthy of such a morsel of the
king! One more word and you will pay dearly for it!"
Then there is the sound of a struggle and Bertha sees the two bandits
fall. Their blood flows onto the wet grass. In their fierce struggle,
they had each plunged their dagger into the other's chest.
Meanwhile, Bertha fears seeing them appear again. She rolls up her
bliaud and her coat. She draws new strength from her fear. She slides
quickly along a narrow path and throws herself down behind a thorn bush.
She does not dare to move or speak a word until the dark of night.
Finally, she begins to cry. "Ah! Night, how long you are going to be!
What are you going to bring me? And tomorrow I will not know where to
go. There is indeed something to torment me madly. I will die from cold
or heat without much delay or, before dawn, the beasts will have
devoured me! Mother of God, I beg you, please pray to your very dear and
sweet son to come and advise me. I really need it very much." Then she
gets down on her knees and once again she kisses the earth. "Saint
Julien," she said, "you who bring help to lost travelers, watch over
me." She then recites the Pater Noster in a weakening voice.
At the edge of a mound, near a river, she places her head on a piece of
rock. She covers her head and body from front to back with a little
fern. Because she greatly fears the hard and sharp wind, she lies down
on the right side. She crosses herself in the name of God and the Virgin
Mary. Tears fall from her eyes and now Queen Bertha is asleep.
O Lord God, watch over her and may the hideous Margiste and the felon
Tibert perish to evil deaths!
* * *
Bertha had a hard night's sleep. She wakes up, shivering with cold. She
looks to the right and to the left. She thinks it is broad daylight, but
dawn has not yet broken and the moon shines brightly in a clear sky.
"Ah! Lord God," she said, "where will I find something to eat? I am so
hungry that I no longer have the strength to think! Ah! My sweet mother,
whom I loved so much, and you, my father, who, barely a month ago, when
I left my good city of Strigon, gave me such a sweet kiss of peace,
happiness, and love, you will never see me again and I will never kiss
you again."
She kneels and hides her forehead in her hands, tight with cold, hunger,
and weariness. "Ah! Lord God," she said, "You allowed yourself to be
nailed to the cross to bring salvation to your people. For your passion,
everyone must give you their love, because in Paradise you elevate those
who only think of adoring you in their suffering. Since this is your
will, Lord, I am ready to endure all pain. Save me, Lord, from the
danger in which I am, and for your love, here I make this vow. As long
as I am alive, I will never tell anyone that I am the daughter of a king
and that I am the bride of Pépin. Never, even in my new condition and my
illustrious marriage, will I utter a word. In one and only one case will
I make an exception. I will only say who I am if people want to bring
shame and disgrace to my body. I want to keep my virginity, because a
girl who has lost it can never get it back. If necessary, from one hour
to the next I will go and beg for alms. May God and his Blessed Mother
grant me to keep my vow and deserve their love!"
CHAPTER 6 - ENCOUNTER WITH THE HERMIT
Although it is August, it is still freezing with a lot of rain and hail.
Not far from her, Bertha sees a spring. She, who has not had the
slightest food or drink for so many hours, leans over the water and
drinks it in large drafts. But she begins to shiver from the cold and,
to warm herself, she strides along a narrow path.
"Ah!" she suddenly exclaims, "Here is a hut in front of me. God, be
greatly thanked. You put me on the right path and you were kind enough
to save me."
A mallet which appears very old hangs from the thatch-covered hut.
Bertha grabs it and strikes with strong, rapid blows. An old man with a
long white beard comes immediately.
"In the name of our Lord God, honest man, I salute you. Your face shines
with kindness. Out of charity let me come in and have a little rest and
food. There is no need to tell you how weak and exhausted I am, you can
already see it from my clothes and my face."
"O Lord God!" said the man, "In the many years that I have lived as a
hermit in this forest of Mans, I have never seen so beautiful a woman.
My heart is moved and from your clear face I cannot turn my amazed eyes
away. It is certainly the devil who sends me temptation, but he will
have no hold over me if against his ruse, God, whom I have recognized as
Lord, deigns to strengthen me." Then, having crossed himself, he said
"Please tell me, beautiful lady, do you believe in God?"
"Lord, my whole heart belongs to him..."
"Where were you born? And how did you lose your way in this thick wood?"
"Lord, I am a poor and abandoned woman. Let me in and I will tell you
who I am and where I come from. Nothing will be kept from you."
"Beautiful lady, I am very sorry that I must refuse your request, but a
hermit does not allow any woman to enter his house, whether in summer or
winter. I have kept this vow for years and nothing can make me break
it.”
"Lord hermit, could God not inspire a little pity for an unfortunate
woman?"
"Hold! Take this bread, it is not sifted, it is black and full of stalks
of wheat."
"I thank you greatly, but I am so exhausted that I have no strength to
taste it. I feel like I could not swallow a crumb. Do you cry, holy
man?"
"Certainly, beautiful lady, you seem to me to be a loyal and good woman,
but the evil one is very powerful and so subtle are his ways! If, as I
believe, you have consecrated yourself to God, you will not want to make
me break my vow."
"Do you live alone in this wood? In the surrounding area, is there
anyone who is not a hermit and can offer me lodging?"
"Beautiful lady, do not let wrath penetrate your heart. Listen to me
carefully. Not far from here, in a manor called Florimès, Simon the
Voyer lives with his wife Constance and his two daughters, Isabelle and
Eglante. They are all people known far and wide for their love for God
and their kindness for their neighbors. Go find them. They will offer
you good lodging and take good care of you."
"Lord, I find myself in great embarrassment. I am very grateful for your
advice, but how can I find the house of Simon the Voyer if no one shows
me the road that leads there?"
"Beautiful lady, you see this path behind my hut. Follow it straight, do
not leave it for any reason."
"May God who made the sky and the dew give you great reward, lord
hermit! If I had to spend another night in the thick forest, in anguish
and horror like last night, I would immediately perish. And if I had a
hundred lives, by the Blessed Virgin, I would lose them all and not a
single one would remain with me."
The hermit closes the door of his cabin and he accompanies Bertha, who
is somewhat comforted by hope, to the edge of the path. But after the
hermit has left, she has barely taken a few steps when she sees a large
valley extending at her feet and she sees a bear that rushes to meet her
with its mouth wide open.
"God," said Bertha, "you who created the sky, the earth and the salt
sea. God, the king of paradise, does not help me, and it is all over for
me." Out of fear, she fell on the grass in a swoon. She can barely
breathe. The bear circles around the body and smells it. But Our Lord
God and the Blessed Virgin do not want to allow the cruel beast to
strangle and eat Bertha and they push it back onto the path in the wood,
where it disappears in the distance.
Suddenly Bertha feels that her head is being moved and her palms are
being slapped. She sees a man dismounted from his horse and leaning over
her. A voice full of sweetness reaches her ears. In a few moments she
regained her senses and was on her feet again.
"Beautiful lady, may God save you!" said the stranger.
"Noble man, have pity on me," Bertha whispers, "and may God extend his
goodness to you!"
"Where are you going like this, fair lady, and who are you?"
"Lord, I have been lost in the forest since yesterday. I was about to
perish, when just now a holy hermit man urged me to ask for help and
protection from Simon the Voyer. At his place, he assured me, I will
find good people who will give me good shelter and good care. But I do
not know how to reach his home."
"Beautiful lady," said the stranger, "do not cry. It is Simon the Voyer
who is before you and I will take you to our manor of Florimès."
Bertha stretches her arms towards God. She wants to say a few words, but
she is so joyful that she cannot speak.
CHAPTER 7 - BERTHA AT THE HOME OF SIMON THE VOYER
A short time later, Bertha stops her weak and uncertain steps in front
of a house located in a green meadow surrounded by pines and olive
trees. Simon whistles. His wife Constance, with a graceful body,
appears.
"Wife," said Simon, "see the beautiful lady that I found in the forest.
How was she able to escape the wild beasts? I marvel at it. She is
frozen and she has not had the slightest food for many hours. Warm her
up and give her something to satisfy her hunger."
"Lord, you can be assured that I will do so."
With great courtesy, Lady Constance grabs Lady Bertha’s frozen right
hand. She leads the poor woman, all shivering, into her room. She makes
her lie down near the fire. Simon, with a noble and valiant heart,
stokes the fire. They spread carpets and their good white linens around
Bertha. Constance places hot towels on her chest, and Isabelle and
Eglante very humbly rub her with all their might.
"Her flesh, says Isabelle, is whiter than white wool."
"And her hair!" adds Eglante. "Helen of Troy never had more beautiful or
blonder hair."
When she is a little rested, Isabelle treats her to a good meal with a
tender young chicken, Eglante mixes her wine with fresh and pure water,
and Constance covers her body with gray and white squirrel fur and
ermine.
"Sir Simon," she said, "you asked me where I came from and who I was. I
was born in the town of Alsace. I am the daughter of a subvassal named
Clément. My father lost his land and possessions after a long war. My
family and I fled. Through foreign countries we sought to earn our
bread. I had a cruel stepmother. God punish her according to her merits!
With her feet and with her hands, she beat me well and truly. One day, I
no longer felt able to endure such mistreatment and I ran away. Since
yesterday morning I have been wandering in the forest. Hunger, thirst,
weariness, and wild beasts would have defeated me if I had not met you."
"Beautiful lady," replies Constance, "through Jesus our Savior, you were
wrong to give in to a bad impulse and abandon your father to escape your
stepmother, so bad luck has befallen you."
"Lady Constance, it is true, harm has come to me. And yet neither my
father nor my stepmother would worry at all about my fate, for I am not
worth a straw to them."
"Beautiful lady," Constance continues, "you have not yet taught us what
we should name you."
"My name is Bertha."
"Bertha! What a pretty name! This is the name borne by the daughter of
the King of Hungary, the one whom our King Pépin took as his wife out of
love. There is no better creature under heaven and everyone says that
she surpasses all other women in beauty."
At these words, Bertha feels her whole being shudder. She begins to
regret revealing her name. She repents of not having lied.
"Constance," Simon intervenes, "Lady Bertha is very tired. Prepare her a
good bed and let her rest and sleep a little, because she spent a night
in the woods devoid of any amenities."
"May God reward you all for your care! May he bless the holy hermit who
directed me to your house, so sweet and so hospitable. Without him and
without you, I would have died a bad death!"
This is what Bertha says. Then she adds between her teeth, so as not to
be heard by anyone, "And may God, who was born of the Virgin in
Bethlehem, not fail to confound Tibert, the accursed, the felon, and
Margiste, the hideous old woman! Certainly, neither my father Floire,
the king with such a kind heart, nor my mother Blanchefleur suspected,
by giving me a husband, that they were sending me on such an adventure.
If in fact they learned of my unfortunate fate, what tears would be
shed!" And this thought in her head makes tears flow from her eyes.
"Bertha," says Constance, "for a bad stepmother there is no love. May,
according to your wishes, God punish her as she deserves! Forget her and
forget all your suffering. Do not talk about it anymore. In our home you
will be entirely free, I will give you complete hospitality for a month.
You can ask for anything and nothing will be denied you."
"Lady Constance, for your offer, I will never be able to show you
sufficient gratitude. In the name of God the Father, of God the Son, and
of the Holy Spirit, may your soul be blessed, that of yours and that of
the holy hermit!"
In a richly curtained bed, Bertha Broadfoot relives the events of the
last weeks. She promises to keep her vow. Rather than breaking it, she
would let her heart be torn out of her chest. She feels that she has
forever won the affection and love of Simon, Constance, and their
daughters.
Her body calms down and she falls asleep.
* * *
Simon's daughters were extremely adept at mixing gold with silk
embroidery. Bertha often sits next to them, close to their work. One day
when Lady Constance was watching her daughters work with her, Bertha
said to the two young girls, "I will show you how to create a work that
my mother who was a worker in Alsace taught me."
"I would be very grateful to you," replies Isabelle.
When Bertha has finished the outline and added a few stitches, Eglante
said, "Isabelle, we cannot hide it, there is no woman who knows how to
embroider like Bertha, and compared to her work ours is not worth the
price of a gladiolus."
"Sweet mother," adds Eglante in a low voice, "through the faith that I
owe to God and to Saint Nicolas, from Tours to Cambrai no worker could
carry out anything like this. So know that, if Bertha ever leaves us,
neither Isabelle nor I will have any more joy. If she leaves, I will go
with her and Isabelle will accompany me."
"Be quiet, my beautiful Eglante, I will keep her here with me. If she
shows herself to be wise and honest, she will never lack anything and,
if she deserves it, I will marry her. In the meantime, Bertha and you
will live together and the night will not separate you, because you will
sleep in my room together."
"Good mother," Eglante replied, her face lit with a radiant smile, "I
will send a thousand thanks to God when I have Bertha with me as my
companion. Never have I seen or known such a gentle creature, she is
more graceful than the rose of May."
Bertha, devoted to her work, heard none of these words whispered between
Constance and the two young girls.
"Bertha," said Constance, "we will never decide to lose a worker as
skillful as you. You will belong to our house entirely for as long as
you want. Let me be shamed if I do not give you good silver denarii for
your work!"
"May God reward you, sweet and good lady. I will serve you very well,
whatever pain I suffer. I will stay with you, since such is your
pleasure. Blessed be the hour when I met you!"
* * *
In a few months, through her kindness, gentleness, and grace, Bertha
gained the trust, affection, and love of her hosts. Simon and Lady
Constance adopt her as a niece and entrust her with the keys to all
things. In the calm of her new life, she remains very pious. There is
not a Friday when, in honor of Jesus who forgave Longinus and of the
sweet Virgin who gave birth to Our Lord, she does not cover her hair,
and every Saturday she lives only on bread and water. In her prayers she
never forgets King Pépin. She begs God to save and bless his soul. Her
thoughts often return to her father, King Floire, and to her mother
Blanchefleur, the Queen of Hungary.
"Ah! sweet mother, how sorrowful your heart would be if you ever learned
of Margiste's betrayal. You gave me to a rich husband. But it is God
whom I now have as my husband, God, the sovereign king, in whom I trust
fully and entirely, God who has never lied and does not know how to lie.
May he keep you and my father! It is from the bottom of my heart that I
pray and beseech him."
CHAPTER 8 - A MESSAGE FROM KING FLOIRE AND QUEEN BLANCHEFLEUR
It was nine years after Bertha Broadfoot left the palace of Strigon on a
Monday in August when a messenger presented himself to Pépin. He was a
baron in whom one could have full confidence and not one of those
messengers who drink to the point of losing their reason and memory and
only uttering words devoid of any accuracy.
"Lord king," he said, addressing Pépin, "hello to you! This is what King
Floire and Queen Blanchefleur are writing to you. On us and our pitiful
court misfortune has just fallen, Bertha is now our only heir. Our last
children died suddenly, the Duchess of Saxe and Godfrey, Lord of
Argoise. Of the two sons you had with our daughter Bertha, the eldest,
Rainfroi, will succeed you. But we would like, if you give your
approval, to name your youngest child, little Heudri, as heir to our
lands and our possessions and our kingdom of Hungary. To our Lord God,
to Jesus his son, and to Saint Mary we commend you and yours.
"Lord messenger," said Pépin, "of such mourning I have great pity. I
will go and sit down to dinner. However, you will tell this news to the
queen who is in her room with Margiste yourself."
Hearing the messenger, the false queen pretends to be in pain and sheds
copious tears. Margiste feigns tearful sighs.
"Messenger," said Pépin’s wife at last, "come and dine. Tomorrow you
will leave for Strigon and you will entrust the decision of my lord,
King Pépin, with my sweet mother and with my father, the good king, whom
my heart cherishes so much."
The next day, after having heard mass, the messenger takes his leave of
the queen and Margiste, still mournful and in tears, and of King Pépin.
He returns to Strigon in haste, but his mind is not marked by
jubilation, because with horror he imagines the disappointment of the
king and queen of Hungary when they learn the answer from King Pépin,
and he constantly repeats the exact terms which the king of the Franks
used, out of fear of distorting the slightest detail.
"On my behalf, greet King Floire and Queen Blanchefleur, my lady, the
queen full of reason and valor. Tell both of them how much Queen Bertha
and I suffer from the mourning caused them by the death of their last
heirs, but to mortals all things happen according to the pleasure and
will of our Lord, the God of majesty! Ask me to choose a man of another
lineage than that of the king and queen of France, because for nothing
in the world would Bertha, my wife and their daughter, want to be
separated from our son, young Heudri, even if it were for the duration
of a single day!"
CHAPTER 9 - THE DEPARTURE OF QUEEN BLANCHEFLEUR
Queen Blanchefleur sleeps next to her husband King Floire. Suddenly, she
lets out a cry of terror which awakens the king.
"What is happening, sweet lady?"
"A wild bear is eating my right arm, my side, and my thigh, and an eagle
rips my face with its claws."
"It is a dream, sweet lady. Since the day Pépin's unusual response
reached us, your mind has been troubled. No wonder that horrible dreams
pursue you in the night."
"Lord, in the name of God who never lied and in the name of our love, I
inform you of a decision that I have wanted to make for a long time and
which alone will prevent my heart from breaking in my chest. I am
leaving for France tomorrow. I want to see my darling daughter, who left
us nine years ago, as soon as possible."
"By the body of Saint Rémi, lady queen, it is a long and difficult
journey to undertake. How can I stay separated from you for so many
days? Besides, why all these fears? Did not the spies that I sent to the
court of King Pépin give us the most comforting and trustworthy
information about Bertha?"
"Lord Floire, despite what you say, some doubt bothers me, torments me,
and makes my heart sad and black. Bertha might also doubt our love if I
did not embrace her myself soon."
"As usual, your words are full of sense and reason. May your desire in
every way be obeyed! As the Franks love pomp and expense, do not go with
a small and petty escort. A hundred of the most valiant knights of
Hungary will accompany you to this distant region of France."
* * *
For several days Blanchefleur, the Queen of Hungary, has continued her
journey. She crossed many lands, many forests with deciduous trees, many
rivers where large boats surge. She now enters quietly into France. On
her way, she meets many people. She addresses kind and amiable words to
everyone. But she sees only expressionless faces, only fists threatening
her. Groups of townsfolk dressed in rags, city dwellers whose coarse
surcoats are in tatters, even priests mutter words, some of which hurt
her heart.
"Knights," she said, "these people hardly seem to love us. Do you hear
what they are saying about us?"
"Lady queen, they say such words that we would not dare to repeat them."
"Knights, I want to question these people. Beckon those that you meet to
come and speak with me."
"Lady, so be it! Some people are approaching us. We will have them cover
over here."
"Who are you?" said Queen Blanchefleur to one of those who stands
motionless near her.
"A poor city dweller. What do you care? You are the mother of Queen
Bertha. Your daughter is feared and hated by everyone. In our country,
she has established many bad customs. The poor people are dying of
hunger and fatigue under the taxes and the required feudal labor. Be
cursed for having such a monster in your womb, and may your daughter
burn in hell forever!"
"And you, whose dress shows me that you are a merchant, will you also
complain about my daughter, the queen, the wife of Pépin?"
"Let her be cursed! On everything in the kingdom of France she puts
taxes and charges: pepper, cumin, spices, wax, wheat, and wine, nothing
escapes this harpy. Through her greed and avarice, she has amassed so
much money, goods, and wealth at our expense that no one can estimate
it. She has reduced many rich people to ruin. While they shed tears of
anger and despair, your daughter exults with joy in counting her
treasures and plunging her hands into the coffers filled with our red
gold and our white silver. Those who dared to complain were seized by
Tibert, who plunged them into dark dungeons where he left them to die."
"God!" exclaims the queen, "Bertha, the daughter of the best man that
can be found from here to Syria and a mother full of sense, kindness,
and moderation, has she come to steal the property of her subjects? But
will you say some word of comfort to me, you who are a priest?"
"Lady queen, your daughter is forever damned! She never goes to church
or to the monastery to pray to God. If she enters into priories and
abbeys, it is only to steal the treasures that come to us from God."
"Lord," said Queen Blanchefleur, "where does such devilry come from? My
daughter, Bertha, once spent her days and her nights praying to God the
father, his sweet son Jesus, the blessed Mary, and all the Saints. Ah!
How could she have turned into an impious one?"
"Lords, listen to me. From your words I am in such trouble and
discomfort that I do not know what to do. But if you say the truth,
before returning to Hungary, I will return to you everything your queen
has stolen from you, and she will return to the good graces of each of
you."
With that, Blanchefleur prepares to leave, but a peasant grabs her horse
by the reins.
"Lady," he cries, "in the name of God, I beg you for mercy. I too have
reason to complain about your daughter. I only have one horse which I
used in Paris to carry straw, wood, and grain to earn bread for me, my
wife Margot, and my four little ones, the eldest of whom is not ten
years old. Last year I paid sixty sols for it. To feed it, I used up all
my oats and all my hay. Now your daughter, the Queen of the Franks, has
taken my animal away from me. By the God who drew the mother of us all
from the rib of Adam, I shall curse her so much, your Bertha, night and
day, that the Almighty will render me just vengeance."
"Friend," said Blanchefleur, "for your horse and your vain expenses,
take these gold coins given to you by the mother of Bertha Broadfoot."
"Noble lady, may heaven reward you! My heart is now overflowing with joy
and happiness. By Saint Germain, never again will I bring down divine
wrath on our Queen Bertha."
CHAPTER 10 - ADVICE OF MARGISTE TO HER DAUGHTER ALISTE
In the room where the royal bed stands, Aliste calls, "Sweet mother,
come quickly, and you too, cousin Tibert."
"What is it my child? Your face is all upset."
"Sweet mother, my Lord, King Pépin, has just left me to oversee the
preparations for a great celebration. With him I must meet the woman we
fear most in the world!"
"What do you say, cousin? The Queen of Hungary?"
"Herself, Tibert."
"What will become of us? Ah! We are lost, my mother, my sweet mother!"
All three are seated on rich mats. Worried, with heavy heads, heavy
hearts, trembling hands, they discuss in low voices.
"By Saint Denis!" said Tibert, "this is something to confound us."
"In your fertile mind, sweet mother, will you find a way to save us?"
"Aliste, you are a child and in you, Tibert, I find only a little boy.
Listen to the advice that I am giving you and which you will recognize
is good. My daughter, roll up in your sheet and, when I have pulled the
blanket over you, I will notify King Pépin, as soon as he returns, that
a severe illness has suddenly struck you and you cannot move from your
bed. In this way we will gain some time."
"Lady Margiste," said Tibert, "be blessed! You are always of great help
when needed, and without you we would not be worth two pounds."
Aliste lies on her bed. She feigns illness. The old Margiste, despite
her confident appearance, trembles all over. Between her old black teeth
she mumbles, "God, king of honesty, what devil has put the Queen of
Hungary on our path? Cursed be Lady Blanchefleur and cursed this journey
which fills the heart of Aliste, my daughter whom I cherish so much,
with sadness and mourning!"
She sits next to her daughter. "Do not tremble like that, Aliste, my
daughter. Listen to what I am going to tell you. A witch once taught me
how to use poison. In the art of killing people like this, no one from
here to Friesland is more expert than me. Let Lady Blanchefleur taste
the pear or cherry that I have carefully prepared and the Queen of
Hungary will never feel the need to eat any other fruit. In a few
moments I will be able to provide myself with everything I need."
"Sweet mother," Aliste replies quickly, "this is a plan that I do not
accept at all. I am going to get out of bed now. While the king and his
lords prepares their journey, all three of us will flee from this
palace. To King Pépin we will leave young Rainfroi and young Heudri.
They are innocent little boys that my lord, their father, could never
put to death. In a few hours we will find mules loaded with a lot of
gold and silver. At midnight, we will set off on our way. We will go and
settle in Puglia, Calabria, or Sicily, if necessary. There, by usurious
lending, we will gain even more riches. Let us not stay here, sweet
mother. My feet would betray me because Bertha's right foot is as long
as my two bare feet placed one at the end of the other and, once our
work was recognized, all three of us will be burned with great fire."
"By God! My Aliste, stay calm and quiet. Fever and terror lead your
senses astray. Follow my advice and let me act. Bury your chin, your
nose, and your eyes in your bed so that no one can see anything other
than your golden hair, and we will be lucky enough to emerge from this
misadventure. I will poison King Pépin and Queen Blanchefleur.
Meanwhile, we will close the doors and windows in your room to the point
that everything is black as an oven and no one can distinguish anything
that is happening there. We will let in just enough air to allow you to
breathe."
"Sweet mother, such is your will, I must obey. And you, Lord God, whose
name I bless, lend us your help and your succor, and let us successfully
carry out the just and pious work undertaken by your servant Margiste."
"My darling Aliste, I will immediately inform King Pépin of your news.
Whatever happens, do not leave your richly curtained bed. Tibert watches
over you. He will not leave and will not let anyone enter."
CHAPTER 11 - MEETING OF KING PÉPIN AND QUEEN BLANCHEFLEUR ON THE HILL OF MONTMARTRE
With his two young sons mounted on their palfreys, King Pépin heads
towards Montmartre, followed by archbishops, bishops, dukes, counts, and
princes.
On the way, everyone shouts, "Glory and praise to the king!"
But in a low voice the nobles, the townsfolk, and the peasants murmur,
"Our lady queen must be very ill, so that she has not taken her place in
our lord's escort on her bay palfrey. May God damn him who brought her
for the first time to our sweet country of France! Cursed be she who
carried her in her belly! Cursed be he who begat her! Never in the world
has a worse woman drank wine or eaten meat! Cursed also be the physician
who tries to save her! It would be best if she died a bad death as soon
as possible!"
The king and his retinue are now on the summit of Montmartre.
"Lady queen," said Pépin, "welcome to the sweet land of France!"
"King of the Franks, greetings, peace, and happiness to you!" replies
Lady Blanchefleur, receiving the king in her arms. "But where is my
daughter Bertha, whom I cherish so much?"
"Lady, I have just learned that, at the news of your arrival, her heart
was so filled and moved with joy, jubilation, and happiness that she
could not get up. She now lies in her richly curtained bed. But, as soon
as she feels you near her, she will regain her strength."
"God!" said Lady Blanchefleur, "why must everything in this country
exude mourning and sadness?"
"Lady queen," said King Pépin, taking Blanchefleur's bare hand, "do not
be so distraught. As soon as you have your daughter in your arms, she
will come back to health. Here are Bertha's sons. They are eager to see
you and, I have no doubt, you will take great pleasure in meeting them."
Young Rainfroi and young Heudri descended from a tree with broad
branches. Blanchefleur shudders with all her being at the sight of them,
but she feels no joy in her heart. She barely responds to a very
courteous greeting given to her by Rainfroi and Heudri, except with a
meager sign and her whole body becomes wet with a cold sweat. She would
like to kiss these little boys and embrace them, but towards them no
force, no love attracts. It seems to her that a more than human power
within her restrains every transport of joy, every demonstration of
tenderness, and the words that she would like to say sink in her throat.
Around her, surreptitiously, we nudge each other and quietly say to
ourselves, "No wonder that Bertha has such a hard and closed heart, when
in Lady Blanchefleur there is no longer any lively affection, nor any
more great kindness."
But in Pépin the idea grows that this cold welcome is solely due to the
pain that Blanchefleur feels towards her daughter. By various remarks he
tries to distract the course of his thoughts. From the top of the hill
of Montmartre, he points out to the queen the points which from place to
place punctuate the green countryside with white: Montlhéry with the
crenellated tower, Poissy, Montmorency, Conflans, Dammartin, Goële, and
many others.
"God!" said Queen Blanchefleur, "you who made the sky and the dew, how
richly you married my daughter and in what a noble and beautiful country
you settled for her to stay! But what is the use of that if she must
leave the world at such a young age? It would have been better to keep
her near me in Hungary."
Blanchefleur walks to Paris, her heart gloomy and her mind prey to dark
thoughts. She only listens absently to the words that King Pépin
addresses to her from a fine and true heart. She barely responds to the
ladies, adorned in their finest finery, who greet her from the windows
as she enters the city. The rich draperies of gold, silver, and purple
which cover the houses on the Grande Rue do not catch her eye. She feels
the curses of God and the Franks weighing on her and she has only one
desire, to enter the palace of King Pépin as quickly as possible. She
fears, if she waits too long, that she will not be in time to kiss
Bertha while she still lives.
CHAPTER 12 - BLANCHEFLEUR AND MARGISTE
Once in the palace, Blanchefleur sees Margiste approaching with heavy,
trembling steps. The servant, who had scratched her face and hands with
her nails, imbues her face with a mad and haggard look. Sobbing, she
lets herself fall at the feet of the Queen of Hungary.
"My good Margiste," said Blanchefleur, kissing her, "how I grieve to
find you in such a state of pain and sadness! What happened to you? And
where is my daughter Bertha Broadfoot?"
"Lady queen, it is the pain of seeing your daughter in such bad shape
that hollows my cheeks and turns my forehead yellow. From the moment
your arrival was announced to her, Lady Bertha, whom I always cherish,
fell into a swoon. Certainly, the joy of seeing you again, after having
desired to see you for so many long months, broke her heart in her
chest. I will take you to her room with its richly adorned bed, where
you can be beside her, when you have left the table where King Pépin is
waiting for you to have a meal."
With a sad heart, Queen Blanchefleur goes to the feast. She has almost
no taste for the most delicate dishes and the choicest wines. With
good-natured words the king tries to comfort her.
"Lady queen," he said, "I sense that the thought of seeing Lady Bertha
again obsesses you. Now that the tablecloths are removed, you can go to
her. Tell her that as soon as my council is over, as we approach
vespers, I will come and join her."
Lady Blanchefleur hurries towards the royal bedroom. But Margiste
watches and, when she sees the queen, she says, "Lady Blanchefleur, by
Saint Clement, Bertha has just gone to sleep. Do not wake her. You have
to wait until tonight to see her and to give her your sweet mother's
kiss."
"Since it is necessary," replies Queen Blanchefleur, "I will stay here
near this plant with large leaves and this courtyard which leads to my
daughter's room. I will only leave to find the queen and place on her
lips the sweet kisses that I have kept for her for such a long time."
"Lady queen, may God reward you for your patience and restore strength
and vigor to your daughter!"
"Before leaving me, my good Margiste, relieve me of a doubt that I keep
rolling over in my mind. Certainly, you know that young and old, nobles,
townsfolk, and peasants never stop casting their curses at my daughter.
Can you tell me how it is that the whole kingdom complains about my
sweet Bertha? Who so changed a clear spring into a muddy quagmire?"
"Lady queen, by God who saved Daniel from the lions, give no faith to
such lies. Cursed be the skin of those who told you such stories! Never
was a ring worn on the finger of a better, gentler, more pious lady."
"May you speak the truth, my good Margiste! But one more thing I marvel
at. Your daughter with her beautiful face, I have not seen her yet.
Where is she?"
"Lady, I will reveal everything to you, but keep it a secret. One day as
she was riding on horseback, a sudden illness seized her right cheek.
Suddenly she slipped from her saddle dead on the grass. I cried for her
a lot, she was so beautiful, so welcoming, and so lively! But perhaps it
is better that she perished thus, because it is my opinion that she
could have been affected by the plague. I had her buried in secret in an
old chapel and I did not say a word about it to anyone."
Lady Blanchefleur takes the hideous old woman in her arms and gently
consoles her.
CHAPTER 13 - BLANCHEFLEUR IN THE ROOM OF ALISTE
The tables are set for supper and vespers has already covered the palace
with shadows. The patience of Blanchefleur has worn out. In spite of
Tibert, she opens the door to the room where her daughter Bertha is
resting. A young maiden approaches with a lit candle in her hand, but
the old woman Margiste hits her with an iron stick with such violence
that the unfortunate woman's blood runs on the flagstones.
"Go away, you damned bitch! Our lady the queen wants to sleep and she
must not see the slightest light for any reason!"
"Oh! Lord God!" said the maiden, sobbing with pain and trembling with
fear, "what a cruel beast hides in this hideous woman!" and she ran
away.
However, Queen Blanchefleur gropes forward and approaches the royal bed.
"Bertha, my daughter, can you hear me? It is Blanchefleur, your mother,
who is speaking to you."
"My mother, welcome!" replied the servant in a voice so faint that she
could barely hear her. "What news are you bringing me about my father,
may God bless him?"
"My daughter, only the concerns of power prevent him from joining me."
"May Jesus be praised for keeping him in good health! And you, lady, it
weighs on me, to the point that I think I might die, of not being able
to better express to you the joy with which your coming fills my heart!"
The servant trembles in her bed and her teeth chatter against each other
like so many hammers. Ah! At the moment, she does not feel like
laughing! She tosses and turns in her bed and tries to escape the kiss
that Lady Blanchefleur longs to place on her lips.
"My daughter," said Blanchefleur, "it tears my heart not to see your
face and your body."
"Mother," whispers the servant, "the torments I suffer have wrinkled my
face and turned my whole face yellow. No light of the sun, the moon or
the twist of a wax candle should strike my eyes, and the physicians do
not want to give me the leisure to speak. So I can neither see you nor
speak to you anymore. Yet I still want to tell you how my heart aches
for my father. But I feel ready to faint. Mother, please let me rest.
May Jesus bless you."
"Where am I and who do I have in front of me?" thinks Lady Blanchefleur.
"If it had been my daughter, even agony would not have stopped her love
and it would have been with a kiss on my mouth that she breathed her
last."
Her hands, sliding under the sheet, come across two little feet, one as
small as the other.
She gets up. She seeks her way in the dark shadows. She ends up finding
the latch of the door, which she opens wide and shouts, "To me, King
Pépin! To me, my barons of Hungary!"
On the threshold of the door he is guarding, Tibert remains frozen in
terror.
"Lady queen," begs the old woman Margiste, "for the love of God do not
risk killing your daughter! She has been suffering from a fever for
three days and..."
But she does not continue. Glimmers of light from twisted wax candles
carried by servants are reflected on the marble of the slabs and walls
and illuminate the march of twenty knights and King Pépin. In a few
moments everyone is in the royal bedroom where, in the light of the
candles, the gold and silver tapestries shine.
With a vigorous hand Queen Blanchefleur seized the coverlet of the
richly curtained bed. She unrolls the sheet in which the servant is
wrapped.
"Righteous God!" she cries, “Everyone look at her. King and lords, look
at that right foot, it is not my daughter’s right foot!"
Aliste is standing. Blanchefleur grabs her by her blonde tresses, and,
pulling them strongly, she lays the servant on the ground, where she
trembles like a poplar leaf.
"King of the Franks, we have all been betrayed!" shouts the Queen of
Hungary. "This girl is the servant Aliste, the daughter of the servant
Margiste. Where is my daughter, the beautiful one with the golden hair,
the gentle, the courteous, the good-natured Bertha whom I so tenderly
nourished? Let us look for her! Let us find her! Give her back to me!
Ah! Lord God, may these criminals not have killed her! If I am not
reassured about her fate right away, my heart and my body will break
with pain and rage."
In the vaulted chamber Blanchefleur falls into a swoon. The Hungarian
lords lift her up and support her.
Pépin is overcome with cruel pain. "Ah! Bertha," he cries, "sweet friend
with a clear face, so good-natured, so fine and so true, what torments
have I inflicted on you! What heartbreaks did you feel when I sent you,
so noble, riding towards an ignominious death! And I, fool that I was,
for not having immediately discovered and destroyed the felons!"
It seems at times that Pépin's mind is about to abandon all reason, but
suddenly he pulls himself together. "Sergeants," he proclaims, "lead
Margiste, Tibert, and the servant Aliste, who until now we have all
honored with the name of Queen Bertha, into the large paved hall. To me,
king of the Franks, to my high barons, and to all my people they will
immediately give account of their harsh crimes. Furthermore, this
evening there will be no supper. For the first time in my life, I feel
no hunger and, when the King of the Franks lacks an appetite, it is the
least that a rigorous young man should submit to his court."
All immediately throw themselves on the accursed traitors. The dress of
the old woman Margiste is torn to shreds. Tibert's cheeks, arms, and
legs bleed. The servant Aliste has her long blonde braids pulled
violently and many punches and many kicks fall on all parts of her naked
body. Finally, out of ire and anger, four sergeants manage to save the
three wretches.
CHAPTER 14 - THE JUSTICE OF KING PÉPIN
In the paved hall, more than seventeen hundred noble men and more than a
thousand ladies of high rank cry with pity.
"God!" say many of them, "Why, in your goodness, did you allow Bertha,
the noblewoman, to be subjected to such misadventures and to be
supplanted from such a high rank by a serving lady? Why, in your
kindness, did you allow the high barons, their valiant wives, and the
gentle people of France to be subjected to the cruelty of a felon, born
of ignoble parentage?"
Hands laden with chains, the three traitors appear. Furious screams will
hit the high vaults of the paved hall from where they fall in a dull
growl.
"Hideous old woman, raise your ugly muzzle!"
"Lady Aliste, shortly we will show you what it costs for a servant to
take the place of a queen in the king's bed!"
"Tibert, felon, what have you done with our fair-faced Lady Bertha?"
To the king, seated on a high-backed seat, the barons say, "Sire, may
these villains be shamed before God! You will give them such punishment
as each one deserves. If you take pity on them, whoever serves you from
now on will be damned!"
The king stands up, his head pale and his voice trembling. "Sergeants,
hold the two fists of the hideous old woman in an iron vice grip and
with all your strength squeeze them tighter and tighter."
"Ah! King Pépin," begs Margiste, "in the name of God who can do
everything, please stop this torture and I will make a full confession
to you."
One can barely hear her quavering voice, and when she has confessed her
ruse and her devilish tricks, "You have not said everything yet," cries
Pépin, "Speak! Otherwise, you will still be squeezed in the jaws of a
vice! Who placed these fruits in the golden cups near my bed and the bed
of Queen Blanchefleur..."
"Ah! Lord king, from whom did you hear that they are poisoned?"
"From you, who said it just now! Certainly, I would never have believed
that you would have given yourself up in this way. Go back, old
sorceress of the race of the Antichrist. And you, sergeants, bind her
again while waiting for her to be taken to the stake."
"Praise be to God and our King!" shout hundreds of voices.
Meanwhile, Tibert is in front of King Pépin. Calmness is printed on his
face. In cold words, in his turn, he recounts Bertha's cruel end.
"No, lord king, I did not kill her. Morant, your sergeant, will be able
to make it known to you. Only lions, bears, wild boars, and leopards
caused her to die a bad death."
In the paved hall, what tears, what sighs, what sobs there are! How many
noble ladies swoon!
"Bind this traitor again, so that his back is prepared to sweep the
Grande-Rue of Paris!"
Aliste the servant throws herself on her knees before the king.
"Lord, have mercy on her who for so many days and nights has been a
loving and beloved companion. In all this only my damn mother was
guilty. May God who reigns in heaven confound her!"
"By Saint Omer!" replies the king, "For your falsehood and your
deceitfulness you deserve to be stoned to death!"
"Sire, in the name of the children I bore you, in the name of the love
that I gave you for thousands of days and nights, grant me mercy, and
may the hard stones not turn this body, to which you have lavished so
many sweet caresses, into bloody debris!"
"Sire," said Aquilon of Bavaria, "do not pass too harsh a judgment
against the servant that you held as your wife for so long and who gave
you two sons. Allow her to live, by your grace, but may no more words of
yours be addressed to her, and neither she nor her children will ever be
in your company. This is the advice I give you. This is the desire of
your high barons."
"Let it be so granted!"
"Sire, be greatly thanked! And today, when I have the opportunity to
speak to you for the last time, let me ask you for one last gift. You
remember that, many times, through the songs I read and sang to you, in
your spirit and in your heart, I have brought peace, comfort, and joy.
Grant me to retire to the abbey of Montmartre and live there as a nun.
For love of the children I have borne by you, beautiful sweet lord, you
must treat me with some favor. Leave me some of the wealth that I have
amassed. When my sons are grown up, I will have them married, and,
please, lord, you will knight them. For they are indeed your children,
of that you cannot doubt."
"Lady Aliste, to your last prayer I grant my approval. And now may God
keep you!"
In the paved hall, many ladies and many lords mutter among themselves,
"To a bad female dog, bad mastiffs. May our lord king with his generous
heart never have to repent later!"
But these murmurs are followed by cries, "Praise be to the king! Praise
be to justice! Death to the two felons!"
CHAPTER 15 - DEPARTURE OF MARGISTE AND TIBERT TO HELL AND ALISTE TO MONTMARTRE
Without delay, some people pile up fir and oak logs, and others thorn
branches. They light the fire and fan it with large bellows. In the
paved hall, Aliste, loaded with chains, sees the various glimmers of
infernal flames passing through the colored stained-glass windows. The
heartbreaking screams of a woman who is burning rise up to her, cries
which cannot be stifled by the riots or the clamors of the crowd.
"My body, the body of a queen, could have been delivered to the same
fate or to a very similar one!" she said to herself. Her heart sinks
with anguish.
A few hours later, through the window of the palace, she sees the houses
of the Grand Rue of Paris lit by torches whose flames are fueled by the
wind. A confused noise reaches her ears. Little by little it approaches
the palace and suddenly joyful words resonate clearly a few yards from
her.
"The felon Tibert has died! When four horses dragged him across the hard
cobblestones, he no longer looked proud and haughty! When we hung him on
the gallows, Lord Jesus, what a tongue he stuck out!"
Then Aliste falls full length on the rug, her teeth against the ground.
At dawn the next day, the servant makes her preparations for departure.
For eight days, chariots, carts, and mules loaded with gold, silver,
precious stones, robes, gray and white squirrel furs, ermine, and a
thousand other objects that no one can enumerate, and whose value no one
can estimate, cross the Seine River via the Petit Pont and head towards
Montmartre Abbey.
Seeing these riches pass by, the good inhabitants of Paris elbow each
other and say with a wink, "So these are the few possessions that King
Pépin has granted to the false queen!"
CHAPTER 16 - FAREWELL OF QUEEN BLANCHEFLEUR AND KING PÉPIN
Queen Blanchefleur wants to leave for the court of Strigon. It is not
like when she arrived riding on a bay-colored palfrey. She is still so
doleful and feeble that she is placed in a litter carried by two
expensive horses. Until Senlis, King Pépin comforted her with his
presence and his sweet words.
Now he bows before her, grave and thoughtful, because he is going to
take his leave.
"Lord king, at what hour did I arrive? As for King Floire, he will hear
the pitiful news, he who with such love cherished our Bertha, the
gentle, the frank, the clear-faced. Ah! How he will pull the moustaches
from his gray beard! From here to Friesland there will be no more
miserable man. The only thing I marvel at is that the pain has not yet
torn my heart in two beneath my shirt. By the body of Saint Denis, I
will never again know joy, even if I should live until the day of the
great judgment. Better to die than to be consumed by such grief!"
"Lady queen," replies Pépin, "throughout France, I have made it known
that people are looking for the queen of the noble country of France. In
the forest of Le Mans, I dispatched Morant, Godfrey, and Bertrand, the
three sergeants who once led her and Tibert to the cursed place. If
there are still some remains of Bertha, my sweet bride, some hair from
her long golden braids, a piece of the white bliaud or the purple cloak
that she wore with so much grace the very day that, unfortunate that I
am, I sent her to martyrdom, my sergeants will bring them back to me. I
will send you a piece of them. We will preserve them as holy relics, and
we will cover them with kisses morning and evening. In the court of
Strigon as well as that of Paris, we will cherish them like so many
treasures. Lady queen, I say to you, may God keep you and your noble
husband, the good King Floire of Hungary!"
"Beloved son, be greatly thanked. May God favor your holy quest! And may
the heavenly blessing extend to you and to sweet France!"
CHAPTER 17 - MOURNING AT THE COURT OF HUNGARY
Seeing their queen, once so valiant and so bold, pass dolefully and
weakly, and learning of her terrible ordeal, the good Hungarians are
tearing their hair out. In the street and in their homes, they shed
abundant tears.
They all cry, "We will never forget the grace and the virtues of our
Bertha. When she was in our land, she left no poor man lacking shoes,
clothes, wine, meat, and ale. May the hideous Margiste and the felon
Tibert forever fry in the tortures of the Enemy! May a similar fate
befall Aliste soon! On our soil, once radiant with joy and happiness,
only a dark sadness will now reign. God, lord of justice, may our
regrets and our prayers attract your mercy to the soul of Bertha
Broadfoot, for the world never knew a better creature."
Blanchefleur entered the palace of Strigon. She sees King Floire coming
towards her.
"Lord, I have responded too often to your love with bad words. The
Almighty cruelly punished me for it. From now on you will only hear
words of gentleness, respect, and submission from me."
"Lady Blanchefleur, where does this remorse come from? If your tongue
was sometimes lively, I never noticed it. I never doubted your love."
"And you will never have the slightest reason to doubt it, lord."
"Together, Lady Blanchefleur, we will spend our days and nights mourning
Lady Bertha. Praise be to God! By his will, we both suffer cruel
torments from a singular misfortune. But one day he will not fail to
cast a look of mercy on us again."
To King Floire, Lady Blanchefleur gives a tender kiss of love and tears.
She covers up the only thing in the world that remains of her daughter,
one small golden ring.
CHAPTER 18 - THE QUEST FOR LADY BERTHA
"By our Lord Jesus, if our moustaches were not mixed with white hairs,
if our rounded bellies did not already give us the appearance of barons,
we would never believe that nine years have passed since the last time
the three of us came here leading our sweet queen, Lady Bertha! Here is
the thicket as it was on the day when, like a frightened doe, she
escaped from the hands of the felon Tibert, whose soul Satan could
torture forever, if indeed he ever possessed one!"
"Come on, Godfrey and Bertrand, let us search all the thickets, all the
bushes, every nook and cranny, and may we bring back to our king, so
valiant and so generous, a remembrance of his sweet bride, and, as much
as possible, repair the part that we took in such a crime."
So says Morant. And the three sergeants immediately set out in search.
But with each search comes a new disappointment. The king's emissaries,
at first full of hope, turned dark, and then two weeks were spent in
vain efforts.
"Friends," said Morant, his forehead streaked with a wrinkle, "there is
no need to continue our work. There is no living creature around, either
knight, townsperson, villager, woodcutter, coal burner, peasant, humble
plowman, cowherd, shepherd, goatherd, clergyman, pilgrim, or simple
passerby that we have not questioned, and we received no answer that is
worth a penny or a stitch. We know even less today than we knew before."
All three get back into the saddle and, with their heads lowered over
the necks of their horses, they amble back to the city of Paris.
* * *
Meanwhile, a few miles from the clearing, Sir Simon the Voyer and Lady
Constance confide to Lady Bertha the news they have heard from Pépin's
palace. As they speak, it seems to Lady Bertha that her heart is going
to break in her chest.
"Sweet niece," said Simon, "as sure as you are sitting before me, it is
in the very place where I found you that poor lady Bertha was lost. If
you are truly Lady Bertha, say it in all frankness."
When Bertha hears Simon speak thus, she addresses God in thought.
"Almighty Lord, keep me in your right path. Do not allow for the
weakness or pride that I have to push me to break my vow."
"Why do you not give me an answer?" continues Lord Simon. "Where does
this paleness that spreads across your face come from? Speak, I beg you
and demand it of you."
"Lord Simon," said Lady Bertha, "such troubles, such misfortunes befell
good King Pépin and his sweet bride, who could hear them without being
overcome with pity? This is what weakens me so badly. In truth, I
believe, living at court must be more pleasant than living in a wood.
But me, queen? No, my sweet uncle, my sweet aunt. Where will you find
such daydreams? If I were the queen, I would not go so far in folly as
to hide it."
"Blessed be God!" reply Lord Simon and Lady Constance. "If you had been
the Lady Bertha whom King Pépin seeks everywhere, we would have been
separated from you, and we could not live without you."
CHAPTER 19 - THE HUNT OF KING PÉPIN
In the city of Le Mans, King Pépin has just armed a hundred gentlemen
from different parts of the kingdom as knights. Despite the mourning
which still hits his heart so hard, he took part in the games, and now
he has retired under a pine tree with green needles.
"Soon it will be one year," he thought, "since Lady Blanchefleur found
the servant Aliste in place of her daughter, the queen. And I am waiting
in my palace in Paris for Lady Blanchefleur and King Floire, who in a
few days are going with me to Saint-Denis to mourn their unfortunate
daughter! Soon it will be one year since my three brave sergeants,
Morant, Godfrey, and Bertrand, left to fight against the Saracens of
Spain, out of despair at having presented me with their empty hands and
out of remorse for not having saved the sweet lady Bertha. For months,
they have been trying to kill many pagans, to obtain mercy from God."
While such thoughts roll under his brow, his high barons approach him.
"Sire," says Aquilon of Bavaria, "through the body of Saint Rémi, we all
respect your pain. But a king owes more to his people than to himself.
By all of us, Lady Bertha has been sufficiently missed. She lived like a
saint. Like a saint she perished. Like a saint we revere her with you.
You are now still in the prime of your life. For the king of the Franks,
the memory of a saint cannot be enough. When will you decide to take a
wife?"
Pépin stands on his feet. "Duke," he replies, "listen carefully to my
words. I felt deep love for my first wife, but in her God did not allow
me to gain an heir. Barely married again, I sent the one who was the
true queen of this country to her death, and for years, I gave you a
felonious servant with a breast devoid of heart as a queen. These two
tests are enough for me. To God who never lied and to his sweet mother,
for the good things they have sent me, which they are sending me, and
which they will send me, I give thanks, but I also address to them this
humble prayer, that they allow me to ascend to heaven content with
myself as a double widower. As for you, my barons, let no one speak to
me of marriages from now on, if he does not want my wrath to fall on
him. And, to cut this conversation short, now all of you will go hunting
with me in the forest at the next dawn!"
Greatly astonished, the barons withdrew, their heads bent, without
uttering a word. Never had they heard such words fly from the mouth of
the king.
* * *
Pépin and his barons have been hunting in the forest for hours with
their falcons, their hawks, their pointers, and their greyhounds, but
they do not find lions, bears, wolves, or leopards, not even a wild
boar. The only wild beasts that the huntsmen raise are small rabbits,
hares, weasels, and squirrels.
However, a few steps from the king, darting like an arrow, a large white
deer rushes into a thicket with rapid leaps. Full of ardor, Pépin
pursues him, never ceasing to spur his horse. When the deer has
disappeared, the king stops. He has lost track of the time he spent in
his vain race. He finds himself alone in the forest with thousands of
deciduous trees, without any companions. He calls with all his voice,
but only the echo responds, so he walks at random. He follows one path
after another. Finally, at some distance, at the top of a high mound he
sees an old chapel. He sets off on his horse at full speed along the
path which leads there and, at one of the turns, he sees a pretty young
girl heading towards him.
"Beautiful maiden," said Pépin, greeting her very courteously, "I am one
of the vassals of the king to whom sweet France belongs. I lost my way
and I have a sad heart. Do you know of a house near here, a hut where I
would have leisure to rest and where I could be put back on the right
path?"
"Lord," replies the wise maiden, bowing to the stranger, "at the end of
this path you will see a house surrounded by trees. My uncle, Lord Simon
the Voyer, lives there. Direct yourself to him. There is no man in the
world who is more valiant or who knows every nook and cranny of the
forest better than he does."
"Beautiful maiden, thank you very much. But tell me, where do you come
from?"
"Lord, from this old chapel that you see near here."
"You came from this chapel alone like this?"
"Yes, Lord. I went there this morning to listen to mass with my Uncle
Simon and my Aunt Constance. I went to kneel in a corner to spend my
hours and I lost myself in prayer. My companions thought I was gone and,
when I realized my solitude, I suddenly closed my psalter and made a
quick bow in front of the altar. I quickly went out to join my people,
on the way I met you, and that is it. Now I must use haste. After lunch
my Uncle Simon returns to the city of Le Mans. He is going to bring food
to King Pépin's people and I would not want to delay him for anything on
earth. In the name of God, honest man, allow me to take my leave. It is
not possible for me to remain here for a single moment."
"Beautiful maiden, I will accompany you to the house of your uncle and
aunt. But it is hardly appropriate for a knight to speak to a young and
gentle lady from the top of his saddle. To obey the laws of courtesy, I
will dismount from my steed and thus I will see more closely your fresh
colors and your graceful body."
In the blink of an eye, Pépin set foot on the ground. He holds the reins
of his horse in his left hand, with his free arm he clasps the maiden,
and he places a kiss of desire and love on her lips.
"God, you who sees me, protect me against this noble, but too bold
lord!" thinks the maiden, veiling her face and keeping herself quiet.
"She who does not say a word agrees," Pépin thinks to himself, and out
loud he says, "In the name of the Lord God, good lady, come with me to
sweet France. There is no jewel, however rich it may be, that I will not
buy for you there, as long as your heart desires it. I will establish
you beautifully in the city of Paris, and all the men of the kingdom
will bring you honor and respect."
"Lord God," thinks the young girl, "why am I separated from my good
uncle and my good aunt? Alas! how to escape from this man?"
The more Pépin looks at her, the more he imagines seeing the servant
Aliste again, and this strange resemblance excites his ardor all the
more.
"Beautiful maiden," he continues, "what do you fear and why this terror
on your face? I told you, I want to take you to sweet France with me. As
much will be given to you as you can desire in thought. Know this, I am
the grand master of the king who governs France. Without lying, I can
tell you that no one is given as much power as I have. But certainly I
have told you enough. It is your love that I want. Whatever happens, you
are going to do my will."
"Lord, since it is so, listen to what I am going to tell you. In the
name of the Lord who allowed himself to be tormented on the holy cross
for his people, do not approach the wife of King Pépin. I am the
daughter of King Floire and I have Lady Blanchefleur for my mother. In
the name of God and of Saint Mary, I forbid you from having bad thoughts
and from wanting to steal my virginity. I am the Queen of France, I
cannot live dishonored. I would rather that I die and that God call me
back to him right now!"
King Pépin changes color. Surprise keeps him quiet. A thousand diverse
thoughts stir beneath his skull. He wonders if he is the plaything of a
dream. He does not know if he should let himself go with the joy that
fills his heart. For a few moments he cannot draw any sound from his
throat. Finally, he bows courteously.
"Beautiful lady," he says, "if it is as you have just said, I would not
lay my hands on you for a thousand marks of gold." At these words, Pépin
pulls the bridle in his hand with a sudden movement and his horse lets
out a long neigh. "Let us go," said the king, "and let us hasten to the
dwelling of Simon the Voyer."
Lady Bertha has not yet recovered from her fright. She thinks all the
time about the peril she was in. She promises herself not to cross the
forest alone again. To the questions that fall from her companion's
lips, thick and tight, she responds only with empty words.
But she finally sees Florimès appear and she hears again the dear voices
which greet her return.
* * *
"Bertha, dear niece," said Constance, "how late you were! We have been
impatiently waiting for you for a long time."
"Yes, dear sister, we feared that the forest had taken you again. And
all four of us were in tears."
"But, dear niece, what is the reason for the paleness that I see in your
face? And who is this man who accompanies you?"
"Lady Constance," said Pépin, "I am from the house of the King of the
Franks. I live in the city of Paris. I had lost my way in this wood with
a thousand deciduous trees, and Lady Bertha, your pretty niece, was kind
enough to guide me."
"Welcome to our manor, honest man!"
And, while King Pépin follows in the footsteps of Lord Simon, Lady
Constance and her two daughters listen to the words interspersed with
tears that Lady Bertha, with a breathless voice, says in a whisper.
"The body of a villain often hides beneath the garb of a noble man,"
said Lady Constance in response to her niece, "and I am going at once to
tell this handsome lord a little of what I think."
CHAPTER 20 - BERTHA THE MYSTERIOUS
Lady Constance suddenly enters the room where King Pépin is talking.
"Lord," she said, addressing the newcomer, "you already know that the
maiden who brought you to our home is our niece. I love her more than my
children, and in all the country of France there is no lady wiser,
purer, or more pious. If you did not hold a high rank at the king's
court, by the faith that I owe to Simon, my white-haired husband, your
audacity would have cost you. Know that she told me everything and I
would rather be dead if you had done your will with her."
"Lady Constance, you are very wise and full of honesty. But certainly,
Lady Bertha did not tell you everything. Otherwise, you would not dare
call her your niece."
"Lord, it is true, that is what we have called her since the day when we
snatched her from death in the forest."
"Know, Lady Constance and Lord Simon, that, if she spoke truth to me,
great happiness will come to you for having her in your home for so long
and for treating her so well. But if she spoke the truth to me, you have
no right to call her your niece."
"We called her that so that everyone would respect her and no one would
dare cause her the slightest harm."
"But you do not know that she is the Queen of France?"
"The Queen of France!" the two spouses say together, changing color.
"She told me so herself."
"Bertha cannot lie," said Simon in a slow voice, "and yet..."
"Yet?" asks King Pépin anxiously. "Speak, what do you know? If you do
not tell me the whole truth, both of you may be brought to shame and
dishonor."
"Lord guest, moderate your words. We are all as eager as you are to know
the truth. So, listen to what I am proposing to you. You are going to
hide behind this wide curtain that you see here in front of us. I am
going to call Bertha. Lady Constance and I will question her and you
will hear her words as clearly as we do."
* * *
"Are you calling me, sweet uncle? Here I am," said Bertha, half-opening
the door. "Just heaven! So this man left, who in the forest..."
"Yes, nice Bertha, but he told us things about which we are very happy.
Why did you keep them from us?"
Bertha looks at the ground. Her face becomes colored with a slight
blush. Simon makes her sit down next to him, but she stops talking and
remains silent.
"Bertha," Simon continues, "by the body of Saint Rémi, this man who just
left has taught us something new about you. You would be the bride of
Pépin, the good and powerful king. You kept it from us for a long time.
Certainly, this weighs on me, because if I had known it, I would have
honored and served you more greatly."
Bertha still remains silent.
"Nice maiden," said Constance, "in the name of the Almighty, I beg you
to speak, and may no lie escape from your mouth!"
Bertha gathers all her courage. And in a soft voice she responds as
follows, "Lord, for the second time I have been asked such a question.
For the second time I will give the same answer. If I had been queen,
from the first day that you received me here, I would have entrusted it
to you. Since you want me to tell you the truth, listen to me. I had
heard, a few days ago, that the Queen of France had been betrayed and
then abandoned in the forest of deciduous trees and I also knew that she
was the daughter of Lady Blanchefleur and Floire, king of Hungary. To
save my honor, I decided to pretend to be Pépin's wife. And there you
have it! Farewell, my good family. I will pray to God at once, who will
undoubtedly forgive me for this pious lie."
"By my faith," asks Constance of King Pépin when he reappears from his
hiding place, "Lord, what do you say? As for me, I do not know what to
think about it."
"Lady Constance, I am quite amazed myself."
The king gets up. He has little desire to laugh. Without further delay
he takes leave of Lady Constance.
"Take me to the city of Le Mans," he said to Simon, "because I do not
care much about my hunting now."
* * *
They both ride until they are somewhat distant from the manor.
"Friend," said the knight, putting his hand on Simon's shoulder, "you do
not know who I am. Well! So learn it. I am King Pépin."
"Welcome, lord king!" Simon replies, "I am in great mourning for not
having recognized you. Forgive me for not having honored you more, and
take no ill will from the harsh words of Lady Constance. She..."
"I do not care, Simon. You and your wife have served me well and now
only this thought tortures me. Bertha! At your home, is she the Bertha
who was taken from me through felony, yes or no? In my heart I feel that
it is her. But, if this is so, why does she deny it so vehemently?"
"Lord king, perhaps some sorcerer has enchanted her! In such a case, for
the gold of ten cities we will never know who she really is."
"Simon, these are words full of meaning and it seems to me that you have
finally made up your mind. But I have already been deceived by women and
I do not care to be deceived again. So at present I would like to use
all prudence and wisdom. No one will be able to inform me better than
Lady Blanchefleur and King Floire. But they must join me in my palace
shortly."
"Hey! Well, sire, return with them as soon as possible to Florimès."
"I will do so. But from the city of Le Mans I recognize the road. Leave
me. Return to your manor. Tell only Lady Constance what I have entrusted
to you. And above all, let no other word be heard! For my part, give
greetings to your valiant wife, and both of you, if you really love me,
honor Lady Bertha more than ever!"
CHAPTER 21 - A SIMPLE QUESTION FROM LADY BLANCHEFLEUR
King Pépin summons the two quickly. Only his seneschal and his
chamberlain accompany him. In a few hours he joined King Floire and
Queen Blanchefleur not far from Saint-Denis.
"Lady queen, lord king," he cries, "hello to both of you."
"Hail, noble son!" respond the King and Queen of Hungary.
"Lady queen, lord king, if you are not too tired from your long ride,
you will not return to my palace in Paris today. But, without delay, we
will take the path to the city of Le Mans. Pleasant news awaits you
there."
"What pleasant news can we receive? Our entire life will now be spent in
mourning."
"Lady queen, lord king, the Lord God can still lower his gaze on us with
pity."
"Have you discovered any relic or remembrance of our daughter?"
"This alone would not allow you, lady queen, lord king, to exchange your
dark mourning clothes for clothes in bright and cheerful colors."
Lady Blanchefleur and the noble King Floire exchange a look of worry and
fear.
"Have no fear, gentle lords, it is a man full of sense who addresses
these words to you. I once thought I was losing my mind from the pain.
But then a happy adventure brought renewed joy and jubilation to my
heart. You joined me here from Strigon to mourn your daughter, whom we
all had good reason to believe was lost forever. Instead of tears,
perhaps you will offer grace and thanks to the Almighty."
"What has happened? Speak."
"A few days ago, I saw a noble, beautiful, and pious maiden in the manor
of Florimès, near Le Mans, of which Lord Simon the Voyer, one of my
faithful servants, is master. She bears a strange resemblance to your
daughter. Is it her or not? Only you can tell."
Lady Blanchefleur leans her pale forehead on the neck of her palfrey.
While she falls into a swoon, King Pépin and King Floire support her.
When she came to her senses, she said, "Lords, without delay, let us
ride to Florimès. But, Lord Pépin, your mind should not be besieged by
doubt. Did you not ask to see Bertha's right foot?"
"Fool that I am!" exclaims Pépin. "This would have informed me
immediately. But, I admit, lady queen, something as simple as this never
occurred to my mind."
CHAPTER 22 - BERTHA FREED FROM HER VOW
Bertha is seated with her back to the door. With a long needle she
pricks a golden thread into the silk which covers the altar. And in a
sweet tone she sings. She hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
"Lady Constance and my sisters," she thinks, "are coming up to inquire
about my work."
"Sweet ladies, come and see. Here I am at the end of my work."
With these words she turns her head. She drops her needle in surprise.
She raises her hand to her heart which seems to stop in her chest.
"Lady Blanchefleur! Lord King Floire!" she said. "So often I thought I
saw you again and it was only a dream! But never have you appeared to me
so beautifully as at this hour!"
"My daughter, this time it is indeed Lady Blanchefleur herself and your
father, the noble King Floire, who stand before you."
Bertha falls swooning into her mother's arms. Little by little, under
the caresses lavished on her by her parents, she revives and a voice
that is not entirely unknown to her hits her ears.
"I am King Pépin who asks for your mercy for having once treated you so
cruelly."
At these words, Bertha is greatly amazed. "Sire, if it is you that I
find here, the Lord God endows me with perfect happiness this day. So
the prayers that for ten years I addressed to him so that he would give
me back my good parents and my valiant spouse have not been in vain!"
"But, by Saint Mary," she says to Pépin, "what a strange resemblance you
bear to the bold lord who a few days ago in the forest assailed me in an
ugly manner!"
"Sweet lady, praised be your words! Praised be Lady Blanchefleur and
King Floire who have freed you from your vow! Praised be Lord Simon,
Lady Constance, Lady Isabelle and Lady Eglante. Praised be Morant,
Godfrey, and Bernard! Praised be God, the Virgin Mary, our Lord Jesus,
and all the saints! In short, praised be heaven and earth and cursed be
the felons!"
* * *
On the door knocker of the main gate, below the turret where King Pépin
is located, a man knocks with redoubled blows. King Pépin passes his
head through the window. He sees a man browned by the sun, all gray with
dust, holding an exhausted horse by the bridle.
"Lord king," cries the rider, "hello and welcome to you! Do you not know
me? I am Morant. In Spain, for a year, I have killed more than a
thousand pagans for the glory of our Lord. Returning to Paris yesterday,
I learned that you had set out for Florimès. Although very tired of my
journey, without even getting out of the saddle, I have rushed here as
quickly as possible to tell you of our latest victories over the
accursed people."
"Lord Morant, you could not have arrived at a more opportune time. Climb
the steps quickly and come and give your greeting to a beautiful lady."
The valiant Morant enters the room where King Pépin, Lady Bertha, King
Floire, Simon the Voyer, and all his family are gathered.
"What do I see?" he said, turning pale and stopping in his tracks. "Lady
Bertha, is that you? So our good lord the king has found you? Alas! I
dare not come any closer to your noble body. In the same forest where
your image stood ten years ago, I cowardly..."
"You saved me!" said Lady Bertha as she pulled Morant aside. "I still
seem to feel you removing from my mouth the horrible rope that was
choking me, and to see you removing the sword of the ignoble Tibert from
my head. Then I made a promise to repay you one day for your valiant and
noble heart. Although you laced my white bliaud a little too tightly
that day, I will keep my word. I will ask King Pépin as a gift to knight
you and present you with such assets that you can live in wealth, you
and your lineage."
"I am pleased to accept your prayer," said Pépin.
"And when Godfrey and Bertrand return, they too will be highly honored."
"Alas, lady queen, mortal honors can no longer touch them. So I will
have masses sung, for their souls to rest near Our Lord God, in all the
churches of France and Hungary."
Morant goes to kiss the shoe of the king and gently kneels close to the
queen.
The king calls his marshal Gautier and his chamberlain Thierry. "Lords,"
he said, "without any delay, run to the city of Le Mans. Send messengers
to my vassals, to my townspeople, to my peasants, in all parts of the
kingdom, without excepting one, not even the abbey of Montmartre, and
throughout the kingdom of Hungary. Have them deliver the message that,
as is just, the villains have been punished and the good men are
rewarded. With the true queen, for whom God has shown his very special
regard, King Pépin will now experience joy and happiness such as he has
never known, and from her he will have children like no king of the
Franks has ever had with his wife before. As much as all had been put in
a pitiful state by the felony of the cruel servant, so much will all be
amazed by the kindness of the true queen."
"Finally, without further delay, let the high barons come to Florimès,
let their noble ladies accompany them, and let them not neglect to have
their tents carried by their servants, for there is nothing here to
accommodate them."
"As soon as everyone has arrived, I will gird the sword of a knight on
the left side of Simon and of Morant."
"Lord king," cries Simon, falling on his knees, "you shower me with such
honors that, to praise you, words fail me. Be greatly thanked!"
"Simon," said Pépin, "I want to establish your coat of arms myself. From
now on, you will bear on your shield a large fleur-de-lys of gold on an
azure field with a label of five points in red, and you will become lord
of the county of Le Mans. Moreover, you have already guided me with such
advice that, from today, I make you my master advisor. You will follow
me to my palace."
"Lord God," said Lady Constance, "you honor us beyond our merits. From a
poor place of briars you take us to settle in a rich and marvelous
meadow. But how much Lady Bertha’s absence will weigh on me and my
daughters!"
"Lady Constance," says Queen Bertha, "when we leave Florimès, we will
take you and your daughters with us to Paris. I would no longer know how
to live far away from you. I will share my riches with you all. If I
knew you would remain in poverty, I could own the whole world and it
would give me no joy."
The three ladies threw themselves at the knees of Lady Bertha. She lifts
them up.
"Lady Constance, with me you will be the first lady of the court. And
you, Isabelle and Eglante, you will be my sweet sisters who will never
be apart from me."
"Isabelle and Eglante," adds King Pépin, "to each of you I will give
five hundred pounds per year and I will ensure that you increase your
power by marrying you to two of my noble vassals."
CHAPTER 23 - THE CHARIOT IN THE FOREST
King Pépin came to stay with Lady Bertha. "Lady Bertha, in your face, I
see joy and good fortune. And this good fortune makes me happy."
"How sweet your love is to me, lord king, and seeing you treat mine and
those I love like this fills my heart with joy! However, on this earth
there is no joy that is not mixed with sadness. It pains me greatly to
leave Florimès tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, as we leave this place which is so dear to you, we will give
the varlets and the servants rich presents and we will come back to
visit them often afterwards."
"Be greatly thanked, lord king. So my pain will be somewhat eased. But I
cannot think without horror that in the next few days Lady Blanchefleur
and King Floire will set off again for Strigon. When the time comes for
their departure, I am sure I will collapse in a swoon."
"Lady queen, your parents will show us the first works of the abbey that
will be named Valberte in your honor, and that will be founded this year
in Hungary. So you will not be separated from your valiant mother and
your noble father for long, and this time you will no longer have any
reason to swoon."
When, through her tender words, King Pépin saw the clear, serene face of
Lady Bertha, he said, "The August nights when you once suffered your
martyrdom were very cold. On the other hand, those we are passing
through now are particularly hot. Moreover, at your Uncle Simon's manor
there is no room large enough for us. Therefore, in a meadow not far
from here, where a beech grove hides everything from everyone's view, I
have placed a wheeled cart which will be completely covered with
heather. This will be our bed. This night we will resume our love,
interrupted so early and for so long, and on Palm Sunday, a son will be
born to us."
"Lord king, may it be granted according to your desire! And our son,
what shall we call him?"
"He will take his name from the chariot that I told you we will withdraw
to, and he will be called Charles."
CHAPTER 24 - TO THE SOUND OF BELLS
In Florimès, Lady Bertha's festival lasted eight full days. On the ninth
day, everyone sets out again in the morning to the sound of the bells.
The noble escort is welcomed in many noble cities, in many villages, and
in many hamlets by the sound of bells ringing at full force. Thanks to
the zeal of King Pépin's messengers, news of Lady Bertha's return spread
everywhere. No one stays in his castle, in his manor, or in his hut.
Noble ladies, valiant knights, townspeople and peasants, little girls
and little boys, all come running, some on palfreys and others on foot.
"Praise be to God who has given us our good queen! Never before has such
a miracle been seen," said everyone as they knelt before Lady Bertha.
And to each one Lady Bertha shows a humble, smiling, and happy face.
To the sound of bells, the clergy emerge from each large city in a
beautifully ordered procession, dressed in their most brilliant robes.
In a few short days, Lady Bertha joyfully rides towards the city of
Paris. The Queen of France and Lady Blanchefleur exchange sweet words
with Lady Constance, Lady Isabelle, and Lady Eglante, radiant in their
brand-new silk bliauds.
The sound of the bells redoubles. The jongleurs play on their vielles
with more ardor. In close ranks, lords, young or old, bald or haired,
monks, and abbots advance, and all, clergy and laypeople, bless the
return of the true queen to her city of Paris.
"Ah! God," everyone says, "may the servant who caused such torments to
such a sweet lady die an evil death!"
Seeing their daughter so beautifully received by all her people, the
hearts of Lady Blanchefleur and King Floire are filled with jubilation.
"God, who sends the clouds running," they say, "be greatly thanked. As
much as you once lowered Lady Bertha, you now raise her up. May your
kindness remain with her forever!"
In front of the steps of the palace, Aquilon of Bavaria and Grifon of
Hautefeuille help Lady Bertha to get down from her saddle. She sees the
paved hall again as it was ten years ago. She takes a seat on a throne
near Pépin, and she lifts the skirt of her bliaud slightly.
"Long live Lady Bertha with the Big Foot!" they immediately shout from
all parts of the great hall.
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Meanwhile, in Montmartre Abbey, only one nun remained. Two young boys
are near her.
"By your heads I swear," she said, caressing their long blond curls,
"one day I will take revenge on Lady Bertha and King Pépin for you,
Rainfroi and Heudri. When Lady Bertha with the Big Foot and the King of
the Franks have gained a boy, you will make the son pay a hard price for
King Pépin's wrongdoing towards me, your mother! And you, God of
justice, I beg you to stop these cursed chimes that are driving me
crazy!"
And louder than ever the sound of the bells can be heard.
Lords, thank you!
Of the choice foods and wines that you have offered me, of your
silk robes, of your gray and white squirrel furs, of your gold
and silver denarii, of your palfrey, of all the presents that
you have given to me, lords, thank you. Such boons
are always accepted with joy by the poor minstrel.
Lords, may you all be praised and may God one
day reunite us all in paradise. Thank you
for having listened to the valiant,
noble, and pious chanson until
the end, and thank me for
having sung it as
beautifully as
I could.
REFERENCES
