The Queen of Wessex Twice

Later Life and Death

In December of the Year of Our Lord 866, I became pregnant for a fifth time. In March of the next year, Baldwin left me in Bruges while he went to battle in the north. The Vikings were known to be absolutely barbaric, and I prayed for Baldwin daily.

Weeks later, I received news of Baldwin's losses. He had lost a thousand men, and he was greatly wounded. He and his army barely escaped, and they were on their way back.

On the twelfth day of June, I stayed up all night to wait for Baldwin. When I finally saw him, he was on a stretcher, with blood stained all over his coat. I was told that the Viking army was marching south, and they had captured cities such as Uretcht.

Baldwin was in no position to battle, but neither was I. I was seven months pregnant, but even so, I was appointed regent. I immediately called for help from my father, and he sent me twenty thousand men to protect Bruges.

Then, I hid in the castle with Baldwin as we waited for days. However, for two months, the Vikings never arrived, and the soldiers were tired of the wait and wanted to fight.

I delivered a healthy son in August in the Year of Our Lord 867. However, tragedy struck when the Vikings finally arrived. I rushed up to the tower, and I thought I saw the Great Heathen Army marching towards us. They had an army of around 50,000, and had just returned from their conquest in Northumbria, and had murdered two kings of Northumbria, Osberht and Æella. They were ruthless in the face of glory and riches, and I knew we did not stand a chance against them.

I rushed back down, and informed Baldwin of the army. We packed our bags and headed straight for Paris, leaving the castle and 20,000 soldiers behind.

***

It did not help that it rained all the way from Bruges to Paris, but after four days, we arrived in Paris. I was then told that Bruges had fallen, all 20,000 men massacred, and they were headed straight for Paris.

On 24 November in the Year of Our Lord 867, I was awoken to the sounds of screams and shouts. "The Vikings are here!" one shouted. I peeped out of my window and saw boats sailing through the River Seine. My ladies rushed into my room, helped me get dressed and told me to never get out of my room.

However, I could not watch thousands of Christian men die, so I decided to go to the docks, where thousands of soldiers lined up to prepare for battle. I held an icon of the Virgin Mary, and prayed that our men would defeat those pagans.

When the docks became too dangerous, I rushed up to the towers to get a view of what was happening. However, it was not what I expected. My men were getting slaughtered, and within hours, the Vikings were already on the city gates. They destroyed it in an instant, due to their new machine called the ram.

I was told to escape with my parents and siblings, but Baldwin and I stayed to boost the public morale. Despite our best efforts, Paris fell, and I had to follow my parents to Orléans, my mother's hometown.

When we arrived there, I could tell my mother's obvious displeasure, as during her father's time as the Count of Orléans, it had been a bustling city, but now, under the reign of Hugh (my caregiver Robert's stepson), Orléans had fallen into disrepair and the Royal Family's living quarters, which dated back to the Merovingian times, was falling apart.

I eavesdropped on my father planning to make the Viking leader, Rollo, the Duke of Normandy, and wed my sister, Gisela, to him. However, when I informed Gisela about this, she flew into a rage and stormed into my father's room.

"I am not going to marry some pagan Viking!" She yelled. My father stood up and angrily shoved her to the ground, which made her cry.

" Thousands of people have been killed, and thousands more are suffering. And you refuse to marry him, just because of some personal embarrassment?" He shouted.

Gisela walked out of the room, fuming with rage. I stood by the doorway, and as I looked at Gisela, I couldn't help but think of the time when the same thing happened to me, twelve years ago.

***

Gisela woke up with a raging fever, and doctors rushed to her bedside. My parents were very worried, as she was the only eligible bride to Rollo. I was already married, my younger sisters Rotrud and Ermentrude were nuns, and my other younger daughter, Hildegard, had died in infancy. There was actually another daughter, Godehilde, but she was only three, but you wouldn't expect a three-year-old to marry.

My mother, Ermentrude, walked out wiping her tears, as doctors informed her that Gisela would not survive. They tried to bleed Gisela to cure her sickness, but that only worsened her sickness and made her paler. My father knew that if Gisela died, the future of France would be gone. So, although Gisela was severely ill, he brought her back to Paris, in hopes that Rollo would marry her.

Gisela was only ten, while Rollo was 32 (I mean I was also twelve and Æthelwulf 61 when we wed). I followed them behind, and saw how destroyed Paris was. When the people saw my father enter the city, they booed and threw rotten food at him. My mother was not spared as well. Slurs were thrown at her and when they saw me and Baldwin, they still did not stop. When all the carriages finally entered the city, the crowd followed behind to throw food at us.

My father met up with Rollo in the Royal Palace. I waited outside with Baldwin and my mother. My father and Rollo finally exited the room after two hours of negotiating, and my father introduced Gisela to Rollo.

Rollo wed Gisela the next week in an elaborate ceremony, but Gisela was obviously tired and sickly. Rollo could tell that his bride was ill, but he pretended as if everything was all right. After the wedding, Gisela immediately took to her bed, refusing to see anyone.

The next day, my mother woke me up. "Gisela, she...she has passed," she said. I rushed to Gisela's room, and when I got there, I saw her, face down onto the pillow, lying still. I pushed her over and tried to wake her up, but to no avail.

My father and Rollo were both informed of the tragedy. Rollo left Paris on the same day, going to Rouen, where he would rule as Duke. My father showed very little sadness, and was quiet during the funeral. I kept my head down as I did not cry, and I did not want to be called evil as I did not mourn my sister.

Baldwin and I left Paris early, to return to Bruges. It had been completely destroyed, and we started rebuilding our home in the Year of Our Lord 868.

In June of the Year of Our Lord 869, I found out that I was pregnant for a sixth time. As Bruges was still under repair, I moved to Auxerre. The ruler there was Conrad II, and he was very hospitable towards me (as he was my cousin through my grandmother, Judith of Bavaria).

Then, I was told that my mother, Queen Ermentrude, passed away on the 6th of October in the Year of Our Lord 869. She was 46. As I was too heavily pregnant, I could not attend her funeral, and I stayed locked up in Auxerre, depressed.

As time went on, I realised that this child was more painful than all others. My doctors informed me that I had a high chance of passing away in childbirth. All I could do was pray, but alas, if I were to really pass away during childbirth, at least I could meet my mother, brothers and Æthelbald in the afterlife.

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Milord King Charles,

I am very sorry to say that your daughter, my wife Countess Judith, passed away in childbirth at the tender age of twenty-six on the fifth of March. She had delivered a daughter, Guinidilda, but died shortly after the birth.

I was awoken to her screams, and when I rushed to her room, many midwives were there. She was bleeding excessively, and I went to hold her hand to calm her, but she pushed me away. I stood by the side of the room and watched her, and after the child was born, I cradled the baby in my arms. Judith closed her eyes for a while and I assumed that she was sleeping, but then one of the midwives cried out loud. Judith was not breathing anymore. They tried doing everything to wake her up, but the doctors said that she had passed away due to the loss of blood.

Her body is to be buried in Saint Bertin Abbey, 420 kilometres north. It will pass Paris, and you may join the march if you wish.

28 May in the Year of Our Lord DCCCLXX Yours Sincerely,

Count Baldwin of Flanders

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