The Queen of Wessex Twice

The Countess of Flanders

Days passed, and my belly got larger by the day. The bumpy carriage ride made me go crazy, and I had to regularly stop at every village. Luckily, the locals were very generous, and offered me the best bread and wine they had.

On Easter of the Year of Our Lord 862, I returned to Paris, and my father was furious. He had received a letter from the Pope, and knew what he had to do. He restored me back to all my titles, and freed Louis. Ansgarde was invited back to court, and of course, they were very happy together. I was wed once again in Paris, four months pregnant, in a grand ceremony. I was told that my father planned to make Baldwin a Count.

However, during the ceremony, I felt very ill, and after I was wed to Baldwin, I skipped the grand banquets and immediately took to my bed.

The next day, I woke up to excruciating pain in my belly, and my physicians were immediately called to my bedside. They were clueless as to what was the cause of my pain, and all they could do was to massage me gently on my belly. Baldwin came three times a day to check on me, but one day, he told me that he had to visit Bruges for a few days, on the order of my father.

On the twelfth day of May in the Year of Our Lord 862, Ansgarde informed me that she was a month pregnant with her first child. Her physician told her that it was a healthy son, and she was very glad.

However, on that day, Baldwin also left for Ghent. I was too sick to see him off, and once again, I lay in my bed, hoping that Baldwin's travels would be safe.

By September, I moved to the birth chambers to await the birth of my third child.

On a cold stormy night in October, I woke up to excruciating pain in my belly once again, but this time it was stronger, and I found my bed wet. My midwives immediately rushed in to the sound of my screaming, and when they found my bed wet as well, they knew it was time. My head midwife, who was from Hainaut, prepared her equipment while the others calmed me down.

A rope was prepared, hanging from the roof, for me to release my force on. After about fifteen minutes, I could feel that the baby was coming out, and I released my force on the rope, screaming while doing so. After four hours, the baby's legs were barely able to be seen, and the head midwife insisted that she use pliers to take the baby out. However, I refused, as I had heard that pliers were deadly, and could cause the death of both the mother and the child. So, after thirty-six hours, my child was finally born.

I had lost large amounts of blood, and after the labour, I felt extremely ill. All I heard was the baby's crying, then I fell asleep.

I woke up to the sound of a baby's crying, and I realised that the child was mine. He was thin and frail. According to the midwife, I was asleep for four days. I was very hungry, and I immediately ordered the midwife to bring me food.

I was also told that my child was a son, and his name was Charles. Baldwin had insisted on naming the child Baldwin as well, but my father named my child Charles, and he did not allow any changes.

After a day of lying in bed, Baldwin finally visited me. "Judith, you're finally awake," Baldwin said.

"Yes, I am. What took you so long?" I exclaimed.

"I was away in Bruges, and your father made me the Count of Flanders," he replied.

I was stunned. I knew that my father was not the type of man who was so generous. He had a deeper reason to appoint Baldwin as the Count of Flanders, not just because I was married to him. But anyway, I was still the Countess of Flanders.

***

I stayed in Paris for a while longer, until I recovered. I also stayed to await the birth of my nephew or niece. On my nineteenth birthday, Ansgarde gave birth to a son, who was named Louis. I congratulated her on the birth, and I also envied her, as her child was strong unlike mine, and that she had recovered from the birth very quickly.

I was named godmother to Louis and I was present at his baptism. My brother was also very happy, and Ansgarde told me that he spent the whole of January drinking and partying.

However, on the first day of February in the Year of Our Lord 863, I left Paris with Baldwin and my son to go to Bruges.

It took six days to get there, and I could see that my son was very sick after the trip. I could not let him die young, just like my other two children, and I prayed that he would live a long life.

Bruges was the capital of Flanders, and it was cold and damp. Immediately, my son became even more sick, and fearful for his life, I made sure that he slept in a warm and cosy room. At last, he recovered, but he was still thin and frail.

I soon got to know the Flemish people better, and I embraced the culture. I started living in Het Steen, a rock castle that Baldwin built for us to live in.

On the ninth day of October in the Year of Our Lord 863, I celebrated my son's first birthday, but after the celebration, once again, he got weaker.

On the eighth day of November, I woke up to my son's cries. I ran to his room, where my lady was sitting there, rocking his cot.

"What happened?" I frantically asked.

"Your Grace, His Grace is feeling extremely hot. I believe he is having a fever," my lady replied.

I touched my son's forehead, and indeed, it was burning hot. I awoke all the physicians and they rushed to my son's side, trying to cure his fever. Baldwin too was stressed, as he could not let his only heir die.

My physician told me that a cold towel over my son's head was the best he could do, and he asked me to pray to the Lord every day. I took his word to heart, and when I woke up every day, the first thing I would do was to get dressed and go to church.

However, nothing worked. I cared for him every day, and I knew if my son died, word would spread that I was incapable of producing a healthy child.

On the first day of December, my son's usual crying stopped. I rushed to his chambers, where my lady told me that she had tried waking my son, but he would not open his eyes. Upon hearing this news, I grabbed a bucket of water and splashed it on my son, but nothing happened. I knew he was gone, and I collapsed onto the floor in tears. Baldwin rushed in, and when he saw everything, he took in one deep breath, and sighed.

Once again, I was dressed all in black, walking through mud as my son's tiny body was placed in a coffin and carried by four men. This procession I knew all too well, and I had gone through this twice. Baldwin and I walked beside each other, walking in the rain, mourning our loss silently. All we could hear was the rain falling, and the sounds of our feet squashing the grass underneath us.

Soon, my son's tiny coffin was placed underneath the church's altar. "Never mind," Baldwin said. "We can always try again." However, I knew that it would be impossible for me to bear a male heir.