“Men march off to war because the women are watching.” So said Socrates. In “THE HARD GODDESS”, the second book of his trilogy—“The Song of Charlemagne”, the author introduces his reader to the women behind the men on the medieval battlefield. In so doing, one comes to understand and appreciate how French expressions such as “Feminine Mystique” and “Femme Fatale” must have originated and which are today, universally recognized and understood in the international lexicon without translation. Along the way, one also discovers a few of the ulterior motives underlying Charlemagne’s alliance with the Roman church as well as organized religion’s functional utility in the hands of potentates (be they Christian or Muslim) as a societal control mechanism. In the process of the troubadour’s telling of the story, the reader experiences visceral descriptions of Dark Age battle against the gloriously detailed backdrop of a France that is still there if one knows where to go and look. There is a reason Eleanor of Aquitaine is always credited with having “invented” the concepts of Romance, Chivalry and Courtly Love. She was far removed from the times in which he actually lived. Yet somehow, she must have sensed and understood Charlemagne’s hidden agenda regarding women within the church and the greater social order. But, in the final analysis, is anything within the pages of this work relevant with regard to contemporary world events and social issues confronting us all? Sadly, terribly.

THE SONG OF CHARLEMAGNE

BOOK TWO THE HARD GODDESS By Thomas F. Motter

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Thomas F. Motter KSJ
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-0900-5

Contents

Prologue....................................3I Aachen....................................7II Vienne...................................22III Battle of the Meuse.....................60IV Bestowal.................................92V Avignon...................................97VI Invocation...............................119VII Carcassonne.............................125VIII Rome...................................137IX Rescue...................................156X Battle of Aspromonte......................174EPILOGUE....................................221

Chapter One

Aachen

Aachen was an ancient town. Its earliest inhabitants had been drawn to settle there because of the multiple hot springs and great pools of warm, mineral water in its immediate vicinity. Its close proximity to the Wurm and Rhur rivers, both of which emptied into the nearby Meuse, made it an ideal location for a settlement.

When the Romans took control of it in fifty-two BC, they installed terracotta plumbing and converted the whole town into the only community in Northern Gaul with hot and cold running water. The king loved to swim year-round and thoroughly enjoyed indulging in the natural amenities of the good life that Aachen afforded all its inhabitants. For that reason alone, he'd decided early-on, to make Aachen his permanent residence instead of Paris.

His palace, the "Aula Regia" was at the center of the town. It was a five—story, stone affair in the Romanesque style of architecture with lofty turrets, echauguettes and soaring, stained-glass windows imported from Venice. One of the windows, he claimed, was enchanted and allowed him to see all that was going on in the world. His subjects and a good many of his enemies believed it to be true! But in reality, he simply had "missi" everywhere. The palace itself stood at one edge of an ancient, cobblestone square that had served as a centralized, regional marketplace for merchants and traders since ancient times.

Opposite the royal palace on the other side of the market square was the great, ruffle-domed, stone Cathedral of the Magdalene that Charlois had had built, not only to worship the Christian deity, but also to honor womankind. Inside were huge frescos in tile mosaic; the most famous being that of the four and twenty counselors. Here, was to be found his formal throne of state carved of stone on an elevated, stone pedestal with stone steps. From it, he dictated his capitularies or liturgical protocols like the "Correctio" surrounded by clergy and the most learned men of the time (Alcuin of Angleterre, Theodulf, the bishop of Orleans, Paul the Deacon and Angilbert of Saint—Riquier among others.)—and this, at any hour of the day or night.

Narrow, cobbled streets ran away from the market square like spokes off the hub of a wheel. Encircling the town's "spoke streets" like a wheel's rim was another cobbled street that had originally been the first wall built by the Romans when Aachen became the outpost of their northeastern frontier. Charlois had had it dismantled and converted to a street as the town had grown and had used the stones from the old wall to help construct the new wall encircling the city further out.

The king's presence had drawn many from the outer regions of the realm who wanted to be at the center of all that was happening. This dynamic had caused the town's diameter to grow to twice what it had been prior to the royal family's having taken up permanent residence. Their presence ensured that Aachen's market square would remain the hub of commerce and trade in the region as well as the center of political activity and public discourse for many years to come.

At the present moment, it was night-time in Aachen. It had been a holiday throughout the town in celebration of the king's victory over Desiderius and his triumphal return. There had been much drinking, dancing, music, mirth and merriment over the course of the day's festivities. Now, it was the hour just past midnight and the streets were deserted. The ambient light from the celebration fires that still burned hither and yon throughout the town, as well as the great bonfire in the center of the square, (now burning low) was the only source of illumination in the palace bedchamber. It penetrated the soaring, blue, stained-glass windowpanes (gifts from the doge of Venice) casting a bluish aura over the two naked figures within. Their silhouettes against the window, presented an erotic dance of passion.

The man was tall and when he reached to caress or embrace the woman, the definition of his muscled arms was easily perceived against the contrasting blue glow of the great, translucent panes of poured glass. The woman was equally fit as any would have noted had there been eyes to bear witness. Her hair flowed down long and wavy over pendulous breasts that were perfect in proportion to her lithe and regal stature.

The two embraced, kissed and caressed in all manner of reckless abandon, as if they must surely have been one another's greatest erotic fantasies. Their slow, almost stylized movements built to a frenetic crescendo. They acted as two depraved demons bent on the satisfaction of a mutually unquenchable lust for one another.

Any observer would have deduced that this had to be the first (and perhaps last) time they would ever be left alone together. Every conceivable position in which one could imagine the sexual act, they engaged in joyously; completely devoid of any inhibition. The seemingly inexhaustible depth of the ardor between the two, coupled with their obvious mutual trust, spoke volumes about their enviable relationship.

These two were lovers; real lovers, who knew their own skins and that of their mates so well and yet, after so many years, were still excited to the point of pure, unbridled lust almost every time they were left in a room alone together. Who can explain such a mutual attraction over long years of constant stress from the relentless issues eternally confronting their maternal and paternal responsibilities of state? Was it magic? Was it an enchantment placed upon them by a witch or wizard or fairy queen? They knew not, nor did they stop to question or care.

The joy in their hearts for one another was pure bliss. That's all that mattered and they reveled in it. Their erotic dance of heated passion continued non-stop into the early morning hours until the two collapsed from complete exhaustion into one another's arms. Finally, they slept.

Six hours later, light from outside began to brighten the great bedchamber with that dull illumination that invariably precedes the sun's first appearance on the far horizon. It was summer; the first of June, so there'd been no need to draw the curtains of heavy brocade around the great, royal, four-poster, canopied bed for warmth. Still in Charlois' arms, Hilde was awakened by the early morning sunlight streaming in through the same great cobalt windows. She opened her eyes and gazed upon her husband's serene countenance with quiet admiration.

Charlois opened his eyes and saw her staring back at him. "What?" he asked, smiling.

Hilde returned her own winsome smile. "I was just watching you sleep and thinking."

"About what?"

She gently hugged him as she answered. "About how lucky I am to be your queen and have you for my husband."

Charlois rose up on an elbow and...