Chapter 8

Our arrival at Cologne provided us a surprise. Our flags had been flying at towns all along the river. Two miles before reaching the heavily walled city of Cologne, a gathering of people was frantically waving one of our flags at us. Our lookouts reported that our flag wasn’t flying at Cologne, so we stopped to talk with the people. They had the tribute for all of the villages along the river, but the riders said Cologne felt they were safe since their walls were higher and thicker and they had a castle across the river so both ends of the bridge were secure. Thanking them for their tribute, we continued south, anchoring near the east bank and about three hundred yards from Divitia, the castle guarding the east end of the bridge over the river.

Still seeing no sign of capitulation, I turned the mortars and cannons loose, targeting the castle and bridge. Within half an hour, the center span of the bridge was gone, and the north wall of the castle crumbled. Not long after, part of the city ramparts fell, and the city surrendered. When we first began the shelling, the Galician infantry had accompanied five hundred of our archers, surrounding the city. Prior to that, we had effectively sealed the city by targeting the exits with random explosions.

I could see that the city was an extremely wealthy one and I demanded 25,000 gold coins or its equivalent in tribute. I gave them two days to come up with the money or we would level the city. They were stunned, and started making all kinds of excuses until I warned them that I wouldn’t extend their deadline. I had them send the customary riders south to Bonn and all large towns along the river. Then they were to have every single woman in the city gather along the waterfront at mid-day tomorrow and I would choose my two concubines. I didn’t tell them now, but before I made my choice, I intended to tell the women that anyone who didn’t want to be considered could leave.

The next morning, my plans changed when the Gotberga arrived. After choosing two volunteer concubines, the other eighty-six women were loaded aboard the Gotberga, along with forty craftsmen and their families. The Gotberga took the tribute. It consisted of gold, silver, copper, and various other coins, as well as a few jewels. I had no idea if it was exactly 25,000 gold coins’ worth but took their word. It was definitely a lot. Two hundred Galician troops remained to maintain order in the city, and we left for Bonn.

The trip to Bonn took a little longer than I expected because the river was getting shallower. Having already passed many of the major tributaries, even with the shallow draft of the junk-style ship, I decided this would be our last stop. I considered doing the same thing down the Weser River, traveling upriver and demanding tribute from the cities. Bremen was a major port supplying Saxony and would be a wealthy target. I also considered sacking Treva (modern Hamburg) on the Elbe.

My consorts entertained me in my cabin as we sailed. Ethelia quickly demonstrated an eagerness to please me. She was encouraging Alda and Luilda, my newest consorts, when lookouts reported seeing Bonn.

Our flag was flying above the city and our landing was uneventful. I decided not to send the usual messengers south since this was our last stop. They even had single female volunteers assembled. The towns paid their tribute and then the leaders of Bonn seemed relieved when I only asked for 2,500 gold coins and had it to me within an hour.

Several times, I caught the nervous glances they gave each other. I asked to have dinner served to the villagers who had brought their tribute. I could see immediately that they didn’t like this, but they followed my order quickly. Sensing that something was going on, I ordered the gates to the city secured, guards posted on the walls and tallest buildings, scouts on both shores of the Rhine, all of the mast-tops manned with lookouts all night, and for all of our troops to be ready at a moment’s notice.

I also talked privately with each of the village representatives who had come to pay tribute. Finally, one of them admitted hearing rumors that King Tassimut was retreating this way with barely half the men he originally took with him, and Clovis was right behind him. Now I understood. The leaders in Bonn wanted us gone before their King arrived so he wasn’t trapped between two armies.

Armed with that knowledge, I took Bertrada and Lewena, my two newest consorts to the ship, then went back to Bonn--after letting my officers know what was going on. At first, the leaders tried to deny any knowledge until I told them I intended to occupy Bonn until King Tassimut showed up. They finally broke down and asked me to spare the retreating soldiers. Albovera, the eldest daughter of one of the city leaders, was a wife to one of the returning chieftains.

I suggested that they let me take a small contingent of my troops out with Albovera to meet King Tassimut, hoping to convince him to surrender. They agreed and met me in the morning with the Chieftain’s wife--a stunning blonde beauty exhibiting what would be considered a Scandinavian heritage in my original time. With twenty-five of my best archers, two mortars, and satchels filled with grenades, we rode out with two men from Bonn who purported to know approximately where King Tassimut was. I made sure they heard me tell the officers I left behind to raze the city and take any survivors as slaves if I wasn’t back in three days or if King Tassimut’s troops attacked. I did leave a series of passwords with them to verify any messages I sent. On the chance that I chose to be gone longer than three days, I didn’t want the city destroyed.

Tassimut had obviously heard we were in Bonn and was trying to go farther south to cross the Rhine at Remagen. He wasn’t happy when I showed up in his camp but sat down to listen to me. He was surprised to learn that Clovis wouldn’t force them to convert to Christianity. He was shocked that Clovis hadn’t even made his own people convert, instead choosing to let people make up their own minds about which deity or deities to worship. Albovera told him that our capture of Bonn had been bloodless and that my troops behaved themselves. After talking with his top officers most of the day, King Tassimut agreed to surrender and asked me to take him to Clovis.

Fortunately, he had a lot better idea of where Clovis was and how to get there than I did. Albovera accompanied us after finding out that her husband was one of thousands who hadn’t returned. I found it odd that she was more comfortable with us than being alone in the Saxon camp. I made sure to send one of the city’s guides back to Bonn with a message to add four more days to my deadline.

Clovis was shocked to see me riding into his camp the next morning, and more shocked at seeing who was accompanying me. By lunch, they had negotiated and agreed upon the terms of surrender. The Saxons were free to continue their religion but had to tolerate other religions and allow Christian missionaries. Nobody had to convert, but the Saxons had to allow the missionaries to proselytize. King Tassimut refused to be the recognized king after the deadly results of the attack he led. Instead, he would send all four new sub-kings to Paris to swear fealty to Clovis--one each for the Angarians, the Westphalians, Eastphalians, and the Nordalbingians.

Afterwards, Tassimut looked shell-shocked, so I talked with him. He wasn’t looking forward to the next several years after leading his men into what was by far the worst defeat ever of a Saxon army. He was surprised when I offered to take him to Valencia to live, saying that he’d consider it.

Clovis was curious about the chain mail shirt I was wearing, reminding me to get the one I had packed for him on my horse. Figuring that I would end up reporting to Paris after this, I’d brought the one I had made for him with me aboard ship.

Clovis’ troops, many from Soissons who were happy to see me, took two days to rest before returning home. Tassimut’s troops started wending their way home the day after he told them the news. As dispirited as they were, they were grateful that there would be no further retribution or deaths.

Clovis came with me. Albovera’s family remained stoic, but I could tell they were hurting deeply. Albovera’s husband was dead, leaving her a widow with a one-year-old child. Her sister’s betrothed was dead, as well as their older brother.

Learning of the devastation to the male Saxon population, I made a blanket offer to take widows, including any who had children, back to Valencia. I would provide everything they needed to survive until they could remarry. This time riders went in every direction to all the villages making my offer and providing partial lists of those who wouldn’t be returning. Anyone wanting to go with us should meet us in Cologne, Duisburg, or any of the cities we stopped at before. If they couldn’t make it that far in time, we would pick them up along the riverbank.

They needed to wave and get our attention if they wanted us to pick them up. I expected every city downriver to send riders immediately to give people more time to decide and to travel. I told the riders to make sure everyone knew we had plenty of jobs for any women who came to Valencia. We would even have a group of women available all day to watch young children for those women who were working.

Any women who learned later that they were widows would be welcomed aboard any of our trading ships that would soon be traveling up and down the rivers of Saxony. The trade ships would provide them with free passage, food, and lodging, and see that they made it safely to Valencia.

Albovera’s father, Ailbric, asked if his entire family could go with us. He was the chief of this village, but his leg hadn’t healed properly when he broke it four years ago. It made it impossible for him to walk or ride a horse for more than half a morning. If I agreed to let his family come with me, he would pass the title on to the captain who went in his stead. I saw a mixture of relief and sadness on his face when I agreed.

We sailed with an extra eighty-seven passengers in the morning. Not long after setting sail, we spotted the first four women waving frantically from the east bank. A shore boat went to retrieve the four women and three children.

When we saw a similar group on the west shore less than an hour later, I had a shore boat lowered into the water on each side of the ship and secured with strong ropes. If we spotted someone, one of the boats would steer to shore while the ship came to a stop. The windlass normally used to haul in harpooned ships pulled the shore boats back to us.

One of our extra passengers was King Tassimut, headed for Cologne. His castle was the one where we destroyed the north wall. Thankfully, his only comment was gratefulness that nobody died in our attack. We stayed in Cologne for three days while he wrapped things up. Messengers were sent to the capital city of the three sub-kings who died, informing them that they had to elect a new sub-king that had to present himself to Clovis in Paris to swear an oath of fealty. Before they could choose the new sub-king, they would have to elect several new chiefs to replace those who died. Besides Tassimut, no other sub-kings had survived. Tassimut had been elected King by a vote of the four sub-kings, a title automatically revoked when the troops returned. At that point, each state reverted to rule by its own sub-king and there was no overall ruler.

The day before leaving, I gave Tassimut the equivalent of five thousand gold coins from what I had with me in case I needed to buy anything. I told him it was to repair the bridge. If there was anything extra, they should use it to repair the castle and the town wall. His children were all adults, and he expected that his son would replace him as the new sub-king. Tassimut and his wife joined us aboard the Clovis.

Several times while we were in Cologne, I noticed Albovera and her sister Livith hanging out with my consorts, laughing as they talked quietly. The baby, Albovera’s son Darnell, laughed along with them as the women passed him back and forth between them.

Still, I was surprised when Albovera made a very public move and purposely sat next to me at dinner the second evening. Considering that her parents were at the table, too, I had a feeling she was making a statement, or staking a claim. I think I was the only person more surprised than her father was. The sly smile on her mother’s face and the fact that my consorts had purposely left the space open told me they planned it ahead of time.

As I spoke with Ailbric after dinner, I discovered he had come to the same conclusion. “My wife says your concubines rave about the way you treat them. I hope you will treat my daughter the same way,” he said emotionally.

“Considering that she is the daughter of a chieftain, I feel it would be more appropriate to make her a wife. Her sister wives will be ecstatic,” I told him.

He was happy that she wouldn’t be marrying below her status, something frowned on in Saxon culture. A man faced possible execution for marrying above his status. Technically, compared to Frankish nobility, the sub-kings were the equivalent of a Duke. There would, however, still be some repercussions since she wasn’t marrying someone from their culture. “One of my father’s ancestors was from the area around Wiesbaden,” I informed him. I didn’t tell him that it was long enough ago that I still qualified as full-blooded Blackfoot.

“But your skin is dark like a Moor,” he protested.

“From my other ancestors,” I answered. “I’m sure your people sometimes arrange marriages with other cultures to form political bonds.”

He nodded knowingly. “Both Albovera and Livith had arranged marriages with chiefs from other cities. My son would have been wed to Tassimut’s youngest daughter,” he lamented.

I was proud of myself for not lying. What I didn’t tell him was that one line of my father’s family left the Palatinate in 1849. I also hadn’t specifically told him that my parent’s marriage was an arranged one. I only suggested that his people used arranged marriages, implying that my parent’s marriage was, too.

The priest in Cologne agreed to perform the marriage the next morning. My surprise increased when I arrived for the ceremony and found two brides dressed in white robes. “I fear that my daughters spent the night arguing,” Ailbric said nervously. “You are the only suitable husband they will be able to find, and both insist that they be the one allowed to marry you. Livith makes a valid point in that she has not yet married. While her sister may be a widow, she has married already and has a child from that marriage,” he explained.

“Your daughters are aware that I have twelve wives already, and even more concubines, aren’t they?” I asked.

“They are aware you have several wives but I’m not sure they know the exact number,” he answered, curious about why I asked.