#49.6, Thurs., Oct. 12, 2023

Historical Setting:  610 C.E., Vosges Mountains

I’m trying to make sense of this, and at the same time, be the voice of wisdom for my son.

          “Greg, I think the trouble the abbot finds with the king taking a concubine is the moral issue of a concubine. This dilemma is rooted in the notion that, with a concubine, a marriage becomes a love lie. When someone is added just for the sexual relationship the fullness of the relationship is incomplete or broken. So even if it were known that you were Gaillard’s only lover, the arrangement of adding a woman, simply purposed with having children, would mean you are sharing your intimacy, God’s physical metaphor for creative love, with someone who was selected to intrude for the sake of nobility’s power. Is that how you wish to continue throughout your life long?”

         “Momma knows better. I will hear her approval of this.”

         “Greg, your mother and I both want you to find a loving relationship to carry you on.”

         Greg cleans his blade, and says nothing more. He goes into the house.  Now, as I finish up here, I see Greg and Ana walking away from the cottage to have this conversation.

         Nothing is spoken of any resolution. The feast with our family and guests is nearly silent — uncomfortably silent.  Greg and Gaillard say nothing. There are longing glances between them, and even the four guardsmen and our children all know there is nothing to say. The wine is served with no toast.

         Now, in the quiet darkness made for soaking worries with sleep, Ana and I talk.

         I told Ana, “Greg wouldn’t listen to me because I wouldn’t give my approval to their idea that Greg could just be a third person in a marriage.”

         “Yes, he told me you were dug in on this, making metaphors of kings and politics. But really, it seems the whole problem here is Gaillard’s family requirement.”

         “So you think I should go have it out with his uncle, the castle builder, who is right now chopping down the hunter’s wood?”

         “Laz, he’s a warring nobleman — you are a peaceful commoner. Of course, you can’t confront him over this – at least in the warring, noble way. But really it this between Gaillard and Greg and isn’t that what has to be considered? I suggested Greg and Gaillard either have a bond together, or they don’t. Neither of them can base this on a plan made by fathers and uncles.”

         “Of course, Gaillard is obligated to produce heirs.”

(Continues Tuesday, October 17)

#49.5, Weds., Oct. 11, 2023

Historical Setting:  610 C.E., Vosges Mountains

         Greg is telling me that he has completed his indenture and Gaillard’s family may release him but he fears that would be so that Gaillard could take a wife.  He tells me Gaillard finds the solution for that in calling Greg his “precious concubine.”

         What can I say? He is awaiting some fatherly wisdom and I am very uncomfortable with this issue. I have no argument considering him “precious?” Of course, he is precious; his mother and I have always thought that of him. But it is our word for our children, not Gaillard’s word.

         And what does this mean, “concubine?”

         I know what it means. Father Columbanus is in a dispute over this very word with King Theodoric II and with the king’s great-grandmother, the regent for the young King. It seems Theodoric is in a relationship that would normally be sanctified as marriage.  But his regent, Queen Brunhilda, is against a marriage because it would mean the king is of age to rule without a regent. And this, just when Brunhilda is bringing together two kingdoms, Burgundy and Austrasia, into a Frankish union and Theodoric is rising to rule his own kingdom of Burgundy. So, a marriage would undermine the queen’s power. Brunhilda offers the compromise for the king to take the mother of his children as a concubine. [footnote]

         Now, that Theodoric and his so-called concubine have sons, Father Columbanus has issued his moral opposition. He is firmly against a young man taking a concubine. With that the Father has roused the raging wrath of Brunhilda.  So now, the complaining bishops of Gaul share this common enemy with the queen. It is a dangerous stand for the Father.

         I answer my son, “Greg, I fear that continuing a relationship with Gaillard would become troublesome in these times.”

         “So, Papa,” Greg qualifies, “You are suggesting Gaillard and I keep our tryst secret?”

         “No Greg. That’s not what I was saying.”

         A lone, wild gander flies overhead, honking its grieving song in the autumn brisk air. It is the season for the migration of the geese and this one is alone.

         “So, Papa, you are opposed to my keeping Gaillard as my lover? Momma knows us well. She knows I can’t just pretend away my love for Gaillard simply because it is inconvenient for his family. I should’ve just asked Momma about this in the first place.”

         “Please Greg, hear me out…”

 [footnote] https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Columbanus

(Continues Tomorrow)


#49.4, Tues., Oct. 10, 2023

Historical Setting:  610 C.E., Vosges Mountains

         Greg and I are butchering the lamb that was slaughtered for the homecoming feast for those who returned today from a peace and charity mission to the strangers across the rivers.

         Greg is helping me prepare the lamb so he can talk with me alone. He told me he and Gaillard have seen a “vision of peace.”

         He goes on, “So now it is for Gaillard to try to explain this pacifism to his family who are warring aristocrats. My task was easier than his. Thank you, Papa.”

         Of course, I appreciate hearing it said with words, that my son has accepted an obligation for pacifism, and I am glad to know he is a man of wisdom, but there must be something more he has to tell me that requires Gaillard not hear this. And he does have a concern.

         “Papa, Gaillard’s family fears I, of a common root, have influenced Gaillard to grow weak in the face of war. They blame me for what we’ve both learned of war and peace now.”

         “You say, blame, surely God sees it as a credit to you. And who is it you wish to please, Gaillard’s family or God?”

         “Papa, it is important that I please his family. I’ve completed my indenture now, to pay the gift for Gabe to be at the monastery. I’ve worked for a wage and paid for my own horse and armor, and now they may choose to release me from my obligation.”

         “Congratulations, Greg, I am so proud of you.”

         I don’t have to say that on a bird’s leg message – I can put my arm around him, and say my blessings on him person-to-person here.

         He continues, “That they release me may not be a good thing, Papa.  If I am sent away, Gaillard and I will have to part. And I fear that is what his family would wish. Gaillard has been told they have arranged for him to take a wife from a noble family to bear children and carry the lineage forward. He tells me not to worry because I can still be his precious concubine.”

         I wish he’d phrased it another way, maybe “partner in arms,” or “special friend,” or “friend forever” whatever… It seems so strange to hear this full-statured man, strong and bold and wise, standing here with a lamb’s blood dripping from his blade, saying he is called a “precious concubine” by his lover.

 (Continues tomorrow)

#49.3, Thurs., Oct. 5, 2023

Historical Setting:  610 C.E., Vosges Mountains

         When I was last keeping this journal, before the caravan of charity, before our farm was rich, before our sons were grown, Ana and I had a house full of wee ones. We had just sent Gabe and Greg off only imagining them as the men they would become.  And here is Greg, now leader of the guard. He is tall and straight, broad shouldered, an imposing figure of a soldier, and always at his right flank is a nobleman of Metz, Gaillard. A lot has changed.

         Greg follows me to the shed where I’ve come to ready the meats. Yesterday, when we knew of this feast we killed a sheep, and now, here is Greg to help me with the butchering. We take our time with this because Greg has a concern he wants to speak with me about. He is sure Gaillard won’t come out here to help since Gaillard finds raw meats abhorrent.

         “Papa, I’ve done as you asked.  I’ve kept my sword sheathed as we’ve been searching the east for little windows of peace, not war.  After all these years I’ve come to know that your demand is worthy.”

         I stop my work and look at him here. Does he possibly know this thing he claims?

         He tells me, “You know, Gaillard was never one for drawing his sword, so on our first mission, when we encountered what we thought was a robber stopping us on the road it was my sword immediately at the man’s throat. I raised up his face with my blade under his chin. I looked him in the eye and then I saw this man was that fellow Cy we once met on that pilgrimage to Luxeuil; he was the lame man you carried on your back when Gabe and I were yet children. I think it was a true sign from God that Cy was our first fearsome enemy encounter. He took us then, and showed us the poverty of the people he was caring for.

         “Then, this second mission was for charity for those same people, victims of the eastern wars. We saw the wake of war. When I was the one with the spears and swords and the soldiers at my command, I was miraculously given the power of clarity – a vision – you would say. I was empowered to see that this so-called ‘enemy’ across the rivers was really a needy neighbor.”

         Thank you, God.

(Continues Tuesday, October 10)

#49.2, Weds., Oct. 4, 2023

Historical Setting:  610 C.E., Vosges Mountains

         Now it’s been many months since the caravan of Christian charity crossed over the hills and out of sight. We’ve heard nothing from Greg and Gaillard, and Hannah as well — until yesterday. The bird Hannah had for messaging came ahead with the news to expect them home soon. So today we watch the hills to the east.

         Hours pass, and now on the distant hillside, across the clearing – we catch a glimpse of the horses and the guardsmen – they’ve left the wagons and mules, the flocks and herds, and are all traveling on horseback with only one mule for their own packs. We’ve gathered to watch. It’s an easy cantor for them, briefly in view, down the slope then gone from sight again into the woods – we wait.  We hear the hoof beats, and now the chatter of their voices. Now, here they are, Greg and Gaillard leading the guard. And here is our always serious Hannah, fully an adult woman, smiling now. I lift her from her horse, as though a woman’s tunic made her frail, she wraps into her waiting mother’s arms reaching for the first hug.

         So here is our daughter, a beloved stranger, familiar, as we remembered, but now with us again as a wise and beautiful woman of the world, experienced in all the newness of adulthood. She stands calmly amid the teasing mayhem from her younger brothers and the bundle of hugs from Layla. They’ve been gone a good part of the year, and now as I see it from the perspective of these travelers, lots has changed here, though for us it seems the same as always. Now Brandell is going on twelve, and Haberd is the full stature of a man.

         With seven horses and a mule just returned to the stable, I go with Gabe and Gaillard and the guardsmen to brush down the horses and put them out to pasture.

         Ana has some honey cakes waiting on the hearth, and I bring the fresh water in for the pot for tea. And with soldiers here I should tap a keg of ale. The stores of grains and roots we sent away months ago, seeming sacrificial in our generosity, are now fully restored and our winter preparations are nearly completed.

         Dear God, we have thanks giving in our hearts now, that will take us the whole of autumn and into the winter just to speak of it in so many prayers, Thank you.

(Continues tomorrow)


#49.1, Tues., Oct. 3, 2023

Historical Setting: 610 C.E., Vosges Mountains

Seven years since last I wrote.

         Bishop Felix returned from his recent journey to Rome with the news that Pope Gregory is dead and much is left unfinished. The hopes Columbanus had in finding an ally in the pope went array because the pope didn’t even receive his letter. Now controversies are brewing over the power of the papacy and the hierarchy of bishops. Bishop Felix is still hoping for missionary assignment to East Angles following Gregory’s appointment of Augustine to convert the Pagans. There are many loose threads.

         We’ve watched for wars from the north and from the east. The nobility of Metz sent their spies to learn of this. The two spies that I know went looking for warring enemies and came back to this papa’s house before they reported back to Metz. Greg and Gaillard said the likely invaders, the Avars and the Slaves feared by the Franks, have settled in the lands beyond the rivers to the east. But the armies of those marauding tribes are now warring with the Persians and eastern vestiges of the Roman Empire in the Christianized Byzantine. [Footnote 1] With the wars far away, the settled tribes have no warriors left among them to burn and sack these Frankish lands.

         So, when Greg and Gaillard returned from their first journey across the rivers, last year, they brought news that these tribes we feared were, themselves, war-ravaged and suffering. They told us of famine and plague among the Slavs. This rallied the empathy of the Bishop of Metz and his wife Doda. So, we all gathered up supplies to send with the Frankish caravan from Metz filled with Christian charity for these suffering people. [Footnote 2] Our own farm supplied some of the mules and added to the sheep and goats that were sent. We were able to fill one whole wagon with just the abundance from our field and gardens.

         Hannah, who was fifteen last year, begged to go and care for the sick who desperately needed a knowledgeable healer.  Ana was most against it.

         “She has no experience with plague.”

         I asked Ana, “How would she gain that experience if we didn’t allow her to go?” And I reminded Ana of her own advice for letting children grow up in their own ways. “She will undoubtedly go with or without our blessing.” 

         So, Ana and I blessed her on her way.  We sent her with lots of herbs and medicines, and a bird to message us back.

[Footnote 1] One would think a history blogger would know this, but it took a source book. (Herrin, Judith, Byzantium: The surprising life of a medieval empire, Penguin Books: U.K. 2007, chapter 8.)

[Footnote 2] The Bishop of Metz, Agulif, and his also noble wife, Doda, were known to be charitable in a time when Christian charity was valued. But sending this caravan to needy strangers in 609 C.E. is fictional.

Art note: This Goauche painting of the Vosges in the autumn was my class project, introduced to this medium by a most excellent art teacher, Camille Tulcewicz.

(Continues tomorrow)

#48.12, Thurs., Sept. 28, 2023

Historical setting: 602 C.E. The Vosges Mountains

         Those who were once hunters will soon be bent into farmers who will have no safety from wars except for a landowner’s castle walls.  The legends haunting the Samhain fires of the dwindling tribes of pagans remember the ghost riders across the sky, the soldiers of Theodoric I, and the fires of the old wars with the Huns. Our own house is a heap of stones from a Roman fortress ruin. Once guard towers watched to the east from these mountains, guarding against strangers crossing the rivers. In the end the Huns just dissolved into people wrapped in winter furs gathered around the fires the same as all the tribes that are us.

         And here we are again, building higher fortress walls, sending out spies, keeping watch on the wide rivers and borders for others. We name them enemies. Wars require enemies so any others might be them. That’s the first requirement for war — someone to call enemy. If we don’t label our enemies, we could discover the strangers beyond our rivers are us. They are hungry and homeless, not because of scarcity, but because of the fear of sharing.

         So, what if our kings and autocrats, or even just our hunters and farmers were to savor the gospels?  What if we go with empathy, not enemy? Maybe empathy is too expensive. It leads to dispersing our winter stores and dividing our fields. Is war less expensive?

         Dear God, thank you for these great stores of plenty for the winter I, myself, alone, have set aside. May crispy autumn days keep it cool and safe from rot…

         Oh wait, God answers my prayer even as I think of it — no heart searching or revelation is even needed. I’m not deaf enough yet, or too numb to hear God shouting back, “just listen to yourself, Lazarus!  Just listen! You’ve only had one good season, and already you pray like a greedy man!”

         Well, I would plan for solid walls to keep this abundance just for my own family. It’s easy to believe this good fortune and good earth are deserved and are mine, just mine, for the hoarding and the rotting. It’s so easy to think I need bigger barns and fortresses, when maybe, really, I just need wider doorways.

         Dear God, thank you for plenty. Help me recognize that this scarcity I would fear is imaginary. Amen.

(Continues Tuesday, Oct. 3, 2023)

#48.11, Weds., Sept. 27, 2023

Historical setting: 602 C.E. The Vosges Mountains

         I was asking what Bishop Felix will do if the noble bishops of Gaul won’t negotiate.

         He explains, “I will go to the pope again and ask for an assignment to East Anglia. Oh, but I probably shouldn’t make it sound so futile when these power struggles over the hierarchy would hardly make a difference to you and the other common people of Gaul. Surely your faith won’t be forsaken by God regardless of how bishops and abbots may disagree.”

         I don’t find comfort in that. Of course, we, who are the common people of Gaul, are not forsaken by God simply because the religious hierarchy abandon us to argue among themselves. It’s probably a very good thing that this churchman, so recently elevated to his rose-tinted authority, believes his ordination is all for God’s sake. But hopefully he won’t forget that God first knew us all naked, so whatever the liturgical garb, or ermine robes and crown, or tattered tunic, God still listens to our prayers.

         Now, the guards have climbed the hill and they are already at our cottage door. There are four guards on horseback leading the fifth horse, looking for the bishop. One of the voices of these men and the clacking of armor has an indelible place in my memories of terrors. I choose not to invite them into our house or even to go out and greet them as social duty would demand. The bishop simply thanks us and is gone. I send Haberd and Brandell back from the window so they don’t see this.

         The wood-smoke wafting up from the forests at the hunter’s village speaks of a new season now upon us. New castles and fortresses require the huge straight timbers hewn from the forests. The debris of this harvest is heaped unto bon fires flaming up in the newly barren places. The naked earth is softened by burning the land into new fields soon to come under the plow.

         The aisles supporting the halls and oratorios of castles and churches can only be as high as had been these tall trees now cut into columns. Now trees are for holding roofs, not for stroking the skies. When the grand rooms are made with the long tables and great thrones for the aristocracy, then the mules will bring the stones for the outer walls, solid as ancient Rome, to hold back any intruders or armies – maybe the rumored Slavs and Avars. Everyone is planning on wars.

(Continues tomorrow)

#48.10, Tues., Sept. 26, 2023

Historical setting: 602 C.E. The Vosges Mountains

         We’re gathered at the table for our morning oats with our guest, Bishop Felix. Right in the middle of the table is a wilting bouquet of pinkish shades of chickory gathered by Haberd and Brandell. Now I see they are thinking of the color of this bishop’s robes.

         Bishop Felix has Brandell on his knee at the table, and he explains his elegant style to the child. “Monks follow the rule of poverty. But it seems bishops make their own rule. Often, they distinguish themselves in black or white or red. Of course, Father Columbanus has no rule for bishops other than what is for his monks, because there are no bishops at Luxeuil. So, as a bishop now, and yet a follower of the father I am bound by no rule for color.

         When I was made a bishop by the pope I considered the colors carefully, black for the mystery, white for the purity, red for the love — some bishops wear bright purple maybe for their own nobility. But as for me, I find Pale linen invites; it doesn’t astound or overwhelm with authority. So, in Rome I found a dyer of linens who could make this pale rose color, and it was my choice. I’m never mistaken for Frankish nobility. Were we not in a place so worried over bishop power, and had I not been to Rome where this fabric was available, I would simply choose white to remind me always to be pure. But the best thing now is that my choice is appreciated by this child who has a discerning eye for color.”

         After Father Columbanus and Bishop Felix spent the night considering the possibility of the pope intervening on behalf of the Father, I know a letter to the pope will be dispatched as soon as he returns to Luxeuil. But right now, Bishop Felix seems playfully enjoying his own place in the hierarchy having been raised to the equal of the pesky bishops. He is hoping to make peace with them one by one looking for compromises that will allow for the Celtic Rule.

         “But,” he explains, “After speaking with Father Columbanus they may be dug in and unwilling to negotiate. If the bishops succeed in ousting Father Columbanus, I plan to ask Pope Gregory to consider me for an assignment as a missionary to East Anglia.”

         “So, you would just give up on all of us here?” I ask.

(Continues tomorrow)

#48.9, Thurs., Sept. 21, 2023

Historical setting: 602 C.E. The Vosges Mountains

         Even as the sun rises these guests are sleeping soundly. This could never happen under the rule they keep at their own communities. So, to keep the quiet in the cottage, Ana and I take the four little ones outside into the sunny autumn day. Haberd and I carry some logs closer to the door, while Ana takes Layla and Brandell into the shed to search for eggs.  Hannah follows after them knowing this won’t end well with babies handling eggs. This is usually her task and she always finds every egg and none ever gets broken.

         But today only three of the six eggs make it all the way to the table. We do have a nice bouquet of wild flowers for the table and now our guests are all robed and ready for this new day also.

         Brother Servant expects the guards who accompanied Bishop Felix from Châlons will soon be at our door to escort him back to Luxeuil. The message we sent yesterday only said he would be here for a night. And a bishops’ guards have a duty to know where he is. Father Columbanus chooses not to be discovered here so he is the first of our guests to leave as he goes to continue his solitude in whatever is left of wilderness in these times. The Father takes the one bird we still have here that will return to Luxeuil, and that is why he doesn’t need to have his own bevy of armed guards following after him. Brother Servant leaves soon after the Father to return to Luxeuil.

         Bishop Felix has no urgency to leave since his own borrowed guards are expected to arrive. His mission is complete now that he’s met with Father Columbanus, and without those listening ears that would surely carry every word of the Fathers’ chat back to the noble bishops of Gaul, had the guards been privy to the all-nighter here.  We’ll make no mention of the Father’s visit when they arrive.

         Brandell thinks the bishop here dining with our family for breakfast is the most interesting guest he’s ever seen.  He touches the pale sleeve of his garment, then pulls his hand back quickly so not to be caught touching a Bishop. Bishop Felix seems to enjoy the child’s curiosity. He smiles, and takes little Brandell onto his knee.

(Continues Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2023)