Post #34.11, Weds., July 27, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. An inn on the road to Châlons

         Men gather on their way at the board of this inn where ale is served. It seems it may be unusual here to bring one’s young wife to this place, but they also serve a fine dish of porridge and we are both hungry after a day riding. Two shepherds snarl and glance at one another to assure us they see Ana as an intruder. And she’s not one to go to a women’s table with her porridge just to suit the norms of gender, and besides, I’m here.  She doesn’t fear men’s glances in this circumstance, so she makes it her intent to break the social rule by asking them more about their work than they offered.

         “Were all of the lambs born this year without the need of a midwife?”

         This elicits actual laughter; then one wipes the foamy drool from his lips, and notices she has a serious question. 

         “No, not this year.” Said that one. “Old Shlag had to come out to the pasture with his blade, and sliced the old ewe right in her belly and fetch out that twisted lamb.”

         “Really?” Ana is incredulous.

         “It were bloody.” announced the other shepherd.

         “Really? More bloody than a normal birthing?” Ana asked in all seriousness.

         Then the two shepherds argued among themselves about this comparison. They needed extra ale to figure this all out. One staggered back a bit to make the great pronouncement.

         “The lamb and the ewe both walked away from it live!”

         “Both the mother and the baby lived?” Ana asked.

         “It were the miracle of Shlag’s blade!”

         Now Ana’s questions have purpose. She wants to hear the details bloody or not.

         “Shlag is an old shepherd” said one.

         “Shepherd of shepherds” said the other.

         “Like a master of shepherds,” encourages Ana.

         “More like the king of shepherds,” says the first.

         “Kings are born of kings. Shepherds are born of shepherds, and they have the knowledge of the ages – Just like kings know saving the rule, shepherds also only know one thing — saving the sheep.”

         “So would you say this gift for surgery is something common that comes from ancient knowledge of shepherding?” asks Ana.

         “Shhh, yes’m.”

         “Is it common? Or is this the first anyone has seen it?”

         “It were a first for me, but Shlag says it happens.”

         “How did he know where to put his blade for the cut?” asked Ana.

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.10, Tues., July 26, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. An island in a river

         Ana says she will be glad to spend these soft summer nights camping by the river washed in the beauty of earth. The river invites these mythical meanders in our imaginations. And we are under the the waxing moon that rises in the afternoon and sets Ana into what she calls, the rigors of woman. I happen to think the whining of it is the rigors of man. I have no experience as a base for my empathy. I’m not sure if it is just grief in knowing there is no baby growing toward birth this month or if it is a physical hurt. But we do take a slower pace these few days. And we make our camp on one of the secluded wooded islands between the river and the shallow fresh water creeks tatting the plain of this valley.

         So here we are, like first man and first woman, basking naked in the warm sun of this place; we are like the people of an Eden but here we are in the middle of a real world.  The horses dine on oats and beautiful grasses. They dip into the water, refreshed, as we are also. These waters are rich with écrevisses, as good as any lobster from the sea.  Add to that the gathering of fresh berries, and our own loaves of barelybread, and we could never think of our necessary tasks again.

         Now the moon has waxed to gibbous rising in the daylight, and setting softly brushed in the summer breeze. The last thing Ana said tonight with words were, “let’s just stay here for ever and ever.” The good things said with no words fill the whole of this night. Thank you God. 

         In the morning we will cross the river and go on our way back to our appointed tasks.

         Our clothes are clean in the cold creek and fresh in the sun, and the horses are rested and fed.  We are ready for the rocky ruins, the mud paths, and arguing bishops of the tangible world as we cross over the river toward Châlons.

         We find an inn this night, and here there is a dining board where they serve ale. Two shepherds imbibe, preparing to go off to the pastures tomorrow with the new lambs of last spring, old enough now to join the flocks for their first taste of summer grasses. We try to seem interested then Ana asks them what may seem a prying question. 

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.9, Thurs., July 21, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Reims to Châlons

         I know Bishop Gregory is not one to use his high ecclesiastical office to make political accusations, but in his secular writings, like the “History of the Franks” for example, he might float rumors supporting his own grudges. All these twisty tales of kings and bishops settling with the dusts of Gaul in the ruins of Rome could be completely ignored by an Irish father, a foreigner to these shores. Columbanus came here for his wilderness pilgrimage. He was seeking desolation and solitude. But, unknown to the father, Columbanus’s journey might have turned political when he and his followers stopped to ask permission from King Guntram to establish an isolated community for his little band of Irish monks. Now it is obvious this so-called, “wilderness” that seemed to belong to no one is really the heartland of Gaul with roads and bridges, rivers and cities and overlapping boundaries of three kingdoms of the Merovingians. Here boundaries are usually settled by annihilating warfare, assassinations and atrocity. 

         I can see here what happened. The humble, but well-spoken father from the Celtic islands took his request to the King, and Guntram graciously offered him the Roman Ruin of a fort in the Vosges mountains. The desert father saw it as a wilderness. The king saw it as a far away, hard to reach borderland he wished to secure because it pushes into the kingdom of Austrasia. So here I am delivering the father’s kind letters to a bevy of power hungry bishops in the midst of it all trying to reconcile details of tonsure style and the choice for an Easter date.

         Our Journey to Reims has nothing for Ana’s quest, and my simple task of handing a letter to the bishop was hardly successful either. But we’ve learned a bit more about the nature of this place.

         We are heading to the last stop on the iron seller’s map, Châlons. 

         From there we will go on as best as we can find our way with no map. From Sens we will be but a day’s ride to the headwaters of the Loire.

         This leg of our journey will take us a few days and will have less of the aristocratic accommodations like city inns, so we prepare by purchasing some oats and several loaves of barley bread to accompany our foraging through an ironically well-populated “wilderness.”

 (Continues Tuesday, July 26)

Post #34.8, Weds., July 20, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Reims

         The edges of kingdoms that meet in this vague land we travel may explain Reims. Like the aristocratic heritage of bishops, this city itself is steeped in ancient politics. It’s the legendary place of baptism and coronation of Clovis and Kings of the Franks to follow.  Now the bishop is Egidius. But he isn’t here today to receive this messenger in person. So I must trust his assistant to pass the father’s letter along to him. The assistant tells me the bishop is off with an envoy of dukes and royals visiting kings, not with words of peace in the name of God, but with rumors and accusations. Apparently Egidius has far worse issues with the kings and bishops of these lands than does Father Columbanus.

         The assistant doesn’t tell me this.  But Ana learns of it in her inquiries about medical books and women practitioners. She doesn’t find what she is looking for here, but rumors run rampant through huddles of women who aren’t stopped from gossip-mongering by any rules of silence or by the decorum of royal politics.

         Ana said it is rumored that Bishop Egidius had been touting a close friendship with the late King Chilperic. That’s the king, of course, who made the commoner Bertigan into a count and gave him land. It was not unusual for Chilperic to give away lands, so part of this rumor could have merit. But I know Bishop Gregory of Tours considered himself to be that King’s bishop because Chilperic was King of Nuestria. Then, of course, he and Chilperic had that little tiff over the essence of Trinity. But I’m certain Gregory wouldn’t want to hear that this other bishop, the Bishop of Reims claimed to be good friends of Chilperic. And now Childebert’s kingdom of Austrasia is trying to lay claim to villas that once had belonged to Chilperic as the dead king’s riches are divvied up. It is discovered that Bishop Egidius claims some of these valuable estates were gifted to him. He even seems to have the personal papers from Chilperic that support this. So the kings and even Gregory Bishop of Tours are all wondering how it happens that Egidius’s folio is so fattened by gifts from a king too dead to speak for himself. There seems to be a question of signatures. [footnote]  

         In these times kings and bishops are both ruling aristocracy. Kings wage wars with atrocities. Bishops wage wars with rumor.

[footnote] In 599 Egidius was defrocked and exhiled to the city now known as Strasbourg, found guilty of conspiracy to assassinate King Guntram’s heir. The notion that Egidius had forged Chilperic’s signature on the documents proving the gifting of the villas has not been substantiated by any source but the “History of the Franks” by Bishop Gregory of Tours and he had some skin in that game. Information for this note is from Gregory of Tours: the Merovingians, edited and translated by Alexander Callander Murray, Broadview Press, 2006. Page 227

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.7, Tues., July 19, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E., Laon

         We’ve made a long trek to deliver the message to the Bishop of Loan. While kings who are earthly brothers have wars among themselves, I wonder, do bishops who are spiritual brothers make a better peace? I’m discovering competition among these noblemen of the high church office. In their outward display of civility, dissension is cloaked in undercurrents of unrest.

         We’ve reached the farthest bishopric for messages, and I find this bishop was probably not one who was complaining. Yet the father particularly wanted his message delivered here to encourage this fellow.

         While I go my way to deliver the message, Ana continues her quest asking always to find the midwives and women physicians.

         Now Ana has found some devout laywomen here with an interest in medicine especially considering women’s needs. She came here to learn but they are the ones asking her questions. They’re as young as Ana but without the medical training or opportunities for observation that make Ana such a fine physician. One of these young women invites us and the others to her home where they ask questions of Ana long into the night. I can only sit on the side and be amazed by her gifts as a teacher.

         While Eve’s, now Ana’s, teaching in ways of nature can be an enigma to Roman Christians because it seems pagan to them, here there is an openness more like Irish Christianity. I think they consider themselves nuns in search of a community. Ana defers that question to me, and I can assure them not all monasteries follow the strict rules of the Rule for Virgins as the nuns in Poitiers follow, or the male specific Benedictine Rule. Before I can even mention the work of Father Columbanus one said they were already aware of the Celtic Rule. So now we learn that these young women are hoping Father Columbanus will consider opening a double monastery, one that has a community of men and another community for women all under one abbot and rule. [Footnote] I will mention that when I return.

         After such fine hospitality, this morning we are turning south for a long day’s ride to Reims. 

         This is the land where three warring kingdoms draw their vague boundaries. It is possible King Guntram of Burgundy, Columbanus’s sponsor has a keen eye on these frayed edges of kingdoms.

[Footnote] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double_monastery Retrieved March 12, 2022. It is noted in this article that Father Columbanus did establish a double monastery at Luxeuil.

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.6, Thurs., July 14, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Trier

         In Trier we’ve been granted permission for Ana to visit the storage of old writings.  We asked about a library, but it seems what they call a library is damp cellar room stacked with books and old manuscripts. I’d call it a dungeon, but the only crime punished here is that of writing in unspoken languages. I remember Hebrew. I remember Greek, and I even have a recollection of five hundred-year-old Latin. While my very brilliant wife seems lost in a moldy mire of strangely twisted lettering, I can be of assistance in her search. I’ve located some ancient medical books in Greek. It appears that in a far, by-gone time scholars writing in Greek performed autopsies on cadavers and came up with some maps of human anatomy. [footnote]  Ana poured over these papyrus pages always turning to the next hoping, hoping to see the thing she needs to see most: the anatomy of a pregnant woman. Where is the baby kept? How is it placed among the vital organs of the mother? The one source we did find had only sketches of men. Several of the ancients mapped the anatomy of animals, but Ana has a very specific question.

         As we bid our departure to our hosts here in Trier the bishop’s assistant asks if I may take a message from this bishop on to the King of Burgundy. That would be Columbanus’s benefactor, King Guntram.

         “Yes, we will be going on to Orleans. That’ll be our last stop to see the king before we go on our own way to the vineyards on the Loire. So surely we can deliver another message to the king.” Apparently this bishop has chosen to make his argument directly to the king, rather than simply read the letter making little asides to this messenger.

         It will be a two-day journey parting from the riverside, and following a horse path through the forests to Laon.

         We are riding north, and it’s such a distance I’m wondering if the bishops of the north are also making complaints to Father Columbanus based on reports from their own pilgrims, or if the argument against the Celtic Rule is simply based on rumors among bishops.  It’s a puzzlement to me, because I think each of these churchmen considers himself a sovereign. His authority would not be swayed by opinions of distant bishops.

[footnote] This was not a likely find because, as explained in a document: retrieved by this author on 11-21-21, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2589595/ Yale J Biol Med. 1992 May-Jun”;65(3): 223-241. “The discovery of the body: human dissection and its cultural contexts in Ancient Greece” by H. von Staden,  an idea of the connection between body and soul prohibited such investigation even in ancient Greece. If fictional Ana had found any trace of this she would have seen the work of Herophilus of Chalcedon and Erasistratus of Ceos.

(Continues Tuesday, July 19)

Post #34.5, Weds., July 13, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. from Metz to Trier

         The bishop queries. “So let me understand. You are a mere messenger for the foreign abbot and your wife is a woman of higher stature than yourself — a literate woman of medicine.”

         “That seems to be so, Father.”

         “I know well how you suffer my son. May God be with you.”

         It seems the abbess, Dode, listened to Ana’s request for information with her particular concern for childbirth procedures. Ana learns they have no ancient Greek or Roman books here, and they know nothing of the studies from Alexandria; though the care they give the sick follows deep ruts of Roman order. So if a woman in labor doesn’t proceed as prescribed — if she deviates from the usual order — she will find no help here. And the rule is that a baby may only be taken with surgery from a mother who has died. That practice is clear and simple. It is as Eve had done in the time of Thole’s birth. It allows for a baby to be rescued to life, but there is no thought given to saving the mother. Ana is looking for an alternative.

         This afternoon we continue our journey following the river according to the map given us by the iron merchant. We reach the stopping place marked by nightfall but we are the last of the travelers to arrive. In this place the guests sleep in a loft over a stable and tonight it is shared with a band of men. So here my wife must play a silent monk tucked in under the eaves at the end of this sleeping loft. The other guests probably know she is not a tiny, silent monk, but I am her guardian sleeping next to her to be a solid wall between her and the other men who are filling this haymow with their snorts and snores.

         In the morning we ride along the river to the village of Trier. This is also a bishop’s see, so the scrolled letter for this man finds its place in the largest most central building in the village.

         It is a bit of a surprise to find that this is the place that houses the libraries of Austrasia so the ancient writings that we didn’t find in Metz might be stored here.  We’ve decided to spend an extra day as guests of this parish in order for Ana to peruse the books.

 (Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.4, Tuesday, July 12, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Metz

         Sweet fragrance of vineyards hums a placid summer’s gloss over any purpose for this journey. As we leave the vintner’s wife tells us we are seeking a dark old Roman basilica with baths. It will be dreary and damp, seeping with the laments chanted by women.

         In Metz our expectation is fulfilled. [Footnote]   The leftovers of Romans, then Graoully and other snakes still cast shadows on the stern gray walls here. And this city owns both king and bishop of Austrasia. We are out of the reach now of Father Columbanus’s friend, King Guntram.  And so royal boundaries may be one reason for the politics of complaint in the messages the father answers. Here in a far corner of this basilica we find the Bishop of this see who keeps his own political stature. Ana is given audience with the abbess, the wife of the bishop, whom it is well-known, is of a more noble lineage than even the bishop. Awe abounds.

         In times such as this religious communities are numerous and rich yet seemingly bleak and dreary with collections of nuns and monks and relics speaking for them of appropriate suffering. Here Christians are sent to find Jesus among the poor and the sick and the imprisoned so the aristocracy clothes themselves in poverty and suffering to encourage laity of Christian duty when the poor make their tithes.

         I deliver the scroll to Bishop Agilulf, himself, who is seated on a carved throne in a small room. Proper protocols in place, I genuflect for his cross, not for his person. I’ve not broken the seal on these scrolls I carry, so I haven’t read the letter Columbanus sends with me. The bishop reads it and speaks to its content.

         “So this ruffian from a far distant island, barely Christianized, considers that he has now come into a ‘wilderness’ for his spiritual withdrawal. Yet he thinks the disruption he brings with his haphazard tonsure and random, uncensored calendar of Christian ritual should be excused in the name of Christ. And you have come here with this message for me, and you have also brought us a ruffian woman you expect us to tame?”

         “No, your holiness. The woman who is with me is my wife, and she herself is a literate scholar in the medical arts. She is seeking a library with the writings of the ancients so that she may better her learning and her skills. Have you such a library?”

Footnote:  https://www.spottinghistory.com/view/5314/basilica-of-saint-pierre-aux-nonnains/ retrieved 1-18-22.

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.3, Thursday, July 7, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. An inn by the River Moselle

         Ana has learned she was born only a day’s ride from here.

         “Ana, don’t you want to go there and see what you remember? The church that gave you to the pagans might have written your baptism in their book.  We could go and see.”

         The vintner’s wife encourages the venture. “It is only a day away. Surely you want to see your family.”

         “No, no. My family is my husband now. I was given over to the church, and the priest gave me to a tribe of pagans before my teacher took me in and that was the only way I came to have any family at all.”

         Later when we are alone I ask her again,  “Do you want to find your mother?”

         “No Laz, they are not people who love me. My mother named me for a rock miners sought. Maybe my father was a miner? I think they really just wanted a hard cold treasure from the earth when they named me Anatase.  And now people know me as Ana, and it reminds me of Hannah, the mother of a priest, Samuel. That story was that the dream of having her child had to wait. Yet Hannah’s prayers were answered. [I Samuel 2:1-10] No, Laz, Let’s just go on our way as we’ve been directed.”

         The chatty wife of the vintner greets us with the morning.

         “So, a new day, a new path, will you follow the River Moselle to Metz, or wander a bit east toward this dear woman’s roots?”

         Ana answers, “We have a message to take to the bishop in Metz, so we’ll just go on as we’ve planned.  Do you know of that place, Metz?”

         “Of course. It isn’t far. I can tell you there is an old Roman basilica. I think it was once a Roman bath. It has little high windows and the aisles under the arches along the sides.  I have to say, it is a very dreary place for the nuns.”

         “So there is a convent there?” Ana asks with a note of hope that she will find the knowledge of women.

         “It’s a few nuns, and they practice medicine I believe. Their abbess is the wife of the Bishop Agilulf, [Footnote:] and both the bishop and the nun are born of aristocracy. They are quite proud.” With this she flicks her fat peasant fingers to frill her words with a dab of classest disdain.

Footnote: Blogger’s note—Most often, comparing sources reveals a variety of spellings for one name, but here is one name for two men of nearly the same decade and geographical area, Agilulf Bishop of Metz, and Agilulf a Thuringian King, whom Jonas, hagiographer of Columbanus called King of Nuestra.

(Continues Tuesday, July 12)

Post #34.2, Wednesday, July 6, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Beginning a journey in the Vosgas Mts.

         Ana and I were delivered two fine horses from the count’s stable. Then Thole and Daniel leave as promptly as they arrived.

         Father Columbanus has his letters ready in response to the complaining bishops and he’s also given us a messenger’s purse. The iron merchant gave us a map with lots notes to guide us.

         We are sent on one mission by the father, to deliver his letters. But our purpose is also for Ana to learn whatever may be needed to save the life of Tilp. Tilp is tiny and frail so childbirth, which is always a danger could be tragic for her and those who love her.

         Immediately we set out toward Metz a significant bishop’s see in the kingdom of Austrasia. The map uses the Moselle River as a starting place nearly at our doorstep. When the valley rises to a level place, we are told, we will see vineyards on the west bank of the river and we should watch along there for a cottage that serves travelers. It has three barrels, one rolled onto two at the horse gate to mark the welcome to this place where the food is good, the bed is soft and wine is plentiful.

         We do find this and it is a wooden house made of shaven boards mounted onto sturdy beams cut straight out of the forest. It is a simple but gracious home with a single guest room that is shared with any travelers coming along.  On this night the guests are just Ana and me. The vintner’s wife is brimming with chatter. She must be lonely here, but Ana enjoys her company. Ana seems in awe of the darkened walls, smoky stains, all aged as an empty wine barrel.

         The smell of the wood walls and the fire, the huge cut stones that make the hearth, a little round bubble of glass for a window — Ana says it reminds her of the village where she was born.

         “You remember where you were born?” I ask her.

         “I remember the smells, and a few other things. There must have been a river named Oos near there.”

         “Of course!” The vintner’s wife knows, “You are from Baden Baden. That’s only a day’s ride to the east! Is that where your family is?”

(Continues tomorrow)