One Man's Heart is a Battlefield - a Blog Tour and Book Excerpt for "The Price of Loyalty" by Malve von Hassell

BOOK EXCERPT

Bayeux Cathedral

Here Harold has sailed the sea, and with sails filled with wind has come into Count Guy’s territory. --- Here they have given Harold the king’s crown. Here sits Harold as King of the Angles. --- Here Angles and Franks have fallen together in battle. Here Bishop Odo holding his staff encourages the younger soldiers. Bayeux Tapestry

1077 Bayeux

Adela’s feet itched. She was tired of standing still. “Stop wiggling,” she murmured, kicking Henry in the side with her elbow.

“You are wiggling too,” he hissed.

At least they stood in the front row on one side of the cathedral. Adela craned her head to watch her father and mother with her father’s closest advisors on the opposite side.

The new cathedral was massive. Despite the hot summer day, the cavernous expanse felt damp and chilly. There was only one large round opening and several smaller ones allowing sunlight into the interior. Candlesticks set up along the perimeter made the stone pillars and niches and the high ceiling appear even more imposing. Gilded candelabras illuminated the dais. The cathedral wasn’t finished; there was still scaffolding in some areas. The workers had set up temporary wooden stakes all along the outer wall for displaying the tapestry, one segment on the left, another segment on the right, and two others flanking the entrance.

“I expect you to be still and to refrain from talking,” Adela’s mother had told Henry and Adela, fixing them with a stern look. “Bishop Odo will bless the church with holy water on the outside. He must walk around the entire building three times and then repeat the blessing inside.”

A loud knock reverberated through the hall. Nobody moved. Another knock. Silence. At the third knock, the wide double doors opened, and the procession filed in, the monks chanting as they moved along. The chanting grew louder, drowning out all sounds from the people inside the church. “Let this temple be sanctified and consecrated,” the monks intoned. The bishop circled the interior three times, followed by other priests and monks. He sprinkled holy water on each section of the wall. After that, he anointed each of the crosses along the walls with oil.

Adela pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. It made her think of maids at home wandering around with dusters and polishing the silver. Then she sobered as the chanting of the Benedictus washed over her. “O how fearful is this place; truly this is no other than the house of God, and the gate of Heaven.”

She glanced at her father, tall and heavy next to her mother. His reddish curls were hidden under his crown; his beard had lately acquired a new shade of gray and yellow. He was frowning, his lips pursed as if something about this ceremony irritated him.

Maybe her father was annoyed with his brother, the bishop. She’d worm it out of him later. When he was in a good mood, he liked to explain things to her. Only, when he went on too long, sounding just like her tutor, her mind wandered. Noticing her abstraction, he’d laugh and pull on her hair as if she were a horse. “I’m glad you are asking questions, but run along now.”

Bishop Odo held his head and chin high, glancing down his nose at the scene in front of him as he made his circuit around the interior of the church, resplendent in his vestments and miter. The gold threads along his long sleeves glinted as he continued to sprinkle holy water on the walls. He certainly appeared prominently on the tapestry. In one scene during the battle of Hastings, he wore full armor and a helmet and held a huge mace in his hand. Adela hadn’t thought that bishops would go to war. But it did look impressive.

“Your uncle supported the production of the tapestry; most of the work was done at the embroidery school of Cambridge,” her mother had told Adela the day before. “So he deserves a place on it.”

She had taken Henry and Adela to a visit to the cathedral for a private viewing of the tapestry. “Tomorrow, during the ceremony there won’t be time.” She told them how much work it took to create all these scenes. “Just imagine how many women had to sit there for many hours over many days placing the individual stitches in accordance with a drawing.”

“If women did all this work, why aren’t there more women shown in the tapestry?” Adela asked.

“War is fought by men.” Matilda studied her daughter from the side. “You should know that by now. Women act on another stage.”

Adela had stopped listening. “Look, there is a woman next to someone on a bed. Who is that?”

Matilda stepped closer and peered at the lettering. “Oh, that’s Edith, the wife of King Edward, at his deathbed.”

Adela pursed her lips. She loved all the animals along the edges, some unlike any she had ever seen. There were wild beasts from Africa and from the East, lots of horses, dogs, and all manner of birds.

“What’s that?” she asked, mesmerized by a bright blue bird with a huge multicolored long tail that fanned out like a carpet.

“That’s a paon. The English say ‘peacock,’” her mother explained.

“Oh, a paon,” Adela said dismissively, as if she had known that all along while she repeated the strange word to herself.

“Why isn’t that man wearing any clothes?” Adela pointed and then quickly pulled her hand back. She had been chewing her nails again, and her mother would scold her.

“No clothes?” Matilda peered at the edge of the tapestry. Then she laughed. “I suspect someone might have put this in as a joke.” She pondered the skillful embroidery. “Come to think of it, there are several scenes here where I am not sure of the intended meaning.”

“Look, mother!” Henry pointed at another section. “Here they are cooking!”

“Well, soldiers need to be fed.”

“Why did that house get burned down?”

“It’s a battle, silly.” Adela poked him in the side. “Things get burned.”

“You wouldn’t like it if it happened to you.” Henry made a face at his sister, while poking her back.

“Remember where you are. You shouldn’t argue inside a house of God.” Matilda led them to the end of the tapestry. “Any battle is hard and full of bitter loss for many. But that doesn’t mean these battles shouldn’t be fought.”