Kidnapped in 7th century England and sold as a slave to a powerful mayor in France, Bathilde needs to adapt to survive. When the mayor’s beloved wife passes away, he looks to Bathilde for comfort. Fleeing his attentions, she is forced to live on the streets until she catches the king’s eye and everything changes.
Now a queen, Bathilde must provide the king with heirs and continue the charitable and social work that has become her life, all the while fighting her detractors. By the end of her days, Bathilde had changed the face of medieval France forever.
How did a slave navigate the treacherous Merovingian courts and rise to rule an empire? And why have so few people heard of her?
Reader Comments:
It isn’t too often that a reader has the chance to read outstanding historical fiction. The history Ms. Evans used to bring this story to life made each character seem alive. As a student of Archaeology and a working archaeologist, I could “see” the items she described. This was really a joy to read. 5 Stars
Enjoyed learning about life in early France snd the Merovingian leaders in the beginning of the Francia kingdom which eventually became the France that I know and love today. 5 Stars
Excerpt:
Chapter One
East Anglia, England 640 CE
The sun had barely risen when Bathilde snuck out of her family’s home. Taking care not to wake her older siblings, she picked up her boots and carried them to the door, carefully unlatching it and pushing. The early morning air greeted her, and she breathed deeply, smiling. With a glance towards the back of the dwelling where her parents slept, she pushed the door closed again. She decided to carry her boots and could hear her mother’s voice in her head as she ran along a path, worn down by deer and rabbits, into the nearby forest.
“Bathilde, what will people think? Running around like a wild creature!” At this point Bathilde would mimic her mother, speaking the words she’d heard so often along with her parent. “It’s no way for a cousin of the king to act.” Her mother would stare at her with mock anger. After a moment, however, Bathilde would relent and do her mother’s bidding.
Gliding a hand along the tops of the wildflowers, Bathilde thought of Wulfgar and her stomach leapt. What if he didn’t make it? He promised her he’d be there. She was approaching the woods and started searching for a sign of him, knowing she was too far away from the copse to see him. Hurrying past the tree line she followed the path through the ancient forest until the small clearing was just ahead. Through a gap in the trees, she saw Wulfgar. The first rays of morning shone through the branches, illuminating his uncombed blonde hair. Her stomach jumped again, this time in anticipation.
“You’re here.” Wulfgar took a step toward her as she entered the natural enclosure then stopped, looking down.
“I said I would be.” Bathilde found she was suddenly nervous, feeling as unsure as Wulfgar seemed to be.
Wulfgar cleared his throat and looked back up. “Sit with me? I’ve brought a blanket and some bread and cheese from last night.” He pointed at a bundle beside him. “To eat. To break our fast.”
Bathilde smiled at his thoughtfulness. “We don’t have much time. My mother will be up soon.”
“I know. So will my father. We’re working the great field today.” Wulfgar, like his father, was a farmer, spending long days outside. He and Bathilde were both fourteen and while Bathilde had still not developed fully, Wulfgar was already showing signs of the stocky muscles and strength physical labour forced on every farmer.
They ate in silence, comfortable just being with each other. Shy glances gave way to direct smiles and soon they were gossiping and laughing about people and events in the village. Bathilde had just finished telling a story about an old woman who refused to pay for an apron Bathilde had made for her when Wulfgar grew serious.
“I have something for you.” He reached into the pouch at his belt and withdrew a ring. “I made this. For you.” He stuck out his arm and lowered his head, his eyes still glued to Bathilde.
Reaching over, she gently took the ring from his outstretched palm. It was made from thin silver wire, two wires making up the body of the ring that twisted into a complicated knot on the top. The silver shone in the sun’s rays and cast dappled reflections on the leaves around them.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I asked my father to get the wire when he went to town. I wanted to give you something.”
Bathilde’s parents were merchants, and her upbringing had been privileged compared to a farmer’s son; she knew what the silver must have cost him and turned her gaze from the gift to the giver. “I love it. Thank you.”
Wulfgar inched forward and, taking the ring from her palm, turned over her hand and slipped it onto her finger. Turning her hand again, he ran his index finger in a swirling pattern on her palm before wandering to the soft sensitive area on her wrist. Bathilde leaned forward, slowly closing her eyes in expectation. But instead of Wulfgar’s lips, she found only air.
“Did you hear that?”
Bathilde opened her eyes; Wulfgar had leaned back onto his haunches, his body alert. She listened, hearing only the birds and other creatures of the forest. “I don’t hear …”
She was cut off by a scream in the distance. Then shouting. The panic and fear were clear. “It’s an attack! We have to go!” Wulfgar was up and running, leaving behind his bag, reaching for Bathilde. She grabbed his hand and he hauled her up as he pushed through the brush.
“Who’s attacking?” Bathilde caught up to him.
“I don’t know! Just hurry!” Together they followed the same path out of the forest and soon reached the clearing between the woods and the village. Smoke billowed in the sky before them and the awful cries of people in terror surrounded them.
Read her incredible story Here
Copyright Kelly Evans
Kelly Evans - Author 