The Man of Law's Tale

Introduction: 

The story of Brunhild, a sixth-century Frankish queen, is so outlandish that it seems worthy of mythologization in one of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. Written in England toward the end of the fourteenth century, The Canterbury Tales follows a number of English pilgrims en route to the shrine of Thomas Becket, a Christian martyr and saint. The pilgrims spend their free time storytelling, with each story dabbling in new genres and themes. The Man of Law’s Tale, in particular, grapples with the idea of women as both the suppressors and the suppressed. I was therefore interested in using the tale as a template with which to re-tell the story of Brunhild’s life. 

The Man of Law recounts the trials of a young Roman princess, Custance. Our heroine leaves home reluctantly, at her father’s command, to marry the pagan sultan of Syria, who converts to Christianity in exchange for her hand. The sultan’s courtiers, especially Custance’s new mother-in-law, are wary of the sultan’s conversion and Custance’s evident sway. Led by the dowager sultaness, they murder the king, seize the throne, and set Custance adrift on the open seas. Custance lands, fortuitously, on the English coast, where she quickly catches the eye of the Northumbrian king. He marries her, impregnates her, and then promptly leaves on a military campaign. In his absence, Custance once more incurs the jealousy of her nobles and her mother-in-law. She is framed for a series of crimes, before once more being cast out onto the seas. After enduring further adversity, she ultimately finds her way back to Rome, her father’s household, and her husband. She is restored as queen and her son as prince and heir to both England and Rome.

Custance’s story admittedly deviates from Brunhild’s in a number of significant ways. Most obviously, Custance receives at least a nominally happy ending while Brunhild decidedly does not. Nevertheless, several major themes overlap. Both Custance and Brunhild serve as vehicles for exploring things like religious conversion, female rivalry, a mother’s stake in the prospects of her progeny, and the dynamic of women as either political actors or pawns.  Furthermore, though the stories’ endings are ostensibly so different (Brunhild is defeated, Custance is restored), I would argue that both actually conclude with a woman “rei(g)ned in.” Brunhild is curbed quite violently – she is gruesomely executed – whereas Custance returns more quietly to the sidelines – relegated once more to the domestic sphere. Either way, both are put in their place.

In my account of Brunhild’s life I will play up these notions and themes, first by mirroring the tripart structure of the Man of Law’s Tale. Our protagonists begin as princesses with bright futures ahead; they evolve, somehow, into queens faced with innumerable enemies and uncertainties; they end as dowagers, fighting desperately for their own survival and the aggrandizement of their heirs.

*One note: While I use rhyming couplets because they seem so quintessentially Chaucerian (much of The Canterbury Tales is in rhyming couplets), The Man of Law’s Tale is actually not.

Here Beginneth the Man of Law’s Tale:

Long ago there was a Frankish king, both wise and just,

Shamed by brothers who had surrendered entirely to lust.

His brothers having taken most unworthy brides,

Good King Sigebert was truly surrounded by vice on all sides.

He was therefore determined to only take a wife of noble stock.

He vowed to find a woman with virtue as solid as rock.

His prayers were answered sooner than he might have thought,

When news of a most eligible princess was to him brought.

The Spanish king’s daughter, Brunhild, had acquired great renown,

Tales of her beauty and dignity spread from town to town.

She was prudent in judgment and amiable in address,

Fair to look upon, graceful in form, and humble no less.

When these wonderful qualities were relayed to the king,

He fell so in love with her, he could think of no other thing.

He sent his best emissaries to the King of Spain,

Insisting that Brunhild’s hand alone could end his love-induced pain.

An advantageous marriage this would be,

Thus, Brunhild’s father was quick to agree.

With all manner of gifts, she travelled to her new husband’s land,

Greeted by feasts and celebrations that Sigebert had planned.

Once introduced to Christianity, she gladly did convert,

Pleasing God and her husband equally, one might assert.

It seemed as if this match could not have turned out better,

Yet all of this would change when Brunhild received a fateful letter. 

--

News arrived that made the queen quite wary,

Her brother-in-law, Chilperic, was apparently looking to marry.

Jealous of his brother Sigebert’s noble bride,

Chilperic had been searching for an equal one far and wide.

As it happened, Brunhild’s sister Galswynth was her equal in looks and virtue,

Chilperic was determined to have her, no other woman would do.

Predictably, however, Chilperic soon grew tired of his new wife,

And with the help of his mistress, Fredegund, ended poor Galswynth’s life.

Brunhild’s woes would tragically not end here,

For soon she would lose another she had once held dear.

You see, she and Fredegund were now more bitter enemies than there had ever been before,

Out of hatred for one another, they persuaded their husbands to wage bitter war.

Sigebert initially seemed to come out on top,

And Chilperic’s fortunes took a precipitous drop.

But insatiably envious of Sigebert’s success,

And fearful that their status would forevermore be less,

Chilperic and Fredegund conspired still more,

Bewitching servants into murdering Sigebert, or so goes the lore.  

Chilperic then seized everything that had once belonged to Brunhild and her kin

Leaving his sister-in-law’s fate precariously uncertain.

--

However, Brunhild was not to be so easily defeated,

Even if her stock had been momentarily depleted.

She rose again as regent to her young son Childebert,

She built roads, churches, and forts where once there had been only dirt.

In spite of resistance from many of the noble lords,

She ruled effectively according to the records.

Though for Theudebert, her grandson, she tried to help in the same manner,

His advisors managed to turn him completely against her.

In exile she wandered for quite some time,

Until her other grandson, Theuderic, heard of this unconscionable crime.

He brought her gladly into his court,

Higher even than a royal consort.

Furious still at Theudebert’s disloyalty,

Brunhild set Theuderic against his brother irrevocably.

Guided by his grandmother, Theuderic ultimately won the day,

Seizing Theudebert’s kingdom without delay.

Having outlived, at this point, seemingly innumerable kings,

Brunhild would still go on to do a few more things.

Upon Theuderic’s early death she would act as regent one last time.

Though a great-grandmother now, she still might as well have been in her prime.

Nearly invincible though she did appear,

Many courtiers at her would sneer.

When a rival king, Clotaire, at last managed to seize her land,

And had her in the palm of his hand,

He and her enemies accused her of a great many heinous transgressions,

And had her executed in so vile a way I cannot offer descriptions.

And fare now well! My tale is at an end.

Now fickle Fortune, that of her might may send

Woe after joy, govern us in her grace,

And keep us all that are here in this place.