The Murder Of Wine-Merchant Christopher And The Hunt For His Killers

Around the year 585, France experienced a severe famine, which the merchant class savagely used to their advantage. A man named Christopher was one such opportunistic trader who scurried to sell food and drink to the parched and starving people of France at a predatory price. He was apparently from a larger merchant family, and with him in France was at least one other brother who was helping to administer the family’s business interests in the Frankish lands. Their buying and selling schemes were aided by the family’s access to a network of ships that could navigate the rivers and seas of Europe. Christopher’s last known mission brought him to the city of Orleans, where he ensured that a shipment of wine was loaded onto boats and sent down river to its destination. Although the wine was being carried by way of the river, Christopher went in a different direction. Instead of hitching a ride on one of the ships, he hopped on a horse and traveled by road in another direction. His path brought him into a forested region, yet his next mission and intentions are unknown, for he was murdered during his journey and all of his effects were stolen.

Before long, Christopher’s body was discovered, and his brother made his way to the vicinity of Orleans to complete the morbid task of overseeing the funeral arrangements. Yet, the brother was likely not prepared for the gruesome nature of the crime. Wounds on the victim’s body told a foul tale—he had been stabbed in the back and mutilated by blows to the head and torso. The number and ferocity of the blows hinted at the murder being a crime of rage and hate instead of a robbery gone wrong.

Christopher’s wealthy family strove to avenge their kinsman’s death. The brother in Orleans gathered a posse to hunt down the killers, and he already had some persons of interest in mind. In Orleans, witnesses had seen Christopher traveling with two servant-slaves of Saxon origin. While the late merchant had been brutal on the prices of his wares for the starving, he was even more savage in his treatment of his slaves. Christopher’s brother knew the two Saxon slaves had been flogged many a time by their late master and that the two had unsuccessfully tried to run away in the past—leading to even more punishment. As the slaves in question had not been found dead, injured, or present at the scene of the crime, they became prime suspects for the murder. As such, Christopher’s brother had his mercenaries and bounty hunters search specifically for the missing slaves.

After the death of Christopher, whether or not the Saxons were involved, the two servant-slaves fled from the scene and split up. One of the two was unluckily caught by the manhunters, but the Saxon did not give up without a fight. In a second escape attempt from his captors, the unlucky slave killed one of the mercenaries and tried to run away. He did not get far, however, and was soon recaptured. Christopher’s brother had apparently, by then, moved to Tours, so the arrested Saxon slave was brought there by the mercenaries for punishment. Christopher’s brother was in a bitter and unforgiving mood, leading him to push for a merciless and brutal sentencing. When the bounty hunters arrived in that city with their prisoner, tales of the grisly events that they were all involved in reached the ear of Tours’ bishop, Gregory (c. 539-594), who was a historian as well as a clergyman. Gregory of Tours recorded the account of Christopher’s murder for posterity and wrote that the captured Saxon slave was “taken by the others to Tours, submitted to various tortures and mutilated: then his corpse was hanged from a gibbet” (History of the Franks, VII.46). As for the surviving Saxon fugitive, he apparently escaped detection and was not seen again.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration of the death of William the red, dated to c. 1864, by James William Edmund Doyle (1822–1892), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

The Battle Between A Crime-Fighting Prophetess And A 6th-Century Bishop Of Verdun

Around the year 585, a curious woman was making a name for herself through interesting means. One part psychic, and the other part private detective, this woman (whose name has unfortunately been lost to history) was reportedly able to solve crimes and locate criminals with little difficulty. As she charged a fee for her services, or at least expected a reward for her skills, she became quite wealthy from her impeccable sleuthing. Yet, her accomplishments, reputation and riches drew suspicion and jealously among the men who held power in her home region. Such men accused her of using divination, witchcraft or other supernatural or diabolical talents to achieve her craft.

On the other side of France, the exploits of this crime-fighting woman reached the ear of Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), who was a historian as well as a clergyman.  He wrote down the story of the anonymous psychic, and commented on the effect that her skills had on the population:

“If anyone had been the victim of a robbery or any other disaster, she would immediately announce where the thief had fled, to whom he had handed over his ill-gotten gains, or what else he had done with them. Every day she acquired more and more gold and silver, and she would walk about so loaded with jewellery that she was looked upon by the common people as a sort of goddess” (Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, VII.44).

Whereas Bishop Gregory of Tours was content to read and write about the woman’s deeds, his clerical comrade in Verdun, Bishop Ageric, felt more threatened by the crime-fighting prophetess and decided to launch an investigation. Ageric ultimately had the woman arrested and during the course of his interrogations, the bishop became convinced that the psychic was possessed by a demon. He even tried to perform an exorcism to prove his theory. Yet, as Bishop Gregory of Tours was informed, “Ageric was not successful in freeing the woman of this devil, and she was allowed to depart” (History of the Franks, VII.44).

Despite winning her battle of wits against Bishop Ageric, the psychic woman no longer felt at home in the bishopric of Verdun. Not wanting to put up with any further harassment from the local clergy, the prophetess decided to pack up her bags and relocate. As the story goes, she found a place for herself in the entourage of Queen Dowager Fredegund, mother of King Chlotar II (r. 584-629).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

The Tale Of Gundovald’s Pursuit Of Magical Relics

In 585, an adventurer named Gundovald (or Gundoald) spent a brief time in the city of Bordeaux. He was roaming the lands of the Franks, telling the people that he was a long-lost son of the late King Chlotar I (d. 561). Despite this claim having been rejected by King Chlotar, himself, as well as by Chlotar’s sons, Gundovald continued popping up here and there in the Frankish lands, trying to recruit nobles and clergymen to his cause. As his legitimacy was dubious at best, Gundovald was designated as a pretender (illegal/unrecognized claimant) to the throne, and he consequently could not stay in one place for too long. Yet, in the city of Bordeaux, Gundovald heard a tale that piqued his interest and convinced him to stay in the city for a time.

A peculiar rumor was spreading around the Frankish lands in those days. Bishop Gregory of Tours, who wrote history in his spare time, commented on these enticing tales.  He stated:

 “Somebody told him [Gundovald] that a certain king in Eastern parts had obtained possession of the thumb of Saint Sergius the martyr, and that he had attached this to his own right arm. Whenever he needed help to drive back his enemies, he would put his trust in this support; for when he raised his right arm the enemy troops would immediately turn in flight, as if they had been vanquished by the martyr’s miraculous power” (History of the Franks, VII.31).

Gundovald, hearing of this mysterious item, obviously wanted to get his hands on it. One of Gundovald’s followers, a bishop named Bertram, claimed to have discovered a lead on a possible location where one such object of power could be found. According to Bishop Bertram, there was a Syrian merchant in Bordeaux who had a large collection of holy relics, including some belonging to the aforementioned Saint Sergius. To spice up the news, the bishop told Gundovald that the relics in the merchant’s house had been catalysts for many miracles, including one incident where the merchant’s home had miraculously survived a fire, while neighboring houses burned down.

Convinced by the tales, Gundovald sent his henchmen to the merchant’s house, and they reportedly broke into the dwelling. The relic collector was home at the time, so the robbers pulled out their swords and demanded that the merchant bring them to the relics of Saint Sergius. As the story goes, the relics were hidden in a casket or container hidden in a high spot on a wall or rafter. After obtaining a ladder, one of the robbers climbed up the rungs to reach the box of relics. Either due to the effects of holy power (or hefty weight) the man’s hand trembled as he hauled the relics from their high perch. Perusing through the holy remains in the container, the robbers reportedly picked out a fingerbone of Saint Sergius. In an interesting move, the henchmen allegedly took a knife and chopped the relic into three pieces, and brought one section back to Gundovald. According to Bishop Gregory of Tours (the one who reported this story), the spirit of Saint Sergius did not appreciate the desecration of the relic—despite his possession of a section of the fingerbone, Gundovald would be overpowered and killed by his enemies within the year.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Destruction of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, illustration from the 1890 Holman Bible, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Guntram-king-of-Burgundy 
• https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780198662778.001.0001/acref-9780198662778-e-2140

The Holy Or Mischievous Trap At Saint Vincent's

In 585, the forces of King Guntram of the Franks (r. 561-593) chased down and defeated a pretender (illegal/unrecognized claimant) to the throne named Gundovald. During the pursuit, Guntram’s forces passed by a town called Agen, where a church dedicated to Saint Vincent was located. The doors of this church were locked and barred, as were the other entrances to the holy sanctuary. Despite the barricades, Guntram’s warriors could see all sorts of treasures inside the church, presumably locked inside by locals who hoped the church would disincentivize looting by the roaming armies in the region. Not paying any respect to Saint Vincent’s church, the warriors decided to break into the place at all cost. To do this, they reportedly set fire to the doors, weakening the integrity of the boards and barricades. After letting the fire burn for a time, the looters were able to break into the church, where the treasures were there for the taking.

Unbeknownst to the looters, however, the wealth in the church was protected in some way. Whether by holy power, or by sabotage of the locals or the adventurer Gundovald, the treasure turned out to be a trap. As soon as the warriors touched the would-be loot, chaos broke out in the church of Saint Vincent. Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), holy man and historian, described the bizarre scene that reportedly took place in the church:

“Once the doors were burnt down, the soldiers looted all the property and all the equipment which they found there, and stole the church plate as well. The vengeance which God exacted gave them a severe fright. Many of their hands caught fire supernaturally and gave forth a great smoke, like the pall which rises from a conflagration. Some were possessed by a devil and rushed about screaming the martyr’s name. Others fought with each other and wounded themselves with their own javelins. A vast horde of troops continued to advance but with fear in their hearts” (History of the Franks, VII.35).

Despite the supernatural (or otherwise-devised) plight that this band of looters experienced, the rest of King Guntram’s army continued on their way in pursuit of the disruptive adventurer, Gundovald. They besieged the city of Comminges, where the pretender was staying, and looted (with more success this time) the countryside around the town. As the siege progressed, Gundovald was ultimately betrayed by his followers and, in the end, faced execution.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Lot leaving Sodom, painted by Kerstiaen de Keuninck (circa 1561 –circa 1635), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971

The Tricky Tale Of How Gundovald Seized Comminges

In 585, politics in the lands of the Franks was disrupted by a man named Gundovald (or Gundoald), who claimed to have been a long-lost son of the Merovingian Dynasty’s King Chlotar (d. 561). The late king, as well as his sons, denied Gundovald’s claims, labeling him as a pretender to the throne. Nevertheless, Gundovald was more than willing to recruit disgruntled or opportunist lords and clergymen. By 585, he had recruited various counts, dukes and bishops to his cause. Yet, before he could rally this rag-tag band of followers into a truly threatening force, the patriarch of the Merovingian Dynasty at that time, King Guntram (r. 561-593), rallied his own forces with the intention of hunting down the pretender.

Fleeing from Guntram’s approaching army, Gundovald dragged his forces from town to town, eventually ending up in a place called Comminges. After giving the locals his usual speech about his dubious ties to royalty, the people of Comminges invited Gundovald’s army into the town with open arms. Gundovald reportedly informed the people of the city that an enemy force would soon be approaching, and he proposed that they gather any friends, family and belongings that happened to be outside of the town walls and bring them into the safety of the city. The gullible and trusting people of Comminges followed their guest’s suggestions, concentrating all of their supplies and belongings in the city. When this was completed, Gundovald launched a mischievous plan. The scene that reportedly followed was recorded by the bishop and historian, Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594):

“Gundovald remained in Comminges. He addressed the inhabitants a second time. ‘The enemy army is approaching,’ he said. ‘You must sally forth and fight.’ They marched out to do battle. Gundovald’s men then seized the gates, slammed them to and so shut out the people of Comminges and their Bishop. They thereupon took possession of everything which they could find in town” (The History of the Franks, VII.34).

Thus, Gundovald allegedly took possession of the belongings of an entire community. He did not, however, have long to enjoy the plunder. King Guntram’s army quickly closed in on Comminges and successfully besieged Gundovald in the city. Trapped by the king’s military, Gundovald’s coalition of supporters began questioning their loyalty. Before the end of 585, Gundovald was betrayed by his supporters and faced execution.

Written by C, Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Swordsman illustrated by H. Pyle, c. 1888, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

The Murder Of Moneylender Armentarius

Armentarius was a moneylender who operated in the late 6th century. As a man of the Jewish religion, he was able to work around the medieval Christian stigma against usury, and could lend money, buy government bonds, and charge interest on his loans. Yet, his benefit of being able to receive interest payments came at great risk, especially as Armentarius’ clients could often be at the top of society, with leading nobles and their assistants making up much of his business.  If he pushed too hard for his loan payoff, or if his clients became distressed because of debts, Armentarius could easily find himself in peril. Armentarius had to manage these touchy relationships himself, for the kings and courts of public opinion in medieval Europe were becoming more and more tainted with antisemitism, allowing for angry debtors to fight back against moneylenders by stoking bias, bigotry and the us-versus-them mentality. Despite the dangers, Armentarius continued lending money and the governing nobles and officials continued to be his targeted audience.

In 584, Armentarius arrived in Tours, hoping to collect money that he was owed by Count Eunomius and Vice-Count Injuriosus. The moneylender knew that his mission was potentially dangerous, so he brought two Christian protectors along with him to Tours, and a fellow Jewish friend also joined the party.  Armentarius and his three companions, upon entering Tours, had a meeting with Count Eunomius and Vice-Count Injuriosus, in which the moneylender was assured that his loans would be reimbursed with interest. After the meeting concluded, Injuriosus invited Armentarius and his associates to his nearby estate in Tours, where they could further discuss payment options over dinner. Injuriosus also promised to provide his guests with lodgings on or near his own property.

Injuriosus, keeping his word, held a feast for the moneylender’s party and, when night began to fall, the vice-count had his servants lead the guests toward their promised lodgings. Yet, all was not as it seemed. Injuriosus had ulterior motives for luring Armentarius onto his estate, and the servants that he had leading the guests were not simple butlers. According to Gregory of Tours, the bishop of the city at the time of these events, “the Jews and the two Christians were killed by the servants of Injuriosus and their bodies were thrown into a well which was near the house” (History of the Franks, VII.23).

The murder of Armentarius and his companions did not go unnoticed, but it was outside influence that finally prompted an investigation and trial. Family and friends of Armentarius became concerned when their loved one disappeared. They retraced his steps to Tours and scoured the city for news of what happened. After some admirable sleuthing, they successfully found the well near Vice-Count Injuriosus’ house and recovered the remains of the four people that had been thrown down into the depths. Citing local hearsay, the suspicious location of the body dumping site, and the large debts that the vice-count owed Armentarius, the family and friends of the moneylender brought their case before the local justice system. Injuriosus, however, had friends and clout in the court, and he assumed a simple defense of swearing that he had not been involved in the murders. Bishop and historian Gregory of Tours reported on this lackluster trial, writing, “He was prosecuted: but, as I have said, he denied his guilt vehemently, and the plaintiffs had no evidence on which he could be convicted. He was sentenced to clear himself by oath” (History of the Franks, VII.23). After this disappointing result, Armentarius’ family reportedly followed up by bringing their case directly to King Childebert II of the Franks (r. 575-595). The king and his court ignored the case, however, and no further trials of Vice-Count Injuriosus were held concerning the murder of Armentarius and his associates.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scene from Frankish History of Duke Guntram Boso being ambushed on the road, painted by Lawrence Alma-Tadema  (1836–1912), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

Dr. Marileif’s Spectacular Bad Luck

Marileif was an interesting figure who, for a time, was a prominent member of society in the land of the Franks in the 6th century. He came from obscure origins, apparently starting his career as a layman laborer for a church near the city of Poitiers. His father, brothers and some cousins were also working for the church, running church-owned mills or cooking in church-run kitchens. Marileif, however, had greater ambitions than being a laborer for the local church. Likely with the help of one of the book-smart clergymen that he had access to in his work as a church laborer, Marileif started studying the medical theories of the day. We, unfortunately, do not know where he studied, who taught him, or what types of credentials he touted, but it is certain that he ultimately became a renowned physician. His skills were treasured and trusted to such a degree that he became the court physician for King Chilperic of the Franks (r. 561-584).

Although Marileif was an important member of Chilperic’s court and he was lavished with untold gifts of precious metals, jewels and horses, his overall experience in Frankish high society was not good. His bad luck began around 577, when King Chilperic’s rebellious son, Merovech, targeted Marileif as a way to get back at the king. According to the contemporaneous bishop and historian, Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), Merovech “ordered that Marileif, the royal physician, should be seized when he was journeying home from the King’s court. Marileif was cruelly beaten, his gold and silver and everything else which he had with him was confiscated, and he was left destitute” (History of the Franks, V.14). Merovech reportedly was planning to murder the physician, too, but Marileif fortunately escaped and used his contacts in the church (including Gregory of Tours) to return home to Poitiers.

Despite this robbery and attempted murder, Marileif made a comeback in the court of King Chilperic. Through work, he regained his lost wealth and expanded upon it, filling his estate in Poitiers with a vast hoard of gold and silver. He also had a fine stable of pricy horses, the pride and joy of many a well-to-do medieval man. Unfortunately, fate came to take its due once again from Marileif in 584. That year, King Chilperic was assassinated, and the vassals of the slain monarch’s brother and nephews scrambled to gain an advantage in the power vacuum. Shortly after Chilperic’s assassination in 584, Duke Gararic, a lord working for King Childebert II (Chilperic’s nephew), arrived in Poitiers to claim the city for Childebert. Before leaving Poitiers to make a similar demand to the people of Tours, Duke Gararic stopped by Marileif’s estate to pilfer some of the now patronless physician’s stockpile of wealth.

Poor Marileif’s ill luck, however, did not stop with Duke Gararic. Next came King Guntram (Chilperic’s brother) who sent an army against Poitiers in 585 as reprisal for the city’s submission to King Childebert II. As had happened last time, the invading army knew that Marileif was a wealthy man, and they targeted his estate for looting. The second round of pillaging was apparently even worse than the first. Gregory of Tours wrote about Marileif’s disastrous experience during 584 and 585, stating, “He had already been robbed once by Duke Gararic; and now he was stripped a second time, so that nothing remained to him of all his property. They took his horses, his gold and silver, and all of his precious possessions, of which he had a vast store, and reduced him once more to service to the church” (History of the Franks, VII.25).

Prompted by the ruthless one-after-the-other looting by the armies of King Childebert II and King Guntram, Marileif apparently returned to his beginnings, rejoining the group of workers that saw to the daily tasks of church properties. What he did from then on, if he continued as a physician for the clergymen or if he simply worked in the mills or kitchen, is unknown. Whatever path he chose, be it medical or muscle, hopefully it was free from further theft.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (A physician/alchemist examining a flask, by David Teniers the Younger (1610–1690), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

The Fight Between A Tough Medieval Homeowner And Two Looters

In the year 584, King Chilperic of the Franks was assassinated, and the late king’s treasurer, Eberulf, was accused of being involved in the murder. Chilperic’s brother, King Guntram (r. 561-593), was convinced of Eberulf’s guilt and sent troops with instructions to take him dead or alive. Hearing this news, Eberulf fled to the city of Tours and sought sanctuary in Saint Martin’s church, bringing him into contact with the city’s resident bishop and historian, Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594). Gregory found the fugitive to be an annoyingly rude and sacrilegious man, yet Eberulf was not the only disturbance in the city—bounty hunters and warriors sent by King Guntram also arrived to arrest (or at least contain) the fugitive, and while they stayed, they were not very courteous in their interactions with the city folk.

Gregory of Tours was a fan and admirer of King Guntram, but that did not stop the bishop from detesting a band of warriors from Guntram’s base of power in Orleans that arrived to keep Eberulf from leaving Tours. When these men arrived in the city, they reportedly became more interested in extorting and pillaging the locals than simply keeping an eye on the accused murderer. According to Bishop Gregory, when this particular armed group from Orleans had served out their guard-duty shift, “they set off home again, taking with them a vast amount of loot, carrying off pack-animals, cattle and whatever they could lay their hands on” (History of the Franks, VII.21). Of particular outrage to Gregory, his own mules had been stolen by the looters. The bishop’s animals would eventually be returned to their pasture, however, and Gregory of Tours happily recorded the tale of how it occurred in his History of the Franks.

As the story goes, the mule theft was carried out by two of the men from Orleans. Driving a herd of mules can be thirsty work, and, as the two thieves were ushering the animals away from the city, they decided to pick up a drink for the road. After surveying their surroundings, the two mule-thieves picked out a house that was sure to have a stockpile of fine beverages. With spears in hand, they pounded on the door to the house, and when the startled inhabitant of the residence appeared at the threshold, the thieves threatened him with their weapons, demanding that the homeowner bring forth something for them to drink.

In picking the house they did, the mule-thieves had horrible luck. The man who came to the door owned a sword, and he apparently had a military background, for he knew how to use his blade with deadly efficiency. Feeling threatened by the demanding, spear-waving thieves, the homeowner decided to fight back and protect his wine cellar. According to Gregory of Tours, “he drew his sword and pierced them both. They fell to the ground and died on the spot. Saint Martin’s beasts arrived home safe” (History of the Franks, VII.21). Gregory of Tours did not elaborate on whether the freed mules found their own way back to pasture, or if the sword-wielding hero did one last deed by helping them return.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image of a kneeling knight with a sword, by Stewart Watson (fl. 1843-1847), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

The Humiliating Exit Of King Childebert’s Envoys To King Guntram

In the 6th century, the Frankish Empire was divided among several kings of the Merovingian Dynasty, all ruling at the same time. Sometimes, they would work together against neighboring powers. Yet, they also fought amongst themselves, and when they were not in open civil war, they plotted against each other from the shadows. King Guntram of Burgundy (r. 561-593) began his reign in partnership with three brothers, and all four of the siblings controlled portions of their late father’s empire. Of the three brothers with whom Guntram shared power, only one, King Charibert, was said to have met a natural death. His other two siblings, King Sigebert and King Chilperic, were both stabbed to death by assassins in 575 and 584 respectively. Sigibert was succeeded by his son, Childebert II (r. 575-596), who was only five years old at the time, and Chilperic was succeeded by his infant son Chlotar II (r. 584-629), who was born the very same year his father was assassinated. Thus, with the death of Chilperic in 584, the last survivor among the original four brothers, King Guntram, became the undisputed patriarch of the Merovingian Dynasty, ruling alongside two young nephews, one a teenager and the other an infant.

King Childebert II, although only about fourteen years old in 584, showed ambition at an early age, and he, like his younger rival, Chlotar II, had an extremely competent mother, as well as a court of dukes and counts ready to fight for their liege. Childebert II had long been an ally of Guntram against the erratic and hostile ways of the late king King Chilperic, but in the years just prior to Chilperic’s assassination, Childebert had defected to Chilperic’s side and plotted attacks against Guntram. These attacks were fended off by Guntram and a truce between uncle and nephew was reached. From then on, Guntram, despite the ceasefire, understandably had a more distant and skeptical relationship with Childebert II, so, when news of Chilperic’s assassination spread in 584, Guntram acted immediately to make sure that he personally had a strong advantage against the realms of his fellow Merovingian kings. He occupied Paris and also sent troops to take over lands that had once belonged to Childebert’s father, Sigebert, including the areas around Tours and Poitiers. King Guntram also brought young Chlotar II under his protection and sheltered the infant king’s mother, Queen Fredegund. Both of these moves angered young Childebert II; he felt he had more right than Guntram to the lands once controlled by Sigebert, and he also wanted custody of Fredegund, for she had participated in the assassinations of Childebert’s father and aunt.

Not long after Guntram’s occupation of Paris, Tours, Poitiers and other regions, King Childebert II sent a group of bishops, dukes and counts from his realm to negotiate with King Guntram about possibly transferring Sigebert’s old land to Childebert II, and they also asked for Fredegund to be handed over so that she would face justice for murder. Obviously, King Guntram was not interested in either of these requests, and the debate between the king and the envoys became quite testy. At one point in the heated discussions, one of the diplomats made the horrid mistake of threatening Guntram with assassination. This was not something that Guntram took lightly—after all, two of his co-king brothers had been assassinated, and another of his brothers, Chramn, had been murdered before they succeeded their father. Also, many numbers of Guntram’s uncles, nephews, cousins and kinsmen had died due to intrigue or simply in civil war against one another. As such, Guntram understandably felt great fear and paranoia at the thought of assassinations, and such talk instantly caused him to cease negotiations and to throw the envoys out of the city.

Guntram, quite bitter and angry about the threat of assassination, prepared a spectacularly messy and humiliating exit for Childebert’s rude diplomats. The peculiar scene was described by Bishop (and historian) Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), who wrote of the incident in his History of the Franks, stating, “He ordered decaying horse-dung to be flung over their heads as they went, wood-chips, straw and hay which had gone mouldy, and even stinking mud from the town-gutters. They were spattered all over with what was thrown at them, and they went their way beyond measure outraged and insulted” (History of the Franks, VII.14).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Punishment of Korah and Stoning of Moses, by Sandro Botticelli (c. 15th century), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Guntram-king-of-Burgundy 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Chlotar-II 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Childebert-II  

That Time When A Frankish King Politely Asked His People To Not Assassinate Him

King Guntram (r. 561-593) lived at a time when the empire of the Franks was divided between several monarchs of the Merovingian Dynasty. With multiple Merovingian kings vying for primacy in the fractured Frankish sphere of influence, the 6th century was marked by prevalent warfare and intrigue. Such an atmosphere caused Guntram to be concerned and paranoid, and he took precautions to preserve his safety. According to Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), King Guntram “never went anywhere without an armed escort. Even when he went to church, or to any other place which he wished to visit, he was always surrounded by a band of guards” (History of the Franks, VII.8). In addition to his armed bodyguards, Guntram reportedly made a public plea, asking for his countrymen to be so kind as to spare him from assassination.

King Guntram was right to be concerned. At least three of his brothers had been murdered—Chramn was burned alive, while King Sigebert and King Chilperic had both been stabbed to death by assassins. Further numbers of Guntram’s uncles and nephews had also been murdered, not to mention the other family members who met less-nefarious violent deaths in battle during the frequent Merovingian civil wars.

Hoping to be one of the few Merovingian males to have a natural death, Guntram ultimately went public with his wish for a peaceful, long life. In 584, not long after the assassination of King Chilperic, a congregation in a church of Paris watched with interest as King Guntram, surrounded by his guards, walked up to the pulpit to deliver a message. According to Gregory of Tours, the king proclaimed, “Men and women, all people present, I ask you to remain loyal to me, instead of assassinating me, as only recently you assassinated my brothers. Give me three years at least in which to bring up these two nephews of mine, who are my adopted sons” (History of the Franks, VII.8). The speech was received well by the public and word of the address spread beyond the city limits of Paris. On the response of the people to the king’s plea, Bishop Gregory of Tours claimed, “the entire population prayed to God for his safety” (History of the Franks, VII.8). King Guntrum’s public address apparently paid off, for, despite the fact that further attempts were indeed made against his life, Guntram continued to rule until his natural death in 592 or 593.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Miniature from the Bible Historiale, c. 1400-1425, from BL Royal 15 D III, f. 294v, [Public Domain] via picryl.com and Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Guntram-king-of-Burgundy 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Childebert-II 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Chlotar-II  

The Dramatic Exile And Return of Bishop Aetherius Of Lisieux

Aetherius was a bishop of Lisieux, in northern France, during the reign of King Chilperic of the Franks (r. 561-584). The bishop was described as an incredibly forgiving man—the type who would overlook faults in the people he worked with and view them in the best possible light. Taking advantage of this kindness, people of ill-repute were able to work their way into the bishop’s inner circle with relative ease.  Consequently, Bishop Aetherius’ freely-given forgiveness, and the blind faith he placed in individuals, would inevitably come back to bite him. In spite of Bishop Aetherius’ hospitality, a group of bad actors who were given shelter in Lisieux eventually turned on their bishop, bringing chaos and scandal to the bishopric.  

Among those given a second chance by Bishop Aetherius in Lisieux was a certain priest from Le Mans. Tales about this disreputable priest were preserved by a contemporary bishop and historian named Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), who wrote: “There lived in the town of Le Mans a certain priest, who was fond of fine living and who was always having affairs with women, a gluttonous man, much given to fornication and other forms of immorality” (History of the Franks, VI.36). This irreligious priest came into contact with Bishop Aetherius of Lisieux after a bizarre and scandalous episode. As the story goes, the priest of Le Mans took a concubine from a prominent family and dressed her in the garb of a monk so that they could be together. The concubine’s family was not at all pleased and they put great effort into tracking her down. After they found her with the priest, the angry family decided to detain them both.

The concubine’s family was not forgiving of their kinswoman’s behavior. According to Gregory of Tours, the family made the horrendous decision to burn the woman alive. The priest of Le Mans, too, was reportedly on the doorstep of death. Yet, before the family carried out the execution, they reportedly sent out word to the nearby bishoprics, giving the clergy a chance to ransom the life of their wayward clergyman. This offer of ransom made its way to forgiving, unjudging Bishop Aetherius who, according to Gregory of Tours, “paid over twenty pieces of gold to save the priest from immediate execution” (History of the Franks, VI.36). Once the scandalized priest from Le Mans was transported to Lisieux, Bishop Aetherius gave the man a job as a local instructor in the art of writing. Unfortunately for the community, the priest did not use his new lease of life to change his ways.

As Lisieux’s newest writing instructor, the priest from Le Mans was exposed to the local population. The youths of the region filled his classrooms and, of special interest to the priest, the youthful mothers of the students often came to check on how their children were progressing in their lessons. According to Gregory of Tours, “He [the priest] came to forget his earlier misdeeds, and, like a dog which had returned to its vomit, he made advances to the mother of one of the boys; but he had chosen a virtuous woman, and she told her husband what he was up to” (History of the Franks, VI.36). The failed advance of the priest reportedly resulted in the rallying of an armed band made up of the fathers of the priest’s students. These fathers and husbands marched en-masse against the priest from Le Mans and, once again, the wayward clergyman was said to have been on the doorstep of death. Yet, just as the mob of angry husbands was about to kill the lecherous priest, Bishop Aetherius reportedly swooped in at the last moment to save the man’s life for a second time.

Despite the bishop’s repeated mercy, the priest of Le Mans was said to have joined a faction that wished to oust and replace Bishop Aetherius. As the story goes, the plotters first considered assassination, but none of the members of the conspiracy could bring themselves to strike down the ever-trusting bishop. One of the plotters felt so guilty at the thought of attacking saintly Aetherius that he abandoned the conspiracy and confessed to the bishop. As no one was willing to murder their target, the conspirators decided to reach their goal through a different method. In the end, they chose to accuse Aetherius of a sin that was very well known by the priest of Le Mans. As the story goes, the conspirators launched a smear campaign against the bishop, alleging that women of ill repute had been seen coming and going from Aetherius’ quarters. Gregory of Tours colorfully disregarded these accusations, saying “Only the Devil could have put into their heads this idea of bringing such a charge against the Bishop, for he was nearly seventy years old!” (History of the Franks, VI.36).

After launching their smear campaign, the conspirators arrested Bishop Aetherius in an ecclesiastical coup. The conspirators placed the bishop in a cell while they tried to win over the local and monarchal authorities to their side. Aetherius, however, could not be contained in the cell for long. Through divine intervention or help from the bishop’s many sympathizers in the region, Aetherius was able to escape from captivity and escape from King Chilperic’s domain, instead seeking shelter in the realm of Chilperic’s brother, King Guntram (r. 561-593).

While Bishop Aetherius thrived in exile, making friends in Guntram’s court and being hosted by various bishops, the conspirators back in Lisieux were struggling to win the public to their side. Representatives from the coup against Bishop Aetherius reportedly went to King Chilperic to plead their case. The king, however, dismissed their accusations and ejected the conspirators from his court. Like King Chilperic, the people of Lisieux were skeptical of the accusations lodged against Bishop Aetherius. As the story goes, the people eventually rioted and attacked the members of the conspiracy. Once the congregation had wrested control of the bishopric back from the conspirators, they sent word to King Chilperic and asked him to restore Bishop Aetherius to power. Chilperic, who had no qualms with the exiled clergyman, sent word to his brother, King Guntram, asking for Aetherius to be informed that the people of Lisieux wished for him to return. Ending the story like a fairy tale, Gregory of Tours wrote that Bishop Aetherius’ “journeying brought him riches and his exile great plenty. He finally reached Lisieux and there he was received with great honour by his flock” (History of the Franks, VI.36).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image from page 80 of "Military and religious life in the Middle Ages and at the period of the Renaissance" (1870) by P.L. Jacob, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.