Olrun (550 AD)
I’m Olrun. I live in the village of Sülchen, near the old Roman city. The Romans disappeared ages ago, but their ruined houses are still standing. We avoid going there, if at all, to quarry stones or to bury those who died from the strange Welsh disease, in which one’s flesh falls away from the bones.
Our homestead at Sülchen is a sightly place: We have an impressive great house. There are some extra chambers for my husband and me, but the henchmen, menials and maids sleep in the hall or in the straw above the stables. There is a small house for the kitchen, and there’s a shed for the blacksmith and the carpenter. Pastures for cattle and horses surround our farmyard and in the marshes there are some fish-ponds my husband has ordered dug up.
Many a man beholding me and my colourful trappings and the heavy silver brooches on my dress may mistake me for an Alamannic woman. But I’m not!
I was born in Gerisheim on the Rhine. I’m a Frankish woman!
More than fifty years ago, we Franks set an end to the Alamannic troublemakers at Zülpich. The king’s sanctity has ever been on our side! Ever since, many Frankish men have been sent here to maintain peace and order.
My husband is one of those. We were very young then, we had just been married. We wanted to make the best of our lives, to really achieve something. Thus my husband went to the duke in whose service he stood and asked him for a chance to prove his worth; so he was sent to the lands of the Alamanni. Oath-bound to him were one hundred loyal henchmen from Thuringia who were to guard us and aid my husband in his work. For we were dealing with the ferocious Alamanni , who still held a grudge against the Frankish supremacy.
Thus we set out, following up the Neckar until we finally arrived at Sülchen. And what did we find? A forlorn wasteland, every second field lay fallow, in every third house the pigs scuffed. What had happened? Countless Alamanni had fled to the Gothic realm after the defeat at Zülpich, to King Theoderic who had promised them his protection. Of the few still lingering in their homelands many were died of the plague. And those who still had strength for work had broken hearts at least.
This was when we realized what we had come for indeed. There were no savage fighters here but poor human beings, suffering from hardship and hunger! We rolled back our sleeves, for there was much to do: Acres had to be cleared anew, ploughed, sowed and reaped, ponds had to be newly dug up, marshes to be drained and houses to be rebuilt. Many years we have thus strived and laboured hard, and fed many hungry mouths, and many an Alaman, who had cursed us Franks to the undermost Hel earlier, has become a loyal follower now.
Thus we lived many hard years and just when things started to go well for us, the war in Italy started. And the duke called his followers to arms, to lead his host towards the south and to fight against the Roman warlords. My husband had to go and his hundred with him. Every year in springtime they set out to return in autumn when they bring gold and armaments they have won in battle, and splendid foreign women’s trinkets. I rather don’t want to know where they obtained them. And some men do not return at all. Thus it goes for five or six years now.
And we women? We stay here and do a man’s hard work all summer long. Again it’s up to us to roll up the sleeves and to labour, harvest, hay, until our backs creak, and to brew beer, so that the men have something to drink in winter.
And what about me? As long as my husband is away, I’m in charge here and decide about fair and foul in all things. My word does not count less than his. But I do well notice that the commons get uneasy if he stays away for too long. I hear them say: “What if he does not return this time? Who will be our master then?” And some look at me with disrespect, as if my days were already over. Then I fear for myself and my sons who are yet under age, and I’m relieved that some of the loyal Thuringi have stayed with me at home.
Summertime is nearly gone, and yet my husband has not come home, nor do I have news of him. I’m in constant worry. What may have happened?
