Anna Agnesa Yaroslavna
Princess of Kiev, Queen of France
1032-1075

 

“PERHAPS I WAS SIMPLY NAÏVE as a child, but I should have expected to be sent far away for marriage. I didn’t want to leave my home. It was comfortable. But this kind of wedded exile had also happened to my sisters.”

 

“What happened to them?” I asked, pleased that my 29 times great grandmother with bright red hair was eager and easier to talk to that her predecessor Adelaide.

 

“Elisiv was sent to become queen of Norway. Anastasia became Queen of Hungary. And my sister Agatha was married to England’s Edward the Exile on the hope of becoming queen, but sadly she did not. Nonetheless, Agatha was mother of Scotland’s Queen Margaret, and England’s Edgar Aethling who was elected king, but never crowned.”

 

“You have a fascinating family history,” I said, wondering if she was hot under the long orange and gold cape in her cream silk gown with gold thread embroidery around the neckline and down the center of the bodice. “I remember studying about Rurik in high school as a famous figure in Russian history. What do you know about him?

 

“Rurik is my three times great grandfather, and wasn’t Russian at all. He was a Swede. He and his brothers were asked by some warring Slavic tribes to come quell their constant conflicts over the lands that are now known as Ukraine. So they did, and Rurik ended up founding the city of Novgorod, which is now in Russia. They also took over rulership of Kiev, where Rurik’s son Igor was murdered. Igor’s sons and grandsons stayed in Kiev, which is why I was born there,” Anna explained.

 

“The name for Russia comes from a Finnish word, Ruosti, which became Rus’ then Russia. But Rurik’s people were actually called the Varangians, weren’t they?” My memory stretched back to 10th grade to remember these details.

 

“Yes, it’s funny, is it not, that the name Ruosti actually means Sweden?”

 

Anna seemed to see the humor in life’s little absurdities. I like that about her, because so did I.

 

“Coming back to you and your sisters, how did you all feel about being sent into foreign kingdoms for the rest of your lives?” The existence of arranged marriages had a long history in the manipulation of world dynasties, I thought. Even in the 21st century, it still exists. I was thankful that I had escaped such a fate, although my own parents certainly tried their best to get me to marry someone they would have vetted and approved of. I didn’t let that happen.

 

“You must remember, Anna explained, “I lived at a time when every country’s nobility searched far and wide for a marriage match of suitable rank. The church especially frowned on consanguineous mating …. “

 

“Consanguineous?” I interrupted to make sure I understood the word correctly.

 

“Marriage between close cousins, or even between siblings, or half siblings where usually the bride had a different mother than the groom but they had the same father. This was not unheard of in those days,” Anna said.

 

I nodded, my arched eyebrows signaling approval of this one particular church policy, for the sake of the gene pool.

 

“Yes, so this rule pressured kings and princes to find unrelated prospects. As a daughter of Yaroslav the Wise, himself Grand Prince of Kiev and Princess Ingegerd Olafsdotter, whose father was Olaf, king of Sweden, I was a perfect candidate for Henri I, King of France.”

 

“And Henri was ironically the grandson of Adelaide and Hugh Capet? She must have been a tough act to follow,” my sarcasm slipping out, and regretting it.

 

“Yes, although she was dead nearly 50 years before we married. And so was Henri’s mother Queen Constance. And his first wife Matilda, who by all reports was not a big presence in the life of the kingdom. So I was really stepping into a void that had followed Adelaide. And yes, the mother of the House of Capet had big shoes to fill.

 

“Not to mention Henri was 18 years older than I. I didn’t think we would have much in common, but he turned out to be quite practical and level-headed, and I regarded myself the same way. We both saw the limitations of the monarchy. France was not as rich a country then as it later became. Henri fought his brother over land, and eventually gave him the whole of Burgundy to rule.

 

“Our son Philip was only 7 years old when he was consecrated as co-king with his father. A year later Henri died, and naturally Philip was too young to rule, even though he had been already crowned King. I was Queen Regent until Philip turned 14 when he was declared capable of reigning alone.”

 

I thought about my son, who at 14 would have been neither capable nor interested in ruling a country at that age. But then, he wasn’t royalty, either, although he certainly tried at times to give us orders!

 

“You can be certain I maintained influence, though, as I was the first queen regent ever in France, and no mother truly sees their children as adults at age 14.”

 

“Well, there was Bathilde …”

 

“Of course, but France was not yet France in her day,” Anna said, both respectfully but a little pridefully at the same time.   

 

“Henri’s brother-in-law Count Baldwin of Flanders was named as co-regent, since, of course, men were not accustomed to women having a brain and being able to make wise decisions. But history shows I signed more than four times as many royal charters as Baldwin did. And I personally hired Philip’s tutor, to ensure he was getting a wise and neutral education, suitable for a sovereign.”

 

“You must have been pleased to have set Philip on a good road as king,” I complemented.

 

“Well, I was proud of Philip, your 28th great granduncle. He was essentially a good and kind king, though not without his problems. Don’t forget that he was excommunicated, just like Adelaide’s son Robert. Twice. First by the bishop, and then by the Pope.”

 

“Whatever for?” I could have been more tactful, or looked it up myself, but I was totally surprised.

 

“Essentially for bigamy,” Anna rolled her eyes, shook her head, and gave a sly smile. “His marriage to Bertha of Holland was another arranged union for political strategy purposes. It was a peace treaty, if you will, between Philip and Bertha’s step-father, Count Robert I of Flanders. But after giving him his heir, and two other children, Bertha no longer pleased him. He fell in love with Bertrade de Monfort, who was herself already married. And she could not resist Philip. So the two of them rejected their spouses, and Philip made her his queen consort when they married in 1092 – while both still married to the others. This was of course a scandal,” Anna laughed as though scandal amused her.

 

“But I may have influenced him too much — not that I did so consciously. You see, I remarried around the year 1061 to Count Ralph IV of Valois. He was a very ambitious man, with many titles and properties, constantly striving to add more to his power. The problem was that poor Ralph’s wife was still living, and although he claimed it was she who had committed adultery, he too was excommunicated for the sin of marrying me. And she struck back at him, claiming he had stolen everything she had. It was a mess. But, for all practical purposes, Ralph served as another co-regent for Philip, and I believe, advised him well.”

 

“Anna, this gives me insight into some of my own attitudes about church and marriage, and the power of love to weather all storms. I won’t go into all that now, but I can see that you did find love in spite of an arranged marriage, and I’m glad for you that you could. Thank you for sharing your story.”