Don’t Believe Everything They Say About Sweet Cunera

Hans Faber
Sep 30, 2022
31 min read

Updated: Oct 28

Imagine this: one day your husband brings home a young, unmarried woman. A virgin, even. He simply takes her into your house, openly shows her affection—and who knows what else. But that is not all. He also gives this maiden full access to your pantry and your savings account, which she—for crying out loud—starts spending on charity. And when you dare to speak up, your husband brushes you off by comparing you to the jealous queen in Snow White, or Cinderella’s evil stepmother. What would you do in such a situation? Exactly—you would stand up and put an end to it. Right then and there. And this is not a tacky dime-store romance, it is exactly what happened near the river town of Rhenen almost 1,700 years ago.

The central river lands

The Central Netherlands is where the mighty River Rhine enters the flat lowlands from the German hinterland and fans out into a vast delta. It is also where the more unpredictable, rain-fed River Meuse winds its way through the landscape. Together, these rivers have shaped a region of countless forks, minor rivers, streams, islands, peatlands, and swamps.

In ancient times, this was a natural environment of lush vegetation, fertile clay soil, abundant game, and vibrant wildlife. Salmon, giant sturgeon, and catfish ruled the underwater world, while noble sea eagles soared through the skies above. It was an ever-changing landscape, regularly flooded by these roller-coaster rivers, which constantly shifted their courses, carving out new islands and riverbeds again and again.

But it was not only rising water levels and flooding that reshaped the Central Netherlands—ice played a role too. Until just a century ago, the river water remained much cooler, thanks to the absence of modern cities and industries discharging waste and warm cooling water. From time to time, towering walls of ice—as high as houses—scraped through the riverbeds, destroying everything in their path (Van der Woud 2022).

Since time immemorial, people have lived in this volatile landscape—Land van Maas en Waal, as the Dutch say: the land of the Meuse and the Waal rivers. The Waal is the major branch of the Rhine after it splits into the Waal and Nederrijn (‘lower Rhine’) rivers. In prehistoric times, habitation was limited to the higher riverbanks, where people made a living through a mix of agriculture, hunting, and fishing. The river landscape also offered relatively good connections to other communities—networks that were vital for the exchange of scarce goods and materials. What we now call ‘connectivity’ was already in full effect, with the River Rhine acting as a gateway to the Continent.

For more on this, dive into our blog post The Batwing Doors of Dorestad. A Two-Way Gateway of Trade and Power, where we explore the strategic advantages of this region in greater depth.

When the Romans arrived 2,000 years ago, we begin to learn the names of the peoples living in this region. Initially, these were the Eburones, the Tencteri, and—further south—the Usipetes. These tribes were wiped out by Julius Caesar himself after a battle at the confluence of the Meuse and Waal rivers, likely not far from the modern town of Lith, in 55 BC (Roymans 2018). If we are to believe Caesar’s own highly unreliable statistics, half a million Usipetes and Tencteri were slaughtered under his command (Hendriksma 2017).

In the aftermath, the Batavi and Cananefates moved into the central river area. The Cananefates settled further west, between the mouths of the Rhine and the Meuse—also known as the River Haringvliet, and Helinium back then. To the north of this central region lived the Chamavi and Frisii tribes. More about them later. Even today, much of the central river region still carries the name of the Batavi: the Betuwe—or, in English, Batavia.

A headstrong doctor — Lith, located at the confluence of the rivers Waal and Meuse—just 20 kilometers southwest of the town of Rhenen—is also the setting where the eccentric Frisian doctor Tjerk van Taeke once lived. He is the main character in Dorp aan de rivier ('The Village on the River'), a celebrated Dutch novel by Antoon Coolen (1897–1961), first published in 1934 and adapted into a film in 1958. Tjerk van Taeke was known for his unorthodox methods and unwavering dedication to helping the poor. One of his trademarks was making house calls on a large, dark horse with a distinctive white blaze.

If you would like to visit the house featured in the film, you will find it at Lithse Dijk number 6. This stately home is also known locally as the Notarishuis ('notary house').

In 1954, Antoon Coolen also wrote the play Sint Cunera van Rhenen (‘saint Cunera of Rhenen’), as part of an initiative to revive the legend of Saint Cunera in the town of Rhenen.

From the Early Middle Ages onward, land behind the riverbanks was irrigated and cultivated through the digging of drainage ditches and the construction of quays. Increasing human interference in the natural landscape led to soil subsidence, making the land more vulnerable to flooding. As in the salt-marsh regions, houses were often built on raised platforms or terpen (‘dwelling mounds’). In the Central Netherlands alone, hundreds of such terps once existed (Eijgenraam et al 2022). To protect crops and settlements, dyke-building along riverbanks became increasingly necessary. By around the year 1000, a vast network of dykes had developed in the Central Netherlands. This included a system of higher dykes running along the riverbanks and the embankment of river forelands, which significantly reduced the rivers’ capacity to store water—causing water levels to rise even further. Thus began a rat race to build ever higher dykes (Rooijendijk 2009), a race only reconsidered and partly reversed a thousand years later.

Because of its strategic location, the Central Netherlands developed into an economic hotspot, home to one of the largest emporia of early-medieval north-western Europe: Dorestad. Its wealth and importance sparked conflict among the Franks, Danes, and Frisians, each vying for control over the region and the right to levy taxes on trade. Dorestad—the jewel of the Rhine.

A fortress on a strategic spot

The earliest attestation of the name of the town of Rhenen dates from the year 855. It concerns a charter in the Latin language in which a certain nobleman named Folckerus or Folker donates properties to the Abbey of Werden. It speaks of in uilla Hreni ‘at hamlet Hreni’. So-called witnesses from east of the banks of the River Rhine, in orientali ripa Hreni flumini, were present when the legal transition was made in 855. In the tenth century, the settlement is named Renim, later followed by Reni and Rinen. By the mid twelfth century, the name Rhenen appears for the first time. The meaning of the name might be ‘pure/clear’ from the Germanic hrainja, whereby the suffix –ja indicates a settlement name. And indeed, the modern Dutch word rein is still pure, clean (Van Berkel & Samplonius 2018, Halbertsma 2000). Yes, as said, the River Rhine was once filled with crystalline water.

Map left: (1) cemetery Donderberg hill; (2) Cunerabergje; (3) supposed site cemetery Laarseberg; (4) fortress Heimenberg; (5) 5th-century Achterberg hoard; (6) medieval castle Horst; (7) early-medieval hoard Remmerden. Map right: fortress Heimenberg/ Grebbeberg, 2,000 BC.

Folker was a Saxon, high aristocrat. That year 855, on 7 November at Hlara (modern Laar) and on 10 November at Hlegilo (unknown, the region of Veluwe), he made two donations to the Abbey of Werden before entering the monastery himself. Today we would say he took retirement and with these donations, or payment if you like, the monks of the monastery would take care for him during the last leg of his life. This was very common among nobility, or those who could afford it. Monasteries being the nursing houses of the Middle Ages. Werden Abbey, by the way, was founded by the Frisian archbishop and missionary Ludger, who originated from the pagus ‘territory’ named Nifterlake.

The gift of Folker encompassed estates—or parts thereof—located in the pagi ‘territories’ of Felva (Veluwe), Batue (Betuwe), Flethitti (River Eem basin, i.e., the region of ’t Gooi), Kinhem (Kennemerland), Westrachi (Westergo), and Humerki (Humsterland). The pagi Kinhem, Westrachi, and Humerki were part of greater Frisia. Folker’s properties were thus scattered across what are now the provinces of Utrecht, Noord Holland, Friesland, and Groningen. The pagi Felva and Flethitti belonged to the wider region of Hamaland, which fell under the jurisdiction of Count Wichman. As the charter puts it: in pago Hamulande in comitatu Wigmanni—that is, 'in the district of Hamaland in the county of Wichman.'

The border between Frisia and Hamaland was the modest River Stichtse Vecht, hence between pagus Nifterlake and pagus Flethitti. Because of his estates across Frisia, it is being assumed that Folker’s mother was Frisian, and his father thus Saxon. Hamaland is the continuation of the land of the Chamavi, who were a Frankish subtribe (Heidinga 1990). Some even boldly state that Folker might very well have been a relative of missionary Ludger (Halbertsma 2000).

Above all, Folker’s charters of 855 reveal to us that the region of the town of Rhenen was an important power base for local big men, in this case the centre of Folker’s possessions. After Heidinga (1990): the royal estates of Rhenen area were probably very old fiscal property which passed from one hand to the other with changes of power without losing its status as such. More specifically, the true centre was villa Hlara. Small settlement Laar has not survived the ravages of time, alas, but toponyms Laareind ‘Laar end’ and Laarseberg ‘Laar hill’ still refer to it. At former Laar, Folker possessed two mansi dominicales. But also at nearby Hnodi (Nude), Rimbrathi (Remmerden) and Hreni (Rhenen), Folker had estates and land.

Rhenen is located on the south-eastern tip of the Utrecht Hill Ridge. A push moraine formed during the Pleistocene glacial period about 175,000 years ago. Today, the Hill Ridge is a national park with wooded hills mixed with heathland. It was not always like that. During the Iron Age this area was largely deforested by men and made suitable for farming, the so-called Celtic Fields. These were square-shaped pastures surrounded by earthen walls (see our blog post The Killing Fields—of the Celts). Near Rhenen, the River Nederrijn grazes the Utrecht Hill Ridge, and slowly continues west. It is here where the 50-meter-high cliffs of Grebbeberg hill stand. Today, Grebbeberg hill is wooded but for centuries it was covered with heathland and sheep herds. Before that, however, an oak forest allegedly covered the hill.

Atop Grebbeberg hill lies an ancient, semi-circular fortress. From the Middle Age until the nineteenth century, Grebbeberg hill was known as Heimenberg or Haymonsberg, and which we will use primarily in this blog post. From this strategically located fort you had—and have—wide views over region Betuwe, and from here rulers could control the traffic on and along the River Nederrijn. The fortress consists of two earthen ramparts with a big ditch or dry moat. The main wall is five to six meters high, 240 meters long, and has two entrances. Diameter of the structure is 170 meters, and it is approximately 4,000 years old (Smulders 2002). With these facts, fortress Heimenberg is the biggest, and one of the oldest, defensive structure of the Netherlands. In order to be complete, other scholars date this fortress from the Early Middle Ages, between 650-710, and built during the struggle for power between the Franks and the Frisians for control over the Central Netherlands (Taverne 2008). More about the Frisian element of Rhenen area later in this blog post.

Another, nearly identical semi-circular fortress, is located 20 kilometers upstream the River Nederrijn, near the town of Doorwerth. It is the Hunneschans fortress, translated meaning ‘bulwark of the Huns’, also known as Hunneschans de Duno. The evil Huns will pop up later this blog post, do worry. Like fortress Heimenberg, the Hunneschans forrtress is located on a push moraine, that of the Veluwe. Diameter of this structure is almost 100 meters. Again with earthen walls and moat, and about a thousand years old. Why, despite strong similarities, both physically and geographically, the dating of both structures is so different from each other, is something to be looked into, we think.

Concerning the etymology of Grebbeberg, its name is composed of grebbe meaning ‘ditch’ (compare Dutch greppel) and berg meaning ‘mound or hill’. Grebbe or greb might also originate from the French word crèpe meaning ‘gully for leakage water’ (De Vries 1971, Van der Sijs 2010). Do the ditches of the semi-ring fortress have something to do with it?

Besides Heimenberg, another name for the Grebbeberg is Tafelberg, meaning 'table mountain'—though admittedly not as impressive as its namesake in Cape Town, South Africa. The most notable viewpoint on the Grebbeberg, or Heimenberg hill, is called Koningstafel, which translates to 'king’s table.' It is named after a stone table that once stood here, placed by King Frederick V of the Palatinate (1596–1632), but which has since been lost.

the Tafelberg ('table mountain') on Heimenberg (Grebbeberg) hill – early eighteenth century drawings

Origin of the name Heimenberg is unsure and speculative. The oldest mention is in the twelfth-century Vita Meinwerci ‘life of Meinwerk’, who was the Bishop of Paderborn. A popular theory is that Heimenberg received its name after the super-human annex dragon slayer Heime or Heimo(n) known from the Þiðreks saga, also written as Thidreksaga. A saga put to paper in Old Norse around the year 1200. Great King Theoderic (454-526), indeed Þiðrek, ruled over much of Western Europe. The saga is full of tales of which many take place in northern Germany. Fortnite character type Heime furthermore appears in the early-medieval poems Beowulf and Widsith. Heime is famous for his horses. In Old English spelling he is called Hama.

Not far to the northeast of Rhenen lies the region of the Veluwe, another push moraine formed during the Pleistocene glacial period. The Veluwe and the Utrecht Hill Ridge are part of the same moraine system. Today, the Utrecht Hill Ridge is a wooded ridge interspersed with heathland, running more or less north to south. Much like the Hill Ridge, large parts of the Veluwe are designated national park, home to red deer and even wolves. During the Iron Age, the Veluwe—like the Hill Ridge—was largely deforested and covered with so-called Celtic Fields for crop cultivation. For a very long time, the Veluwe was also an important center of iron production. As early as the Iron Age, it was one of the more densely populated regions of north-western Europe. From the second quarter of the seventh century onward, large-scale iron production took place here (Carasso-Kok 2001).

The strategic location of Rhenen has been both a blessing and a curse. It profited from defensible fortress, controlling the movements on the river, and located next to their thesaurus; the iron production area. From the end of the fourth or the beginning of the fifth century, Rhenen area developed into a centre of power (Carasso-Kok 2001). This is of course all good news. During the Second World War, however, the town was badly damaged twice. The first time in May 1940, when the German army invaded the Netherlands from the east. The second time in September 1944, when the Allies advanced from the south. Part of the tower of the Saint Cunera church collapsed and fell on the nave during the war, destroying much of the church. After the war the church has been fully restored and, unavoidable, party rebuilt.

(above L) early-medieval figurative rider plate brooche, ca. 500, (below L) bow brooches, sixth century, (R) collection grave gifts from the cemetery Donderberg – Rhenen, province Utrecht

Rhenen is also known from the huge Merovingian burial ground that has been excavated on the slope of Donderberg hill in 1951. The name Donderberg, literally ‘thunder mountain’, is said to originate from Donar or Thor, the god of thunder. It is also where the gallows used to stand (not on Grebbeberg hill). The grave field was in use between the third quarter of the fourth century until halfway the eighth century. In total 11,000 graves were unearthed with more than 3,000 artifacts . Many grave gifts have been found, among them many exquisite fibulas or brooches and weapons. Fourteen horse burials have been recovered as well. Often beautifully decked out. Rich men or warriors were buried with horse bits and spurs (Huiskes 2011).

The researchers studying this grave field of Donderberg concluded that the material is insufficient to say whether they were Franks or Frisians. Both is possible (Huiskes 2011). A bit too easy, the researchers also added that tribe identity was something fluid and not that clear as it is now. Of course it was. How else could an early-medieval place name Fresionuuic, current Vreeswijk ‘Frisian town’, exist? Maybe the answer to this question was too political.

At nearby village Remmerden, an (also) early eighth-century hoard of circa 100 golden coins and 140 silver Frisian sceattas has been found. A gold hoard with magnificent necklaces found at nearby Achterberg, is dated circa 400. You can find it just west of the crossing of Friesesteeg Rd and Weteringsteeg Rd.

A side note, we do not rule out Heimenberg or Grebbeberg hill was a former thing assembly site, also named þing or ting. The natural elevated location, the proximity of flowing waters, namely the confluence of the River Nederrijn and the water stream Grift, the general and ancient importance of the area of which historical and archaeological findings clearly testify, and the near presence of mound Donderberg serving as the gallows (Svensson 2015), all support this idea. Read our blog post Well, the Thing is... for more about the, pre-Germanic and Germanic, thing assembly sites of the Frisians.

Cunera of Rhenen, protector of horses

Cunera first appears in recorded history in a litany (a form of worship) from Exeter, England, dated between 1054 and 1072. This is the earliest known mention of the name Cunera. The Exeter litany invokes saints, bishops, apostles, angels, martyrs, and others—among them Cunera. Also included in the list are Bishop Radbodus of Utrecht (ca. 850–917) and Saint Boniface (ca. 672/675–754).

The Vita Meinwerci, mentioned earlier and written between 1155 and 1165, is the earliest known text that links Cunera to the settlement of Rhenen. To quote the vita: reliquiis de ecclesia vicina Rene constructa in honore sancte Cunere, in quibus iurare consueverant—‘on the relics of the nearby church built in honour of Saint Cunera, on which they [seven witnesses] used to swear.’ Interestingly, in the story about Bishop Meinwerk, when the dishonest witnesses are later asked to swear on the relics of Saints Peter, Paul, and Blasius, they go blind or their hands stiffen as punishment for lying. Why this did not happen earlier when they swore on the relics of the Virgin Cunera, we wonder.

The oldest written account of the legend of Cunera dates from the early fifteenth century and is in Latin (Veenbaas 2020). A fourteenth-century manuscript that told Cunera’s story—once part of the collection of the jurist Philip of Leyden (1326–1382)—is known to have existed but has since been lost. An inventory from around 1215 of the West-Frisian Abbey of Egmond also mentions a relic of Cunera (Van Buuren 1997). The earliest surviving text in the Dutch language dates to around 1530—the same year the farmstead of national hero Pier Gerlofs Donia, also known as Grutte Pier ‘Tall Pier’, was burned down, and the rest became history. This boecxken ‘booklet’ from circa 1530 is titled Dat Leven ende die passie van Kunera (‘The Life and the Passion of Cunera’). The story links Cunera to the passion of Saint Ursula, the patron saint of teachers and schoolchildren.

Sinte Kunera / Saint Cunera

The Passio Sanctae Ursulae ‘the life of saint Ursula’, written between 669 and 676, tells of the life of Saint Ursula. Princess Ursula, daughter of King Dionotus of Cornwall had to marry with the heathen prince Aetherius of Armorica, son of King Holofernus. Aetherius was far from being her first choice. Therefore, in return she demanded from him ten beautiful maidens each accompanied by another 1,000 maidens, including ships, with whom she would made a pilgrimage of three years to the holy city of Rome first. In the meantime, her heathen fiancée could prepare for Christendom and, apparently, become a bit more civilized.

Pilgrimage along the River Rhine was a common practice in the Middle Ages. Travelers moved from one sacred site to another, from relic to relic. Pilgrims journeyed on foot—sometimes barefoot—either alone or in large groups known at the time in German as Meuten. As Lucien Febvre (1935) wrote: “The political Rhine, the mystical Rhine. The Rhine of the powerful secular bishops and the spiritually powerful monks.”

The great towns and cities along the Rhine each held their own allure: Cologne, the queen of the Rhine, with its nineteen parishes; Mainz, with its winding, narrow streets; lovely Speyer; Strasbourg, laced with canals; and Basel, with its stately homes (Demangeon & Febvre 1935). Naturally, the shrine of Saint Goar in the town of Sankt Goar was one such revered stop—a holy place where, in the Early Middle Ages, Frisian skippers and merchants would offer a prayer (or, perhaps unwisely, not) before venturing across the perilous waters beneath the Lorelei Rock. For more about these skippers, see our blog post Late Little Prayers at the Lorelei Rock. Reckless Rhine Skippers in Distress.

In the year 337—though some sources suggest 237 or even 452 (Kist 1858)—Ursula set out with her Meute of 11,000 virgins, journeying upriver along the River Rhine. After enduring a fierce storm at sea between England and Gaul, the group reached the town of Tiel in the Central Netherlands. There, Ursula and her astonishing company replenished their supplies.

Tiel, known in the Early Middle Ages as Dioli, is one of the oldest trading towns in the Netherlands, situated on the banks of the River Waal, a branch of the River Rhine in the region of Batavia, the modern-day region of Betuwe. Following the decline of the emporium Dorestad—located at the present-day town of Wijk bij Duurstede in the province of Utrecht—during the ninth century, Tiel benefited by filling part of the void, though it would never rival the fame and glory of Dorestad, the vicus famosus ('the well-known trading place').

Sailor town Tiel must have been a rough place for 11,000 beautiful virgins. Below what chronicler Alpert of Metz (died after 1024) wrote about the (sexual) moral of sailor merchants in medieval Tiel:

“They do not pass judgments according to traditional law, but according to rules they make themselves, and they say that the right to do so has been given and guaranteed to them by the emperor in a charter. (…) They do not consider adultery a crime. As long as the woman keeps quiet, the man is free to defile himself by horrific misconduct, and no one except his wife should sue anyone who does such things before canon law. Early in the morning they have drinking parties, and whoever talks dirty loudly to make simple people laugh and to encourage them to drink wine, will receive great praise from them. (…) and on important holidays they solemnly indulge in drunkenness.”

The lines above concerning the emperor’s charter and the right to uphold their own laws, are, we think, very identical to the sagas about the freedom privileges the Frisians received from Charlemagne. Was Alpert of Metz describing Frisian merchants? Read our blog post Magnus’ Choice. The Origins of the Frisian Freedom for more detailed backgrounds on this topic.

Cunera was a cousin of Ursula and a princess of Orcades ('Orkney'). She was the daughter of Duke Aurelius, while her mother Florencia was the daughter of the sultan of Babylonia. Cunera decided to join her Cornish cousin Ursula on her pilgrimage. Their journey up the River Rhine to Rome proceeded smoothly. Only in the city of Cologne did an angel appear to Ursula, telling her that on her return she would receive the crown of martyrdom there, along with all her companions. This did not stop Ursula and the others from continuing their journey to Rome. Ursula, Cunera, and the rest sailed to the town of Basel, crossed the Alps, and reached the eternal city, where they were received by Pope Cyriacus—an otherwise unknown pope in history, by the way.

On their return journey, when they reached the city of Cologne—apparently fully prepared to receive the crown of martyrdom—the city was suddenly besieged by the Huns. Led by Attila, it was he who struck down Ursula with an arrow. The Huns slaughtered all the women. Only Cunera survived the slaughter. Or was she simply not yet ready to receive the martyr’s crown? we wonder. Because of her striking beauty, maiden Cunera was saved by the heathen coninc van den Rijn—the so-called ‘king of the Rhine’—who somehow happened to be nearby. King Radbod stood with his army on the opposite bank of the River Rhine, powerless to protect the defenceless women. Cunera herself washed ashore, more dead than alive, on Radbod’s side of the river. Like a true Saint Martin of Tours, Radbod hid her under his fancy woollen cloak and took the maiden to his citadel.

Later versions of the legend name King Heime as Cunera’s saviour, while others attribute her rescue to King Rabbodus—also spelled Radboud or Radbod—of Frisia. The Dutch booklet from the sixteenth century specifically names Radbod. Whoever the king was, Cunera was brought to his palace in Rhenen. Meanwhile, Cologne would become famed as the city of Saint Ursula and the Epiphany (Demangeon & Febvre 1935).

The Huns who slaughtered Ursula and her companions were ultimately defeated by an army of divine warriors—exactly 11,000 strong. In the Netherlands, a handful of churches are dedicated to Saint Ursula: one in Amsterdam, another in Warmenhuizen, both in the province of Noord Holland, and one in Welsrijp in the province of Friesland. These locations roughly trace the path of the Frisia Coast Trail.

In the region of Nordfriesland, the legend of Saint Ursula tells that she and her 11,000 virgins landed on the island of Heligoland, far out in the North Sea. At the time, Heligoland was much larger than it is today. Upon their arrival, the pagan islanders—that is, Frisians—committed shameful acts against the women. As divine retribution, much of the island was swallowed by the sea, and the land that remained was turned to stone (Muuß 1933). We can only say: they got what they deserved. It should not have happened.

the slaughter of Saint Ursula and her maidens at Cologne in 377

Soon, Cunera was both respected and beloved at the court of King Radbod—most of all by the king himself. She lived humbly and modestly, serving the king and queen at their table with quiet grace. So devout was Cunera that she tended to the poor not just in word but in deed. In secret, she would take the leftovers from the royal meals, tuck them into her skirt, and distribute them to the hungry waiting outside the palace walls.

The king’s affection for Cunera grew so strong that he entrusted her with the claves regni—the keys of the kingdom. In the Early Middle Ages, when a woman married, she was given the keys of the household, a visible symbol of power often worn on her clothing. Possessing the claves regni meant having access to the royal treasury itself (Carasso-Kok 2001). Or, as they still say in the Saxon dialect further up the Lower Rhine near Arnhem: ’t hoes is van mie, mer ’t wief hef ’n slöttel—'the house is mine, but the wife has the key.'

Queen Aldegonde—also written as Allegonda—had, unsurprisingly, watched all of this unfold with growing irritation and sorrow over the years. How could a mere girl—a virgin, for crying out loud—be granted such privileges? Why was her husband so openly devoted to this foreign maiden? And what else, perhaps, was going on behind closed doors? But giving Cunera the keys—her keys—was the final straw. That honour belonged to the queen alone.

One day, when Aldegonde suspected that Cunera had once again hidden food in her skirt to give to the poor, she told the king. Agitated, the king confronted Cunera and demanded she show what she had concealed. Cunera whispered a quick prayer. When she opened her skirt, the hidden food had miraculously transformed into wood shavings. Now it was the king’s turn to be furious—at his queen. He reprimanded her sternly for her baseless accusation, leaving Queen Aldegonde humiliated.

After this incident, Queen Aldegonde realized there was no reasoning with her husband anymore. Desperation led her to take drastic measures. Together with one of her chamberlains, she devised a terrible plan. On 28 October 340, while the king was away hunting and falconing, the queen and her accomplice seized Cunera. They strangled her with her own scarf and buried her body in the horse stables.

When the king returned and inquired after his beloved Cunera, the queen claimed that her friends had come to take her back home. But the truth quickly surfaced. The horses refused to enter the stables, and that night a stable boy witnessed a cross of burning candles appear on the floor. Alarmed by this divine sign and fearing what great evil may have happened, the king ordered the ground to be dug up—only to find Cunera’s lifeless body.

Grief and rage overcame him. The king had her body reburied near the river, at the site now known as the Cunerabergje or Cuneraheuvel, meaning ‘little mound of Cunera’. The small hill still exists today, offering a view over the River Nederrijn (‘Lower Rhine’). On the site, twelve trees were planted to symbolize the Twelve Apostles.

The slay queen was accused by her husband, the king, of murder. She was flogged by her husband without any mercy and evicted from the palace. For three days, she wandered on Heimenberg Hill, as said, also written as Haymonsberg. Madness came over her, and she ripped off her clothes. Until finally, out of total desperation, she threw herself from the cliffs above the River Nederrijn and broke her neck. An example followed by the beautiful Lore Lay more upstream the same river at Sankt Goarshausen, centuries later. The king, impressed by the whole affair, promptly converted to Christianity and had a church built, too. Or were the king’s deeds inspired by his grief for losing his not-so-innocent sweet love? We will never know. What we do know, however, is that ever since the queen’s death, Heimenberg Hill is a haunted place. For those readers who wonder what happened to the chamberlain; well she was beheaded.

After Cunera’s death many sick people were healed at her grave, and it was also believed that Cunera prevented ships on the river from perishing. Comparable with Saint Goar of Aquitaine who prevented ships from being wrecked by the dangerous rapids and whirlpools upstream the River Rhine at the Lorelei rock. Including two early-medieval Frisian skippers annex merchants, and one of their haulers, who were saved by Saint Goar (Lebecq 1983). Read our blog post Late Little Prayers at the Lorelei Rock. Reckless Rhine Skippers in Distress.

Many centuries later, around the year 700, the missionary Willibrord—known as the Apostle of the Frisians—passed through the region on his way to Cologne. The citizens of Rhenen eagerly told him about the many miracles attributed to Cunera and pleaded with him to officially recognize her as a saint. They spoke of miraculous healings: the insane, the crippled, the deaf, and the blind restored; even the drowned brought back to life, and shipwrecked souls saved from the waves. The accounts echoed the legend of Saint Romanus of Blaye in France, a fourth-century saint buried above the River Garonne who was also said to rescue those in peril on the water (Arnold 2024).

Yet Willibrord, perhaps wary of being swayed by hearsay or suspecting the tales were a touch too miraculous, continued on his way to Cologne without making any declaration. However, on his return journey near Heimenberg, a violent storm struck his ship. Willibrord prayed—and the storm subsided. Only then did he recall the stories the people of Rhenen had shared and understood it was Cunera who had intervened to save him. As a man of stature, after all, one does not simply take every tale at face value—until it nearly becomes one’s own. Even if you believe in miracles, as Willibrord of course did.

For a second time the body of Cunera was unearthed. Despite many centuries had passed, Willibrord found Cunera’s body untouched and with the scarf still around her neck. The miracle of a perfectly preserved corpse after many centuries is something we have seen before with Saint Fris; check our blog post Like Father, Unlike Son—un saint frison en France. Willibrord had Cunera’s body transferred from the Cunerabergje to the church in Rhenen, thereby officially recognizing her as a saint. Her traditional attributes became the key—symbolizing the claves regni or 'keys of the kingdom'—and the scarf with which she was martyred. What more fitting emblems for a saint of service and sacrifice?

Following her canonization, Rhenen quickly developed into a site of pilgrimage. Interestingly, the pilgrimage season coincided with the city’s horse market. In 1552, Emperor Charles V granted Rhenen the right to hold an annual horse fair. The place name Paardenmarkt ('horse market'), located on the river forelands of Rhenen, still recalls this once bustling tradition.

Besides being the protector of horses and cattle, Saint Cunera also became a saint against chokes or, notably, when a fishbone got stuck in ones throat (Papasidero 2019). All associated with the cause of her death of course; being strangled at her neck with a scarf.

The church tower of Rhenen

At first, the church of Rhenen was dedicated to Saint Peter. Only later was it rededicated to Saint Cunera. From the founding charter of the Cunera fraternity in 1392—the Sunte Kuneren ghilde—we know that the veneration of Cunera was already significant in the region by then. As noted earlier, the cult of Cunera can be traced back to the mid-eleventh century, and likely has even older roots. In 1475, the church of Rhenen was granted an indulgence, sealed by no fewer than eighteen cardinals in Rome. From that point onward, pilgrims who donated to the church were promised a reduction of one hundred days in purgatory. For the church and the town, this meant big money. With the influx of pilgrims and money during the Sincte Kuneren vaert ('Saint Cunera pilgrimage'), the construction of the impressive church tower of Rhenen was funded—completed in 1531. The church itself was built between 1400 and 1475 (Herwaarden website). The tower remains striking, comparable to the Dom Tower in the city of Utrecht and the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwetoren (‘Our Lady’s Tower’) in the town of Amersfoort.

The scarf with which Cunera was strangled by the queen and her chamberlain is considered a most important relic. Remarkably, this scarf—or palla—has been preserved to this very day and is housed in the Catharijneconvent (‘Catherine Convent’) in the city of Utrecht. Research conducted in 1972 confirmed that the scarf dates back to the fourth or fifth century. The fabric is flax, and based on the weaving techniques, it was likely produced by Coptic weavers in Egypt. These historical facts, we must admit, are perhaps even more miraculous than the entire Cunera saga involving the 11,000 virgins, we tend to think.

As an anecdote: in 1933, the church tower received a carillon. The bells were cast by bell-founder Andries Heero van Bergen from the village of Heiligerlee, in the province of Groningen. It was the first reasonably harmonically tuned carillon in the Netherlands in over two centuries. Unfortunately, in 1943, the Nazi regime confiscated most church bells across the country, including Rhenen’s carillon. As mentioned earlier, the church tower partially collapsed in 1944 (Lehr & Besemer 1994). In 1959, a new carillon of 44 bells was installed, again made by the Van Bergen firm. If the reader is interested in bells—and frankly, who isn’t?—read our blog post One day all the sunken church bells will surface and speak to us, sternly.

The Frisian connection

What about this King Radbod? Was there really a Frisian touch to the legend of Cunera? And what was the true nature of the relation between Cunera and the king?

The first question to consider is the age of the legend. As mentioned, the earliest known reference dates to the mid-eleventh century. Because of its secular nature—a tale of female jealousy and murder—and the fact that the name Cunera is etymologically difficult to trace, scholars suggest the legend may have roots in a local, pre-Christian tradition (Carasso-Kok 2001).

Christianization of the Central Netherlands began in the seventh century, driven by the rise of the Frankish empire from the south and the arrival of Anglo-Saxon missionaries from the west. One early example is Bishop Wilfrid of York, who stayed at the court of the pagan Frisian King Aldgisl in the year 677 or 678—a meeting likely to have taken place somewhere in the Central Netherlands along the River Rhine. True Christianization of Frisia, however, only gained momentum after the death of King Radbod in 719, when the Franks firmly established control over the central river region.

With this circumstantial and somewhat shaky line of reasoning, we arrive at the late seventh or early eighth century—a transitional period when heathendom began to fade and Christianity gradually took hold. Of course, an older origin cannot be ruled out, since pagan belief and the worship of deities stretch far back in time. Some, in fact, argue that the legend must date to the fifth or sixth century (Veenbaas 2020). This would bring it closer to the age of the Coptic scarf which, as mentioned, has been dated to the fourth or fifth century. And, incidentally, a bit nearer to the dates cited in the legend itself: the years 377 and 340.

Different versions of the legend name either the King of the Rhine, King Heime, or King Rabbodus—also spelled Radboud or Radbod—as Cunera’s saviour. Since the story was passed down orally for centuries and only codified in the High Middle Ages, we cannot be certain what the original version was, nor which of the three kings truly saved Cunera from the massacre at Cologne. It is likely that King Radbod was a later addition to the tale (Heidinga 1990).

king of the Rhine, king Radbod — king of the Rhine, King Radbod

Even if Radbod was incorporated into the story at a later stage, this does not rule out Frisian influence in the Rhenen region. During the early centuries of the Early Middle Ages, the Central Netherlands was strongly shaped by Frisian power. From the seventh century onward, the Frisians had established Dorestad—today’s Wijk bij Duurstede—the largest trading town in north-western Europe at the time. It lay just fifteen kilometres west of Rhenen as the crow flies, a few hours’ hike or an even quicker boat ride downstream.

After the Roman Empire collapsed in the area now known as the Netherlands during the fourth century, the Roman fortresses along the River Rhine became prime strongholds for emerging rulers who capitalized on the power vacuum in the Central Netherlands. Throughout the fifth and sixth centuries, the Utrecht Hill Ridge and the eastern Betuwe region were among the most densely settled areas in the Netherlands. In particular, the Rhenen area stood out as a center of economic and political power around the transition from the fifth to the sixth century (Looijenga 2003). It is documented that the Arnulfings and Carolingians seized Roman fortresses in the late seventh and early eighth centuries. However, it is likely that many of these abandoned fortresses were occupied earlier by the Frisians during the adventus Frisionum. From the sixth century onward, following the fifth-century power vacuum, two political entities—the Merovingian and Frisian kingdoms—vied for control over the Central Netherlands. As a result, landed properties probably changed hands frequently between the two powers (Van Es & Verwers 2010).

Regarding the ancient stronghold on Heimenberg Hill, it is possible that Frisian rulers exercised control over this site at some point. Perhaps the aristocracy of Laar or the wider Rhenen region, who still held extensive possessions in Frisia during the ninth century, continued to pledge allegiance to Frisian rulers for a time. Who knows—maybe they did so even during the reign of King Radbod (Heidinga 1990).

An interesting related episode occurred in 885, when the Danish warlord Godfrid the Sea-King was murdered and his forces defeated further upstream along the River Rhine at Spijk and Elterberg Hill by a coalition of Franks, Saxons, and Frisians (see our blog post The Abbey of Egmond and the Rise of the Gerulfing Dynasty). The Saxons were led by Everhard Saxo, count of Hamaland. In 898, Waldger, son of Gerulf and count of West Frisia, killed Count Everhard Saxo.

From the seventh century until the early eighth century, the Frisians were broadly the dominant commercial and political power in the Central Netherlands, controlling key centers like Utrecht and Dorestad. They likely held strong influence over the Hamaland region as well. It is no coincidence that Frisian kings such as Aldgisl and Radbod, rulers during much of this period, have been remembered in history.

In 716, Charles Martel, majordomo of the Frankish kingdom, was reportedly terrified when Radbod sailed up the River Rhine and laid siege to the fortified city of Cologne—read more in our blog post Why was Redbad skinny dipping in eau de Cologne? Between 650 and 710, the Frisian fortress Heimenburg underwent several restructurings to better resist Frankish advances (Huiskes 2011). It was also in the seventh century that the Franks referred to Frisia citerior, a territory stretching from the mouth of the River Old Rhine and Rhenen in the north to the River Meuse and the inlet Zwin—then called Scinfala—in the Flanders region to the south (Kuipers, Jensma & Vries 2011).

In conclusion, there is no evidence that an adulterous Radbod was part of the original legend. However, if the tale does indeed date back to the pre-Christian Early Middle Ages, it is very likely that the Rhenen region was under the presence and political influence of Frisian rulers at the time, alongside the continual movement and trade of Frisian merchants up and down the River Rhine—linking the heathen North Sea world with the Christian continent.

Please, have some mercy

Without condoning her deeds, with this blog post we also hope to have created a bit more understanding for the difficult situation of queen Aldegonde, and the dubious part her husband Radbod, the king of the Rhine, played in the whole affair with Cunera.

Note 1 — Horses are a recurring element in the legend of Cunera and in relation to Rhenen. We have not found many theories yet as to why. Please, let us know if you have more information on this.

Note 2 — With the Reformation in the sixteenth century, the relics of Cunera were brought into safety by the priest of Rhenen, Joannes Ludolphi. He brought them to the Catholic south, to the city of Den Bosch, albeit how exactly the way the relics travelled is vague (De Kruijf 2011). Bedaf, Berlicum, Kaathoven and, especially, Heeswijk became places of pilgrimage (Van Buuren 1997). In the Old-Catholic's Gertrude Church in the city of Utrecht, the skull of Cunera is being kept today. The Old Catholic movement separated itself from the see of Rome and papal authority.

Note 3 — Some say the legend of Cunera has parallels with the fairy tale Frau Holle, also known as Mother Holle. The story of the musician on the mountain is about Frau Holle who takes care of the household of the emperor, and who was recognized by the keychain she was carrying. Frau Holle rewarded the musicians with wine and the skull of a horse. Most threw away the skull except one. The next morning, this musician found the skull had turned into a lump of gold.

Note 4 — Another maiden who died in Cologne was Saint Odilia. Her remains were found by John of Eppa, a Crossier, after having received several visions where her body lay. Her remains were transferred to the monastery in Huy in Wallonia. During the French Revolution, the relics were brought to the church of Borgloon in Flanders, of which Saint Odulf is the patron, by the way.

Note 5 — Credit featured image: De Hoefslag.

Suggested hiking

Below a circular hike of around 28 kilometers, following by and large the late-medieval procession route of Saint Cunera:

Furthermore, since this is in essence a hiking site, at the base of the Grebbeberg hill lies nature area De Blauwe Kamer 'the blue chamber/space'. It is a wetland area with loads of birdlife and (!) semi-wild horses. De Blauwe Kamer is partially accessible for walkers. For more information consult website Utrechts Landschap.

Suggested music

Boudewijn de Groot, Land van Maas en Waal (1966)

The Rolling Stones, Wild Horses (1971)

Madonna, Like a Virgin (1984)

Frisia Coast Trail.com

The 1,000 mile coastal hike for people with fear of heights
and interest in 2,500 years of living on the sharp edge of land and sea