Cunegundes (hey, I didn’t name her) was from the Luxembourg of the 10th and 11th centuries. She was born into a noble family whose aspirations for her reached even higher–and they betrothed her to a duke (her father was only a count) named Henry who was next in line to become an Emperor.

Cunegundes and Henry decided that it would extraordinarily propitious to go to Rome and have the Pope (the 8th Benedict) bless their union and their rise to prominence with an Imperial Coronation. That’s when the accusations began flying! Now, Cunegundes had sworn to Henry that she was and would remain a virgin before their marriage, and Henry swore likewise. Now that the count’s daughter and duke’s wife was becoming an Empress Coronated by the Pope, tongues began wagging to the effect that, prior to the arranged marriage with Henry, Cunegundes had been free with sexuality and was anything other than virgo intacta when entering the marriage bed. (No such accusations were made against Henry, FYI.)

Well, how do you prove you were a virgin before you were married after the marriage has been consummated? Cunegundes hit upon an idea: She would walk over red-hot plough-shares! If she was able to do so uninjured, then this would prove that she had been, pre-marriage, a virgin; if not, well Cunegundes trusted her God to see that the “if not” part would not come to pass.

For those of you who do not know what ploughshares (plowshares) look like, here is a stock photo of several of them from the internet (the share is the nasty-looking metal edge at the end of the plow):

The results of Cunegundes’ ordeal? The fact that she’s a Saint in the Calendar kinda gives it away: her feet were not burned or sliced open and, as Butler writes, “The emperor condemned his too scrupulous fears and credulity, and made her ample amends.” Oh, by the way, her husband also was made a Saint along the way, too.

So…husband Henry is lauded for being very cautious about his wife’s past, is excused for believing allegations against his wife (and what did it matter, anyhow?), and saintly because he made it up to Cunegundes for ever doubting her. And Cunegundes is saintly because her word was not enough and she subjected herself to potential maiming and death by her own choice to prove that Henry was her “one and only.”

How screwed up (or, literally, not-screwed up) is this?!