The Book of Love (37 page)

Henry arrived with a formidable ally who refused to be ignored. Hugh, abbot of Cluny, was a leader of the German entourage, having been named Henry’s godfather when the king was an infant. Gregory was unmoved by this show of strength. He was the pope, after all, and despite the fact that Hugh reigned from the influential monastic settlement of Cluny, this man was still just an abbot. It was Matilda who offered to end the stalemate, and Matilda who volunteered to conduct the initial meeting with her cousin and Abbot Hugh. Arrangements were made for a first encounter to occur at her fortress in Bianello, outside Canossa.

The countess of Tuscany was a brilliant, bold, and accomplished woman. She also had enough experience with her cousin to know that he was not to be trusted. And yet when he came to her in the manner of a supplicant, pleading with her, as his “most beloved and generous cousin” to intervene on his behalf to Gregory, she softened. For all her military experience and genius, Matilda was a student of the Way of Love and believed in the power of those teachings, including forgiveness. It was this belief that led to her first substantial argument with Gregory.

“I cannot believe that you are taken in by his false supplication.” Gregory stared out the window of their bedchamber at Canossa, over the jagged, snow-covered mountains. He was trying to keep his anger in check, but he was at a loss to understand how such a brilliant woman could have been so easily duped.

Matilda, pacing the chamber, was equally agitated. “I’m not an idiot, Gregory. No one knows what and who Henry is more clearly than I.”

“Then perhaps your condition has impaired your wits,” he snapped. “Perhaps this is why women do not rule.”

Matilda froze in her tracks. At three months pregnant, her condition was still a secret easily concealed by the voluminous skirts that were the fashion. But Gregory was aware every minute of her state, which was a constant source of worry for him. There were massive responsibilities upon his broad shoulders as pope, as a leader, and as a man. The impact was taking its toll, clearly. As he watched the blood drain from Matilda’s face, Gregory immediately regretted his outburst. He moved toward her and grabbed her hands.

“I’m sorry, Tilda. That was unfair. And untrue.”

She did not pull away from him, but she did not embrace him either. There were tears welling, but she refused to shed them. Instead, she made her point with a calm she did not feel.

“Perhaps if women did rule, there would be less war, less death, less destruction. Did you not glean any of this from our teachings while in Lucca? That it is the loss of the female principle in leadership, and in spirituality, that has caused so much devastation all around us? The balance was destroyed with the Fall of Man, when women were disinherited and disempowered. When all that is pure and powerful about feminine wisdom was packed away and sent into exile so that mankind would be enslaved by a need for power with nothing to temper it. Even men like you—as great as you are in heart and spirit—more often than not cannot overcome their nature. And it is the male nature to desire power and wage war when opposed or threatened. Women, conversely, have a different nature. Ours is to collaborate and mediate, to seek
peace over death. And yes, as I stand here before you with our child growing in my womb, I want him, or her, to be born into a world where there is peace and prosperity. And if that makes me weak, then so be it. God’s will has decreed that I be in this condition at this time and place. And it makes me want to see an end to senseless suffering.”

Gregory was in too agitated a state to listen closely to what felt like a chastisement. “I am trying to protect you, and our child—and perhaps all of Italy—from Henry. And after all he has done to you through your lifetime, I simply cannot believe that you will forgive him this readily.”

All remnants of calm were leaving her now. “I refuse to be a hypocrite, Gregory. Jesus teaches us forgiveness, and that is the path of the Way as I have been taught, and as I follow it. Therefore if a man professes repentance and begs forgiveness, who am I to judge whether or not he is sincere? That is for God alone to do.”

“I am the pope,” he snapped. “It is my obligation to act as God’s intermediary on earth. And as such, I have determined that Henry’s apology is insincere and unacceptable. Tell him to return to Germany and let his own people deal with him as they will. I understand that Rudolf of Swabia has been prepared to take over the throne from him if I refuse pardon. And I do.”

Matilda was torn. The fiery side of her nature wanted to storm out of the room and abandon him to his arrogance. But she loved him, above all else, and she knew that it was part of her mission as his partner to help him through these spiritual challenges. And hadn’t she just emphasized that female rulers were most capable of diplomacy and mediation in times of war? She took a breath and addressed him with quiet strength. “What would you like me to do, my love? I have to give Abbot Hugh an answer, and I simply will not tell him to send Henry back to Germany. What would you have him do to prove his penance?”

Gregory thought about it for a moment. His first instinct was to snap back at her that there was nothing Henry could do and that his decision was final. But he softened somewhat as he looked at her. There were dark circles under her eyes, contrasting deeply against her other
wise alabaster skin. She looked terribly fragile. This was taking a toll on her too.

“Tell Abbot Hugh that I would see Henry make a very public display of his repentance, to be witnessed by all the citizens of Canossa. I would see him take the hair shirt and kneel before the gates here in the snow, abandoning all pretense of his royalty, and begging like the most humble pilgrim for admission into my presence. Ask that he arrive at the gates of Canossa in this way tomorrow, and I will consider hearing his petition.”

Matilda accepted this concession from him. It wasn’t ideal by any means, but at least he hadn’t refused completely. She left Gregory in their chambers and went in search of her messenger to deliver the terms that had been provided by the pope. She did not return to him in their chambers that night, electing to sleep with Isobel.

The following day dawned gray and frigid. Against a backdrop of threatening skies and freezing winds, Henry IV approached the formidable gates of Canossa, along with his retinue of penitents. They were led by Abbot Hugh of Cluny, who brought them to the gates and knocked, seeking admission for the king and his followers.

Hugh, carrying a crozier and intoning prayers of penance, led a procession up the long and tortuous mountain path to Matilda’s stronghold. Immediately behind him was the humiliated king, dressed in the
cilicium
, the garment of repentance that was made of coarse fabric and goat’s hair. It was designed to irritate the skin, to tear it and cause terrible itching as a mortification of the flesh. To further demonstrate the extent of his repentance, Henry walked the rocky and freezing path in his bare feet. An assemblage of once proud bishops and nobles, all of whom had attacked Gregory at the Synod of Worms and called for him to be deposed, followed their king in similar postures of penitence.

The people of Canossa and the surrounding areas who had come out to witness this spectacle lined the road to the fortress. Some jeered,
throwing rotted vegetables at the tyrant who would call himself their sovereign. Others watched in silence, perhaps aware that history was happening all around them, perhaps simply in awe of this high drama between a pope and a king.

Upon arrival at the gates, the king stepped forward to knock and formally request admittance. His practiced speech rang out through the frozen air.

“I seek an audience with the Holy Father. I come as a penitent, to declare repentance of my sins against him and the church that he represents. I come in humility. I come as both a man and a king to seek his blessing and forgiveness.”

A papal legate delivered the response in an announcement from the tower that faced the front of the fortress. “The Holy Father has rejected your petition. He does not feel that you have, as yet, shown that your penance is sincere.”

There was stunned silence in reply. Was it possible that even following such a humiliation, the pope would not receive the king? Henry turned to Abbot Hugh for support. The bishop of Cluny replied, “The king has humbled himself before God and his blessed messenger here on earth. Do you now see how he bleeds to show his penance? Can the Holy Father not find it in his heart to at least hear a further plea of forgiveness and a vow of obedience?”

Henry’s feet were torn from the rocky walk up the mountains, and trickles of blood ran over the rash that covered his arms from the terrible hair shirt. He was an impressively wretched sight. Clearly, he had suffered in this journey. But the legate merely repeated his original pronouncement as it had been given him by the pope and disappeared inside, leaving the most powerful king and abbot in Europe to stand at the locked gates as the snow began to fall once again.

Matilda was beside herself with frustration. She could not believe that Gregory was so intractable. Henry, for all his odious behavior, had made a very dramatic and public show of penance. He had humiliated
and humbled himself in a way that no king in history ever had, and yet Gregory still would not allow him into his presence. The pope was not listening to anyone, including his most beloved. She had ceased speaking with him as it only caused them to argue.

While Matilda had sought Isobel’s counsel on this conflict as a woman, she decided that she needed a male perspective and went in search of Conn. She found him in the stables, where he was not pleased to see her.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

“I need you.”

“Come inside then, little sister. I know what this is about and I would tell you a story that I think you should hear.”

He rushed her back into the warmth of the castle, in the antechamber near the kitchen. This room had the benefit of being close to the cooking fires, as well as possessing its own fireplace. Matilda’s grandfather had built it specifically for the purpose of holding meetings in the wintertime, to combat the fierce cold of these mountains. Matilda warmed her hands over the fire and sat on the padded bench, with her back to the wall. She sighed heavily as she leaned against the hard stone.

“Oh Conn, what am I going to do with him? He is acting as a tyrant.”

Conn shrugged. “Is he?”

Matilda was taken aback. She had fully expected him to agree with her. “Of course he is. After Henry’s display of penance, he still will not admit him? It’s outrageous.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s strength. Respect it and leave him alone.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am serious.”

“But—”

“There is no
but
. Gregory knows clearly what Henry is. And what Henry will always be. Matilda, that man is a monster in a crown. Do not ever underestimate what he is capable of. Now
I
am begging
you
. Whatever it is that has softened your heart toward your evil cousin, do
not allow yourself to forget what you know of his past and his actions. He is a very dangerous man, and a more dangerous king. And he is more deadly to you than to anyone else. How can you not see that? And believe me, as angry as you are at Gregory, he is really protecting you more than himself.”

Matilda considered this for a moment. While she did see it, she also wanted to believe that there was potential, given the strength of Henry’s exhibition today, that there was sincerity in the penance. “So you do not believe that a wicked man can ever change his ways?”

“I do not believe that this particular wicked man can change his ways. And this brings me to the story I wanted to tell you.”

Matilda nodded and settled in to listen to the great Celtic warrior weave his hereditary magic through storytelling.

“When I was a student at the school of Chartres…”

“Chartres?” Matilda jumped at the mention of the holy city, which Conn always refused to talk about. He scowled at her.

“Later. Don’t interrupt me. The school of Chartres brought learned men from all over Europe, and I was once fortunate enough to spend time in the presence of a man from the east. A Sufi master. He told me this story which I am about to tell to you. It is the story of the scorpion and the toad.

“Toad was a kind and gentle creature who swam happily in his pond and had many friends, as he was liked by everybody. One day as he was bathing, he heard a voice calling him from the edge of the pond. ‘Hey, Toadie,’ the voice called. ‘Come over here.’

“And so Toad swam to the shore, and there he saw that it was Scorpion who was calling to him. Now remember that Toad was by his nature a trusting creature, and a kind one, but he was not stupid. He knew that Scorpion was dangerous and known for his poisonous sting, which could strike at any time and often for no reason. Thus Toad kept his distance but replied politely, ‘What can I do for you, Brother Scorpion?’

“‘I need to get across the pond,’ Scorpion told him. ‘Yet it would take me many days to walk. If you would carry me on your back and
swim across, it would take me no time at all. I am told that you are kind and generous, and I hope that you will consider doing me this great favor which would help me so much and be very appreciated.’

“Now, Toadie had a conundrum. His nature was to help, but he was afraid of Scorpion’s bad reputation. He decided to be honest. ‘Brother Scorpion, I would like to help you, but you are known for your volatile nature, and for your deadly sting. If I put you on my back and swim into the pond, what if you decide to sting me? I would die then, and I do not wish to die.’

“Scorpion laughed at this. ‘Ridiculous! Brother Toad, think about what you have just said! If I were to sting you while you were swimming, you would sink and we would both drown. I have no desire to destroy you, and certainly not myself, so why would I ever do such a thing? I simply need to get across the pond, and I need your help to do so. Please, brother.’

“And so the trusting toad allowed the scorpion to climb upon his back and began to swim. When they were midway into the pond, Toad felt a sharp and horrible pain. ‘Ouch! What was that?’ he cried. To which Scorpion replied, ‘Oops. I stung you. Sorry.’ Toad was incredulous, and as the poison seeped into his body and he began to sink, he asked the Scorpion, ‘But why, brother? Why did you sting me when now we will both surely perish?’