Chapter Eight

 

Winds of Uncertainty

 

 

At day’s end Tristan retired to his room, and after closing the door behind him, pulled the three letters from his trousers and set them on his bed. After opening the first, he shook his head with disappointment, then leaned over and set the edge of the letter to the candle flame until it shriveled into black curls of ash, finally disintegrating into specks of nothing. He then opened the second, shrugged, and set it afire also. After reading the third, which was routed from Paris, his mood lightened as he read, “The Romani party you seek has established a camp along the Loire River just north of the city of Orleans. There are about twenty people in this group which is headed by a young woman by the name of Mala. Though they claim to be an entertainment troupe, it has been reported that while in Paris this past year, they made their fortune through theft and deception. Take caution when approaching them.”

Tristan read the message twice more, then placed it to the candle just as he had the others. As he watched the flame devour it, he tried to envision the beautiful and mysterious Romani girl named Mala who had migrated north out of Spain as a child to escape the Moslem incursions. He wasn’t sure why she had so recently resurfaced in his thoughts of late, especially during moments of solitude and reflection. He secretly hoped that he might encounter her again.

Nonetheless, these letters indicated something stronger than the vagueness of idle hope. Indeed, he had deliberately sent out three inquiries to three different parts of France prior to leaving Italy using the Benedictine’s underground network of informers and spies, knowing that such action for personal purposes was a violation of conduct. Nevertheless, he still carried the horror of his recent venture in Rome with him, and the confusion caused by that experience had begun to erode many things Tristan had once imagined carved in stone. Surely, he rationalized, such an indiscretion as acquiring personal information was insignificant as compared to the killings he had been complicit with through Handel in Rome. Thus, bolstered by his own reasoning, Tristan went about his business, satisfied that he had not sinned, and even more content that he at least now knew of Mala’s whereabouts.

 

Meanwhile, Cardinal Odo de Lagery had spent two vociferous days disputing with Peter the Hermit on the subject of who should ascend to the papacy once the anti-pope, Guibert of Ravenna, was removed. “Cardinal Desiderius!” Odo would insist over and over, but he may as well have been talking to the wall.

“Nay! Never!” the Hermit would counter bitterly. “He’s not willing, nor is he worthy! Any cleric who stands idly by and does not accept the challenge of retaking the Vatican while the true Church dissolves in the hands of the Germans does not even deserve consideration for the papacy. Besides, such a thing would end poorly!”

“End poorly?”

“Ay, God himself would be displeased by such a selection, and would see to it that it ended quickly! Then we’d be right back in the same fix. Best that you step forward right now and save us all time, effort, and blood!”

“Oh, and I suppose God has relayed this message to you, Peter?”

“Of course he has.”

Tristan was present during many of these arguments. So, on the third morning he called Cardinal Odo aside. “The Hermit is a solitary man on a donkey. Why do you allow him so much familiarity, or even so much of your valuable time? We both know that he never gives ground because he believes that God speaks to him directly, although we know better. Would it not be simpler to just send him on his way?”

Odo looked at Tristan a moment. “You speak bluntly, my boy. That is not like you.”

“There is no possibility of swaying the Hermit. He will do what he wishes, even in the threat of death. He is a fanatic.”

“Yes, of course he is. He creates damage by throwing my name about for Pope, as well as confusion. We need unity now, not division.”

“His damage will be slight, because his influence is slight. Besides, everyone of significance believes him to be mad. His words will have little weight in the end.”

Odo was struck by the straightforwardness of Tristan’s counsel. “You are absolutely right,” he said. “The man has an uncanny way of getting under my skin, but you are on the mark so I will not waste another moment arguing with him!” Then he looked at Tristan. “Such counsel coming from you? What happened to the wide-eyed, thoughtful little boy who landed in my lap some twelve years ago?”

Tristan shook his head, and nearly smiled. “You, Cardinal. You took me in, saved me from ignorance and dishonor; educated me. You advised me, showed me how the Church and men think. To me, as a boy, you were the most magnificent, intelligent man alive, and still are. You opened the world to a lost boy. Too, this past year has been a different journey for me. I, well, I have begun to see things differently. Though we attempt to drive others this way or that, we barely manage to drive ourselves; that only if either fortune or God allow it. It is more difficult to drag a single mule than to lead a thousand sheep; the Hermit being the mule, of course.”

“Of course,” laughed Odo. “Oh, I’ve missed you this past year. Must I now worry about this new journey of yours? Let us hope it doesn’t hone too hard an edge upon you, eh?” As he said this, Tristan thought he perceived in Odo’s glimpse a knowing acknowledgement of some sort, as a parent might issue gazing at their maturing offspring.

 

That very afternoon Odo ordered the Hermit and his nephew to depart Cluny. “Oh, you shun me now,” the Hermit cried with agitation at Odo, looking over his back as he and Innocenzo were led out the monastery gate by the guards, “but heed my words!” Then his eyes narrowed and he pointed skyward, as if probing the future. “Desiderius as Pope will end poorly, Odo! God has ordained it, and I have twice passed this message along to you, so watch now and regret!”

Odo and Tristan watched the Hermit and Innocenzo disappear out the gate on their donkeys, the Hermit flapping his arms about with obvious ire and his nephew nodding with vigorous agreement to every gesture his uncle made. “Now he threatens a poor end to the Papacy of Desiderius since you refuse to agree with him,” said Tristan, shaking his head. “Indeed, the Hermit does operate on frightening others, just as he accuses the hag that he so bitterly despises.”

 

They separated then and Odo made his way back to Abbot Hugh’s private chambers. Prior to Odo’s appointment as Cardinal-Bishop of Ostia, Abbot Hugh had been Odo’s superior at Cluny. Theirs had been an extremely intimate relationship, and the two high clerics greatly respected each other.

Abbot Hugh was among the most revered clerics in all Europe, and his position at Cluny had long placed at his disposal political clout and wealth that eclipsed even the Vatican itself. For Abbott Hugh, little had changed over the years. The monk, Odo de Lagery, who once served under Abbot Hugh had also risen to the extreme heights of the Church. As Cardinal-Bishop of Ostia, he had served as chief counsel to Pope Gregory and as de facto spokesman for the College of Cardinals. Furthermore, Pope Gregory had appointed him Papal Legate to both France and Germany, which had even further expanded his authority and range of influence.

Following the loss of Rome to King Heinrich and the loss of the papacy to anti-pope Clement, Cardinal Odo found himself in a most unusual position. On the one hand, as a passionate supporter of the ousted Pope Gregory, he was thrown into a tenuous political position on the heels of the German takeover of Rome. On the other hand, King Heinrich and his anti-pope could not imprison or execute Cardinal Odo without enraging the remainder of Europe and many within Rome. An uneasy truce ensued, then, as Heinrich and anti-pope Clement contented themselves with keeping Odo under close scrutiny in Rome, knowing well that he remained loyal to the Gregorian papists.

Interestingly, as the most powerful and highly respected Gregorian in all of Italy other than Cardinal Desiderius of Monte Cassino, he found himself in an even greater position of power than before within the Gregorian party of Europe. Simply put, Odo was located in Rome whereas Desiderius was located in Lower Italy. In essence, it was Odo then who managed the ongoing business of the true Church in Rome during this perplexing period of schism and war. All those who hoped for the defeat of the Germans looked to Odo to hold the Church together until the legitimate papacy could be restored.

This was a heavy burden, then, in terms of expectations and responsibility that Odo de Lagery carried upon his shoulders. Being a deeply pious and devout monk of tra-ditional Catholic roots, Odo de Lagery was driven by a singular mission: to restore the Vatican to its rightful shep-herds and drive the usurpers back to Germany for good.

“And so,” said Abbot Hugh welcoming Odo into his chambers, “whereas the news of the anti-pope fleeing Rome is good, what is this unfortunate schism developing amongst the Normans in Lower Italy? They have always been our strongest allies against Heinrich, so division bodes ill for our cause.”

“Yes. As you know our Norman champion, Duke Robert Guiscard, died of fever in July along with five hundred Norman knights during the siege of Cephalonia in Greece. He had taken a hundred and fifty ships east to reclaim territories lost by his eldest son, Bohemud, last year to the Byzantines. In death he left four sons and the eldest, Bohemud, is furious that his father named the second son as his successor in Lower Italy.”

“What? The old Duke named the younger Roger Borsa as successor? Why?”

“Bohemud was born of an earlier Norman wife, and Roger was born of Sichelgaita whom Duke Guiscard adored. Furthermore, Guiscard was unhappy with Bohemud for losing all the Byzantine territories Guiscard had fought so hard to take from Emperor Alexius. I shall try to sort things out between the two brothers since the Normans of Lower Italy along with Countess Mathilda of Tuscany are our backbone in the fight against the Germans.”

“What of the two younger sons?”

“The third son is Guy of Amalfi and the fourth is Robert Scalio. Fortunately for us and Lower Italy, they have both steadfastly refused to become entangled in their older brothers’ dispute.”

“I pray you succeed in preventing a civil war between Borsa and Bohemud then, Odo. Tell me about Rome now that the anti-pope has fled.”

“The year is coming to a close in several months, and with the sudden retreat of anti-pope Clement, we think it wise to make ready for a new Papal election in Rome, hopefully by Easter.”

“We should have had our Pope months ago, right after Pope Gregory’s passing. Pope Gregory proposed Cardinal Desiderius as his successor, and the College of Cardinals was in agreement!”

“Yes, but Cardinal Desiderius refused the office.”

“Ah, Desiderius, dear Desiderius. Such a deserving man. He receives much criticism for not accepting the office, but he has privately shared with both of us his concerns about his health. I wonder, though. Perhaps he makes too much of this business with his health.”

Odo shook his head. “Desiderius is seen by others as a strong, unshakable Gregorian Catholic, yet there is a frailty about him that even he recognizes. His greatest fear is that he is at the limits of his endurance and that the papacy would break him. And as he told me, a broken Pope is not what is needed if we ever hope to reclaim the Vatican.”

Abbot Hugh agreed. “You know, Odo, if Desiderius continues to refuse the position, there is only one other name.”

“Yes, Abbot.”

“And if this occurs, are you ready to shoulder such weight, my friend, in these times of blood-letting and hatred? Such things can crush the strongest of men.”

“I have prayed on it, Abbot. That is to say, I have prayed that it doesn’t come down to me as Pope. In the end, I believe Desiderius will see that he is the key to resolving our current dilemma. If we pray, God will strengthen him. ”

“If not, Odo, there still remains no other name but yours. Funny thing, you know, I spoke to the Hermit just before you ousted him from the monastery today. He has long said that you would be Pope one day, well before all this mess with King Heinrich. They say out there in the hinterlands that this shoeless tramp on the donkey does truly possess the gift of prophecy.”

Odo nodded. “I know what they say, Abbot. I also know that the Hermit thrives on his own puffery, and is convinced of his own miraculous powers and private connection to God. Let’s hope and pray, the Hermit is not the one that God has truly chosen to communicate through, eh?”

This forced Abbott Hugh to smile a bit. “Ah, remember, Odo, God sees no more value in kings and Popes than in children or fools. In any case, I stand with you regardless of the pendulum’s swing. Then he stood and crossed Odo with a blessing. “Dieu nous dirigera,” he said. “God will direct us.”