Chapter Eighty-four

 

 

Winds of Fate

 

 

That hope can spring eternal even at the darkest hour is a curious but enduring trait unique to mankind. And this reliance on hope is so deeply engrained in the human mindset that even against all odds and under the most impossible of circumstances, it draws men forward, often straight to the precipice of folly and over its edge into self-destruction.

Occasionally, even in the face of inevitable annihilation, hope can also blossom into the wellspring of miracles, turning the impossible into the possible. Of course, the odds of a miracle overturning inevitable defeat are often fueled by the folly of the enemy himself… which in this case was King Heinrich.

Having finally arrived at simultaneously quelling the Saxon revolts, containing Bavarian resistance, defeating Mathilda, and regaining the support of the Roman populace who had called anti-pope Clement back to Rome, Heinrich did what any good egomaniac would do… toss caution, common sense, and character to the wind. Finding himself finally in a favorable position, he thought himself invincible, smarter than the opposition, and holier than the Church. In other words, he thought himself bigger than the world.

That emperors would devise a proposition as preposterous as “divine right” in the first place is understandable. It benefits them by cloaking their authority in Godly legitimacy. That people would accept this preposterous concept in an age of ignorance, superstition, and powerlessness among common man is even somewhat understandable. That an emperor would actually believe such a self-serving contrivance is more difficult to comprehend. Heinrich appears to have fallen into the same snare of self-aggrandizement as other emperors through the ages who swallowed their own theory that their right to rule was a divine status awarded by God himself.

Accordingly, throughout the years 1092 and 1093, rather than deliver the coup de grace to his enemies, he allowed himself to become involved with distractions within his court, many of which involved his own abusive conduct and licentiousness. His involvement with the Nicolaitan sect grew to the point of debauchery and culminated in the outrage of his young wife, the former Eupraxia of Kiev who had upon her coronation adopted the name of Queen Adelheid.

It was Handel who conveyed this information to Tristan one night during a rendezvous within the Benedictine monastery of Cremona while Tristan was completing a secret diplomatic mission in Lombardy.

“Ay, said Handel, “strange rumors abound in Verona. We have an agent planted there in the midst of Queen Adelheid’s court and he’s managed to get close to her.”

“Verona?” said Tristan, puzzled. “What is she doing here in Italy?”

“Heinrich apparently forced her to accompany him south from Germany as he leads his army against Mathilda in this final assault. It seems he didn’t trust leaving her behind in Germany for fear that she might flee back to her family in Kiev.”

“What?”

“Yes, it sounds strange,” nodded Handel, “but something’s gone afoul within Heinrich’s marriage as well as within his court. Now that Heinrich has dragged her to Italy and she can’t make her way back to Kiev, she has indicated that she wishes to cross over to Mathilda in Canossa.”

This news stunned Tristan, as Handel knew it would. “Heaven be praised,” Tristan finally said, realizing the potential implications of such a development.

“Yes,” continued Handel, “our Verona contact has secretly arranged to facilitate her flight now that Heinrich is about to leave Verona to lead the German attack against the Qattro Castelli and Canossa. She and a small entourage of her trusted Rus will make their escape in three weeks’ time. One other thing, Tristan, after you report this news about Adelheid to the Holy Father, you need to return north and visit Conrad.”

“King Heinrich’s son?”

“Yes. I spoke to him last week and he wishes to speak with you.”

“About what, Handel?”

“He wasn’t specific; only that you needed to come to his court in the Po Valley at your very earliest convenience.”

 

***

 

After his meeting with Handel, Tristan hastily completed the remainder of his business in Cremona, traveled to the port of Genoa, then sailed south to Lower Italy where he reported the news about Queen Adelheid’s imminent defection to Pope Urban who was temporarily situated in Salerno.

“When news of Queen Adelheid’s flight from Heinrich becomes public,” he told Odo, “there will be many repercussions, all of which shall be in our favor. I advise that you meet her when you arrive in Canossa.”

“Yes, certainly,” replied Odo, reflecting on this unexpected turn of events. “I’ll dispatch a message to Mathilda immediately and leave Salerno within the week.”

“Travel must be by ship to Genoa then overland east to Canossa, Odo. The Germans have us blocked coast to coast along the routes south of Rome and also control much of the north except the regions surrounding Canossa. If Heinrich’s upcoming assault succeeds, we will lose that, I fear.”

“Yes, and that will spell our end,” said Odo. “Will you be accompanying me to Canossa, then?”

Tristan shook his head no. “While meeting with Handel, he also informed me that Conrad wishes to speak to me in private as soon as possible.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Not sure what Conrad wants, but Handel sounded as though it was pressing. I best make my way to the Po Valley then while you tend to Queen Adeleid in Canossa.”

 

***

 

Ten days later Odo was greeted by Mathilda, General Padule, and Guillaume at Canossa.

“So good to see you, Holy Father, in these dark times,” said Mathilda as she bowed, then gave him an embrace.

“How are you progressing on your defensive preparations?” asked Odo, observing the swarming activity of the fortress.

“We’re doing the best we can,” replied Padule. Then, pointing to Guillaume, he said, “Thank God for Guillaume’s cavalry sorties. He’s managed to keep the Germans off our backs while we stock arms and fortify the Qattro Castelli. Heinrich’ll have a difficult time working his way through them getting here to Canossa, but our troops are exhausted and morale is low. I’m not sure we can hold. We’ve suffered high casualties and are low on manpower while Heinrich continues to bring troops in from Germany now that he’s put down the Saxons and Bavarians. Had he attacked us at any point these last few months, his banner would already be flying over these very ramparts!”

“We’ll hold, General,” said Guillaume with a look of certainty. “Outnumbered as we are, the Germans’ll be fighting uphill and will have to make it through four fortresses before taking Canossa itself, and we’re well supplied. Yes, we’ll hold.”

Mathilda looked at Guillaume, and though her expression was far less certain, she managed a smile. “Oh, the confidence of youth,” she sighed, slapping him across the shoulder with affection. “If only I had a hundred like you and the Danes, Guillaume.”

Three days later a rider scurried up the approach to Canossa. It was Handel. “The German queen’s half a day behind me, riding hard,” he said dismounting. “She’ll be here by nightfall.”

As dusk fell over the mountains, Odo and Mathilda positioned themselves at the gate, and two hours later Queen Adelheid’s small entourage of three coaches and twenty Rus guards struggled up the sharp incline to the Canossa fortress.

Minutes later, as the German queen stepped from her coach, Mathilda cried, “What is this, Adelheid! How is it you flee your husband?”

“Heinrich forced me to accompany him on this last military campaign and has had me sequestered against my will in Verona all this time,” Adelheid said, visibly distraught. “Oh, such a horrible beast he has become!” Realizing Odo’s presence, she threw herself prostrate and cried, “Oh, Holy Father! Pope Urban, I must confess my sins, sins forced upon me by my wicked husband!”

“My dear Adelheid,” said Odo, “fleeing this marriage is no sin. Tis Heinrich who needs to confess his trespasses, sinning so with this war against the Church.”

“No, I have hungered for confession for two years now,” Adelheid replied, wringing her hands. “Heinrich’s priests have done me no good for they are all in league with him! They condone all that he says and does. Truly, God has vacated Heinrich’s realm and left there a dark scum of unholiness. I must be divorced of him!”

“Be calm, Adelheid,” said Odo, placing his palm upon her head. “I shall absolve you of this marriage, for Heinrich is an excommunicate. In the eyes of the Church your marriage to him was therefore never sanctified. We shall call together a council, charge Heinrich with wrongdoing, and have your marriage annulled! Rise then, I pronounce you free of this marriage until such time as formal proceedings are completed.”

Adelheid remained down. “Oh, the sins I have been forced to commit!” she wailed. “Sexual trysts, orgies with hundreds of others running about naked, fornicating openly! And m-me forced to surrender myself to other men, and even women! Oh, Holy Father, I beg that God forgives me for there was nothing I could do! I was helpless!”

Odo’s eyes flared listening to these charges and he stepped back, exchanging a glance with Mathilda who whispered, “God in heaven, Odo!” Then she moved closer and reached for Adelheid’s hands as the young queen wept, her face buried in her palms. Tilting her head with concern, Mathilda whispered, “What is this you are saying, Adelheid?”

“The Nicolaitan sect!” Adelheid sobbed. “Heinrich has become steeped in it and has embraced their promiscuous rituals with the fire of an enraptured convert. His orgies are staged during the celebration of mass, the black mass!”

“The black mass?” said Mathilda, placing a hand to her lips in horror. She looked over at Odo, but he appeared too disturbed to find words, so her eyes fell back upon the German queen. “Oh, my poor dear,” she mumbled, “my poor, poor Adelheid.”

Odo crossed himself, then leaned down and began consoling Adelheid with a blessing followed by soothing words of comfort. Then he raised her up and slowly led her across the courtyard toward the cathedral where, shoving open the massive doors, he led her into one of the confessionals located at the rear of the edifice and began to hear her confession.

God help her, thought Mathilda, standing alone, can there possibly be merit to these charges she makes against Heinrich? Then she thought back on Adelheid’s history. Before her coronation as Queen of Germany, Adelheid was Eupraxia of Kiev, a prayerful and devout Catholic of the purest strain. And after the death of her first husband, young Eupraxia had taken up residence in the convent of Quedlinburg where she was pursuing a life of prayer until Heinrich found her there. “Indeed,” Mathilda then whispered to herself, “a woman such as this would not fabricate such horrendous charges unless they were… true.”