He had seen her once, some years ago when she was little more than a child. Now she was a married woman, although by all accounts something of a rebellious one who did not openly acknowledge the influence of her husband, the duke of Lorraine. This was one of the issues he wanted to address with her.
“Godfrey of Lorraine is Henry’s lapdog, and therefore dangerous,” Gregory mused aloud. “I must know where the countess stands in relation to her husband, and I must know today. Her support could mean everything in the event of war.”
Gregory had opposed the German king virtually every day since Henry’s coronation at fifteen years of age. The tensions between the sacred throne and the temporal throne, the Church versus the German crown, were about to rise to epic proportions. The new pope was determined to increase the separation of the papacy from monarchical influence, while Henry was determined to unify the two by calling himself Holy Roman Emperor. There would be no middle ground, no possibility for compromise, from either of them.
“In this case, it could be to our benefit that Countess Matilda is not one to behave as a good Christian wife. If her actions allow us to save our Church from Henry’s grasp, I am sure that God will forgive her whatever transgressions she is guilty of. That glorious end would surely justify any method of achieving it.”
As Gregory VII climbed the altar to take his seat, he turned to look out upon the bishops, nobles, and supporters in attendance. He radiated strength and confidence on this, the most important day of his political career. Here was the culmination of everything he had worked for, the reward for the years of exile and hardship in defense of the papacy. He did not think that there was anything in the world that could equal this feeling of ascending these steps on the path to becoming the greatest spiritual leader in the world.
And then he looked down.
In a place of honor in the very front row was the most mesmerizing sight he had ever encountered. Matilda of Tuscany sat with her mother, a vision in azure silk. Strands of pearls were woven through her remarkable hair, which was only partially covered by a gossamer veil. Her coiffure was anchored by a gold and jeweled crown of fleurs-de-lis, a vivid reminder to all in attendance that Matilda and her mother were direct descendants of the holy and exalted emperor Charlemagne. Her slender throat dripped with a fortune in jewels; she was breathtaking to the point of distraction. So disconcerted was he that, as he accepted the key of Saint Peter as the symbol of his new position, Gregory VII had to turn his head away from the crowd in order to maintain his concentration.
The new pope was not the only disconcerted spirit in attendance that day. The Countess of Canossa, Duchess of Tuscany and Lorraine, sat perfectly still and entirely speechless throughout the ceremony. She could not take her eyes off the powerful and charismatic man who was inheriting the papal tiara. While he was certainly an arresting presence and an astoundingly handsome man, Matilda was most stunned by the realization that she had seen him before: she had seen him in a vision, at the center of the labyrinth, just before she departed from Orval on that terrible day.
Beatrice of Lorraine was a wise woman and an experienced one. She also had eyes. She had not missed the heated, if silent, exchange between her daughter and the new pope during the investiture ceremony. Here was a relationship to be cultivated if ever there was one. The alliance of the Holy Roman Church with the might and wealth of Tuscany had the potential to be an unstoppable force. When the time came later in the afternoon for her to attend the papal audience with her daughter, she pleaded exhaustion and insisted that Matilda attend alone. She was a married woman and a countess in her own right; surely she did not require a chaperone in the presence of the Holy Father.
Matilda was escorted to the audience chambers, where she waited only for a moment before the door was opened to admit Gregory. She prayed that he could not hear her heart pounding in her chest, because it sounded like ten war drums in her own ears. He reached out his hand to her and she kissed the papal ring, dropping into a deep curtsy. She steadied her voice as she looked up at him, aquamarine eyes locking with steel gray.
“I have come to pledge the loyalty of Tuscany to the cause of Saint Peter. You may count on my support and that of my people in all things which are dear to preserving and protecting the teachings of our Lord as the focal point of our communities, and to enforcing your selection as God’s chosen apostle to lead the Church.”
Gregory thanked her for her fealty, impressed by the strong statement, and indicated that she should sit down. After pleasantries that included asking after her mother’s health and giving regards to Bishop Anselmo, the pope stunned Matilda with an outrageous question.
“I understand that you are indoctrinated into the ancient heresies that are still held in Lucca. What am I to make of that?”
Matilda sat motionless, trapped. She had believed this man to be an ally because of his support of Alexander, but perhaps she had miscalculated. Matilda was thinking quickly, trying to conjure a safe response to buy more time. There was no need to. The pope continued almost immediately.
“It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable with the question. Rather, I would have you know from the outset of our relationship that I am aware of who you are and where you come from. I am the pope, elected by popular opinion of the clergy and the people because I am so well versed in the issues that face my Church. You cannot be surprised that I am familiar with the whispers of heresy that emanate from Tuscany.”
Matilda nodded mutely but still said nothing. Gregory smiled at her broadly then, working hard now to allay her obvious concerns.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Matilda of Canossa. I was not born into the priesthood and I do not bring any of the prejudices that come with the narrow view of some who preceded me. I like to think of myself as a scholar, as a man who will learn entirely what it is to be a Christian, not from reiterating the popular teachings, but from studying all documents and traditions that are available to me. And my grandfather was a Jew, which broadens my religious perspective, and my desire for learning, even further. Some would applaud me for it, others would despise me for it. I am told that the traditions of Tuscany, though shocking to many, hold deep secrets and can be traced directly to the first Christians. Indeed, even to those who were contemporaries of our Lord Jesus Christ himself, including his own family. What manner of spiritual leader would I be if I did not examine those traditions and teachings in depth for myself? I have spent enough time in Lucca, with both Anselmos, the elder and younger, to understand that there are many layers to the way Christianity is expressed there. For those with eyes to see and ears to hear, no? And so, Matilda, we have many things to speak of. If you are so inclined to do so.”
Matilda fought hard to find her voice. On completely uneven footing here, she asked softly, “Are you asking me to instruct you in the ways of the Order?”
“If you are so inclined.”
She nodded at him then, in awe of the peculiar situation she had just found herself in. Was it possible that the pope himself was asking for her to instruct him in the ways of heresy?
His chaplain entered the room to advise them that the next appointment was waiting and their audience must come to an end. When the attendant priest took his leave, Gregory held out his hand to Matilda, this time taking her own and bringing it to his lips. As he did so, he noticed her ring, using it as an excuse to hold on to her hand longer than necessary.
“What does this symbolize?”
Matilda smiled at him coyly, feeling the return of control for the first time in the long and trying day. “I cannot tell you yet, but it will be a part of your…instruction.”
“Ah, I see. Well then, I shall await it eagerly and we shall begin in all haste. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
Matilda made her exit with a final deep curtsy and a feminine swish of elegant silk. He watched her leave, surprised at his own extreme, breathless reaction to her. The man who was now known to the world as Pope Gregory VII, the p
ontiff who would successfully institute the laws of clerical celibacy as a primary reform, had just lost his heart—and perhaps a little of his mind—to the remarkable and alluring countess of Tuscany.
It was not like Matilda to gush.
Lady Isobel of Lucca stood transfixed and a little alarmed at the flood which poured forth from her foster daughter, following her second meeting with Gregory VII. The new pope had, impulsively and unexpectedly, summoned Matilda to a council meeting following the investiture banquet, to discuss issues of strategy in a critical matter that he had inherited from Pope Alexander II. The previous pontiff, immediately before his death, had excommunicated five of Henry’s German bishops and censured the king for selling them their offices in the first place. Henry himself risked excommunication if he did not comply with this papal decree and acknowledge the censure to his bishops by deposing them immediately. It was an overt act of war, and one that Gregory intended to uphold. He needed the assurance that Matilda would support him from her lands in Tuscany if it proved necessary.
Their meeting had been an intense, stimulating game of wit and banter, highly charged on both sides. It was tribute to the sharpness of both intellects that they were capable of having a keenly productive political conversation against the backdrop of their supernatural attraction to each other. They had both taken and given the opportunity to sum up the other’s thought process and strategic approaches and had found that they were compatible in all areas, almost beyond explanation. It had been a successful and exhilarating meeting of two great spirits. When they were in the same room together, there occurred an undeniable merging of immense forces of nature, stars colliding to create an extreme burst of light.
Gregory had ended their meeting by reminding Matilda that she had promised to begin his education in the Way, as it had been taught uninterrupted in the Order since the first century, on the morrow. This was the source of Matilda’s current consternation and uncharacteristic giddiness.
“Oh, Isobel, he is as wise as Solomon, and as magnificent. I felt like Makeda, the Queen of Sheba herself, in his presence. It was like all that you have taught me, yet all that I never thought I would know in my own heart. What shall I do? What he is asking is outrageous, and yet it is also a marvel. Can I teach him these things? Dare I teach him these things?”
“What does your heart tell you, child? And your spirit?”
“It tells me that I must trust this man, and more.”
“And more?”
“I cannot explain it, Issy. But when I first saw him, I recognized him. I had seen him before, seen him in my vision, but it was more than that. I knew a moment of extreme joy. And then when he looked at me…it was as if a knife pierced my heart. There was a second in time, before the entire court and the Lateran council, when I felt it was only he and I in the room. How is that possible? But in that moment, I knew him. And I knew…”
She paused now, lost in the moment and breathless with the overwhelming infatuation that accompanied it. It was like a type of madness, this emotion. She had never felt anything like it. It was terrible and wonderful and completely paralyzing. Isobel had to prompt her to continue.
“Go on, Tilda.”
“I knew that…I had loved him before. In that single moment I understood the teaching of our prophetess, and the poem of Maximinus, in a new way: ‘I have loved you before, I love you today, and I will love you again.’ It was something so strange and yet so eternal. And I believe that he feels the same. I saw it, in the way he looked at me. He knows it, just as I do. That there is destiny at work here. And he is not afraid of it, I think. But I am.”
Matilda rose from her seat to pace the room as she spoke. She was unable to sit at the best of times, and certainly not when agitated at the level she was now. She pulled at her skirts as she continued. “Because it is terrifying, isn’t it? This feeling. There is no control over it. I have been in battle and faced the fiercest men on the field, with the sharpest swords and the most evil intent, and yet I have never encountered the fear that I feel at this moment. I cannot breathe, Isobel. Help me.”
Isobel sighed deeply before reaching over to hold Matilda’s hand in hers. “Oh, my sweet. I cannot help you other than to tell you that what you are feeling, as hard and as powerful and as overwhelming as it is, is also God’s greatest gift to us. I always knew that when it happened to you, it would be deeply meaningful, perhaps even a relationship that could change the world, much in the model of Veronica and Praetorus, or even as exalted as Solomon and Sheba. But I could not have foreseen…”
“Foreseen what?”
“That the man whom you were destined to find love with, the ‘very great love’ as foretold by the prophecy, would be the pope himself.” Isobel paused for a moment to consider the wisest counsel she could give to her precious child at this critical moment in her life.
“Tilda, you will have to be terribly careful. Both of you have far too much to lose in the event of an indiscretion. But I think you have even more to lose if you do not pursue this and see where it takes you, for it appears to be ordained by God. I do not have to be a prophet to know that you will encounter great challenges and hard times as a result of this love, a love which by its very nature must be a secret from the world at all times. No one can know, and you can never let on, that you have shared any intimacy. Ever.”
“But we have not.”
“Yet, Tilda. Yet. But some things are inevitable, and this appears to be one of them. Remember that intimacy between you will be judged as wrong, even criminal, if you are discovered. You have powerful enemies who would seize on such a crime and use it to destroy you both. Do what you will, do what you must, but remember discretion at all costs. He is the pope and you are a married woman; those are undeniable and unchangeable facts.”
“I can divorce Godfrey.”
“Can you? Legally, perhaps, but divorce is opposed by the Church, and you cannot expect the pope to uphold that decision, and certainly not this pope, who was selected for his strength to uphold strict reforms. And such an action would only call attention to your relationship. You are both caught in your own trap, my sweet. But I have no doubt that you will find a way to make it work, if it is truly the great love of the prophecy. Love always finds a way, Matilda. It overcomes the laws of man because it is a law of God. The rite of sacred union, the hieros-gamos between true beloveds of the soul, is the highest law that transcends all others. And that is all you really need to know, isn’t it? There is only one thing that you need to hold tight to in the days that will come, and it is the simplest teaching of our Way:
“Love conquers all.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mantua
October 1073
Matilda was miserable. She couldn’t concentrate on any of the issues and activities that usually absorbed her intellect as well as her heart. Nor had she eaten or slept properly in weeks, and she had no one to share her torment with. Isobel was in Lucca on business for the Order, and to visit Anselmo and the Master. While Beatrice was a brilliant adviser and political strategist, she was not one for discussing emotional issues with her daughter.
It was in this state that Conn found Matilda wandering alone at the edge of the forest. She jumped when he came up behind her.
“You should be armed if you are going to walk in the woods un-escorted.”
“If I were armed, you’d be wounded and we’d be staunching the blood.”
“And I would be pleased that I had done my job so well. Why are you out here alone and sulking?”
“I’m not sulking.”
“I see that.”
Matilda sighed dramatically. Lying to Conn was as useless as lying to Isobel. Both knew her mind and heart better than she did herself.
“I haven’t heard a word from the Holy Father in six months.”
“And you haven’t heard from Gregory either.”
“Make your point.”
“It’s not the pope that you miss, it’s the man.”
/> “And now you’ve made your point. I’m pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic. You’re in love. And the last time I checked, that was a sacrament within the Order.”
“He’s forgotten all about me, Conn. And it’s killing me. Does anything else feel worse than this? How can something so beautiful also be so horrid?”
“Do you really think he’s forgotten you? Or are you the one who is forgetting? He’s the pope, Tilda. The pope. The spiritual leader of the world.”
“Thank you for reminding me,” she snapped. “Because of course I do not obsess about that fact every minute of every day all on my own.”
Conn wanted to groan with annoyance but found his patience. “Would you like to hear my thoughts, or would you rather I leave you alone so you can be despondent and lovesick all by yourself?”
“As I know that you won’t really leave me alone even if you say you will, I’ll listen, assuming that you are going to tell me a story that makes me feel less wretched.”
“You’re in luck. I just happen to have the perfect story for you. So let’s sit down and I will tell you the tale of Princess Niamh of the Golden Hair, and the poet prince known as Oisin.”
He gave both names their heavy Irish pronunciations, which Matilda loved, Neev and USH-een. The Celtic language was so foreign and beautiful to her ears. Sometimes Conn recited devotional poetry about Easa to her in the lyrical, magical syllables.
“Princess Niamh was the lovely and gentle daughter of Mannanan Mac Lir, the sea god, and she lived on his most beautiful western island, called Tir n’Og, which means Land of the Young. Niamh’s mother was a queen of the faery world, and as the daughter of two immortals, Niamh had not a drop of human blood in her. This is why her father kept her on the island and would not allow her access to the mortal world, for if Niamh were to fall in love with a human, it would have dire consequences.