Part 7 (1/2)

Hearing the news, the n.o.bles surrounding Bobbio revolted. In fear of his life, Gerbert fled to Pavia, to a palace apartment owned by the monastery. From there he wrote, humbly now, to Empress Adelaide, begging for her protection. ”Many, indeed, are my sins before G.o.d; but against my Lady, what, that I am driven from her service? ... I thought I was practicing piety without avarice.”

She ignored him.

He wrote to that old fox, Peter of Pavia-Gerbert's enemy had become Pope John XIV the previous July. ”Whither shall I turn, father of the country?” Gerbert asks, in a small voice astonis.h.i.+ngly unlike the tone he took earlier, when accusing Peter of stealing from his church. ”If I call upon the Holy See, I am mocked and without opportunity to go to you.” Just as Gerbert had gracelessly refused Peter's requests for an interview, the new pope denied Gerbert's. Gerbert suggested an intermediary: a mutual friend, the niece of Adalbero of Reims, Lady Imiza. ”We love Lady Imiza because she loves you. Let us know through her, pray, either by messengers or by letters, whatever you wish us to do.”

Imiza had married a duke and was one of the court ladies of Empress Theophanu. Gerbert wrote to her: ”I consider myself fortunate in being accepted as a friend by such a remarkable woman as you. ... Though Your Prudence does not need reminding, yet, because we feel that you are grieving and suffering severely from our misfortune, we wish the Lord Pope to be approached by messengers and letters, both yours and ours.”

He wrote to the monk Petroald-whom Peter had preferred as abbot-and dumped Bobbio into his lap: ”Do not let the uncertainty of the times disturb your great intelligence, brother,” he said. ”Chance upsets everything. Use our permission in giving and receiving, as becomes a monk and as you have known how to do. Do not neglect what we have agreed upon in order that we may have you more frequently in mind.”

His gift for friends.h.i.+p had not completely deserted him in Italy. He and Petroald had come to respect each other, and he wrote soothingly to a monk named Rainard: ”I urge and advise you to think and act as best you can according to your knowledge and ability.... Bewail the future ruin not so much of buildings as of souls; and do not despair of G.o.d's mercy.” Five years later, he would ask Rainard to have copies made, ”without confiding in anyone,” of certain books in Bobbio's library.

And his knights seemed loyal. He wrote to Aurillac, ”It is true, [they] are prepared to take up arms and to fortify a camp. But what hope is there without the ruler of this land, since we know so well the kind of fidelity, habits, and minds certain Italians have?”

Unsure where to turn, he asked Abbot Gerald if he could resume his studies with his former master-perhaps Raymond could meet him at Reims or Rome? He wrote to Miro Bonfill in Spain that he was ready to comply with his orders and suggested that Miro-who had unfortunately just died-also contact him at Reims or Rome.

But Rome was not really an option: The pope still refused to see him.

So Gerbert rode north to Reims, crossing the Alps again in January 984. Welcomed warmly by Archbishop Adalbero, he felt secure enough to subtly threaten the pope: ”Deign to intimate to the holy bishops with what hope I may undergo the danger of approaching you. Otherwise, do not wonder if I attach myself to these groups where human but never divine law is the controlling factor.”

For in Pavia-perhaps thanks to the intercession of Lady Imiza-Gerbert had made a secret arrangement with the Empress Theophanu. He would be her man in Reims: her advocate and spy.

Only twenty-three when Otto II died, Empress Theophanu was trapped between Otto's mother Adelaide, who had never liked ”that Greek woman,” and the German n.o.bles, who held her little son hostage. When the three-year-old Otto III was consecrated king of Germany at Christmas, no one yet knew of his father's death. Writes Thietmar of Merseburg, ”At the conclusion of this office, a messenger suddenly arrived with the sad news, bringing the joyous occasion to an end.”

A regent would be needed until Otto III came of age. Theophanu saw herself as the most likely candidate: In the Byzantine Empire, an empress automatically ruled for her young son. The German n.o.bles, at first, disagreed. Archbishop Willigis of Mainz, charged with the boy's upbringing, promptly turned his ward over to Henry the Quarreler, duke of Bavaria.

Henry seems an odd choice to trust with the life of Otto III: He had rebelled against Otto II seven years before and had been in prison for treason ever since. Yet many Germans wanted to separate their kingdom from Italy. They wanted a German king, not a Greek empress and a half-Greek boy. Learning of Otto II's death, the bishop of Utrecht, Henry's jailer, had immediately freed the duke-and urged him to become king. Egbert of Trier, the great friend of Adalbero of Reims, backed him as well, along with other important bishops. Willigis-though he gave up the boy-insisted that Henry could be regent regent, ruling until Otto III grew up, but not king.

The influential Notger of Liege also vacillated, and it was to him that Gerbert-master of rhetoric-wrote his first persuasive letter on Theophanu's behalf: ”Are you watchful, O father of the country, for that onetime famed fidelity to the camp of Caesar, or do blind fortune and ignorance of the times oppress you?” Both ”divine and human laws are being trampled underfoot,” Gerbert warned. ”Behold, openly deserted is he to whom you have vowed your fidelity on his father's account and to whom you ought to preserve it once vowed.”

Gerbert then appealed to Notger's personal interests. He had certain knowledge, he wrote, that Henry the Quarreler and King Lothar of France planned to meet on the banks of the Rhine. There, Henry would give away the duchy of Lorraine-over which France and the empire had long contended-if Lothar would support his bid to be king. Notger's own archbishopric, Liege, was in Lorraine. His n.o.bles would be dispossessed, their castles and estates bestowed on Lothar's Franks. Even church properties would change hands. Adalbero of Reims-born in Lorraine and brother to the count of Verdun-was against Henry's plot, Gerbert pointed out. Though a va.s.sal of Lothar, Adalbero believed Lorraine rightly belonged to the Holy Roman Empire. He also knew a war between France and the empire would be disastrous for both.

Notger saw Gerbert's point. Joining with Adalbero, he convinced Lothar not to meet Henry or to accept his offer of Lorraine. They appealed, in part, to the king's vanity. King Lothar, they insinuated, was more worthy to be regent than this duke. Both were related to Otto III to the same degree: Lothar's mother was sister to Otto I; Henry's father was brother to Otto I. Plus, Lothar was married to Emma, a daughter of Empress Adelaide by her first marriage. Why should he back a man of lesser rank whose claim was weaker than his own?

Nor was Lorraine a prize. Ruling it brought a risk to Lothar's dynasty. The current duke of Lower Lorraine was Lothar's brother Charles, and the two were not on good terms. Five years previously, Charles had spread the rumor that Lothar's queen was having an affair with Bishop Ascelin of Laon, the nephew of Adalbero of Reims, and Lothar had chased his brother from France. Otto II took Charles in and made him a duke. Provoked, Lothar attacked the imperial city of Aachen-where Theophanu was awaiting the birth of a child. Otto II swept his wife out of the city by night, and Lothar promptly sacked it. As a last insult, he had his men turn Charlemagne's great bronze eagle around to face France. With Theophanu safe, Otto II marched in revenge. From Aachen to Paris he pillaged the castles, but spared the churches.

Archbishop Adalbero had soothed the humiliated Lothar. Let Otto keep Charles and Lorraine, he argued. As a va.s.sal of the emperor, Charles was no longer eligible to be king of France if anything (G.o.d forbid) should happen to Lothar. But if France took over Lorraine, Adalbero warned, Charles could threaten Lothar's throne-or that of his son, Louis, who had been crowned co-king at age twelve.

Now, with Otto II dead, Adalbero asked his king a question: Did France really want the warlike Henry on her border, when she could have the little child Otto under the regency of his gentle mother?

Three months later, Gerbert sent a letter to Lady Imiza: ”Approach my Lady Theophanu in my name to inform her that the kings of the French are well disposed toward her son, and that she should attempt nothing but the destruction of Henry's tyrannical scheme, for he desires to make himself king under the pretext of guardians.h.i.+p.”

At the same time, Adalbero set to work on his friend Egbert of Trier, also in Lorraine, using Gerbert to write the letters: ”That your state is tottering through the cowardice of certain persons fills us not only with horror but also with shame.... Whither has sacred fidelity vanished? Have the benefits bestowed on you by the Ottos escaped from your memory? Bid your great intelligence return; reflect on their generosity, unless you wish to be an everlasting disgrace to your race.”

Willigis of Mainz they also tried to turn from Henry's side: ”With great constancy must we work, father, in order to maintain a plan of peace and leisure. What else does the disorder of the realms mean than the desolation of the churches? ... Deprived of Caesar, we are the prey of the enemy. We thought that Caesar had survived in the son. O, who has abandoned us, who has taken this other light from us? It was proper that the lamb be entrusted to his mother, not to the wolf.” Willigis soon joined their coalition, and brought many of his fellow Germans with him.

In June 984, with the king of France set against him and his support among the clergy having evaporated, Henry the Quarreler met Theophanu in Germany and surrendered little Otto III to her. Theophanu would reign as Theophanius imperator augustus Theophanius imperator augustus, ”Emperor Augustus,” regent for her son, until her early death seven years later. Her mother-in-law, Empress Adelaide, would then take up the regency until Otto III came of age. For ten years the Holy Roman Empire would be ruled by a woman.

In July 984, Gerbert wrote to his agent at the palace looking for his reward: ”Lorraine is witness that by my exhortations I have aroused as many persons as possible to aid him [Otto III], as you are aware.” What plans did the empress have for him now? Should he remain in France ”as a reserve soldier for the camp of Caesar”? Should he join Theophanu's court? Or should he prepare ”for the journey which you and my lady know well enough about, as it was decided in the palace at Pavia”? That journey was back to Bobbio, where, with Theophanu's troops, he could regain control as abbot.

Six months later Gerbert was still in France, making himself useful at Reims and stewing over the empress's failure to answer. As he wrote to Raymond at Aurillac: ”For these cares philosophy alone has been found the only remedy. From the study of it, indeed, we have very often received advantageous things; for instance, in these turbulent times, we have resisted the force of fortune violently raging not only against others but also against us.”

Yet he was not satisfied. He had been an abbot-and a count.

Should he go to Spain, he wondered, or continue to wait for Theophanu's promised reward? To Abbot Gerald, he lamented: ”Blind fortune, pressing down with its mists, enwraps the world, and I know not whether it will cast me down or direct me on, tending as I am now in this direction, now in that.”

In the end, he stayed with Adalbero at Reims. While there, to keep himself busy, he resumed his teaching. As he wrote: ”I offer to n.o.ble scholars the pleasing fruits of the liberal disciplines to feed upon.” He never returned to Bobbio. For years he would mourn ”the organs and the best part of my household paraphernalia” that he had left behind. He planned to fetch them ”when peace has been made in the kingdoms,” a time that would never arrive.

CHAPTER X.

Treason and Excommunication When Otto II died, the n.o.bles of Bobbio were not the only Italians to rebel. Gerbert escaped with his life. The pope was not so lucky. As soon as Theophanu took her German army north, to reclaim her son and establish her regency, Pope John XIV, that old fox Peter of Pavia, was kidnapped. Peter had been Otto's chancellor. Though aristocratic, Italian, and qualified to be pope, he was perceived as Otto's creature. He was locked in the dungeon of the Castel Sant'Angelo, the fortress beside Saint Peter's in Rome. His captor was Pope Boniface VII. Boniface had been elected pope in 974 with the backing of the powerful Crescentian family (to make room for their favorite, they had strangled the sitting pope, Benedict VI). Evicted from office by Otto's army, Boniface robbed the Vatican treasury and fled with the money to Constantinople. Upon Otto's death, he returned and, with the Crescentians' help, reclaimed his seat. Peter of Pavia died in the dungeon in late 984.

Gerbert was horrified-and a tiny bit pleased. ”The world shudders at the conduct of the Romans,” Gerbert, then in Reims, wrote a Roman deacon with whom he shared books. ”What sort of death did he suffer, that special friend of mine to whom I entrusted you?” Peter was hardly Gerbert's friend, and certainly not a ”special” one.

Gerbert would soon learn not to gloat over an enemy's misfortunes. France was in turmoil. Adalbero, as archbishop of the chief city of France, Reims, was in the midst of it, and Gerbert was soon drawn into his intrigues. Again, Gerbert's forays into politics would bring him fame and power. Again, he would end up fleeing for his life-this time with his health ruined and under sentence of excommunication from the pope. In between, he would twice face being hanged for treason.

His fortunes are chronicled in his letters. Between January 984, when he returned to Reims, and February 996, when he left it in disgrace, Gerbert wrote, and kept, no fewer than 180 of them.

Some were the letters of a scientist and scholar. He asked for books. He discussed rhetoric and organ-playing with the monks of Aurillac, wrote to Spain to learn more about mathematics, explained the abacus to Remi of Trier, and discussed climate circles and the making of celestial spheres.

Others were the letters of a friend: He promoted his friend Constantine as a music teacher and attempted to pull strings to get him elected abbot of Fleury. Alas, their mutual enemy Abbo was chosen instead.

His longest letters were those he wrote to justify himself-particularly, his defiance of the pope when the archbishopric of Reims became a p.a.w.n in the battle for France.

But most he wrote under commission: The master of rhetoric composed letters in the name of Archbishop Adalbero, Duke Charles of Lorraine (the pretender to the French throne), Count G.o.dfrey of Verdun (Archbishop Adalbero's brother, then imprisoned by King Lothar of France), Queen Emma (King Lothar's wife and the daughter of Empress Adelaide), and Duke Hugh Capet (who would become king through Adalbero's machinations). He wrote to Empress Theophanu, Empress Adelaide, King Lothar, Charles again, and the Byzantine emperors; to dukes and d.u.c.h.esses, counts and countesses; to archbishops, bishops, abbots, and monks throughout France, Germany, Italy, and Spain.

Occasionally he was messenger as well: Having written a letter, he took it to its intended recipient and waited, pen in hand, to help shape the reply. From Bishop Dietrich of Metz to Duke Charles of Lorraine, he wrote: ”You fickle deserter, keeping faith neither in this direction nor in that, the blind love of ruling drove your weak-minded self to neglect a pledge, given under oath before the altar of Saint John.... Have you ever had any scruples? Swell up, grow stout, wax fat, you who, not following the footsteps of your fathers, have wholly forsaken G.o.d your Maker.”

From Charles to Dietrich, Gerbert wrote: ”It has befitted my dignity, indeed, to cover up your curses and not to give any weight to what the caprice of a tyrant rather than the judgment of a priest proffered. But, lest silence would imply to your conspirators the making of a confession, I shall touch briefly upon the chief particulars of your crimes, saying the least about the greatest. Grown stout, fat, and huge, as you rave that I have, by this pressure of my weight I will deflate you, who are blown up with arrogance like an empty bag.”

Gerbert learned tact. Under Archbishop Adalbero's tutelage, the clumsy courtier from Bobbio grew into a slick and crafty flatterer. He also became a spy. He frequently slipped word to Theophanu-his sworn overlord, after all-of the weaknesses of the French. Through intermediaries, he advised her to ally with Hugh Capet, not the weak and vacillating King Lothar. ”Lothar is king of France in name only,” he wrote, ”Hugh not in name, it is true, but in deed and fact.”

With such letters circulating, it's no surprise that Lothar and his son, Louis V, accused Gerbert and Adalbero of treason. But alienating the archbishop of Reims was a mistake. It would cost the two kings of France their lives, as Adalbero-with Gerbert's help and the secret intervention of Theophanu-put Hugh Capet on the throne. In 987, the line of Charlemagne came to an end.

Hugh Capet was born in 940, making him about ten years older than Gerbert. Lothar was born a year later. Lothar and Hugh had long been rivals. Hugh was descended from four French kings; Lothar was descended from Charlemagne. All else being equal, the French preferred a Carolingian king. But when the heir of Charlemagne was too young or weak, they had crowned Hugh's ancestors, beginning with King Odo in 888. King Lothar came to the throne as a thirteen-year-old, in 954, only because Hugh's father declined to challenge him.

A tiny ivory carving made for the cover of a book shows Otto II and Theophanu being blessed by Christ. Their names, written in a mix of Latin and Greek letters, are given as ”Emperor Otto” and ”Emperor”-not Empress-”Theophanu,” the t.i.tle Theophanu a.s.sumed as regent for her son, Otto III.

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Hugh Capet succeeded his father as Duke of France in 956, when he was sixteen. As duke, he controlled more land than the king and fielded more knights. The duke of France was considered the king's right arm-and so Hugh was indignant when Lothar secretly made peace with Emperor Otto II in 978, after Lothar had sacked Aachen and Otto had retaliated by marching on Paris. Excluded from the treaty, Hugh decided to make one of his own and rode to Rome.