The singing lessons proved efficacious at holding Satan at bay and helped me concentrate on my duties. The petty quarrels in family and business matters still bored me, but I dealt with them. My interest in the administration of the papal territories, the western patriarchy, and the Church as a whole eventually grew. Unlike my father, my brother Gregory was willing to explain the details of maintaining law and order throughout the domain. I thereby gained a greater appreciation for the tactical considerations of troop deployment as well as the necessity of recruiting and maintaining informants and agents. I was not qualified to judge Gregory's work, but his competence in the execution of his responsibilities seemed obvious to all.
Gregory refused to divulge any information on one subject. To all inquiries about the cost of his operations, he merely stated that the chancellor handled such matters. He was referring to our cousin, Cardinal-Bishop Peter,[1] whose see was Santa Rufina.[2] When I became pontiff he had held the office of chancellor for seven years. No one questioned his judgment on anything regarding the Church’s treasury. Apparently whenever Peter refused or amended a request for funds, he offered no explanation, and the supplicant always acceded to the decision without complaint. Certainly no one approached me for papal intercession, and in other matters the same people exhibited little reluctance in seeking my help.
The first year of my pontificate was nearing its end when I sent word to Cardinal-Bishop Peter that I desired a private consultation. I had known him for years, of course. I even attended the ceremony in which he became a cardinal-bishop. However, I was a mere youth when he became a priest, and we never established a close relationship. I did not know what to expect when he arrived for our meeting. I planned to listen more than talk.
)
The top of Cardinal-Bishop Peter’s pate was level with my nose, but his shoulders were much broader than mine, and his torso was a match for my brother’s muscular frame. His grey hair was rather curly. What I remember most about his face was the excessive wrinkling and the cold black eyes. In his youth he severely injured his left leg, necessitating the use of a crutch. Upon arriving for the audience he insisted, despite his handicap, on performing the customary obeisances. I then began the conversation by amicably relating that everyone considered him a very accomplished man who had been justly rewarded with several important responsibilities, to wit: chancellor, librarian, and camerlengo, an unprecedented combination.
His abrupt reply indicated that the previous pontiff probably had trusted him because he was a close relative. “As Your Holiness well knows, blood tips the scale.”
I assured him that in my pontificate blood would matter much less than ability and honesty. His response was a disconcerting smirk. I asked him to explain how Pope John XIX obtained up-to-date information about the Church's financial position.
Cardinal-Bishop Peter did not immediately respond. Instead he fixed his gaze firmly on me to gauge my intentions. “If Your Holiness means to question my management, I would gladly relinquish this responsibility. It gives me no joy and consumes an enormous amount of time.”
“No, no. You misjudge my intentions,” I replied. “I have every confidence in your experience and abilities, certainly much more than I have in my own. I have no plan to question any decision that you have made.
“I simply am striving to perform my duties in the best way that I can. Many people rely on me to make sound decisions or at least to participate intelligently in the making of those decisions. I therefore want to glean as much knowledge as feasible about all aspects of the management of the Church and its territories. Your responsibilities are obviously among the most important. My goal is to learn as much as I can; I have no desire to impede your ability to perform your duties or to denigrate your performance.”
I do not know the extent to which these words moved my cousin. He did, at least, allow me to peruse his records. His thoroughness and conscientiousness were immediately apparent. He devoted a great deal of time and effort to keeping complete and accurate records of both receipts and expenditures. Even so, a cursory examination of his ledgers revealed a number of errors and inconsistencies. He was very embarrassed when I noticed them and admitted that he had also found errors in the past. Fear of such disclosures was the most likely motive for his reluctance to discuss his work as chancellor. He confided that Pope John had lauded his willingness to assume the responsibility and was glad to cede the task to his trusted nephew. The pontiff vocally supported Peter’s decisions to the point where no one ever questioned them.
)
I told him that I knew a technique that should make his job easier. He agreed to listen when I clarified that he was not obliged to take my advice. I proposed that Peter consider a different way to track finances. I presented a brief introduction to the system of Arabic numerals that Fr. Lawrence had taught us. I showed how to calculate sums and balances faster and more accurately. At first Peter recoiled in horror when I showed him how quickly I could tote up a column of figures. To his eye the symbols were foreign and therefore suspect. I assured him that the method employed no witchcraft or demonic incantations and that, despite its origin, it had nothing to do with Islam. I asserted that there was no good reason to use the familiar Latin letters as symbols for numbers. In fact, their use was much more confusing than helpful.
Eventually Peter's intellectual curiosity overcame his innate fear of the outré. After I helped him do some painful exercises, he came to appreciate the superiority of this method and even grew eager to master it. He practiced diligently under my supervision, and within a few months he was nearly as skilled as any pupil of Fr. Lawrence. This process helped my cousin and me become friends and allies. Thenceforward he was one of my most trusted confidantes. He kept me abreast of the Church’s finances and his other responsibilities.
I sought his counsel in other matters, too. For example, Cardinal-Bishop Peter enumerated for me the various political factions both inside and outside the Church’s decision-making process. He described each group in understandable terms and objectively outlined its perspectives as well as its strengths and shortcomings. I felt so comfortable working with him that I issued an official decree authorizing him to act in my stead if I was deemed incapable of performing the functions of my office.
)
Throughout Christendom the first spring and summer of my pontificate were characterized by intense spiritual fervor. Legions of the faithful undertook pilgrimages to Jerusalem[3] in order to be present in the Holy Land for the millennial anniversary of the Passion of Christ. Many pilgrims hoped to witness the Second Coming. The Patriarch of Jerusalem sent me a letter relating that in December the entire Holy Land experienced severe tremors in the earth. Many buildings were destroyed and the city walls severely damaged. The ancient city of Jericho was flattened. Despite these portents, however, the skies never opened, and the Lord did not descend from the heavens. What an experience it would have been to place the fabled Keys to the Kingdom back in the hands of the Savior himself!
The rest of the year passed rather placidly for me, up until a memorable Thursday in mid-autumn. On that morning I arrived for my singing lesson and was cheerfully by Brother Mark. As usual, I padded up the secret corridor and knocked twice on the fourth door on the right. The woman who opened the door wore a veil, a novel and unexpected occurrence. Her diminutive hand sprang toward my face and inserted a rag into my gaping mouth. Holding it in place, she forcefully thrust me toward the bed. She then bolted the door. As I was in the act of removing the cloth from my mouth in order to issue a protest, she ripped off the veil. To my shock and horror she was revealed as my sister-in-law, Costanza. My mental faculties lapsed into such a stupor that I again failed to resist her advances, which proceeded in a swift and determined fashion. My surprise, anger, and horror were quickly overcome by a swirl of even stronger unnameable emotions. I must confess that the experience was perhaps the most passionate that I ever experienced.
Afterwards, I regained a bit of my senses and realized what an ineffable sin we had committed. The murky liquid of shame coursed through my veins. I could not bear to look at her, and my voice trembled as I declared that what we had just done was an inexcusable abomination. I righteously postulated that although it could not be undone, we could control our futures. I insisted that we never see each other again.
Costanza anticipated my reaction. “Hogwash,” she said. “You committed no sin, at least no more than you have done whenever you knocked on this door. I tricked you, I locked you in, and I forced you to have intercourse. Do not burden your conscience with this event; you are blameless. If anyone is bound for hell due to this encounter, it is your brother’s perfidious wife.”
She then cupped my chin in her left hand and forced my eyes to lock with hers. “And was it such an abomination? Maybe your mind says so, but what about your heart? Listen to it. Can you feel it pumping?”
Not only could I feel it pumping; I could hear it pumping. I even imagined that I could smell it pumping and taste it pumping. My mouth managed to generate not a single syllable in reply, but my expression betrayed my thoughts.
“I thought so. Let me tell you about a genuine abomination—my marriage. Your brother cuts a dashing figure in his armor mounted on his warhorse, but I hereby declare him an abject failure as a husband. I do not claim to understand his problems, but in all the time that we have lived together, he has never once accomplished what you can do without even trying.
“So, here is my straightforward proposition. You are recognized by all as the Supreme Pontiff, the Vicar of Christ, correct? The gospel, which is the Word of God, says that what you bind on earth is bound in heaven, and what you loose,[4] the same. Listen: annul my marriage. That authority inheres in your office, no? Do it! Then I can see you whenever it is propitious.”
I was equally shocked by her candor and her attitude, but I managed to break free from her grip and vocalized my protest. “No! A thousand times no! I give no credence to any of this. Satan himself is behind this raving. You must be possessed by a demon or a succubus.”
“Maybe so. How would I know? I will tell you what I am never possessed by—your heroic brother Gregory. Engage your reason! I would never ask you to abdicate the papacy or denounce Gregory in public. Just assure me—no one else—that the marriage has been annulled. In any case I will continue to reside with him; there is small chance that he will notice any difference anyway. Then, once in a while you might get another surprise when you see who opens that door. What we do will not be adultery, and it will not be incest as long as you rule that it is not. You have that power, and you know it.”
“No, your claims are false! My brother is the most powerful and admired man in Rome.”
She maneuvered so that I had no choice but to meet her determined gaze. “How can I convince you? Do you want me to take an oath? Will that help? Very well. I swear that every word that I have spoken is completely true. I swear on the Holy Name of Jesus, of the Blessed Virgin, and of all the angels and saints.”
She looked desperately around the room and then continued. “I swear on everything that I hold sacred, including this.” She grabbed my gorzo, which, I am ashamed to add, immediately sprang back to life. “And I would swear on the head of our infant son if he were here.”
My mouth flew open, but no sound emerged.
“They never told you? No matter. Annihilate the thought. Even if you are the Holy Father, they will never allow you to see him any more than they will let me. He might as well be dead or across the sea.
“And do not worry about a recurrence of that problem. I am much more attuned to the workings of that part of my body now, and I know when it is safe. And even if I should err, I know what to do about it.
“So, do you believe me now? Will you do as I ask?”
I sank down on the bed with my head in my hands. The familiar feeling of impending doom dominated my thoughts. I sensed my world crumbling around me, but in my current role not only my family but the Roman people and the entire Christian Church depended on me to persevere somehow. I had no idea what to say or do.
Costanza lay her hand gently on my shoulder; its presence induced in me an involuntary shiver. “Enough,” she said. “I can see that this has overwhelmed you. Take a few days to think—and pray—about what I have said. I hope that you will come to appreciate that my request is innocuous. I simply want you to declare that a relationship that has long been meaningless is officially terminated. No one else needs to know anything about this.”
After a few moments of silence she resumed speaking. “I have an idea. I will make certain that I am in attendance when you celebrate mass next Sunday morning, but do not seek me out. Just include in your homily the phrase ‘Factum est’ if you have decided to do as I ask. No, wait. Do not use those words; someone might notice something. Let me think. ‘Factum est’ has ten letters.[5] Just mention the number “ten” at some point in the sermon. If I hear you say that word, I will know. Sunday. Ten. Remember.
“Now, regain your composure so that you can return to your singing lesson. Half the women of Rome celebrate the fact that their bishop is so devoted to refining his musical talent.”
Several stressful days ensued. Her words and actions dominated my thoughts. Unbidden, the scene played repeatedly in my mind. Sometimes her proposal made obvious sense; just as often it disgusted me. By Saturday evening I was still uncertain whether to comply with her peculiar request. Everything that I had been taught since I was a child argued that her suggestion was pure evil. On the other hand, over time I had come to trust her implicitly, and my heart assured me that she had been truthful about her relationship with Gregory. Although my mind posed many irrefutable objections, I knew in a visceral sense that after my mother she was the finest person whom I had ever met. In a state of confusion I turned to sacred scripture for inspiration and fell asleep reading Exodus.
)
)
Hours later I awoke with a start and beheld two strangers at the foot of my bed. As in previous visitations, my senses were intensely alert, but my body was utterly incapable of motion. In fact, I struggled to draw each breath. Both men were bearded and wore old-fashioned robes. The man on the left, who had two small but noticeable horns,[6] silently bore two stone tablets with inscriptions in an unfamiliar language. The other man carried a huge pair of keys, which he jangled at me.
The key-bearer spoke. “The authority signified by these Keys has been handed down to you, Benedict. They give you the power to ascertain which acts are sinful and which humans have by their faith and their actions proven themselves worthy of the Divine Presence. The rigid tablets of days gone by …” He indicated his companion’s heavy stone plates. “… were designed for the tribes of Israel. Their purpose was to assist them as they struggled with their identity as God's chosen people.
“When the Savior came, he replaced those laws with a New Covenant between the Lord and His people based upon love and respect. A millennium has passed since the Lord determined that the nexus of that sacred Covenant would be his vicar on earth, first me, then one hundred successors,[7] and now you. The rigidity of the Decalogue cannot suffice in the fast-paced modern age of the Christianity's second millennium. In its stead one divinely inspired man—the Supreme Pontiff—inherited the power to guide the faithful through every unanticipated circumstance. No man born of woman could ever hope to perform this task, but the Holy Spirit has spoken to me and to every pope through his heart, Benedict. You must hearken to that voice, and use those Keys wisely, not just in this instance but in all dealings.”
)
Shortly after the final words of this little speech, both men departed from view. I remained inert much longer than on the previous ones. When I finally regained control of my limbs, I rose and seated myself at the table to compose my sermon for the next day’s mass. I decided that surely this would be an auspicious time to explain how the Ten Commandments of Genesis related to the Christian Church at the beginning of its second millennium.
Thereafter, I looked forward to seeing Costanza every fourth Thursday. As often as not, of course, her duties made it impossible to make the necessary arrangements, but whenever I beheld her glowing face, my heart nearly burst with joy.
More than a year after our first such tryst I summoned up the courage to ask Costanza about her baby’s birth. She paused before informing me that upon learning of her pregnancy my father and the hegumen attempted to coerce her into terminating it. She insisted on bearing the child. The hegumen was unexpectedly gentle in his dealings with her even after she disclosed her decision. My father's reaction was much more severe. He was in every respect a powerful man, and at times she worried that he would be unable to control his rage at her willfulness. I had often beheld his ire at close quarters. He seldom erupted, but he often seemed on the verge of succumbing to his wrathful nature. His face flushed, his muscles grew tense, and his temples pulsed.
Costanza related that she cared for the infant in a village in the Alban Hills up to the day of his baptism. The only family member in attendance at that ceremony was my father. Costanza chose John as the child’s Christian name even though she had never felt any great affection or admiration for my predecessor, Pope John XIX. Only much later did it occur to her that people might conclude that the baby had been named in honor of the pontiff. At the end of the ceremony the child was snatched from her, and she had never been allowed to see him again. She had no idea where he was or who was raised him in her stead. She assumed that he was alive, but she had no evidence except a strong feeling in her heart. My father made it clear that she must never mention the boy to anyone. He swore that if she ever disclosed his existence, he personally would kill both her and the recipient of the news in the most painful way imaginable.
“And yet you are telling me!” I protested. An image of my raging father appeared in my mind and caused me to tremble.
“I trust you, Theophylact. You have never betrayed anyone. Besides, John is your son, too. You deserve to know at least a little about him. I warn you, however, that your father was deadly serious. Do not attempt to contact the boy, not now, not ever.”
Her admonition was completely unnecessary. I knew better than to cross my father in a family matter. I was curious about our son, but I understood that neither of the sacred Keys that were emblematic of my office would unlock the door of the boy’s place of confinement.
The assignations with Costanza persisted for several years. She never explained to me how she had arranged them, and I never inquired into the details. My brothers had established the routine of the singing lessons in the first place, but the responsibility was eventually handed over to underlings. She may have bribed someone.
From my perspective the relationship with my brother Gregory continued unchanged. I always found him diligent, reliable, and extremely competent. No one exhibited more devotion to duty. We sometimes disagreed about the best approach to dealing with various issues, but we always managed to work through our differences. He seldom talked about his life with Costanza, and I was careful to inquire of her only when someone else had already mentioned her. The fact that I, unlike both my predecessors on St. Peter’s Throne, avoided Tusculum did not seem to provoke suspicion. Everyone understood that this was my father’s wish, and they respected it without knowledge of his motivations. Even after he died in the sixth year of my pontificate, no one expected me to change my habits.
In the first few years of my pontificate several meetings of the curia dealt with the monastery at Cluny. Its abbot was Odilo, a close friend of both of my predecessors. He very actively promulgated “Treuga Dei”[8] throughout Europe. A letter received in Rome requested that the concept be officially endorsed by the Holy See. Cardinal-Priest John Gratian argued forcefully for it. He could not understand why any Christian would prefer war to peace, and he castigated any prince or noble who dared to trespass on Church property. These places belonged to God. They had been assigned to the bishops and abbots to administer in His name. In John Gratian's judgment no secular purpose could possibly justify violation of this arrangement.
)
His arguments failed to move my brother Gregory, who looked at the controversy from the perspective of a man whose life was devoted to maintaining a lawful society. “Suppose that a thief, an assassin, or an infamous heretic managed to plant his feet on Church property. In your view should he be immune from arrest?”
“The abbot or bishop should simply decide the case,” explained Cardinal-Priest John. “The Holy Spirit could doubtless be relied upon to provide any guidance needed to ensure a just and righteous outcome. Historical treatises[9] have documented that since the time of Constantine the Great, worldly rulers have at all times and in all ways been subordinate to God’s representatives, the clergy. The Holy See has consistently and fervently endorsed this tenet. The force of the Supreme Pontiff’s approval of Treuga Dei at this crucial juncture could provide the cisalpine clergy with the standing required to implement a permanent peace throughout Europe. Failure to act could leave the Church’s ordained representatives at the mercy of rogue princes. Would we compel each bishop to muster an army to fight for the rights of his see? Would we stand idly by while abbots were forced to submit to the will of a local duke or count?”
Gregory rarely participated in our discussions of religious matters. When he did it was usually to provide information of which others might not be aware. His bitterly sarcastic retort surprised everyone. “So, no matter how anyone judged the character of the abbot or bishop or how he obtained his position, you are sure that he will make proper decisions in every single case because the Holy Spirit will always whisper instructions in his ear what? Is that your claim?
“I have neither the ability nor the inclination to dispute this possibility. I lack the knowledge of the scriptures and religious scholarship. However, if that is the case, then why has the Church clung so jealously to the pontiff’s right to name certain bishops and award other benefices? If it makes no difference who manages these monasteries and bishoprics, let us demonstrate how thoroughly we trust in the Holy Spirit's unerring intercession and allow each monarch to appoint every bishop and abbot in his realm throughout Christianity! It would save us time and eliminate a long-standing source of conflict.”
I interrupted the exchange before it could become more rancorous. “Both of you have made very good points. Let us all agree to pray and meditate about these issues and address them later. Abbot Odilo has not claimed that a particular monastery is in danger of being seized. It seems fitting to allow a modicum of time to pass before deciding one way or the other.”
)
A scowl darkened John Gratian’s brow, but others in attendance seemed relieved at the prospect of addressing the next order of business, which concerned the vows of Prince Casimir of Poland, who at that time lived at Cluny with the rank of deacon. A delegation of his countrymen had journeyed from their distant homeland to draw attention to the urgent situation there. Over the previous century nearly all inhabitants had converted to Christianity. However, in recent years Poland had faced invaders from both the east and west. Even worse was the threat from the serfs[10] of armed rebellion against their lieges. an action that would fling the entire nation into chaos. The Polish delegation allotted equal blame for the perilous state of their homeland on the nobility and the clergy. The situation was so dire that the they feared that the common people might even disavow Christianity entirely and revert to worship of pagan gods.
The Polish nobility had been hard-pressed to address these issues. Since the overthrow and death of its king,[11] the country had languished without a legitimate ruler. The spokesman for the delegation insisted that in this tempest survival of the vessel of the Polish state required a firm hand on the tiller. An exhaustive search for Prince Casimir, the legitimate heir who had departed five years earlier, had finally located him in the monastery at Cluny.[12] After the Poles had explained to him the situation in their native land, the prince was eager to help, but his sacred vows clearly precluded his return to Poland. Abbot Odilo also sympathized with the Polish cause, but he determined that he lacked the authority to release monks from vows. He insisted that only the pontiff himself possessed that power.
The tale fascinated and energized me. I sensed that the plight of the Polish people and Prince Casimir in particular presented an opportunity for the Holy See to direct its resources and influence to enforce Christian beliefs in Poland and serve as a base for launching missionary efforts into nearby lands. However, I wanted to assess the young man’s mettle and level of commitment in person. I therefore asked Cardinal-Bishop Peter to provide the delegates with whatever provisions they required to return to Cluny, and I wrote a letter to the abbot asking that the prince accompany them back to Rome so that I could resolve the matter.
About a month later I met with the prince himself, a lean and fiery youth.[13] I can still picture him rather distinctly in my mind. I remember a wisp of a beard and fingers constant motion. His zeal for the task of reuniting Poland and squashing the regression to paganism was evident. He had dedicated his soul to God when he joined the monastery, but the situation in Poland had convinced him that his true calling at this point was to return to his homeland and dedicate his energies to reestablishing the one true faith among the Poles.
I spent many delightful hours with the prince and the other Poles. They provided useful information about the situation in Poland, Hungary, Bohemia, Prussia, and neighboring territories. The young man impressed me as dedicated, pious, and intelligent. He gave every indication that he was destined for greatness if given the opportunity.
We conversed in Latin[14], but I was also fascinated by the native tongue of the Polish people. Languages had been a focus of my education, but Slavic tongues were new to me. Casimir taught me a few Polish phrases. They felt strange in my mouth, but eventually I was able to emit sounds that resembled those that he fashioned so effortlessly. Casimir sincerely tried to help me in my efforts to pronounce Polish words, but he found my attempts so pathetic that he could not suppress his laughter. I enjoyed my time with him thoroughly, and I still know how to inquire in Polish about someone’s well-being and the response when one’s health was good.
My enthusiasm for the prospective campaign in Poland nearly matched the prince's. I drafted a bull releasing him from his vows, and I sent a copy to Cluny. In the same package I included a letter to the abbot in which urged him to dispatch as many monks to Poland as could be spared. I emphasized the importance of establishing priories there to advance Christian beliefs that were under attack. I recommended deploying only the most dedicated and trustworthy.
)
I surveyed the members of the Polish delegation concerning what help the Holy See could provide. They beseeched me to intercede with Emperor Conrad, who, they said, had forced Casimir’s father to resign his throne and submit as the emperor's vassal. I sent the emperor a letter pleading their cause. I emphasized that Casimir was the best hope of preserving political stability and Christianity in Poland. I admitted that I had only heard one side of the story. I therefore requested that a trusted legate who could explain in detail the imperial strategy and objectives in the far outreaches of our patriarchate be dispatched to Rome as soon as possible.
The Polish delegation also pleaded for the Church to help fund the efforts of Prince Casimir and his family in the struggle to regain their rights as leaders of Poland. I consulted with my father, my brother, and Cardinal-Bishop Peter to determine how much the Church could afford for this project. [15] My father and brother argued that Casimir’s family and associates were sufficiently wealthy to finance the undertaking on their own. I appreciated the merit of their other argument that it was risky for the Church to take a public position in disputes concerning claims of legitimacy in distant lands. If support for Casimir alienated and undermined the authority of other Christian leaders in the region, the results might be catastrophic. Moreover, every pontiff must be wary lest his actions serve as a justification for analogous but inappropriate undertakings by his successors and even by other bishops and kings.
These issues all merited careful consideration. Nevertheless, I could not countenance neglecting the estimable lad’s undertaking. What if his failure resulted in Polish Christians reverting to paganism, and what if our assistance could have prevented this debacle? How could we hold back as long as this possibility loomed? I therefore ordered Cardinal-Bishop Peter to give the Poles a large sum of money. I reasoned that we Romans could forgo a few luxuries if the sacrifice advanced the Lord’s work in the Slavic lands. I also arranged for additional sums to be delivered periodically to Casimir’s family through his uncle.[16]
The emperor replied promptly to my letter with a warm missive[17] in which he assured us of his support for Casimir’s claims in Poland, including the areas that were claimed by other powers. He insisted, however, that Casimir pledge fealty and take the rank of duke rather than king. The emperor also promised to dispatch his trusted chaplain, Wipo, Bishop of Burgundy, to Rome to explicate imperial positions on the volatile eastern territories. The letter said that the bishop spoke for the emperor and that the empire would support all agreements that he endorsed.
)
Bishop Wipo's entourage arrived in Rome a few weeks later. The two most memorable characters who accompanied him were his secretary, a fair-haired, energetic, and loquacious young man by the name of Rudolph, and Esau Lieberman, the court physician, an irascible Jew. The bishop and the lean acolyte Rudolph were inseparable. They constantly bantered, sometimes in Latin but mostly in their harsh barbarian tongue. They spoke in a stunningly lyrical fashion of aesthetics, the Germanic princes, and the spiritual kingdom to which they aspired. Each knew the surest way to occasion laughter in the other. They even completed each other’s thoughts. Quite often one would start a story or explanation, and the other would finish.
Esau, in contrast, was one of the most disagreeable individuals whom I have ever met. Although he was the emperor’s personal physician, he insisted on accompanying the bishop to Rome. He claimed that without his knowledge and skill no one in the contingent would survive the perils of the Italian diet and environment. He refused to allow anyone to drink—or even sip—water south of the Alps. Even the snow-fed streams drew his contempt. The delegation drank only wine and the beer that they had brought with them in incredible quantities. Esau also inspected food consumed by the Germans. His presence in our kitchens annoyed the cooks.
Lieberman had the disconcerting habit of running his hand through the dark curls of his hair as he pinched and sniffed meat and vegetables proposed for consumption. No compliments about the quality, appearance, or variety of any of our comestibles were ever heard from him. His demeanor was so arrogant and unpleasant that everyone shunned him. Nevertheless, he proved his worth to the delegation when a bishop's attendant was stricken with a fever. The poultice that the physician applied restored the man's health by sunrise of the next day.
Esau seldom participated in our meetings, but Rudolph was as active as Bishop Wipo. Before we began, the bishop and his secretary led us in a very unusual activity. While the rest of us remained seated, the pair marched around the table and exchanged prayers and responses in a most lively manner. They seemed to invent the prayers as they spoke. They must have been two of the most creative individuals in Germany. The message was both fresh and inspiring. They punctuated their dialogue with stamping of their feet, clapping of their hands, and pointing. I could truly sense the Holy Spirit’s presence. All seated at the table, save perhaps my father and my brother Gregory, were moved by this performance.
Bishop Wipo and Rudolph, alternating in the discussion just as they had in the prayer, assured us that the emperor’s intentions were honorable and consistent with the objectives of the Holy See. Emperor Conrad earnestly supported the Polish prince’s proposed efforts to restore peace, order, and Christianity. Wipo reported that the emperor already signed decrees naming Casimir as Duke of Poland and assured us that collection of the tokens of his fealty could be deferred until the prince regained control of his territory.
)
I requested that the bishop thank the emperor on our behalf. I then pressed him for news as to the state of the Church in Slavic lands. Both Wipo and Rudolph spoke in broad terms on the subject, but they provided us with few specifics. They had high praise for Stephen,[18] the king of the Magyars. Wipo called them an exceedingly strange and bellicose people, markedly different from residents of the surrounding lands. The Germans deemed it miraculous that King Stephen had converted them to Christianity. Rudolph concluded by warning that bringing the Polish nobility to heel would be difficult. Many nobles were hostile to his father.
The bishop and Rudolph spent much of their time in Rome with Brother Mark. The trio shared a love of music. Mark showed them the system of recording music used in the Holy See,[19] and he helped to devise musical settings for several of the poems that the pair had composed.[20]
On the night before the bishop departed I was startled by another visitation in my bedroom. The figure who stood at the foot of my bed on this occasion was the imperial physician, Esau Lieberman. He spoke to me, not in his own voice, but in the very familiar gruff tones of my comrade from long ago, Gerard. “Theophylact,” he said, “wake up. I have little time, and I must relate some important news.” As before, I was unable to budge; I could not even speak. I was aghast when the apparition rapidly moved toward me from the foot of the bed. He reached down and firmly grabbed me by my shoulders. I started to scream, but he covered my mouth and whispered, “Be quiet, you idiot; it’s Gerard.”
The contact seemed to release my limbs. Gerard, in the person of Esau, did not vanish when I regained mobility. Instead, he informed me sotto voce that about a year earlier he had talked his way into the imperial court as physician to the emperor. He had joined the group headed for Rome by exaggerating health problems on the Italian peninsula and claiming that his ancestors had developed cures effective for Germanic people.
)
The imperial delegation stopped at Ravenna, where the bishop had met a hot-headed young monk named Peter Damian.[21] Lieberman considered him a fanatical prude who had claimed that substantial numbers of priests were perverts. He even implicated several prelates quite close to the pontiff. It was unlikely that Bishop Wipo, given his own rather obvious predilections, would have been scandalized by such talk. Nevertheless, Esau warned me that I should take Peter Damian seriously. He had seldom left the cloister, and he had no direct knowledge of Rome. Even so, he had become very influential. Lieberman showed me copies of letters that the scandal-mongering monk had written to officials of both the Church and the empire.
Esau then disclosed that the Toad, of all people, had also met secretly with Bishop Wipo's party. Gerard was not privy to these conversations, but he suspected that the little monster’s motives were nefarious, and he warned me to monitor him closely. He suspected that the Toad was the source of Peter Damian's charges.
Finally, my friend insisted that before my next meal I hire someone to taste my food. He reported that his inspections of the kitchens both at Scuta and at the Lateran had discovered that food preparation was not controlled strictly enough. “You have more enemies than you could imagine, Theophylact, and when they discover that you have been diverting Church funds to your Polish project, it may impel one into acting against you. The simplest way to remove you from the scene and to manufacture chaos would be poison.”
I deemed his analysis of the situation to be overly suspicious, but I promised to hire a food-taster. In point of fact, eight men and two women who loyally fulfilled that function departed prematurely from this world during my tenure on Peter’s Throne, one of them within a month of my friend’s bedside warning. As I write these words the ten faces parade before my eyes. Over the ensuing decades I have often prayed for the repose of their souls, even though I am supremely confident that all Christian martyrs are assured of eternal rewards in the hereafter.
[1] Cardinal-Bishop Peter was probably the son of Marozia, who was the sister of Pope Benedict VIII, Pope John XIX, and Count Alberic (Pope Benedict IX’s father). So, Peter’s mother was Theophylact’s aunt.
[2] This probably refers not to the town of Santa Rufina, but to the Basilica of the Holy Martyrs Saints Rufina and Secunda on the Via Aurelia.
[3] At the time Jerusalem was controlled by the Fatimid Caliphate of Shiites from Egypt. The vizier was Ali az-Zahir.
[4] Matthew 16: 18-19.
[5] The phrase means “It is done.” Where she discovered a tenth letter is never explained in the text.
[6] St. Jerome mistranslated a Hebrew word in Exodus. As late as the Renaissance, western Christians persisted in the belief that Moses had horns on his head. Even Michelangelo portrayed him with horns in his famous statue that is displayed in the church of San Pietro in Vincoli in Rome.
[7] By the current official reckoning there had been 144 popes between St. Peter and Benedict IX. The list has been adjusted a few times, as recently as 1961.
[8] Treuga Dei (Truce of God) aimed at both reducing the amount of armed conflict among the nobility and of removing Church property from the control of civilian powers.
[9] Presumably he is referring to the very influential eighth-century forgeries that are now collectively known as the “Pseudo-Isidorian Decretals.”
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[10] The author uses a term that would ordinarily be translated as “laborers.”
[11] King Mieszko II Lambert was ousted by his brothers in 1031. After their death he served as Duke of Poland from 1032-1034, but a great deal of territory had been lost in the interim.
[12] Some current historians doubt that Casimir was ever at Cluny. They place him in Cologne at the time of his father’s abdication and death in 1034.
[13] Prince Casimir was born in 1016.
[14] It has been reported that the prince’s father also was fluent in Latin.
[15] Some sources have reversed this and claimed that the Poles paid the pope for ordering the abbot to release the prince from his vows. I could find no official records.
[16] This was probably Herman II, the Archbishop of Cologne whom Pope Benedict IX elevated to the rank of cardinal in 1036.
[17] I could find no other reference to this letter or any other correspondence between Pope Benedict IX and the imperial court.
[18] This refers to King Stephen I of Hungary, who was canonized by Pope Gregory VII (Hildebrand) in 1083. Hungarians to this day insist that Stephen was crowned in person by the pontiff himself. There is no evidence that Pope Sylvester II, who was pope at the time, ever met the king. He may have sent a crown.
[19] It has been reported that Guido of Arezzo, who is credited with inventing the modern musical notation, visited Pope John XIX in 1028.
[20] The sequence Victimae Paschali Laudes is commonly attributed to Wipo. The contributions of Mark and Rudolph, if any, have been ignored by history.
[21] St. Peter Damian was born in 1007 and became a Benedictine monk in 1035. For the remainder of his life he was prior of the remote Fonte Avellana monastery. His letters are the basis of the most outrageous accusations against Pope Benedict IX. He was never in Rome or its environs until long after Pope Benedict was driven from office.