The Book of Love (31 page)

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 pontiff 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 over
whelming 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.”

Mantua
October 1073

M
atilda 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.

“But the fair Niamh had heard so many stories of the legendary heroes and poets of Ireland that she was desperate to witness them for herself. She heard the tall tales of the Fianna, the warrior band who defended the innocent and protected the weak. And there was a prince among the Fianna, a youth called Oisin, who was legendary for his chivalry, his prowess in battle, and the skill of his poetry and music. Niamh had never seen such a creature on the island and was fascinated by the idea of human males who could be expert in both love and war. No such thing existed in the magical realms, where there was no war and therefore no reason for warriors. And so it was that after much nagging—as we know how relentless young girls can be when they want to get something, don’t we?—the sea god gave in to his precious daughter. He allowed Niamh to take his magical white horse, a creature that could skim the waves and cross to the mainland, advising her that she must stay out of sight and have no contact with the humans. Niamh agreed, and her journey over the water commenced.

“Now, our Niamh was a good girl and she did not set out on this adventure to disobey her father. But as she rode through the hazelwood forest, she came upon a band of men. They were young and strong and vital, for these men were the legendary warriors known as the Fianna. Niamh watched them quietly from the trees, listening as they discussed their victory in the battle to save a village against a tyrant who was terrorizing the womenfolk. All the men were exemplary, but one stood out. He was beautiful as men go, with chestnut-colored curls and sapphire eyes, and Niamh was struck by him immediately. The youth carried a harp carved out of oak, and when the men quieted, he began to play. Like Orpheus, this bard had a magic with music and poetry, and Niamh realized that she was now watching the legendary Oisin. So enchanted was she by his playing that she swooned and fell from her horse. This startled the men, and being warriors, they rushed at her with weapons drawn. But it was the poet prince who reached her first; it was Oisin who rescued her, for that was his destiny.

“Now, you must remember that not only was Niamh painfully beautiful, with her golden hair sparkling with sunlight and eyes that flashed the colors of the sea, but she was immortal and likewise filled with magic. There was a glamour to her, a power, that no mortal man could resist once it was turned upon him. And so when Oisin’s eyes met Niamh’s, there was an instant bond between them that could not be broken. One would never forget the other, from that day into eternity. But alas, they were from different worlds, were they not? Oisin begged her to stay with him, but Niamh could not disappoint her father in such a way, nor could she deny the responsibilities that she had to her kingdom as their favored princess. Sadly, she said to him, ‘Your world is not mine, and mine is not yours,’ and moved toward the white horse that would carry her home.

“‘Take me with you!’ Oisin begged, not wanting this magical creature to leave him behind. But Niamh could not, for she loved him too much. You see, if Oisin were to go with Niamh, he would never be able to return to the mortal world. Once a mortal ventures into the deepest places of magic and immortality, he can never return to a human life, and this is most certainly true if he kisses a woman from the magical realms.

“And so Niamh left him there in the forest with the Fianna, where he belonged with his comrades and his music. Her heart was heavy but she could not ask him to leave his exemplary life here for her, nor could she leave hers for him. But for the next year, Oisin pined for the princess and the glimpse of magic she had shown him. He dreamed of her each night and asked his brothers in arms what they would have done in his place. They all, to a man, told him they found the golden Niamh to be completely irresistible and advised Oisin to go after her.

“‘But I cannot,’ he told them. ‘For if I go after this woman, I know I will never be able to return to this, the land I know so well, where all is familiar and I am regarded as the chief poet and prince of my own people. I can never give that up. There is too much to risk here.’

“For a year, Oisin tried to forget his lady love, but to no avail. She haunted his dreams and his memory beyond all human bearing. And so on the anniversary of their meeting, he went to the seashore and
wrote a song to call out to the great god Mannanan Mac Lir. When the sea lord replied, Oisin advised him that he wanted to marry his daughter and humbly requested permission to do so. Mannanan asked Oisin if he understood what sacrifices must occur for him to marry Niamh—that if he were to make the journey on the white horse across the waves to Tir n’Og, he would never see his home or his friends again. He must be willing to give up his old ways for new ones. Of course, Mannanan assured him, life on the island was joyous and peaceful and full of music and light. It was an existence like no other, one of pure magic and happiness, and most of all, love.

“But all the same, humans tend to hold on to the past and to what they know with tight hands, don’t they? Would Oisin be able to let go and live in happiness with his immortal beloved? For he too would become immortal upon joining her in matrimony and physical union.”

Conn stopped the story at this place to help Matilda see the comparisons.

“I’m flattered that you think I’m as beguiling as the legendary Niamh,” she commented, her smile wry.

“Don’t fool yourself, little sister. You are every bit as enchanting, and every bit as dangerous. Particularly to a man with as much to lose as the pontiff himself. So at the moment, Gregory is grappling with the understanding that if he takes that fateful trip on the white horse, if he experiences the immortal and mystical kiss of such a woman…he will never be able to return to the human world. And this is why you haven’t heard from him, Matilda. Because he is wrestling with a mighty demon—the demon of his own mortality, and all that it entails.”

She thought about it for a moment, realizing that, strangely, she did feel better. Conn’s stories always had that effect on her. Finally she asked, “How does the tale end?”

Conn smiled. “Oisin rides to Tir n’Og, marries Niamh, and discovers that the magical world is wondrous beyond his expectations and his immortal woman is full of love and delightful surprises so that he never grows bored. He and Niamh have a son, called Oscar, who is the joy of their lives. Because Oscar is both human and immortal, he is able to
travel between the worlds and have the best of both of them. And his parents can rejoice in this. So it is a happy ending, sister.”

Conn neglected to tell her that the legend of Niamh and Oisin had two endings, depending upon the storyteller. The second ending was not nearly as golden, but he chose to reveal only the most blissful outcome to boost her spirits. The responsibilities of storytelling required such choices.

“There is a happy ending waiting for you here, if you will just have Niamh’s patience—and dare I say it, her unselfishness—to leave Oisin to his own decision making. Because I am willing to wager all that I have ever possessed that the time will come when he craves your presence beyond reason and saddles the white horse to ride across the waves and claim you.”

Within the hieros-gamos, the sacred union of beloveds, God is present in their chambers. For a union to be blessed by God, both
trust
and
consciousness
must be expressed within the embrace.

As the beloveds come together, they celebrate their love in the flesh: they are no longer two, but one. Outside the chamber, they will live as love expressed in the spirit.

In its sanctified form, love is present in six aspects of expression:

Agape
—
a love that is filled with the joy of each other and for the world, a purest form of spiritual expression; here is the sacred embrace that contains consciousness;

Philia
—
a love that is first a friendship and full of respect; this is the sister-bride and brother-bridegroom, but also the love of blood siblings and true companions; here is the sacred embrace that contains trust;

Charis
—
a love that is defined by grace, devotion, and praise for God’s presence in the chambers; this is where the love of our mother and father is found, on earth and in heaven;

Eunoia
—
a love that inspires deep compassion and a commitment to the service of the world and all God’s people; this is where our love for charity and community lies;

Storge
—
a pure love that is full of tenderness, caring, and empathy; this is where the love of children is found;

Eros
—
a love that is a profound physical celebration in which the souls come together in the union of the bodies; this is the ultimate expression of beloveds which finds its most sanctified form in the hieros-gamos.

There is no darkness that cannot be defeated by the light of love in one of these expressions. When all are present in harmony on earth, darkness cannot exist at all.

Love Conquers All.

For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.

F
ROM THE
B
OOK OF
L
OVE, AS PRESERVED IN THE
L
IBRO
R
OSSO

Fiano, north of Rome
June 1074

C
ONN WAS
rarely wrong where Matilda was concerned.

It would be a full year before Matilda and Gregory had the opportunity to begin his education in the teachings of the Way of Love. The antagonistic political climate that they found themselves in immediately following his investiture demanded their focus as leaders and politicians, leaving no time for anything that would distract from the protection of the papacy. The German king Henry IV refused to censure his bishops and recognize their excommunication as instructed by Rome, causing the tensions between Germany and Rome to escalate. Matilda proved, conversely, to be utterly loyal to the pope in the name of her holdings, which served to further infuriate her husband. Godfrey continued to assert his rights as the duke of Tuscany while immersed in the service of Henry IV, and the battle between husband and wife turned deadlier than any other brewing in Europe. However, Matilda was in Tuscany and Godfrey was not. Matilda commanded the people of the Apennines, hearts and swords, and Godfrey did not. As
always, she didn’t care a whit for what her husband said or did and ignored his existence at all times. Outrageously, the pope supported her position, refusing to address any correspondence to her as a married woman and acknowledging her as a co-ruler of Tuscany with her serene mother. As far as Pope Gregory VII was concerned, Godfrey did not exist outside Lorraine.