The Abacus And The Cross Part 7

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 astonishingly 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 friendship 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 guardianship."

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.

As Richer of Saint-Remy tells it, Otto kissed Hugh and, setting aside their differences, treated him as his sweetest friend-except that he spoke in Latin, which Hugh did not understand. Bishop Arnulf of Orleans, Hugh's confidant, translated. Their pact agreed, Otto left the room, then popped back in. He had left his sword lying on a bench. "Would you hand it to me?" he asked Hugh. The bishop intervened-"Oh, allow me!"-and grabbed it. Otto grinned, thanked him, and left. The bishop's quick thinking, Richer said, saved Hugh from inadvertently declaring himself the emperor's va.s.sal, in front of everyone, by carrying Otto's sword to him. But had it? Simply by riding to Rome and presenting himself as a supplicant, Hugh had shown himself willing to do Otto's bidding.

Lothar and his queen certainly saw Hugh as a turncoat, conspiring with the emperor against them. Queen Emma, says Richer, wrote to her mother, Empress Adelaide, asking her to seize Hugh on his way home from Rome. "And so that this man of bad faith does not escape you by his ruses, I have taken care to note down for you the essential characteristics of his physique." Richer does not quote more of Emma's letter, or we would know what Hugh looked like. He only paraphrases: "She continued by indicating the particularities of his eyes, his ears, and his lips, even his teeth, his nose, and the other parts of his body, not forgetting the way he talked." Hugh was wilier than suspected. Disguised as a stablehand, he made his way north caring for his own pack horses. Once safe in Paris, he pretended nothing had happened.

But Lothar knew he could no longer depend upon the duke of France. Trying to bind other knights closer to him, in 979 Lothar married his son Louis (who had just been crowned co-king), to Azalais, sister of the powerful count of Anjou. Twice widowed, Azalais herself controlled much of Aquitaine, an enormous duchy then covering most of southern France, and the duchy of Burgundy, which bordered the kingdom of Burgundy on the Italian frontier. The marriage failed. The bride was "an old woman" of thirty; the groom a boy of fourteen. "Of conjugal love between them," says Richer, "there was none. They refused to share a common bed and, when retiring, would not even sleep under the same roof. When they had to meet, they chose a spot out of doors. Their conversations were limited to a few brief words. This lasted for nearly two years."

Nor did Louis impress Azalais's knights. At fourteen, his father had been king; Louis, Richer laments, remained a wastrel. "The situation became deplorable. Louis shamed and discredited himself by his inability to govern." He lived in a "miserable manner, dest.i.tute and in distress, lacking both personal wealth and military force," until his father finally called him home. Azalais took advantage of her husband's absence to marry herself to Count William of Arles, in the independent kingdom of Burgundy. Louis earned nothing but the epithet "Louis Do-Nothing." Not only the duchies of Aquitaine and Burgundy, but the county of Anjou slipped from King Lothar's control. Rather than strengthening his hold on the throne of France, his son's failed marriage made it weaker.

Forced to abandon his plans in the south, Lothar looked east, again setting his sights on the rich duchy of Lorraine. With the death of Otto II in 983, Lothar saw his opening. He entertained the idea of a treaty with the pretender to the German throne, Henry the Quarreler. As soon as Henry submitted to Empress Theophanu in 984, Lothar instead declared war. He called up his troops-Hugh Capet, among others, did not respond. He crossed the border into the empire and sacked the city of Verdun.

Archbishop Adalbero's position was delicate. His brother, G.o.dfrey, was count of Verdun and a va.s.sal of Theophanu. When the city fell, G.o.dfrey and one of his sons were captured by Lothar's troops. G.o.dfrey's wife and two other sons escaped to lead the resistance. But Adalbero, as the archbishop of the chief city of France, was Lothar's premier counselor. He was also Lothar's chancellor, in charge of his correspondence and his treasury.

Lothar decided-unwisely-to test his counselor's loyalty. He sent Adalbero to Verdun to hold the city for France while he attacked Liege. Adalbero spent most of his time there trying to have his brother's third son appointed as Verdun's bishop-he had been nominated by Empress Theophanu. Adalbero's friend, Egbert of Trier, refused to risk King Lothar's anger by consecrating him. "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's," Adalbero self-righteously admonished Egbert (through Gerbert's pen), "and unto G.o.d the things that are G.o.d's."

It was a smokescreen. While Adalbero made a fuss over who should be bishop of Verdun, Gerbert had secretly gained access to Count G.o.dfrey, Lothar's prisoner, and was running messages for him to Lothar's enemies. These letters are clear admissions of treason-so clear, it is surprising Gerbert kept copies of them. If any had fallen into King Lothar's hands, both Adalbero and Gerbert would have been hanged. Their support for Theophanu and her va.s.sal, Count G.o.dfrey of Verdun, are clear. As is their opinion of King Lothar and his French troops: They are "the enemy."

To G.o.dfrey's wife, for example, Gerbert wrote: "You with your sons preserve an unstained fidelity to Lady Theophanu. ... Make no agreement with the enemy, the French; repulse the kings of the French; so keep and so defend all the forts that the latter may not think you have abandoned any part of your followers in these forts, neither because of the hope of freeing your husband, indeed, nor because of the fear of his death." Referring to Lothar's attacks on Verdun and Liege, Gerbert wrote to one of G.o.dfrey's allies, "By no means should you believe Adalbero, Archbishop of Reims, and most loyal to you, to be an accomplice of these deeds, for he himself is oppressed by great tyranny." Adalbero is loyal, that is, to Lorraine, not to France; to Theophanu, not to the tyrant, Lothar.

In April 985, Gerbert told Theophanu that he and Adalbero had been found out. Lothar accused them of treason and threatened them with death. Gerbert wrote to the empress, "Where and when we can go to your presence, if any road through the enemy shall be open, indicate to us more definitely.... Matters have reached this point that it is no longer a question of his [Adalbero's] expulsion, which would be an endurable evil, but they are contending about his life and blood. The same is true of myself."

There is no record of Theophanu's reply, but it appears likely she followed Gerbert's earlier advice and made an offer to Hugh Capet. In May, when King Lothar convened his n.o.bles in Reims to try Adalbero and Gerbert for high treason, Hugh arrived with six hundred knights-far more than the king could command. "This report suddenly dissolved and scattered the meeting of the French," Gerbert crowed. With Hugh Capet shielding the traitors, Lothar could not proceed. The charges (though true) were dropped. To Adalbero, in hiding, Gerbert wrote, "Hugh's friendship ought to be actively sought after, and every effort should be exerted lest we fail to make the most of this friendship which has been well begun."

Adalbero returned to Reims as if nothing had happened, and Gerbert secretly began writing to Hugh's sister Beatrice, d.u.c.h.ess of Upper Lorraine. She was his new channel to Theophanu. First he instructs Beatrice in the art of intrigue: "Secret information certainly ought not to be entrusted to many persons; but not without cause do we a.s.sume that letters written to us in different handwritings have been handled by different persons." Then the news for the empress: "A plot either has been formed or is being formed against the son of Caesar and against you. ... Through the adroitness of certain persons Duke Hugh was finally reconciled with the king and queen on June 18 in order to create the impression that such a great man's name is promoting the plot-a very unlikely thing, and at this time we think he will not do so."

The winter pa.s.sed and, as far as we know, the plot against Theophanu did not take shape. A counterplot, however, may have succeeded. In early spring, King Lothar fell ill, with fever and vomiting, cramps and nosebleeds. He soon died. Some said he was poisoned, though no one dared say by whom. Gerbert, at Adalbero's direction, organized a magnificent funeral. The corpse was dressed in silk and covered with a purple cloak ornamented with precious stones and gold embroidery. Laid on a regal bed, it was borne on the shoulders of n.o.blemen, with bishops and monks preceding it, chanting psalms and carrying the royal crown among crosses and holy books, a long cortege of woeful knights trailing behind.

Lothar's son, the nineteen-year-old Louis Do-Nothing, became king of France as Louis V. His mother, Queen Emma, used Gerbert as her secretary to ask her mother, Empress Adelaide, for aid. Deals got underway to ransom Count G.o.dfrey of Verdun, to consecrate his son as bishop of that city, and to effect a lasting peace between King Louis V and Emperor Otto III (through their mothers). Suddenly Louis-influenced by his uncle, Charles of Lorraine-broke with his mother, accusing her again of adultery with Bishop Ascelin of Laon. His real target, however, was the bishop's uncle-Adalbero of Reims-and his accomplice, Gerbert.

"My sorrow has been increased, O my lady," Emma told her mother, through Gerbert's pen. "When I lost my husband there was hope for me in my son. He has become my enemy. My once dearest friends ... have fabricated the wickedest things against the bishop of Laon, to my disgrace and that of my whole family."

Bishop Ascelin of Laon sought refuge with his uncle at Reims. Young King Louis proceeded to attack the city, destroying the bishop's palace. "In what full measure the wrath and fury of the king have burst forth against us is evidenced by his sudden and unexpected attack," Gerbert wrote in alarm to Theophanu. "We beg you to bring definite aid to us, therefore, at this uncertain time, permitting no false hope to delude us who never have hesitated in maintaining our fidelity to you. At a meeting of the French, planned for March 27, we are to be accused of the crime of treason." Louis did not intend to let the traitors slip away this time. He apparently knew more-and was less of a "do-nothing"-than Gerbert thought.

Again, Theophanu does not seem to have replied. Yet the coup that she and Adalbero had long plotted, as Gerbert's letters show, was about to succeed. Mysteriously, the meeting of the French n.o.bility was postponed until May 18. Before the actual trial began, Louis went out hunting. According to Richer of Saint-Remy, whose history of France is dedicated to the archbishop of Reims, Louis fell off his horse and damaged his liver. With blood flowing from his nose and mouth and wracked with fever, he died. He was twenty years old. Other historians of the time claimed, again, that the king of France had been poisoned.

Hugh Capet took control of the a.s.sembly and dismissed the charge of treason against Adalbero and, by extension, Gerbert. "Since there is no one here to accuse him, we must find in favor of the archbishop," he reasoned, "for he is a n.o.bleman of great wisdom." Adalbero then suggested the council reconvene in a week's time to elect a new king.

Charles of Lorraine-King Lothar's brother, King Louis's uncle, the last heir of Charlemagne-was the obvious choice. Adalbero nevertheless publicly rejected him. He was the va.s.sal of a foreign ruler (Empress Theophanu). He had married a woman of low rank. He was "untrustworthy and indolent," and he had surrounded himself with perjurers and evil men-"nor do you want to part from them," Richer reports the archbishop saying. To the a.s.sembled n.o.bles, this last objection was key. As king, Charles would want to reward his followers with lands and castles-but he owned none in France. He would have to take them from his brother Lothar's faithful n.o.blemen. Many of those listening would have been dispossessed.

Concluded Adalbero, "The throne is not acquired by hereditary right, and we must elevate to it a man distinguished not only by the n.o.bility of his birth, but also by the wisdom of his spirit, a man for whom honor is a shield and generosity a rampart." That man was Hugh Capet. Paris, seat of his duchy, would become the chief city of France, and the Capetian dynasty would rule for the next four hundred years.

Adalbero was restored to power as the king's first counselor, and Hugh began building him a new palace at Reims. Verdun was returned to the empress. G.o.dfrey was released; his son was confirmed as bishop. Gerbert was hired to tutor Hugh's son Robert so that he could not be humiliated by any emperor, as his father once was, for his lack of Latin. As Hugh's secretary, Gerbert wrote to the Byzantine emperors seeking for Robert a royal bride. And he wrote to Count Borrell of Barcelona promising aid against the Saracens (for a price).

But before Hugh could ride to the rescue of Spain, he had to deal with Charles. As the last heir of Charlemagne, the last Carolingian, Charles had many friends. Instead of dating their records for 987, "In the first year of the reign of Hugh Capet," churches in the Limousin, Quercy, Poitou, Velay, and various other parts of France wrote, "Waiting for a king." The citizens of Laon, in the center of the Carolingian lands, opened their gates one night at dusk to let in the soldiers Charles had hidden in their vineyards. Bishop Ascelin and Queen Emma were captured. Charles fortified the walls and towers, dug ditches, built catapults, and set a guard of five hundred men furnished with crossbows. What began as a coup had turned into a civil war, a battle in which every French n.o.ble had to choose between the Capetian and the Carolingian.

Hugh Capet called up an army and besieged Laon. He offered to negotiate and sent in Gerbert, but Charles, "contemptuous of emissaries," refused to give up the town or ransom any of his hostages.

Gerbert returned to the king, who soon found other uses for his skills. Laon was on a hill and impregnable. One August day, "after noon, while the king's soldiers were deep in wine and sleep," Gerbert wrote, "the townspeople with their whole strength made a sally; and while our men were resisting and repelling them, these very ragam.u.f.fins burned the camps. This fire consumed all the siege apparatus." The siege weapons were rebuilt. Richer describes one in detail, and implies Gerbert designed it. Gerbert himself wrote, "The labor of the siege against Charles has exhausted me and violent fevers have been hara.s.sing me," while in Adalbero's name he confidently tells King Hugh, "Look for us with all the troops to break through the fortress and uproot the mountain from its very foundations, if this is your desire."

They failed. The autumn nights grew cold and Hugh lifted the siege until spring-at which point Bishop Ascelin bravely slid down a rope and escaped Charles's clutches.

Ascelin conferred with Adalbero. Hugh and Emma, through Gerbert's pen, consulted Theophanu. It seemed the battle for the throne of France would be a short one. With Charles locked in Laon, and Theophanu blocking any aid he might have expected from his duchy of Lower Lorraine, the Capetians had nearly won. At Reims, Gerbert finally had some spare time to work on the celestial sphere for Remi of Trier and, perhaps, to confer with Constantine about the astrolabe. Then suddenly his world was plunged "into primordial chaos": Archbishop Adalbero of Reims fell ill and died in January 989.

Gerbert wrote of crisis, confusion, and "great disturbance." For twenty years, Adalbero had been in charge of the cathedral of Reims and its related school and monasteries. He was the leading churchman of France: Where Reims went, the bishops and abbots of France followed. As the king's chancellor, he had been in charge of the royal correspondence and treasury. As the king's premier counselor, he had shaped policy toward the empire and the papacy-lately, in spite of the actual king's wishes, but always, he would argue, in the best interests of France. Moreover, he was Gerbert's dear friend and mentor. "I was so suddenly deprived of him that I was terrified to survive, since, indeed, we were of one heart and soul," he told Raymond at Aurillac. "Heavy cares so weighed me down that I have almost forgotten all my studies," he confided to a monk named Adam.

He had another reason to be afraid: He was expected to take Adalbero's place. "I keep silent about myself for whom a thousand deaths were planned," he wrote to Remi, "both because Father Adalbero with the a.s.sent of the whole clergy, of all the bishops, and of certain knights had designated me as his successor; and because the opposition maintained that I was the author of everything that displeased them"-princ.i.p.ally the election of Hugh Capet. "With pointing fingers they singled me out for the ill will of Charles, then as now hara.s.sing our land, as the one who deposes and consecrates," the kingmaker.

Without Adalbero, Gerbert was out of his depth. He had too little n.o.bility of blood-no family alliances, no counts to call on, no network of henchmen-and too much n.o.bility of soul. He had become an adroit spy, true. But he could justify that to himself: He had never sworn an oath of allegiance to the kings of France, as he had to Theophanu. In his fight for the archbishopric of Reims, however, his high-mindedness was a drawback. He was too honest to swear false oaths, expose his own sanctuary to plunderers, render pretend excommunications, or bribe the pope-as his rival did. He didn't have a chance. Yet it was his duty, he felt, to try.

Adalbero's seat, as archbishop of Reims, the leading churchman of France, had to be filled. Gerbert's opponent was Arnoul, the twenty-four-year-old b.a.s.t.a.r.d son of King Lothar, and thus Charles's nephew. Educated at Reims by Gerbert, Arnoul was a cleric at Laon, now under Charles's rule.

Hugh pondered his choice. He discussed it with Gerbert. "King Hugh ... offer[s] much, but we have received nothing definite thus far," Gerbert wrote to Willigis of Mainz, now Theophanu's chief adviser, who had implied that a post might be found for him in the empire. At the same time, he called in what favors he was owed. A son of Count G.o.dfrey of Verdun (through Gerbert's pen) sent Hugh a warning about Arnoul: "Do not think of putting in charge in that place a deceitful, ignorant, good-for-nothing who is unfaithful to you. ... You should not wish to entrust your safety to the advice of those who have decided to advise nothing except with the a.s.sent of your enemies."

But by appointing a Carolingian, Hugh thought, he could end the civil war. Besides, Arnoul was the son of a king, Gerbert of a peasant. In April, Arnoul swore an oath of fidelity to King Hugh and became archbishop of Reims. As the archbishop's official secretary, Gerbert had to write the proclamation.

Distraught, he asked the archbishop of Mainz about the once-promised post in the empire: "Pray remind my Lady Theophanu of the fidelity that I have always maintained toward herself and her son. Do not allow me to become the prize of her enemies whom I reduced to disgrace and scorn on her behalf whenever I was able." Theophanu did not answer.

Six months later, Arnoul broke his oath to King Hugh. He called a council of n.o.bles at Reims and, in the dark of night, instructed a priest named Augier to open the gates. Charles's army streamed in. They sacked the town and pillaged the cathedral, took all the n.o.bles hostage-including Arnoul-and locked them up in Laon. Gerbert they left to look after Reims, implying that he was their accomplice. Arnoul, pretending innocence, excommunicated the "authors of the robberies at Reims" (again, Gerbert had to write the declaration): "May the eyes of you who coveted be dimmed; may the hand which looted wither; ... may you dread and tremble at the appearance of an enemy ... until you disappear by wasting away." Was he excommunicating himself? His crony Augier? Charles or the soldiers?

Then Arnoul swore a new oath to uphold Charles's right to the kingship. Clearly, Hugh had chosen the wrong archbishop for Reims.

Gerbert despaired. All that he and his beloved Adalbero had accomplished was in danger of being undone. Reims was in the hands of the enemy. "We have entered upon the restless sea," Gerbert wrote to an unknown friend. "We are shipwrecked, and we groan. Never do safe sh.o.r.es, never does a haven appear." One summer night, he slipped out of Reims and sought refuge with King Hugh. "Not for the love of Charles nor of Arnoul will I suffer longer to be made an instrument of the devil by proclaiming falsehoods contrary to truth," he wrote.

Once again, the resourceful Bishop Ascelin of Laon turned the course of the war. Pretending to be dissatisfied with King Hugh, Ascelin weaseled his way into Arnoul's good graces. He was allowed to return to Laon to confer with his monks and knights and sort out their petty problems. He held a feast there for Arnoul and Charles, swearing on saints' relics that he meant no betrayal. As Ascelin reached for his wine, Charles said again, "Do not touch that cup if, like Judas, you mean to betray me." Ascelin took up the cup and drank.

Late that night, Ascelin snuck into Charles's and Arnoul's rooms. He took their weapons, then called in his knights. The last two Carolingians were captured and hauled off, naked, to a tower prison; the town gates opened to Hugh's men. Charles would die in prison two years later, aged forty, possibly poisoned like his kinsmen, Kings Lothar and Louis. The civil war between Hugh and Charles had come to an end.

But what was to be done with Archbishop Arnoul?

Even before Ascelin's trick, King Hugh had tried to consult the pope. "Aroused by new and unusual events, we have ordered that your advice must be most eagerly and carefully sought," Gerbert wrote for him. "Take under consideration what has been done, and write back in reply what ought to be done in order that respect for sacred laws may be revived and the royal power not be nullified." Gerbert also sent a letter in the name of the bishops of Reims province, alerting the pope to "the new and unprecedented crime of Arnoul, archbishop of Reims."

Arnoul's supporters, however, had reached the pope first-and brought him the gift of a beautiful white horse. The king's messengers were left waiting outside the Lateran palace until they gave up in disgust. The two letters were never acknowledged.

Eighteen months later, without the pope's knowledge or approval, Archbishop Arnoul was dragged before a council of French bishops at the monastery of Saint-Basle outside Reims. He was defrocked and forced to apologize to King Hugh and his son, Robert. Gerbert was then named archbishop of Reims in his stead.

Gerbert should have been ecstatic at his victory. He was not. He did not want to be archbishop-he wanted Adalbero back. The post was a duty laid upon him by his dear mentor, not a joy. It took four years for him to even share news of his great honor with his friends at Aurillac. He was "distracted to the utmost by the preoccupations of important business," he writes, explaining his failure to write. But Gerbert accomplished little in those years-or over the rest of his term. Unlike Adalbero, he did not redo the cathedral, reform the monasteries, or rejuvenate the cathedral school. Instead, he spent all his energy defending himself. His election, he wrote to his friends, "aroused races and peoples to hate me." His opponents cited church law to try to reinstate Arnoul. "More tolerable is the clash of arms than the debates of laws," Gerbert writes. "Though by oratorical ability and a wordy explanation of the laws I have satisfied my rivals as far as it concerns me, thus far they have not yet abandoned their hatred."

Nor would they. For seven years-even after Gerbert had fled Reims-they fought his appointment. The position always would be a burden to him, a responsibility. He must have wished, more than once, that he was still just a schoolmaster, his only duty to enlarge minds.