February 2005 Print

Linda Durbin

The Abbot, Brother Richard, of Saint-Vanne at Verdun, watched as his emperor, Henry II, walked the grounds of the abbey. Brother Richard was accompanied by the Bishop, Haimon. Both of these religious men walked at some paces behind their emperor.

Not because he was the emperor, but because Brother Richard knew somehow that the emperor wanted to be alone in his contemplation. Henry's shoulders were slightly slumped with all the burdens that weighed upon them. His step slowed by the many battles he had fought and won, both on the field and through endless negotiations. Henry often came to the abbey to pray, hear the Office chanted by the brothers, and especially to seek spiritual advice from Brother Richard. It calmed his troubled soul. And today, Brother Richard knew his emperor's soul was in turmoil, and only solitude and listening to God alone would help Henry solve his troubles. Brother Richard thought of all the talks he and Henry had had in the past. And then Brother Richard mulled over the worldly events in Emperor Henry's life up until now.

In his youth, Henry had prepared for the priesthood. He had been educated by the Bishop Wolfgang of Regensburg. But at the age of 22 [A.D. 995 ], all that ended with the death of his father, Duke Henry II (the quarrelsome) of Bavaria. Henry obediently became Duke. At 25, to secure the lands of Luxemburg, a marriage was arranged between Henry and the young daughter of Count Sigfried, the 19-year-old Cunegundes. However, Cunegundes had made a vow of virginity to God before the marriage arrangements were made known to her. To Henry, as he told Brother Richard, a vow to God came first, and so with a dispensation from the Pope, the two were allowed to wed, maintaining their virginity. Henry admitted to the abbot that he felt he was not suited for the role of ruler, but he saw this as God's will, and so he tried to rule Bavaria with a benevolent but firm hand. And he always helped to further the cause of the Church within his domain. And then God asked more of Henry. In 1002, when the King of Germany, Otto III, died leaving no heir, Henry, a second cousin, was crowned king. This immediately threw Henry into a battle of land rights with Bohemia. Two years later, adding to his burdens and thrusting him into a still more worldly life, the bishops of Pavia crowned Henry their king in hopes of bringing the troublesome Lombards back into accord with the Church. Without having time to secure his rights in Lombardy, Henry went north to battle Boleslaus of Poland over the rights of Bohemia. In 1006, Henry was at war with Boleslaus. Each new year brought on more battles, more negotiations. Henry often lamented to Brother Richard that his worldly duties often took up so much time that he didn't have time for a spiritual life. And this was made even more difficult in trying to balance a spiritual life when he sometimes had to battle with bishops over territories and fiefs. But in matters of the Church, Henry always remained in accord with Rome. Brother Richard always reminded Henry that duties in his state of life were his prayer, and therefore pleasing to God. But to Henry, his duties in a worldly life only seemed to him to be hindering a spiritual life.

In 1013, Brother Richard heard that Henry and Cunegundes entered Italy. Henry finally had established a foothold in Lombardy, but only after a conflict between the citizens and Henry's German supporters had caused the destruction of Pavia. Negotiations seemed to be moving along with Boleslaus in Bohemia as well, and so the following year, 1014, Henry, at the age of 41, was crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire by Pope Benedict VIII in Rome. Cunegundes at 35 was crowned Empress. In 1018, the war with Boleslaus ended. Emperor Henry II returned from Bohemia and made final negotiations of fiefs within Germany to Boleslaus. But Henry told Brother Richard that he was tired of all the worldly burdens in his life. And so Emperor Henry gave to the religious communities he knew all his wealth. But only in the abbey at Saint-Vanne did Henry feel at peace within the community, and finally able to communicate freely with God, without worldly distractions.

Brother Richard watched as the Emperor heaved yet another heavy sigh. Henry looked longingly at the serenity of the quiet brothers, simply praying in silence while doing their chores. Bother Richard's thoughts turned to that of the troubles Henry disclosed between himself and his beautiful wife, Cunegundes, before they were crowned Emperor and Empress. At 32, Cunegundes had grown in grace and poise. She was greatly admired, not only for her physical beauty, but for her humble and quiet, yet cheerful disposition. The war with Bohemia had meant a long separation for Henry and Cunegundes. Cunegundes had relied on the help and support of Henry's vassals to look after the day to day affairs of the people. Not all had agreed with her on many points, especially all the money she was putting into the construction of the cathedral at Bamberg. It was the largest cathedral in all of the empire at that time. Many courtiers thought that they could find better ways to spend the money and she had made enemies with some of them. But there was one who always supported Cunegundes in her efforts. While he may not have always agreed, for the love of Henry and Cunegundes, he remained faithful to Cunegundes's every command regarding the cathedral construction. Brother Richard couldn't even remember the young vassal's name. But he remembered the horrible calumnies against him and Cunegundes. And he remembered how ashamed Henry had been of the incident, and the remorse he felt as he told it all to Brother Richard.

"I had just come back from yet another battle and then endless negotiations with Boleslaus that ended in naught," Henry said with a heavy sigh. "I was so tired from the travel that the next day I barely listened to all that Cunegundes tried to tell me about the state of affairs in Bavaria. But she was patient, and as she knew I was tired, left me and told me she would discuss it later."

Brother Richard listened in silence, for he could tell that his king had come to unburden his soul.

"Then most of the vassals came and started complaining about how Cunegundes had handled everything. How she had wasted too much money on the cathedral and had not seen that the money was spent properly," Henry continued. "I was immediately annoyed with Cunegundes for allowing the cathedral to be improperly supervised and for the unrest to happen. But mostly for not warning me of it beforehand," Henry added emphatically. "What I didn't know at the time was that the vassals were unhappy that the money was spent on the cathedral at all, when I thought they were concerned with the improper spending of the cathedral money."

Again, Brother Richard remained quiet, and waited for Henry to continue.

"But then they began to tell me of how one. of my newest vassals had always been with Cunegundes to discuss the affairs of the kingdom. How she always called upon him when she wanted something done. How they had been seen often together, talking secretly, often laughing together, and looking knowingly at each other whenever him "But it wasn't what they said, it was the way they said it," Henry told Brother Richard. one of the other vassals disagreed with Cunegundes regarding money and the cathedral," Henry informed

"And how did they say it?" Brother Richard asked in an even tone.

Henry thought a moment for the best word to describe how his vassals retold the incidents of Cunegundes dealing with this vassal.

"Insinuating" Henry said finally. "They described how beautiful Cunegundes always looked, and how he always looked admiringly at her."

Henry almost spat the word "he" out.

"It is hard not to look at Cunegundes and admire her," Brother Richard said quietly. "She has a divine beauty that shines from within," he added, almost in a whisper.

But Henry hadn't heard. He was shaking his head ruefully.

"It immediately made me suspicious," he admitted.

"Suspicious of your vassals' story?" Brother Richard interjected.

"No," Henry moaned remorsefully. "Suspicious of Cunegundes and this vassal."

"Did you ask Cunegundes?" Brother Richard wanted to know.

"No. But I began to watch them. And he seemed to act very familiarly with Cunegundes, and she in return," Henry stated in an accusing tone, wanting to justify his suspicions. "She was often with him discussing the cathedral construction and always came to the dinning hall escorted very comfortably on his arm!"

"Was it because you were not there, and because you were watching her, that she discussed the cathedral with him and not you, and because you were not there to escort her to table that it was his arm and not yours that she was escorted comfortably on?" Brother Richard countered.

Henry raised remorseful eyes to meet the gently admonishing ones of Brother Richard's. Henry lowered his head in shame.

"Then the rumors started," Henry went on.

"I tried to convince myself that they were not true," Henry tried to explain.

"But you listened to them just the same." Brother Richard said.

"Yes," Henry admitted with a heavy sigh.

"Finally, someone accused Cunegundes openly, in front of the entire court, of adultery with this man," Henry told him. "He was not there," Henry added.

"And what did Cunegundes say then?" Brother Richard questioned. It was not that he wanted to know, or even cared to know, the answer to the question, but Brother Richard wanted to help Henry unburden himself by having him retell the story.

"At first, she didn't say or do anything. As if the accusation didn't even deserve an answer from her," Henry relayed in somewhat awe.

"But then the accusation was repeated, and taken up by more than a few voices," Henry continued.

"Then Cunegundes stood up," Henry informed Brother Richard, "and faced her a'ccusers. It is a lie,' she told her accusers, 'you know it is a lie. My husband knows it is a lie, and God knows it is a lie,' she continued, and then looked at me for support. But I, may God forgive me! I couldn't meet her unwavering and confident eyes; I briefly looked at her in question, and then my eyes must have clouded and showed the doubt and shame that I felt."

Henry paused and covered the very eyes that had betrayed his wife's trust. He struggled with his shame for a moment and then continued.

"For a moment, Cunegundes was stunned by my distrust. But without giving any other word to defend herself, she, and then her ladies, left the hall,"

"Her silence seemed to condemn her further," Henry went on. "Some of the crowd murmured more outrages against her. And, as always, someone mentioned the fact that she had slapped her niece's face."

	The Trial by Ordeal

Brother Richard only smiled at this statement. The calumny always seemed to come up. And Brother Richard knew the full details of the story. Cunegundes's niece Judith, the first abbess of the Cassel foundation, was a frivolous young girl, more concerned with the world and feasting than in the establishment of the order to prayer and piety. Cunegundes tried many written attempts to correct her niece, and even met with her formally to reprimand her, but Judith ignored her advice. Finally, when Judith was about to cause a scandal, Cunegundes slapped the girl's face to stop the act,¹ and to remind her niece of the seriousness of religious vows. Brother Richard was interrupted in his musings as Henry continued. "Cunegundes's loyal friends and subjects spoke up against what was being said of her, but the words were out and the damage done."

"Did you ask God to give you guidance on the matter?" Brother Richard advised.

"In my silences, all I heard were the words of her accusers," Henry admitted. "But Cunegundes took solace with God," Henry then said. "For three days and nights she fasted and remained in solitude in the chapel."

Henry paused in his narrative as he tried to recollect the next sequence of events.

"Afterwards, Cunegundes came to me and told me that she would prove her innocence by a trial of ordeal.² Many heard her, and soon the news was spread throughout the castle and beyond," Henry said.

"It was then that I pleaded with her not to do it," Henry exclaimed. "That I believed her innocence."

"But Cunegundes said to me with great sadness in her voice, 'No, my beloved husband, you do not believe me, for you fear I will perish in the flames. And that would mean I was guilty of the crimes for which I have been accused. But God has asked me to perform this act of proof, as He knows my innocence, and in Him I will trust.'"

Henry told Brother Richard that he had flinched when his wife had said "trust," for Henry realized it was his lack of trust alone that had brought her to this.

"In bare feet, she walked the burning ploughshares," Henry shamefully admitted. "And not only was she unharmed, but the trailing skirt of her dress was not even singed!"

"I threw myself at her feet and begged her forgiveness," Henry said. "And she pulled me up and into her arms, hers eyes filled with tears of sympathy and pity for my shame and embarrassment," Henry continued, his own eyes clouding with tears at the remembrance. "And I asked for her forgiveness and God's for ever doubting," Henry concluded.

All this was going through Brother Richard's mind as he watched Henry's sad and troubled face as he walked about the abbey grounds. Then, as Henry looked at the brothers, he suddenly stood still as if he had reached a difficult decision.

"This is the place of my repose," Henry signed in relief. "Here I shall dwell forever."

Brother Richard felt the bishop jerk to a stop beside him. And then Bishop Haimon pulled Brother Richard a distance from the emperor.

"Did you observe the words the Emperor has just now spoken?" He asked. "He has resolved at last to lay aside the crown and scepter and to become a monk."

Brother Richard turned his gaze upon the Emperor. He did indeed have the look of a man who had come to a final decision.

"Now, if you yield to his request, and receive him among your brethren, the empire, which God has entrusted to his care, will suffer a loss that nothing can repair," Bishop Haimon continued woefully.

Brother Richard bowed his head in prayer. He was not in turmoil, as the bishop was, because Brother Richard was confident that God would instruct him in what best to do. Brother Richard knew that the most important thing he had to consider would be the salvation of Henry's soul. If God meant to save Henry's soul by having him enter the monastery, then Brother Richard would do it happily. But if it meant denying the Emperor his heart's desire, then he would do that too. Unlike Bishop Haimon, Brother Richard knew that Henry had considered all possible objections to his entering monastic life. He knew that both Henry and Cunegundes had both vowed to enter a religious life if they were asked to give up the crown, or upon the death of the spouse. But Brother Richard prayed, and God gave him the answer.

"I know what I shall do," he said. "I will both satisfy the pious desires of the Emperor, and at the same time preserve the peace of the state."

Still, Bishop Haimon was anxious.

Brother Richard assembled all the brothers. He turned to Henry.

"What is it that you intend to do?" Brother Richard asked.

Henry looked at all the friendly and calm faces before him and he began to cry silently for joy. This was what he most wanted, to be a part of the community. To live in solitude and silence. To spend every day chanting the Office and live a life of prayer with God. Henry now felt it was at last within his grasp.

"Venerable Father and brothers," Henry began, a choke in his voice, "I have resolved to forsake the vanities of the world, and to spend the rest of my days in this holy house in solitude and prayer, that I may save my soul."

If the brothers were surprised or shocked by their emperor's announcement, they did not show it. They simply watched the abbot to see what he would do.

Henry turned to Brother Richard and knelt before him.

"Do you promise me," Brother Richard began, "that according to the rule of this house, and according to the example of Jesus Christ, you will be obedient in all things till the day of your death?"

"With all my heart, I promise," Henry stated solemnly.

"Then," Brother Richard said. "I receive you into this monastery, and admit you among the number of my monks."

A low moan of despair escaped the lips of the bishop.

"And from this day, I myself, will take charge of your soul." Brother Richard continued.

Henry reached out and took hold of the abbot's hand. He reverently kissed the ring on Brother Richard's hand.

"But you must promise me again to be obedient in all things and to do whatever I command you, in the name of God," Brother Richard stated.

"I promise," Henry reiterated.

Brother Richard's eyes were full of compassion as looked down at the exuberant face of Henry.

"It is therefore my will," Brother Richard continued gently, "and I command you in the name of God..." Brother Richard paused and gave a small, sad sigh at the pain he was about to inflict, "...to return to your palace, and continue to govern the empire which God has entrusted to you."

Henry's exhilarated face went suddenly white with disbelief. Tears smarted his eyes and began to silently roll down his face. He felt somehow betrayed. Brother Richard read the look in his eyes and continued quickly. "That by your watchfulness and your zeal you may procure the eternal salvation of your subjects," Henry slowly stopped crying. He stood up slowly and gave a reproachful look to Brother Richard. But then he gave a brief, solemn nod, and forced a sad smile of resignation to his old and trusted friend. Henry accepted Bother Richard's command as God's Will for him.

Not long after, in 1021, the Pope commissioned a very ill Henry to try to finally bring about order in Lombardy. In 1022, this final campaign accomplished just that.

Henry II, Holy Roman Emperor, died on July 13, 1024. On the first anniversary of his death, Cunegundes entered as a Benedictine Nun at the Kafmngen Monastery. She died March 3, 1040, and her body was carried to the cathedral she and Henry built at Bamberg, where she was buried next to Henry.

Henry was canonized by Pope Blessed Eugene III in 1146.

Cunegundes was canonized by Pope Innocent III in 1200.

Mrs. Durbin lives in Manasses, Virginia. Her family assists at the Latin Mass at St. Athansius Catholic Church in Vienna, Virginia, where her children also go to school. The author's references were Butler's Lives of the Saints and The Catechism in Examples.

 

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1.Allegedly, the marks of the slap remained visible until the day of Judith's death.

2. Trial of Ordeal: To walk over red-hot plowshares to prove your innocence of a crime.