Henry IV Walks to Canossa and Reconciles with Pope

The wind off the Apennines cut through the wool cloak I wore that morning, and I pulled it tighter as I climbed the outer stair of Canossa’s gate tower. Below me the road from the valley still held patches of ice from the night before. Matilda had ordered every shutter on the south side of the keep left open so she could watch the approach herself. I heard her voice carry from the hall, low and quick, telling Adelaide what the last messenger had said about the king’s party.

Three men in plain cloaks rode ahead of the rest. One carried the banner of the German crown rolled tight against his thigh. They stopped two hundred paces from the outer wall and waited. No trumpet sounded. The tallest of them dismounted, handed his reins to the others, and began to walk. His feet were bare on the frozen ground. The wool robe he wore stopped above the ankles. I recognized the stride even before I saw the face. Henry had come.

I went down to the inner court at once. Matilda stood with Adelaide and Abbot Hugh beside the chapel door. She wore a dark mantle over her gown and carried no ornament. When the porter brought word that the king asked only to speak with the pope, she looked once at Hugh, then nodded to me to open the wicket gate. I did not open the main doors.

Henry waited on the stones outside. Snow had begun to fall again, light and dry. He did not raise his voice. He asked that Gregory receive him and lift the ban. The answer that came back through the same small door was that the pope would consider the request after the day’s offices. Henry remained where he stood. When the light failed he was still there, shoulders hunched against the wind, hands at his sides. I closed the wicket and barred it from within.

The next morning the snow lay deeper. From the tower I could see the three dark shapes of the men who had come with him; they had built a small fire farther down the slope and sat around it. Henry himself had not moved from the gate. His feet had left dark prints that the new snow slowly filled. Servants carried bread and water out to him at Matilda’s order. He took the water but left the bread on the step.

Inside the hall the talk ran in circles. Gregory would not yet grant an audience. The German princes had set a meeting for February, and any absolution given now would change the terms. Matilda argued that three days of open penance might satisfy the letter of the law. Adelaide said nothing for a long time, then asked whether the king had dismissed the excommunicated counselors as he had promised. No one could answer that from where we stood.

On the second day the cold sharpened. I saw Henry’s lips move when the bell rang for prime, though no sound reached the wall. A messenger from the valley arrived with letters for Gregory; the pope read them in the solar and sent no reply to the man outside. Toward evening Hugh of Cluny went out through the wicket. He stayed with Henry for nearly an hour, speaking quietly. When he returned his face was drawn. He told Matilda that the king had asked only for the chance to confess and be restored, nothing more. Matilda sent word again to Gregory. The answer remained the same.

The third morning the snow stopped. Sunlight lay thin across the white slope. Henry had knelt during the night; his knees were visible through the robe where the cloth had worn. I counted the hours by the bells. At sext a shout came from the lower court. The main gate opened just wide enough for two riders. Matilda and Adelaide went out together, cloaked and hooded. They spoke with Henry for a long time. I could not hear the words, only the tone of their voices, steady and without anger. Hugh joined them later. The four figures remained in the snow until the sun dropped behind the ridge.

Near vespers the wicket opened again. This time the command came to admit the king. Henry entered alone. He walked the length of the outer court without looking up. His feet left red prints on the stone. Inside the chapel Gregory waited, attended by two deacons. The absolution was spoken in the usual form. Henry answered the questions put to him. When it was finished he was given a place at the evening meal, though he ate little. The excommunication was lifted. The oath of fidelity that had been suspended was restored in private.