Does courage matter in the end?
Does courage matter in the end?
The way of resilience.
The Fulcrum of Courage, Part 16
The provosts’ daughter spent the morning of Pope Sylvester II’s funeral spreading rumors about him and Meridiana.
In the late afternoon, she hid in Meridiana’s quarters and waited, looking forward to the scent of shock and misery.
It took hours for Meridiana to get near his casket after the funeral procession, and 2½ more to walk home. It was after midnight when she entered her quarters.
She was tired, but that day was deeply meaningful to her.
Despite the simmering hostility, the maddening rumors, and the jostling crowd, she was able to say goodbye to Gerbert of Aurillac. She did not squander the opportunity.
At last, she could read the letter securely tucked in her dress.
Meridiana lit a candle and opened the letter, expecting to cherish it forever.
The provosts’ daughter crouched forward for a better view of Meridiana’s face.
Where Gerbert mentioned trust in his poem, the provost’s daughter mentioned unfair expectations or unsatisfied demands.
Where he alluded to hope, she complained that Meridiana was frustrating.
Where he forgave, she expressed lingering disappointment.
Where he showed understanding, she depicted unsatisfied desires.
Where he was grateful for Meridiana’s love, she was contemptuous of Meridiana’s relationship with her sisters.
Where he recalled joy, she mocked Meridiana for believing love was real.
If he never believed in love or forgiveness, if he saw the world as nothing but a struggle for power, if he truly scorned her, it would mean every memory of him she cherished was a lie!
Meridiana sank into the shame of having one’s foolishness called out. She felt terribly stupid and alone, more than at any time since Gerbert died.
How could this be? It had the same rhythm and meter he used in other poems. It looked like his handwriting, considering how ill he was when he wrote it.
There seemed no reason to believe it wasn’t authentic, and it broke Meridiana’s heart.
What once seemed joyful and wise looked more like enslavement. She had prudently hidden their relationship, but it seemed she resisted the wrong dangers.
If only she was smarter or stronger or cleverer she might not be alone in her quarters, she thought. Meridiana began to drown in a wave of regret for not being more daring.
She worried that she had confused the fear of losing Gerbert with genuine love. If true, she had been a fool. She felt completely powerless about the past, helpless to face the future, and separated from the world by a layer of numbness.
The provosts’ daughter watched from the shadows, sniffing the air and salivating as Meridiana tried to cope with disillusionment by reframing her memories of Gerbert.
If Meridiana stayed there long enough, if the emotional spell of the poem was powerful enough, she would begin to confuse aspect of the world with things in her imagination. She would stay lost in humiliation and denial - and increasingly lose touch with reality.
Meridiana tried sitting up tall and imagining this line of thinking somehow liberated her, but she slumped back down. Replacing one lie with another would not help.
She often had no choice but to cloak her identity. It was a matter of practicality. Everywhere she went, there were people who thought she was a succubus. She kept secrets because revealing them risked denial, distortion, castigation, or retribution.
That night, Meridiana wrote in her diary; “Where once I had the clearest vision, now all I see are shadows. Yet in my soul, such as it is, I know this is true: It was not for glory that I wanted him to swear fidelity, but to rise above the fear of losing him.”
Somewhere deep in her pit of despair, Meridiana found a memory of Gerbert placing a borage in her hand and gently squeezing. She recalled the hope in his eyes.
It had always empowered her. It affirmed that friendship and love were causes they shared, and their life together was a worthy endeavor. Trusting him made it possible.
It was easier to be in the world with him. Without him, she would have to blend in more often. The sentiments in the poem cast doubt upon her ability to do that.
Nearby was another memory, of giving him a borage. There, in his response, was a reason to doubt the authenticity of the poem: She was capable of inspiring him, too.
Meridiana decided to walk back to the river. Perhaps the pale moonlight and the cool night air would help her think clearly again.
The provosts’ daughter kept her distance and followed.
The city was silent, the air was still, and a faint scent of wood smoke hung in the air.
Meridiana left her shoes on the bank of the Tiber and waded in up to her knees.
She stood, eyes closed, breathing through her nose. The water flowed around her shins and the coolness returned her focus to being present in the world. She was still alive and somewhere inside, her soul remained, such as it was.
Meridiana deliberately accepted that she would live on - and so would he, in her memories. She replayed the memory of him gently squeezing her hand.
She thought perhaps Gerbert’s courage failed in the end. He was weak from disease and must have known he would die. She would have been terrified in his shoes.
When she learned of his death, she had unexpected oppositional emotions too.
Surely, she thought, these were not the words of the man who gave her a borage and spoke his heart that day in the monastery garden. Perhaps it was wiser to be grateful for receiving the letter than bitter about its contents.
Gerbert began to feel familiar to Meridiana again, and so did the world.
In that moment, she forgave him for not being able to say goodbye.
The provosts’ daughter waited on the shore, resisting an urge to pounce.
There was nobody else present.
She delighted in demolishing reputations but that night, she craved more.
Here was Meridiana, embracing her life and letting go of painful emotions. If she could not be demolished, she would have to be eliminated!
The provost’s daughter silently, stealthily, lifted a rock with both hands and quietly waded in behind Meridiana.
As soon as she was close enough, she leapt forward and struck Meridiana on the head.
Meridiana immediately went limp and dropped into the water, but the provost’s daughter caught her before the current swept her away.
Meridiana gasped and opened her eyes, only to taste her own blood and see the provost’s daughter contemptuously looking down on her.
Meting out vengeance gave the provost’s daughter a rush like no other. She squeezed Meridiana’s wrists and pushed her under the water, savoring the terror.
In the final moments of life, after your senses have stopped gathering information, your brain constructs experiences from memory alone. Your ruminations, the moments you cherish, the meaningful memories you nurture, become your reality.
When Meridiana finally stopped struggling, when her senses appeared to shut down, the provosts’ daughter let her body float away and returned to the riverbank.
Then she picked up Meridiana’s shoes and went looking for someone to seduce.
The next morning, the messenger entrusted by Gerbert to deliver his poem - his final gift of fond memories - found Meridiana’s body on the riverbank near the Castel Sant'Angelo, not far from their usual meeting spot.
A rumor was already circulating that it was suicide.
He knew how Gerbert felt about her. He knew she would cherish the poem.
If the rumor was true, Meridiana chose to go to Hell. It didn’t make any sense to him.
That afternoon, he raised his concerns in the Vatican.
Next : What is a legacy of courage? Remembering wisely.