Free The Kingdom in the Sun by John Julius Norwich

Normans, ever since their earliest days in the peninsula, the monastery had always represented, both politically and militarily, one of the principal keys to the South. For Roger II, indeed, it was something more—a vital fortress, almost a buffer-state of its own, guarding the frontier which separated his kingdom from papal territory.
    The monastery, for its part, had never found its position as a frontier fortress a particularly easy one. When in doubt, however, it had learnt to cast in its lot with the Normans. Thus it had been careful to remain on good terms with Roger's mainland viceroys, and though there had been a brief crisis a few months before when its loyalty had fallen—probably unjustifiably—under suspicion, the new abbot, Rainald, whom it had then been forced to elect was a staunch supporter of the King. When Henry of Bavaria arrived at the foot of the hill towards the middle of April, it was to find the surrounding countryside deliberately laid waste and the gates of the monastery barred against him. Henry had already had a rough passage through Tuscany. Pisa and certain other towns which had always remained loyal to Innocent gave him what help they could; but Florence and Lucca had been subdued only after a stout resistance, and Henry was still occupied with Grosseto when, at the beginning of March, Innocent—probably accompanied by St Bernard—rode out from Pisa to join him.
    From the outset Prince and Pontiff seem to have disliked each other intensely. Henry was if anything a stronger and more unyielding character than his father-in-law. As Prince of the Empire, with every expectation of succeeding to the throne on Lothair's death, he was determined to make no concessions that he might later have cause to regret; as a general with a job to do; and he had no intention of taking orders from the Pope or from anyone else. Matters first came to a head after the capture of Viterbo; an indemnity of three thousand talents—roughly equivalent to some two thousand pounds of silver—was promptly claimed by Innocent on the grounds that the town lay within the papal frontiers, but was retained by Henry as part of the legitimate spoils of war. Then the Duke decided to by-pass Rome. It was, he maintained, more sensible to crush Roger first and allow Anacletus to collapse through lack of support than to waste time and energy in forcibly expelling him from St Peter's. The logic of this argument was unanswerable and Innocent accepted it; it meant, none the less, a further indefinite extension of his exile—to say nothing of the prospect of a long, hot Apulian summer trailing around in the wake of an imperial army— and it cannot have improved the Pope's temper.
    And now, to crown it all, came the trouble at Monte Cassino, with the very fountain-head of western monasticism arrogantly defying not just the imperial army but Innocent himself. Eleven days Henry waited, blocking all access to the monastery and vaguely hoping for some sign that it might be prepared to make terms. But none came.
    Its store-houses were well stocked with food, its garrison strong and in good heart; its position, in any case, made it virtually impregnable. The Duke, meanwhile, who had undertaken to join Lothair in Apulia by the end of May, had no time to waste. Swallowing his pride, he sent another messenger up the hill with an offer to negotiate.
    Though Abbot Rainald's sympathies lay with Roger his first loyalty was to his monastery, his primary objective to get rid of Henry and his army as soon as possible. When the Duke offered, therefore, to leave Monte Cassino untouched and to confirm him as its abbot, in return only for a small recognisance in gold and an undertaking to fly the imperial banner from the citadel, he readily accepted. Innocent had already excommunicated the monastery for its Anacletan sympathies. His immediate reaction to this new agreement, by which the most venerable religious foundation in Europe—and one, moreover,