Chapter 19: Is the Roman Curia a Mafia Stronghold?

Former Pope?

The words sent Leo’s mind spinning, prompting him to recall the events that had transpired before. Indeed, prior to 1064, the Holy See had several rival popes, coincidentally right before Leo’s arrival in this world.

The Bishop of Parma was, at that time, Pope Honorius II. He stood opposed to Pope Alexander II, the one who had tasked Leo, and the two were locked in mutual disdain. In 1064, the northern bearded Goffrey marched south to aid Alexander II, forcing Honorius II to abdicate. The schism within the Church thus ended, uniting once more under Alexander II—but the price was Matilda. The Church, as a gesture, arranged for her to be betrothed to Goffrey’s son, the hunchbacked Goffrey.

Though only engaged, the elder Goffrey certainly considered the matter settled.

Perhaps it was for this reason Matilda sought out Bishop Honorius of Parma, hoping for help. What she most wished to escape was the marriage contract binding her.

Yet, upon arriving in Parma, Matilda and her party found the citizens less than welcoming. The townspeople eyed them warily, hostility glimmering in their gazes as the procession passed. Their unblinking stares made Leo uneasy, and he found it impossible to muster any fondness for the city.

The reason was simple enough. Honorius II was the local power in Parma. When the Duchy of Tuscany, under pressure, failed to take his side, it left him disgruntled. Now, the former pope was determined to show Matilda his displeasure.

“Your Highness, I don’t think we should linger here,” Alberto, originally at the front of the procession, returned to Matilda’s side, his voice thick with concern.

Matilda observed the townsfolk from within her carriage, her expression icy. “I am the ruler here,” she replied, her tone stiff and cold.

Leo, head bowed beside her, knew that with such words, Matilda had laid her heart bare.

If contact with Honorius was inevitable, Leo could only accept it. His sole wish was to resolve matters quickly, to avoid wasting time here.

But his hopes were dashed by the sight of a group assembling in the square.

A troop of knights stood there, gripping their lances, banners bearing their family crests unfurled. Clerics raised bronze poles, burning incense that filled the air with smoke. Amidst the haze, a bishop clad in a gold-threaded white robe sat upon his throne.

Clearly, Honorius had not relinquished his claim to the papacy. His rituals remained those of the Holy See.

“Tuscany, Spoleto, Parma, Modena—Duchess and Marquis Matilda, present—” After the lengthy titles were recited, the clerics flanking the square finally parted.

The dethroned pope, shrouded in smoke, at last revealed his true visage.

“Matilda, and… Cleric Leo.”

Honorius stroked his beard, his long, grizzled hair spilling from beneath his mitre to his ears. His face was aged, the lines etched upon it telling of countless hardships.

Matilda’s brows drew together as she regarded him.

“Bishop, was such a display necessary?” Matilda asked.

“I have little interest in you, Matilda. Let the cleric beside you speak instead.”

Honorius’ words stunned the knights of Tuscany.

They turned to Leo, puzzled, as if in Honorius’ eyes, Leo was somehow more significant than Matilda herself.

Leo, though unsure why, stepped forward toward Honorius.

As he approached, he sensed the bishop’s approval mingled with wariness.

What did that mean?

“Leo, I’ve heard of you. You enjoy burning people, don’t you?”

“Yes. If I don’t burn people, I’m unhappy,” Leo replied, standing tall.

As Rome’s most notorious cleric for burning, Leo’s reputation had surely preceded him throughout the Holy See.

Honorius, however, began speaking of Leo’s recent deeds as if pouring beans from a bamboo tube.

“You were sent by the Holy See to serve as envoy to Matilda, defeated the rebels, then went to Corezzola to found a monastery, correct? Ah, yes—you burned a nun, I know.”

Leo’s face showed no reaction, but inwardly, he was thunderstruck.

How did Honorius know all this so clearly?

Beneath Honorius’ prominent brow, his eyes were clouded, unreadable.

“You are well informed,” Leo replied, his chin raised.

“Excellent… Bring your companions and join me inside the cathedral,” Honorius surveyed the surroundings. “This is not the place.”

With that, his servants lifted his throne, carrying him toward the Parma Cathedral like a sedan chair.

Leo led his followers toward the grand cathedral as well.

In Parma, Honorius’ word was law. He had been bishop here for over twenty years. Even after being forced to abdicate as pope, he remained the city’s bishop. Clearly, his roots ran deep.

More striking still, most deposed popes tended to die mysteriously within a few years. Yet Honorius was very much alive, wielding local power and possessing intimate knowledge of the Holy See’s internal workings.

This proved he was indeed a man of substance.

Once inside the cathedral, Honorius dismissed his servants and entered the reliquary with his confidants.

Leo and his party, upon entering, were dazzled. The small chamber was filled with relics; the walls adorned with exquisitely carved murals, lavish pigments applied as though money were no object. The opulence made Leo wonder if this was Parma’s most luxurious place.

“You bring me here—are you sure it’s appropriate?” Leo’s brows furrowed.

“What’s inappropriate? You and I are both heretics in the Holy See’s eyes. To Alexander II and his followers, we are enemies.”

Standing before him, Leo paused before speaking.

“At least, I don’t see myself that way—”

“Often, matters aren’t governed by your beliefs. Besides, if you truly felt that way, would you have sought the Corezzola monastery? I know you distrust the Holy See, which is why you acted as you did.”

Honorius, having exposed Leo’s hidden motives, wore a knowing smile.

“I have news. The pope is convening a council to recommend his nephew Anselmo for the bishopric of Lucca. I needn’t explain the importance of that position within Tuscany, do I?”

Honorius raised his thumb, and Leo understood.

The pope had sent him as a test of Tuscany’s attitude toward the Holy See.

If Tuscany was favorable, the pope’s nephew would reap the rewards. If not, Leo’s life would be sacrificed, with no impact on the pope’s own power.

“Is the Roman Holy See a den of gangsters?” Leo muttered through clenched teeth.

“More or less,” Honorius nodded. “So, I’m curious—what will you do next?”

Honorius’ words stirred a trace of irritation in Leo’s heart.

“Not much. I’ll focus on building the Corezzola monastery, then—”

“One monastery won’t suffice.”

“Then what do you suggest? What else can I do?” Leo countered. “Given my position, what do you think I’m capable of?”

At this, Honorius picked up a Bible, placing his hand upon it.

“Why not try becoming a bishop?”

A bishop?

Leo was taken aback, then laughed at himself.

To imagine himself as a bishop—it was absurd. He was only nineteen, lacking both background and credentials. On what grounds could he become a bishop?

Could his youth be an advantage?

“You must be jesting. How could I possibly become a bishop? With no connections, I’d be waiting forever—or perhaps, you’d care to be more explicit.”

Honorius finally looked satisfied—this was the answer he’d awaited.

“Give me sufficient benefit, and I can resolve most of your problems.”

As expected, these conservative clerics still adhered to old traditions. Now Leo understood why the reformers were so adamant about change.

These clerics would do anything if the price was right.

Unfortunately, the reformers were not on Leo’s side, but Honorius and his ilk had found him first.

“Don’t try to tempt me with worldly things. I lack for neither money nor fame,” Honorius said. “But you, I suspect, need them—am I right? I could even elevate you to the bishopric.”

Remarkable—truly, his influence was boundless, Leo thought to himself.

Honorius had shown enough sincerity.

And Leo, as it happened, had a bargaining chip suitable for exchange.

He turned and beckoned to Carlo, who quickly approached and, at Leo’s command, produced a small box.

The moment Honorius saw the box, a glimmer of light pierced his murky gaze.

“This is…?”

“The finger bone of Pope Saint Callixtus I. Do you think this is a suitable stake?”