Chapter 25: The Envoy from Rome

When Marco arrived in the town of Chanodenza, the townsfolk recognized him immediately.

"You again, Marco."

No one seemed surprised to see him. After all, every time Carlo came to Chanodenza before, he would bring Marco along. Marco was diligent and capable.

But this time, Marco had come alone.

"Alright, well, I’m here to buy some lime. Do you know where I can get some?" Marco approached the nearest townsman and asked directly.

"Lime? I have no idea where you’d get that," the man replied, shaking his head, leaving Marco disappointed. Truth be told, it was always troublesome to buy lime in a small town like this.

Chanodenza was not large and had no official market. While there was some trade, many goods simply weren't available here.

If he couldn’t find lime here, Marco would have to go to Parma instead. That would mean an extra two days of travel there and back, and by then, Carlo would probably scold him for being late. The thought made Marco anxious.

Still, the townsman said, "You could ask around; quite a few people have come back lately."

With Christmas approaching, many townsfolk who worked elsewhere had returned to Chanodenza. Most of them were merchants, so perhaps they had what Marco needed.

"Thank you, I’ll go ask," Marco replied, then left behind a burly, earnest silhouette as he wandered off to inquire elsewhere.

"Do you know where I can get some lime?"

"Hey, what about you?"

"Over there? Oh, alright, thanks."

After a string of questions, Marco finally found a place that might have some lime. He hurried over, but as he stood before a simple, long, wooden house, he grew nervous.

All these years, he had only ever been a farmer. The prospect of haggling made him uneasy—he was afraid of being cheated.

Nevertheless, determined to complete his task, Marco took a steadying breath and knocked gently on the door.

Knock, knock, knock—

Before Marco could even speak, a voice shouted from inside.

"Leave me alone, I have no money left!"

The agitated muttering and pacing within baffled Marco. No money? He hadn’t even said anything yet, and already the man assumed the worst.

Perhaps for the man inside, being broke was a calamity. But for Marco, this was wonderful news—money was the one thing he had in abundance right now.

"I’m here on behalf of Lord Leo, to buy something!"

At the sound of Leo’s name, the pacing stopped. After a pause, the door opened, and a haggard middle-aged man appeared before Marco.

"Come in and let’s talk," the man said.

Marco didn’t hesitate and stepped inside. As the man closed the door and limped toward his table, Marco noticed for the first time that the man was lame.

"Call me Cripple. Everyone does," the man said as he sat down and tapped the table. "So, what do you want? I don’t have much left in stock."

"I need lime." Marco pulled a silver coin from his pocket and laid it on the table.

At the sight of the coin, Cripple smiled wryly. "Well, at least you people pay…"

Just as he reached for the silver coin, Marco snatched it back.

"But you have to tell me what's happened to you first."

Cripple looked up, taking in the firm resolve in Marco’s otherwise honest and simple face—a look that would brook no refusal.

Just then, Cripple’s wife entered, a child in her arms, her face clouded with worry.

After a moment’s hesitation, Cripple shook his head. "Let’s just talk business..."

"Sani, you’re being foolish!" his wife suddenly shouted, startling the child so badly it began to cry. Marco jumped, unsure if he should get involved in their family quarrel.

"If you tell Lord Leo what happened, he’ll help us!"

"Shut up, woman, I didn’t give you leave to speak."

Humiliated, Cripple stood and rolled up his sleeves, as if preparing to deal with his wife.

She clutched the child and retreated. "With your attitude, Sani, we’ll be bullied for the rest of our lives! Now someone is willing to help us, and you still refuse! Coward!"

"Shut up, you wretched woman!"

Just as Cripple raised his fist, Marco rushed in and pulled him away from his wife, forcing him back into his seat. Cripple’s wife, though cornered, did not abandon her plea.

Once Marco had subdued Cripple, she spoke.

"My husband’s been away on business and doesn’t know about Lord Leo. But I have to tell you what’s happened, or our family will starve!"

"Just say what you need to," Marco said, resting a hand on Cripple’s shoulder. Cripple looked deeply displeased.

"My husband brought back a priest he met on the road. The priest said he was looking for Lord Leo, so my husband gave him a lift."

Marco nodded for her to continue.

"But once he got here, he kept demanding things from us. If we refused, he would beat us. That man’s no priest—he’s nothing but a bandit…"

"Anna, don't speak nonsense!" Cripple roared, trying to stand.

But Marco held him firmly in his seat, and Anna’s eyes remained wide as she pleaded with Marco.

"Can Lord Leo help us?"

The question startled Marco—he had no authority to promise anything on Leo’s behalf. Honestly, he couldn’t think of a solution except to take the priest away.

"I can’t say what my lord will do, but I can take him to Leo," Marco replied, pulling out his silver coin again. "But I came here just to buy lime. This money is for you: bring me the priest and the lime."

Only then did Marco push out all ten of his silver coins.

Cripple stared in astonishment, as if he could hardly believe his luck. He quickly swept up the coins, counted them, and stuffed them in his pocket.

"Stop gawking. Take me to see the priest," Marco said, giving Cripple a light smack on the head. The man, mollified by the money, had lost all his earlier bluster.

"Of course, right away," Cripple said, rising from his chair and leading Marco out through the back yard.

When they reached a small hut, Marco instinctively pinched his nose. The place reeked of alcohol and vomit, the stench so overpowering that even Marco, who was used to farm smells, felt queasy.

And this was supposed to be a man of God.

The thought of such a disgrace in the Church made Marco grateful, in spite of everything, that Lord Leo was at least a decent man.

"Open the door," Marco said, releasing his nose and placing a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Cripple hesitated before unlocking the door.

As it swung open, the stench hit Marco like a physical blow. Even Cripple couldn’t stand it—he clamped a hand over his mouth and doubled over.

"Who… hic—Sani, is that you? Who told you to come here?"

"Sani? I’m here for Lord Leo," Marco said, stepping inside and seizing the priest, who lay sprawled on the floor. The jolt seemed to sober the priest a little.

Lord Leo’s man?

The priest snapped to attention, then, seeing Marco, flung off his grip.

"How dare you touch me, you peasant…"

Marco’s face darkened, but he knew better than to provoke a priest. No matter how much he resented it, he had to swallow his anger.

"My lord knows you’re here. Come with me," Marco said stiffly.

The priest, still scowling, noticed Marco’s hand on his sword. A heavy silence fell.

"As if I didn’t know. Take me, then. And make sure you arrange a carriage," the priest huffed, sweeping out the door without another word.

Marco watched him go, and only when the priest had vanished from sight did he turn to Cripple.

"You’re something else, Cripple."

For some reason, Cripple felt a chill—surely, no good words would follow.

And indeed, he was right.

"I could never have put up with such a bastard for so long," Marco said, then strode out, following the tracks the priest had left behind.