Chapter 26: Little Huangpu

“Mmm-hmm...”
The cleric sat at the back of the ox cart, humming a tune as he watched Marco and the cripple walking ahead of him.

The snowstorm had passed, and the weather was gradually improving. The ice and snow on the ground showed no sign of melting yet, and the once turbulent Enza River had grown gentle, quietly flowing through the valley.

The cripple held the reins, leading the old ox.

Perhaps because the cleric sat at the back, the burden was too much for the beast, which tossed its head from time to time, as if complaining about the weight it had to carry.

Marco trudged along, having already removed his coat and tied it around his waist.

Though the air was cold, the mountain path was harder still.

After the long trek, Marco felt as if he had become a furnace, his body burning hot. To make matters worse, there was an annoying fellow behind him.

“Hey, how much farther? I’m freezing,”

The cleric wrapped his clothes tighter, his words edged with complaint.

After all, he had been sitting there the whole way, hardly walking and not breaking a sweat.

“We’re almost there, sir,”

The cripple replied with utmost respect, which Marco found a little hard to stomach.

Those who came from Corsica might be rustic, but they were not servile. Marco glanced back at the cleric, who was clearly dozing on the ox cart.

Marco showed him no respect, turning to ask, “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Boniface. Why?”

Boniface looked at Marco and said, “I understand, that name’s probably too hard for a country bumpkin like you to remember. Just call me Bernie.”

“I’m not that stupid,” Marco retorted.

“Well, you never know. Did you know your leader Leo is a fool?” Boniface suddenly said.

Marco paused, not knowing what to say.

Boniface sneered, “God knows how he managed to become envoy. When he was in Rome, he knew nothing of the Scriptures. No matter what the test, he was always the worst among us. I suspect Leo traded favors for his position, maybe some cardinal took a liking to him.”

By the end, Marco felt a fire rising in his chest.

What kind of person could say such things?

Despite Boniface’s clerical robes, Marco saw him as nothing more than a scoundrel from the village.

Incompetent, envious.

The robes did not make him holy; they only made him appear more filthy.

“And besides, he’s not like me. I’m a Roman, but Leo—who knows where that bastard comes from? God above, I actually have to fetch someone like that...”

Boniface spoke while tracing a cross over his chest, as if being associated with Leo was beneath him.

Marco suddenly said coldly, “Sir, you’d do well to say less.”

“Mmm, mmm, I know,” Boniface nodded repeatedly, still with that arrogant air. In his mind, Marco simply didn’t understand what he was saying.

After all, Marco was just a Corsican bumpkin.

Here to beg.

As for Marco, he didn’t lash out immediately.

Correzzola was not far now. Once there, Leo would deal with this scoundrel himself, Marco thought to himself.

...

Inside the Correzzola monastery, the soldiers were still busily at work.

Not only building the paper mill, but also reorganizing the housing.

To make room for the monastery’s construction, Leo had ordered the soldiers to build a new batch of houses. The soldiers’ cabins looked like matchboxes, scattered crookedly about.

The space freed up from demolishing these old houses would be where the monastery was established.

At this moment, Leo had fully transformed into a master builder.

“Fence this area too—yes, right here.”

Leo directed the soldiers as they placed the last stone.

In this way, he had simply used stones to mark out a circle, determining the area for the first phase of the monastery’s construction.

“We’ll build a wooden wall first, then the left for the nuns, right for the monks,” Leo told Carlo. “When the time is right, we’ll put up a stone wall.”

“Understood,”

Carlo carefully remembered every word, afraid to miss anything.

He seemed to have become Leo’s chief steward overnight. Luckily, Leo didn’t hesitate when it came to spending, so Carlo’s work wasn’t too difficult.

“How’s the papermaking coming along?” Leo suddenly asked.

“It’s nearly ready, just waiting for the lime to be delivered,” Carlo replied. “I sent someone to Chano d’Enza to buy it.”

“Excellent, that’ll do.”

Leo wiped the sweat from his brow. Though he hadn’t done much heavy labor, running about to direct and supervise was tiring.

But the thought of building his own domain filled Leo with satisfaction.

In his plans, this narrow valley would become one of his important bases.

Though small, it was enough to house a few people.

In the future, if he could settle the children of his trusted followers here to study, and then have them enter the military or politics, they would be pure-blooded gentlemen.

Leo would have his own little academy.

Just as Leo was lost in dreams of the future, an ox cart appeared before the monastery.

When the cart arrived, the soldiers on guard saw Marco.

“Marco!”

They walked forward, eager to greet their comrade.

But as they approached, they saw Marco’s face was grim, his embrace stiff.

While the soldiers wondered what was wrong, Marco whispered quietly into their ears.

After he finished, their expressions turned serious.

Boniface, the cleric sitting at the back of the ox cart, finally jumped down, wrapped in a fur coat. Only the white hem peeking from beneath his robe revealed him as a cleric.

“That’s him?” a soldier asked Marco in a low voice.

Marco gave a barely noticeable nod, his brows still tightly furrowed.

“At last we’re here... Have you prepared a place for me?” Boniface’s arrogant expression instantly made the soldiers dislike him.

Seeing his question go unanswered, Boniface looked affronted, his gaze dark and menacing as he stared at the soldiers.

“I asked you a question. Did you not hear me?”

“They heard you, cleric.”

Enrico, approaching from the side, said, “There’s lodging, certainly. But what brings you here?”

Seeing Enrico, Boniface snorted, “You’re with the Duchess of Tuscany, aren’t you? I’m here to find Leo, the papal envoy. The Holy See has ordered him summoned back to Rome to report. I’ve come to deliver the command.”

Summon Leo?

To Enrico, this news meant something else entirely.

“Wait here,”

Enrico decided to leave the cleric hanging for a moment while he went to consult Leo.

Before Boniface could react, Enrico hurried off toward Leo’s location.