Chapter 35: Mushrooms Gone to the Head

As night descended, Leo sat in his room, arranging his clothes. He couldn't remember how long he'd been wearing that clerical robe. If the chance arose, Leo was determined to request reimbursement from the Holy See and acquire a few more. Soon, it would be time for the dinner Giovanni had arranged.

Yes, to facilitate a meeting between Leo and the Bishop of Pisa, Giovanni had specially organized a dinner party to be held at his own residence. Unsure what to do, Leo had temporarily taken up lodging in a manor house.

While Leo was preparing himself, the door behind him suddenly opened. Without turning, he knew it was Matilda's maid.

"Does Her Grace require something?" Leo asked as he rose, straightening his attire.

The maid only nodded slightly, making no sound at all. Her behavior struck Leo as somewhat odd, but in the Middle Ages, it was not unusual for servants to avoid speaking with those of higher status. Perhaps she was simply a shy maid.

"I’ll go now," Leo said, following the maid to Matilda’s chambers.

The moment he opened the door, the sultry atmosphere, the hanging tapestries acting as screens, and the steam rising behind them gave Leo a sense of foreboding.

This was...

With a heavy thud, the door behind him closed, and the maid silently withdrew from the room. While Leo was still lost in confusion, Matilda’s voice called out from behind the screen.

“Sir Leo, come help me dress.”

No sooner had she spoken than Leo heard the gentle sound of water. The unique scent of citrus and roses, belonging only to Matilda, suddenly filled the room.

To help the duchess dress...

Dressing one's liege was a tradition that stretched back to ancient Rome—an act by which nobles displayed their trust in their closest followers, and those followers expressed their loyalty in return.

Leo steeled himself and walked around the screen. As he rounded the corner, Matilda had just stepped from the wooden tub, her hair piled atop her head, droplets sparkling on her fair skin—a vision akin to a goddess emerging from the bath.

Spotting a towel on a nearby stand, Leo quickly took it and began to dry Matilda’s body. She stretched out her arms, standing still, allowing him to tend to her delicate form.

She did not speak—not because she didn't wish to, but because she dared not. An electric sensation emanated from her most sensitive places, making her feel as if she were losing control of her own body. She worried that if she spoke, Leo would notice something amiss.

For his part, Leo was careful, fearful of making a mistake. When he finally set down the towel, Matilda exhaled in relief. She regretted having called Leo to help her dress. Her previous attendants had all been women; never before had a man served her in such intimacy.

The situation was slipping beyond her control.

The room's atmosphere grew increasingly charged, and Matilda felt her own breath quicken and grow hot.

“Sir Leo, I have something I wish to discuss with you,” Matilda finally said, breaking the awkward silence between them.

Leo, holding Matilda's gown, approached and nodded to show he was listening. He gently lifted her arms, slipped the dress over her, and, standing before her, reached around to fasten her belt at the back.

“You… you are the most ambitious man I have ever met, Sir Leo. It seems that a small place like Pisa cannot contain you.”

As she spoke, her breath brushed Leo’s ear, light as a feather.

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” Leo asked, releasing his hands as he spoke. With her belt fastened, he knelt to adjust the hem of her dress, easing the charged atmosphere just a little.

“I hope you are a man who remembers those who have helped him, Sir Leo. If you ever climb higher, do not forget that once, you and I supported each other.”

Her words stirred Leo’s heart.

So that's what this is about. Matilda feared that if Leo climbed too high, he might turn against her. Out of such worry, she had summoned him to dress her—an age-old gesture of loyalty, but ultimately a hollow one.

Yet Leo could sense that, before him, Matilda was like a young girl—afraid of betrayal.

“Rest assured, Your Grace. I will always be loyal to you,” Leo replied.

He then stepped behind Matilda and removed her headdress, letting her flaxen waves tumble down like those of a goddess from myth.

“It’s time for the banquet, Your Grace,” Leo said.

“Yes,” Matilda replied softly, and, with perfect naturalness, took Leo’s arm.

Leo led the way and opened the door. As they stepped out, Matilda regained all her noble composure, as if the charged scene in her chambers had never occurred. Yet from the tightness of her grip on his arm, Leo could tell she was still savoring the brief moment of intimacy.

Leo, meanwhile, began to strategize for the evening.

Giovanni, the host, was exceedingly generous and had invited many guests. Numerous knights under Leo and Matilda’s command had also been welcomed to the feast. Still, Leo knew there would be opportunities to speak privately with the Bishop of Pisa.

As Leo pondered, Matilda followed him into the manor. The spacious residence had become crowded with guests. Servants wove between tables, musicians and bards performed, their songs and music heightening the festive atmosphere.

For Matilda, this was her first time attending such a gathering. Her eyes were full of wonder as she took in the scene. Soon she released Leo’s arm and began to wander, immersing herself in the vibrant, boisterous world of a citizen’s banquet.

Leo’s gaze, however, quickly settled on the Bishop of Pisa.

The bishop sat at a table, before him a steaming bowl of mushroom soup. Clearly, he was strict in his observance of the rules.

In an instant, Leo made up his mind about him.

“Leo, that’s the bishop,” Giovanni said, approaching with two glasses of wine and whispering in Leo’s ear.

“I know,” Leo replied, accepting a glass. He made his way to the bishop and sat down. The bishop shot him a sidelong glance, then returned to his soup, making Leo all the more certain this man would be difficult to win over—perhaps incorruptible.

“Your Excellency, it’s an honor to meet you. I am Leo, abbot of Correzzola Abbey,” Leo said, setting his wine aside and attempting to establish a rapport. He was here to negotiate, after all, and one should never strike a smiling man.

But the bishop’s expression remained cold.

Seeing this, Leo decided to try a different approach.

“I also serve as an envoy of the Holy See and spent two and a half years studying theology in Rome…”

“You’d best come straight to the point,” the bishop interrupted, his voice sharp and cold, making Leo distinctly uncomfortable.

“Very well, I’ll be direct, then.”

Leo dispensed with pleasantries and got to the heart of the matter.

“I wish to become Bishop of Pisa. I’m willing to pay for the office.”

At the mention of purchasing a benefice, the bishop’s eyes flickered. He did not refuse outright but regarded Leo with suspicion. Why would anyone wish to buy such a modest bishopric?

Nowadays, the Holy See was clamping down hard on simony. The bishop hesitated, perhaps suspecting Leo was a papal agent sent to entrap him.

“I hear you have issues to resolve with the tithe, and Giovanni is unwilling to cooperate. If you sell me the office, all your troubles will be solved.”

Leo did not spell it out, but the bishop seemed to understand. In essence, Leo was offering him a sum of money to disappear, and Leo would take on the responsibilities.

It was a good arrangement, but the bishop’s face did not show any sign of relief, which puzzled Leo.

What was he hesitating for?

After a moment’s thought, the bishop lifted his glass and took a slow sip of wine. Only when he set it down did he speak.

“It’s not so simple… If the Holy See inquires, I’ll have to answer for it.”

So, he’s naming his price.

Leo’s face darkened with irony. He had thought the bishop an upright cleric, but he was merely guarding his own interests. His supposed integrity was nothing more than the price not being high enough.

“How about two thousand marks of silver?” Leo raised two fingers. “That sum will take you as far as West Francia, where the Holy See will have difficulty tracking you down. If not, Spain is an option.”

The bishop shook his head, spreading his hand open. “Five thousand marks, or I won’t agree.”

Five thousand? Leo’s heart sank. He hadn’t expected the bishop’s appetite to be so large. Worse yet, he simply couldn’t produce that much money.

“Two thousand five hundred. That’s my final offer,” Leo said.

The bishop sneered. “If you can’t afford it, peasant, go back to your home. I’m taking the risk—why should I help you for less?”

As he insulted Leo, Leo stood.

The bishop, oblivious to the danger, continued to smirk.

Not until Leo picked up his bowl of mushroom soup did he sense the threat.

“What are you—”

Before he could finish, Leo flung the scalding soup into his face. The hot broth splashed onto his skin, making him cry out in pain.

All around, the knights halted their feasting and turned to watch.

Leo stood over the bishop, who stared back in utter disbelief, gasping as if he could not comprehend Leo’s audacity.

“You must have eaten too many mushrooms, you fool,” Leo said, seizing the bishop by the collar and hauling him bodily from his seat.

“So, do we have a deal or not?”