Chapter 36: A Decisive Blow Is Necessary (Extra Chapter—Please Continue Reading!)

“You’re breaking the law! I am the bishop! I am the bishop!”

The Bishop of Pisa struggled, but he was utterly unable to break free from Leo’s grasp. Years of indulgence in wine and women had hollowed him out; before Leo, he was as helpless as a chick.

Leo pressed him firmly against the table. The knights who had come with Leo now closed in around them.

There was no trace of reverence in the eyes of these knights.

They knew only this: when their leader took action, they followed suit.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Are you going to take this deal or not?” Leo roared.

“Impossible! I will never make a pact with the devil!”

The Bishop of Pisa, blind to his own predicament, still struggled. He even made a desperate grab for the knife on the table, but the knights pinned him down in an instant.

Seeing him like this, Leo had no intention of showing mercy.

In a flash, a heavy fist smashed into the bishop’s face, wrenching another wail from the already frail prelate.

“Is one punch enough for you?”

“Scoundrel! Wretch!”

When he saw the bishop still unrepentant, Leo raised his fist once more and struck him in the face again.

This time, there was a dull thud, and the bishop’s face twisted in pain.

His nose caved in, blood spurting from his nostrils. The agony was so intense that his screams abruptly ceased, his face contorted in a mask of terror.

“I’ve got plenty more fists if you need them. Will you take this deal or not?”

“Yes! Yes! Three thousand marks of silver—”

Another punch landed on the bishop’s face, forcing another howl from him.

“And you still dare to bargain? Five hundred marks. That’s final.”

“That’s too little, too little—”

Too little, is it?

Clearly, the Church needs reform; how can faith flourish with vermin like this in its midst?

It was time for drastic measures.

Leo grabbed the few strands of hair left on the bishop’s head and dragged him from his chair. As the bishop crashed to the floor, the knights at Leo’s side set upon him as well.

They kicked and punched the Bishop of Pisa without hesitation, as if he were not a bishop at all.

At last, the tardy palace guards appeared at the doors of the banquet hall. Brandishing their weapons, they readied themselves to break up the chaos.

But Giovanni raised a hand.

The magistrate watched coldly as the bishop was beset on all sides.

He had long harbored resentment against the Bishop of Pisa. Years of accumulated grievances could now be unleashed through Leo’s hands.

“Is that enough? I’m speaking to you.”

Leo hauled the bishop up again, lifting him before his own face.

“Yes, yes…”

This time, the Bishop of Pisa offered no further resistance. After such a beating, he was barely breathing, as if he might meet his Maker at any moment.

His lips trembled, blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, and terror was etched across his face.

Looking at him, Leo said, “Then it’s settled.”

With that, Leo let go.

The bishop collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. Even so, he did not hesitate—he hobbled from the hall, limping desperately away. Perhaps he would never forget this night for the rest of his life.

Leo waved his hand and said to Enrico, “Follow him out. Don’t let him get away. And remember, make sure he gets paid.”

Enrico did not hesitate. He nodded and motioned for three knights to follow the bishop out.

The reason for paying him was to implicate the bishop.

If Leo had merely beaten him into submission, he’d have been roasted alive within days. But if money changed hands, then the bishop was complicit in the deal, and could not denounce Leo.

Besides, knowing this bishop’s character, Leo doubted he’d be the type to turn him in.

“You certainly don’t pull your punches.”

Giovanni approached with a cup of wine, a faint smile playing over his lips, clearly pleased with Leo’s method of handling things.

“So, how do you plan to resolve the matter of the tithe?”

“I have a plan, of course.”

Leo put on a mysterious air and did not reveal his intentions.

Seeing this, Giovanni could only raise an eyebrow and walk away helplessly, knowing Leo would say no more.

At some point, Matilda had appeared and quietly sat down beside Leo.

She was uncharacteristically silent, her expression grave. Perhaps the brutal scene she’d just witnessed had unsettled her.

But then again, she had stood by Leo on the battlefield, passing him arrows—she was no coward.

Could such a thing really frighten her?

“Sir Leo, if you really become Bishop of Pisa, what will you do about being consecrated?” Matilda asked.

As expected, it was Matilda who was most concerned about Leo.

“The most authoritative bishop nearby is the Bishop of Lucca, isn’t it? But that seat is about to go to Anselmo, and he is sure to deny you consecration…”

Matilda’s voice was anxious; she clearly had not foreseen things would unfold this way.

Consecration truly was a thorny issue. Most appointments in the Church required a consecration ceremony.

Consecration was much like a coronation—it required at least an equal or higher-ranking cleric to bestow holiness on the new office.

The nearest bishop to Pisa was, indeed, the Bishop of Lucca, who also outranked the Bishop of Pisa.

If Leo could secure consecration from the Bishop of Lucca, all would be well.

But if not, two very different paths lay before him.

One was to confront the Church directly.

He could seek out bishops already at odds with Rome—say, the Archbishop of Frankfurt in the Holy Roman Empire to the north.

This approach was straightforward, but it would cap his prospects; if he ran to the Empire, there would always be an emperor looming over his head.

The other was to raise his value as a political ally.

If he could make himself indispensable to the Church, Rome might be forced to accept him, however begrudgingly.

For the Church faced many enemies.

To the north, threats and pretenders; to the south, Norman ambitions sharpening their knives, threatening Rome’s control of the region.

With Henry IV of the Holy Roman Empire newly come of age and eager to restore imperial power, and the Normans to the south ever more ambitious, the Church was beset on all sides.

The last thing they needed was a new adversary.

So how to increase his value as an ally?

Simply excelling in theology would never suffice. What mattered was what the Church lacked most.

That meant force of arms.

If Leo could provide the Church with the military power it needed—and monopolize it so that no other faction could offer the same—then Rome would be forced to rely on him.

But Matilda had not thought of this.

“If it comes to it, perhaps you could seek consecration from the Bishop of Parma? He just might agree,” Matilda said hesitantly.

She knew, of course, that seeking consecration from the Bishop of Parma would all but declare open war on the Church.

That was something Leo would never do.

“As long as we don’t lose heart, there are always more solutions than difficulties, Matilda.”

Leo suddenly wore a look of bright optimism, as if no problem was truly a problem.

Matilda was surprised.

She had wracked her brains and found no way out of the current dilemma. She could not imagine what solution Leo might have.

Yet, somehow, she instinctively chose to trust him.

For reasons she could not name, Leo seemed to her to carry a halo; no matter the challenge, he would find a way.

“Perhaps we should discuss something else.”

Leo raised a cup of wine. “For example, when spring comes, your stepfather will arrive.”

At this, Matilda’s expression instantly clouded.

To her, this was the most important matter of her life. Escaping this marriage was the greatest mission of her youth.

“Don’t worry.”

Leo reached out and gently ruffled Matilda’s hair.

“For us, this is a tremendous opportunity.”