Chapter 64: The Pope? May He Live Long

"Presenting the esteemed Count of Tusculum, Consul of Rome, and Lord of Colonna, Gregory II has arrived—"

At Richard's side stood a monk as well. Seeing Gregory approach, the monk immediately announced all of Gregory’s titles. Richard appeared somewhat satisfied, though his true attention was fixed on the bishop surrounded by knights, curious as to his identity.

When Leo and his entourage drew near, Richard remained silent, only extending his hand once the dust had settled.

"Your Excellency, may I ask your name?"

"Bishop Leo of Pisa."

Leo did not bother with riddles; he raised his hand to halt Riccardo, skipping over the tedious formalities.

"I have come on orders from the Holy See to expel the invader. You have trespassed upon the patrimony of Saint Peter, desecrating the sacred territories of the Church. That is why I am here to wage war against you."

"Is that so?"

Richard's rough, blackened fingers stroked his beard. He looked wholly unsophisticated, nothing like the nobility of Italy. Yet this man was now the most powerful lord in southern Italy.

"Do you know Hildebrand?" Richard asked in a deep voice. "Seven years ago, he came to me seeking aid, promising me land. But to this day, I have seen nothing."

Leo was taken aback. He had no idea. Seven years ago, Leo had not yet crossed over into this world, and matters of such gravity had never concerned him before; nor did he care much for such research.

So how should he respond?

Suddenly, Riccardo whispered to Leo, "The Holy See has already fulfilled its promise. Gaeta and Capua have both been recognized."

So that was it. The Church claimed any conquered territory as its own, and mere recognition counted as having granted it.

Truly naive.

"The lands promised to you by the Holy See are Capua and Gaeta. Both are now under your control. Is there anything more you desire?" Leo responded.

"Unsatisfied? Of course I am unsatisfied. These lands were taken by my own hand!" Richard's voice held a trace of anger.

"Are you saying that even the lands I seized myself must be counted as gifts from the Holy See? In that case, why not grant me Jerusalem, or even the Empire? What I require is land conferred by the Church."

With that, Richard folded his arms, watching Leo to see how he would answer.

"You have a point," said Leo.

Everyone present was stunned—not only Richard, but also Gregory by Leo’s side, and all the knights.

"I am only here to protect Tusculum," Leo shrugged. "As for Antium and the like, they do not belong to the lands of the Count of Tusculum; they’re none of my concern."

Richard drew a sharp breath.

Well, well. So there was internal strife within the Church as well.

"And what will the Pope think?" Richard, sly as ever, probed.

"The Pope? May he live long."

Leo’s casual pursing of his lips and the indifference in his tone made Richard break into a grin. Internal conflict within the Church could only work to his advantage—especially now.

Though the Holy See was the leader of Christendom, the head of the Western Catholic Church, that head was now unprotected. Their military security depended almost entirely on external forces, and now those forces had been broken. The entire Church had become a soft target for any who wished to threaten it.

How could Richard let such an opportunity slip by?

"It seems we have much in common," the count said, extending his hand as if to seal a pact with Leo.

But Leo, ever wary, refused. He raised his hand, declining Richard’s gesture. With an awkward laugh, Richard withdrew his hand.

"So, is our discussion finished?" Richard wiped his hand on his clothes, as if to ease the awkwardness.

"I’ll need to rest at Tusculum soon, and my soldiers as well. Have Lady Maria make arrangements—I hear she is famed for her beauty in all the land, a pity she is without a husband."

As Richard spoke brazenly, Gregory’s gaze grew cold. Anger surged within him. To have his mother insulted to his face was an unforgivable disgrace for any nobleman. Yet, as Gregory was about to react, Maria's teachings surfaced in his mind.

Endure.

This was Maria’s only lesson for him.

As the sole male heir of the family, Gregory had to endure. He knew he was surrounded by wolves, and one misstep would drag him into the abyss.

So, Gregory restrained himself. His throat moved slightly, the shadows on his brow gradually cleared, and he put on a mask of indifference, glancing at Leo beside him.

Just as he wondered whether Leo would praise his restraint, Leo suddenly stirred.

"What did you say?" Leo looked at Richard.

Richard paused, then replied, "I said Lady Maria is renowned for her beauty. Surely you know? Heaven knows how many men have mounted her over these widowed years. That kind of whore, I’d truly like to—"

Before Richard could finish, Leo spat at him.

"There's no need for further words. Go tell your men to prepare for war. There will be no peace between us," Leo declared.

"You—" Richard began.

"I am declaring war."

With that, Leo gathered his reins, turned his horse, and departed with his retinue. Watching Leo’s retreating back, Richard was momentarily at a loss.

Just one sentence—and that was it?

Not only Richard, but even Gregory by Leo’s side was baffled.

"Leo, is this wise?" Gregory’s tone was filled with confusion and worry. Leo’s approach, both in scholarship and diplomacy, was utterly unlike his mother’s, and Gregory found it difficult to adapt.

"What do you mean, wise? He insulted your mother—why didn’t you retaliate?" Leo asked.

"My… my mother…"

"Say no more. I understand."

Seeing Gregory’s hesitation, Leo knew at once that this was Maria’s doing.

Yet Leo’s decision to go to war was not without personal motive.

To truly know a man’s intentions, one must not listen to his talk of business or strategy, but hear how he speaks of women. Richard’s repeated mention of Maria proved his ambition for Tusculum remained.

Leo would not tolerate it.

Tusculum was now his, and he could not allow such a threat to linger in the south, ever menacing his interests.

There was only one solution.

Back at the front lines, Leo immediately raised his right hand. The trumpeters at the rear saw his signal, lifted their long horns, and blew a resonant note.

The deep blare of horns rang out.

"Prepare for battle!"

At the sound, officers darted among the infantry formations. The soldiers struck their shields with their spears, creating a forest of lances.

The well-drilled Pisan heavy infantry took their place at the front—the sun glinting off their polished armor in blinding brilliance. The Corsican infantry beat their shields with their long spears, their morale soaring, ready to attack at any moment.

Most striking of all were the knights. In the long lines, banners of various sizes fluttered in the wind, each embroidered with a family crest. The mass of knights concentrated on both wings, forming vast, sweeping flanks.

They watched as Leo rode before the lines, his black warhorse a flash of lightning beneath the white priestly robes.

As he passed each formation, every soldier raised his weapon, their cry like thunder.

"Long live!"

"Long live! Long live!"

"God almighty!"

After a brief inspection, Leo returned to the rear of the formation.

There, Maria waited anxiously. At the sight of Leo, she rode up, her face clouded with worry and agitation.

"Leo, we are at a disadvantage. We cannot act so recklessly. We… we can return to the castle and fight a war of attrition…"

"Then you go back yourself."

Leo took the helmet from Enrico, his voice cold as steel.

Maria was startled by his tone.

After a moment’s hesitation, she took Gregory’s hand, intending to take her son and withdraw. But after two tugs, she found Gregory unmoving.

"What are you doing, Gregory?"

"I am going to fight with him."

Gregory looked at his mother and said, "I cannot be a coward my whole life…"

"A coward, a coward… Very well, go and be a hero then!"

All at once, Maria seemed to abandon hope. She flung Gregory’s hand aside and rode away in anger. As she left, she glanced back at Leo.

If Leo were to change his mind now, she would still be willing to yield.

But Leo cared not in the slightest.

He raised high the golden cross, and once again the trumpeters blew their horns.

"Forward—"