Chapter 8: The Celebration Banquet

As night fell, the soldiers gathered inside the castle, encircling Vittorio, who was bound to a pillar. Though his mouth was gagged, Vittorio continued to make muffled noises, as if such defiant sounds could somehow absolve him of his rebellion.

At his feet lay a great heap of firewood. Dry straw, soaked beforehand in fat to ensure it would catch fire easily, was piled atop the wood. Even the smallest spark would ignite it in an instant.

Some soldiers would pause from time to time, casting Vittorio a look of pity before merely shaking their heads and moving on.

"Enrico, why does our chief like burning people so much?" asked a Corsican light infantryman.

"Why do you have to stick your nose into everything?"

Enrico spat at him. "The chief is merciful. Ordinarily, traitors like this would go to hell. But if you burn them clean, they can go to heaven."

"Is that really a thing..." The light infantryman scratched his beard in doubt. Corsica might be remote, but never in his life had he heard a priest say such a thing. Not even when dealing with actual Arab infidels did anyone claim that burning them purified their souls for heaven.

"You think too much. Our chief’s a cleric from Rome, you think you know more than him?"

Enrico rapped the light infantryman on the head.

The blow seemed to enlighten the soldier, who asked no more questions and busied himself with sorting through the spoils, waiting for the execution by fire to commence.

Soon enough, they saw their chief emerge from the lord’s hall. Leo’s face bore a look of undisguised satisfaction, though no one knew what had transpired between him and the duchess inside. Judging from his expression, it seemed something favorable had occurred.

Matilda’s household knights, upon seeing Leo, no longer regarded him with suspicion but rather with admiration.

Yes, admiration.

As a papal envoy, Leo was indeed clever-tongued and persuasive, seeming at first glance the sort to rely on glib words. But deeds do not lie. The knights had witnessed his actions in the defense of Canossa Castle with their own eyes. These warriors, who esteemed valor above all, had lost their wariness toward Leo, now considering him truly a man of courage.

To have sworn fealty mere days before, and so soon to risk all for the duchess’s safety—many knights felt a pang of shame in comparison.

“Gentlemen, gather round!”

Leo walked to the pyre with his hands clasped behind his back. At his call to assemble, Enrico brought the light infantrymen over, and the knights followed, forming a circle around Leo.

At that moment, Matilda also emerged from the great hall, standing at its threshold and watching Leo.

“Today, you are all heroes!” Leo’s voice rang out. “Today, we have vanquished the traitor Vittorio and his followers. We have defended the honor of the duchess! We have defended God’s own messenger! And you—you are the most pious, the bravest of warriors!”

A cheer arose from the soldiers gathered around Leo.

This victory was more than just another battle won. From this moment forth, Matilda’s authority as ruler of the Duchy of Tuscany would stand firm upon these lands. And so too would Leo’s reputation.

“As a merciful cleric, I do not wish for Vittorio to be tormented in hell. Therefore, to cleanse his sins, I shall use the holy flames to purify him!”

With that, Leo took the torch from Enrico’s hand.

Only now did Vittorio, tied to the stake, begin to feel true fear. Such a cruel death was suddenly so close at hand.

While these thoughts raced through him, Vittorio failed to notice that his legs were trembling uncontrollably, and yellowish stains—accompanied by a foul stench—appeared between his legs.

He shook his head madly, as if begging Leo for mercy. As Leo approached the pile of wood, Vittorio’s entire body quaked, desperate for any chance to live.

Leo merely glanced at him, then said, “Let us pray for Vittorio. He shall ascend to heaven and dwell in the land flowing with milk and honey.”

With that, Leo cast the torch upon the pyre.

The oil-soaked wood erupted instantly in a torrent of flame, engulfing Vittorio.

Agonized, piercing wails echoed above Canossa Castle. The soldiers could only see a figure thrashing in the inferno, soon to fall still.

The smell of scorched flesh wafted through the air, causing some of the maids to pinch their noses.

“The envoy is truly ruthless,” one whispered.

“But you have to admit, he is rather handsome,” another replied.

“I wonder which lucky lady he’ll end up with...”

Suddenly, Matilda cast a piercing gaze their way, her voice icy cold: “Do not gossip about the great men of court.”

The maids fell silent at once, not daring to speak further.

The soldiers, for their part, felt no resentment. They celebrated victory, drinking wine and gathering their share of spoils around the burning pyre.

After this triumph, nearly every soldier had gained a good haul, and many were already considering how to spend their newfound wealth.

Meanwhile, Leo and several of Matilda’s household knights enjoyed the celebratory feast she had prepared for them in the castle hall.

As a duchess, Matilda’s banquet was of the highest order: stews perfumed with spices, various roasted meats, and newly opened wine, all of which astonished Leo and his companions.

In Rome, Leo had never dined so well. The days of black bread and cabbage were finally over, he thought, as he devoured the roast meat before him.

The knights were much the same, making short work of the feast laid out before them.

“Envoy Leo.”

As Leo stuffed his mouth with roast pork, the old knight who had commanded the defense atop the walls approached.

Leo hurriedly swallowed his mouthful and looked up.

“Hello,” he said, wiping his hand and extending it.

The old knight smiled, shook Leo’s hand, and sat down. “My name is Alberto. I am the duchess’s captain of knights. I am curious—how did you become so skilled with the bow?”

“Oh? I’m equally curious—how did you become so skilled with the sword?” Leo replied suddenly.

Alberto was taken aback. “Because I practiced a lot...”

“So did I,” Leo answered.

Alberto was surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing as he clapped his hands. “You really do have a quick tongue.”

“Of course. After all, Sir Leo was forged in the fires of Rome,” Matilda suddenly appeared behind them, holding a silver goblet. She swirled her wine, her cheeks flushed with a gentle blush, the air between sovereign and subjects warm and relaxed.

“You two are my right and left hands. Sir Alberto, Sir Leo, let us drink to your loyalty.” She raised her cup.

“Your reign shall be prosperous, Your Grace,” said Leo.

Alberto, for his part, simply toasted awkwardly, at a loss for words. With his rough demeanor, eloquence was not his forte, and Matilda did not mind. She downed her wine and set the cup aside.

After Matilda departed, Alberto suddenly put his arm around Leo’s shoulders.

“Leo, I hear the duchess is granting you a monastery?”

The abrupt question made Leo uneasy. He had only just received his own land—was he already to be drawn into the intrigues of power?

Leo chose to remain silent, neither confirming nor denying.

Though illiterate, Alberto was no fool after years in court, and he understood that Leo was simply being cautious.

So he came directly to the point.

“I have a friend...”

At those words, Leo’s mind began to translate automatically. So Alberto had a favor to ask.

“He left behind a child and disappeared, leaving mother and child alone. The boy has always wanted to be a knight, but the duchess has no place for him, and no one else will take him. Leo, can you help my friend?”

“Wait, Alberto,” Leo held up a hand. “Is this friend of yours actually you?”

In the Middle Ages, fatherless children were common. But if a middle-aged man suddenly showed concern for such a child, it usually meant the father wasn’t absent—just unwilling to acknowledge the child. After all, the matter of bastards was not something one spoke of openly.

“Of course not! How could it be me?” Alberto broke into a sweat. “Let me be clear: this is definitely a friend, not me. Where he’s gone, I don’t know, and you needn’t ask further.”

“I understand, I understand, I truly understand.” Leo nodded three times, making the sweat on Alberto’s brow bead even more.

The old knight waved his hand. “As long as you understand… So, will you help me with this favor?”

“Certainly,” Leo agreed at once.

If he was to establish a new monastery, he would need men, and armed defenders to protect it. Enrico and the light infantry alone would never suffice.

So, Leo did not press Alberto further and consented directly. In times like these, every extra man was a blessing.

Alberto was surprised by Leo’s ready acceptance. He clutched the silver coins in his hand, uncertain whether to offer them.

After a long moment’s thought, he finally seized Leo’s hand and pressed the coins into his palm.

“Thank you.”

Leo was taken aback.

He was about to push the money back when suddenly the system’s prompt flashed before him.

[Your knight will arrive at Canossa Castle tomorrow morning.]