Chapter 39: Turning a Blind Eye

When it came to the measures of the Church, Leo’s familiarity was nothing short of absolute. The first generation of reformist clerics were now aged; unlike the days when they entered Rome over a decade ago, they had all reached their twilight years. Thus, choosing a successor had become their foremost concern. Anselmo, the second-generation cleric, was without doubt the favored candidate among all the reformist leaders. Once news from his side emerged, the Church would surely seek ways to rescue him. This would force Goffrey to take action.

“That settles it. We’ll first besiege Lucca, then…” As he spoke, Leo stole a glance at Matilda; her expression was less than pleasant. Lucca was Matilda’s territory. Her family originated from the County of Lucca, rising step by step to become dukes. For her, this was surely pushing the limits of her tolerance.

“We won’t fight for real, just stage a mock siege to lure the Lotharingian army,” Leo shifted the conversation, easing Matilda’s expression somewhat. “After defeating the Lotharingians, the Duchess can step in to mediate. This will enhance her reputation, and we can also force the Bishop of Lucca to consecrate me—a triple victory.”

Hearing this, Giovanni truly began to see Leo in a new light. “Where did you learn all these tactics?” he asked curiously. “Do you clerics in Rome only read the Gallic Wars?”

“Of course not. It’s just that while others were reading the Bible, I was studying these matters,” Leo replied with a casual excuse.

Having said all he needed, Leo stood and looked around at those gathered. “Giovanni, I need to borrow Pisa’s citizen militia to besiege Lucca. Rossi, as the Duke’s representative, go to Florence to recruit soldiers. Alberto, send men to Arezzo, Siena, Grosseto, and other places to gather as many troops as possible.”

“So many soldiers—are you really able to manage them?” Alberto asked. Managing a large army was no simple feat; from logistics to marching, it required considerable skill. If one lacked the ability to lead such a force, the consequences could be disastrous.

But Leo merely smiled, his demeanor relaxed. “The more, the better.”

With that, Leo departed the city hall with Corrado. As he stepped outside, his heart surged with excitement. The enemy he would soon face was none other than the Duke of Lorraine, one of the most powerful dukes in the Holy Roman Empire. Even though the duke was fighting far from his homeland, he was not someone to be trifled with.

As Leo walked, a cleric suddenly approached him. Leo glanced at the man, his mind racing. “You’re the archpriest… Ser… Ser…”

“Sergio, sir,” the archpriest replied promptly, rescuing Leo from embarrassment. Having only recently taken office, Leo still struggled to remember the names of local priests and deacons.

“Yes, Sergio,” Leo nodded. “Is there something you need?”

“Indeed, sir,” Sergio’s tone was hesitant, which struck Leo as odd. Still, Leo kept silent, curious to see what Sergio wanted. “Have you eaten yet?”

Eaten? Leo shook his head; since dawn he had been preoccupied with strategizing against the Lotharingian army. He hadn’t thought of food until Sergio’s question reminded him of his hunger. “Not yet—why, are you inviting me to dine?” Leo asked with a smile.

“That’s right, sir. My wife has prepared some dishes; would you care to…”

At the mention of his wife, Leo was taken aback. What was this? Wasn’t it so that since the reformist clerics took power, priests were supposed to uphold celibacy? How did Sergio still have a wife?

Sergio caught Leo’s surprise. A hint of hesitation flickered in his eyes, as if pondering what to do next. Indeed, many priests still had wives. The reformist clerics had only been in power for about a decade. Before that, priests were allowed to marry, and Sergio had done so during those years. Now, due to changes in Church policy, he risked losing his wife—and possibly his clerical position. His fate lay in Leo’s hands as bishop. Leo’s response would be crucial for Sergio, whose nerves were taut as he watched Leo’s lips.

“Well, I am hungry,” Leo said, patting his stomach.

Sergio breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Leo didn’t outright refuse, there was hope. Corrado glanced suspiciously at Leo, unable to fathom his reasoning, but nonetheless followed Leo to Sergio’s home.

Leo entered, walking behind Sergio, their steps echoing on sturdy wooden boards. The house was filled with the scent of oranges; Leo noticed dried peels in several places—it was rather refined.

As soon as they arrived, Sergio began calling out, “Mara! We have guests! Bring out the best dishes—quick!”

Sergio appeared to be the head of the household; at his shout, footsteps sounded throughout the house. Hearing them, Leo knew Sergio’s home was not a solitary one. He said nothing, following Sergio to the table and sitting down. No sooner had he settled than a young girl emerged, pouring him a glass of wine and offering a plate of pickles.

“Thank you,” Leo said, taking the wine and quenching his thirst with a hearty gulp. After setting down the glass, the girl brought a basin of water and placed it before him. Though she seemed timid, her movements were deft—clearly, guests were frequent here. Leo washed his hands, and the girl took away the basin, leaving him free to eat with his hands.

He took a piece of sweet pickled vegetable from the plate and tasted it, nodding in approval. The sweet and sour flavor was a perfect appetizer. “Delicious—did your wife make this?” Leo asked. “I’ve never tasted anything this good even in Rome.”

“My daughter Stefana made it,” Sergio said, pointing to the girl with pride. “She’s only fifteen, but her skills match her mother’s.”

“Well, I’m truly looking forward to the next courses,” Leo said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. He was certain Sergio had prepared in advance, and the dishes that followed confirmed it.

Roast quail, lasagna, lamb and almond pie, beef offal soup, sliced ham, thick-cut grilled ox tongue—Leo was astounded. These dishes were luxurious enough for a royal court. Especially in Italy, where people considered poultry the most precious meat. To serve roast quail showed Sergio’s sincerity—and his fine living.

Leo himself had never eaten so well. Realizing he, a bishop, lived less comfortably than Sergio, a mere priest, Leo felt a surge of irritation. He picked up the beef offal soup, brought it to his lips, and drank deeply. The rich aroma of beef broth uplifted his soul. At last, he need not eat stale old bread.

Setting down the bowl, Leo’s gaze met Sergio’s.

“Bishop,” Sergio said, his eyes glinting with cunning pride at his orchestration. “So, what is your opinion on my wife’s situation?”

“I think it’s excellent. Your wife is a fine person, a skilled cook, and surely a capable mother as well,” Leo replied, lazily accepting a napkin from Stefana and wiping his mouth. “I’ll pretend not to know about this. Of course, you must be careful. If the Church learns of it, or if it causes any trouble, I certainly won’t protect you.”

“Good, good—that’s enough,” Sergio said, smiling and raising his glass to Leo.

But Leo did not immediately reciprocate; instead, he glanced at Stefana. “Let your daughter come work for me,” Leo said suddenly. “I haven’t tasted such fine food in ages.”

Sergio looked at his daughter without hesitation; instead, his smile grew broader, like a hunter who had seized his chance. “I’ll arrange it at once.”

“Then let’s drink,” Leo said, raising his glass as well.