Chapter 56: Let Them Tear Each Other Apart

The College of Cardinals erupted in an uproar.

Richard, Count of Capua, was an ambitious conqueror. His family had arrived as mere mercenaries, and in less than half a century, they dominated southern Italy. Now, nearly all the western regions of southern Italy, from the tip of Calabria at the foot of the Apennines to the very outskirts of Rome, lay within his grasp.

But he was not content with the wealth of southern Italy; he now pointed his sword directly at Rome and the Holy See.

“That man is a wolf!”

“How much land does he want?”

“God in heaven, he dares threaten the Holy See.”

The cardinals whispered among themselves, as if this threat far surpassed that of Leo.

In truth, it did. No matter how much trouble Leo stirred in Tuscany, it hardly touched those gathered here. And the accusations against him, serious though they sounded, were not of such weight as to be truly grave.

Political matters could always be negotiated, after all.

But the Count of Capua was different. He had truly pressed the blade to the throats of the papal elite, and that alone deeply unsettled them. No matter how devout a monarch, none could place themselves above the Church. This was an article of faith among the cardinals.

Moreover, the Holy See possessed immense political influence and abundant wealth, but lacked the military might to defend such resources. It did not even require powerful nobles; the Roman mob alone could drive the Church from the city.

And so, the papal dignitaries were genuinely afraid.

“Silence!” Pope Alexander, who had remained silent until now, rapped the table.

At once, the hall fell quiet. All eyes turned to the Pope and to Hildebrand at his side. Clearly, there was more yet to be said.

“In light of this situation, Leo has put forth a proposal,” Hildebrand began, his voice thick with reluctance.

“He is willing to lead the Tuscan army to protect us. In return, we must pay his troops, reward them, and recognize his position as Bishop of Pisa. If we agree, he will march south and drive out the Count of Capua.”

He finished, setting aside the parchment in his hand. He placed his hands on his knees, his sharp gaze sweeping across the assembly.

The cardinals sat in silence.

“What a humiliation this is…”

Pope Alexander spoke slowly, his discontent with their plight woven through every word.

“On one side, clerics who flout the Cluniac reforms; on the other, nobles who threaten us outright. Now we must choose the lesser evil; we have no other recourse…”

Before he could finish, a cardinal rose to his feet.

“This is unacceptable!”

All eyes turned to him. He wore a red mantle and had the build of a bear, his Latin tinged with the accent of the northern German lands.

“If we yield to him today, tomorrow we’ll yield to another. In the end, all our years of reform will be handed to our enemies!”

“Rudolf!” Hildebrand barked, trying to silence him.

But the cardinal—Rudolf—did not yield. He raised his voice, proclaiming his political ideals.

“We must never compromise. Do we not have our own guards? William of Montreuil, the Norman, is also in our employ. And do we not have Rome itself? Shall we forget the ancient Roman tradition in our own time? We must form our own army and defend ourselves. That is the only true path!”

“Easier said than done. Where would we find the money?” murmured another cardinal from the crowd.

Rudolf turned, fixing the speaker with a cold glance.

“Is it not possible for the Holy See to levy its own taxes? With so many lands across Italy, have we ever truly collected any revenues?”

“That is enough, Rudolf,” Pope Alexander interjected, putting an end to the debate.

“If we were to do such a thing, what would distinguish us from the secular states? The Church must remain pure; that is our purpose. We must not sacrifice our purity for petty gain. That is absolutely forbidden…”

As Rudolf prepared to retort, another cardinal strode to the center of the hall.

His entrance at once drew all attention away from Rudolf.

“I, Peter Damian, have a proposal. We may temporarily compromise with Leo, luring him into conflict with the Count of Capua. Then, when both are exhausted, we seize the opportunity to deal with the criminal Leo.”

This plan immediately won the approval of the cardinals.

Hildebrand looked at Damian, visibly relaxing. Damian was the Pope’s staunchest supporter and a master of diplomacy; entrusting him with this task was a sound decision—perhaps even better than Hildebrand himself could accomplish.

“Then you shall be our envoy,” Pope Alexander declared. “You will negotiate with Leo and ensure he does nothing to harm the Holy See.”

Peter Damian, energized by his commission, pressed a hand to his chest and bowed deeply to Pope Alexander.

“My mission shall not be disgraced.”

And so the decision was made.

Rudolf’s face twisted with frustration as he looked around, seeing not a single cardinal supporting his proposal.

In that moment, he began to doubt the so-called purity of the Church.

Is the Holy See truly pure?

Exploiting the strife between nobles and warriors for its own advantage—if such scheming counts as purity, then Rudolf thought the whole world must be made of lilies.

Yet, his voice alone was not enough to sway Pope Alexander and his followers.

With no other recourse, Rudolf sat down in defeat, his head bowed.

Pope Alexander ignored him entirely, rising to give the final summary of the closed meeting.

“I hereby appoint Cardinal Peter Damian as papal envoy to Tuscany, responsible for contact and negotiation to safeguard the Holy See.

“At the same time, we must ensure that Leo, this corrupt and degenerate cleric, does us no harm. His army is forbidden to cross the Tiber; they may only camp on Vatican Hill or outside the city walls. Otherwise, we shall excommunicate him without hesitation!”

No sooner had he finished than some of the cardinals broke into applause, praising Pope Alexander.

“Excellent!”

“A perfect plan!”

“Let them fight each other like dogs!”

As the cardinals voiced their approval, Pope Alexander remained impassive, beckoning Hildebrand to him. Hildebrand immediately followed the Pope out of the council chamber.

As they exited, Pope Alexander lowered his voice so that only Hildebrand could hear his final instruction.

“Keep an eye on Rudolf. Do not let him make contact with William of Montreuil.”

“Your Holiness…?” Hildebrand asked, uncertain.

“They are too dangerous,” Pope Alexander said at last. With that, he fell silent and spoke no more.