Chapter 61: Didn't Even Ask, Just Hit?

“Are you afraid of wolves?”
“I’m not.”
Leo rode his horse alongside Gregory, engaging him in conversation. Although Gregory was still young, he already displayed the temperament of nobility—cold, and sufficiently courageous.
“I heard from Maria that you don’t like reading. Is that true?” Leo asked.
Gregory hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Yet as he nodded, he muttered under his breath, “No matter what, I won’t study.”
Hearing this, Leo laughed.
“What’s this, do you think there’s something wrong with reading?” Leo asked, pretending to be offended.
“It’s not that reading is bad, it’s just useless to me,” Gregory replied. “As long as I’m strong enough, there will always be scholars to explain things to me.”
Well then.
He had figured it out on his own—the path of breaking through by force.
Gregory, having just said this, thought Leo’s silence meant he was about to argue. He lowered his head, already pondering how to explain himself to his mother when they returned. After all, every previous tutor who encountered such a situation would quickly report him to his mother.
To his surprise, Leo suddenly said, “It’s fine. If you don’t want to read, then don’t.”
What?
Gregory looked up, surprised at Leo. He truly hadn’t expected that, as a bishop, Leo would say such a thing. Weren’t clergymen supposed to love reading above all else?
“You’re a nobleman, for heaven’s sake. You can do whatever you want—why limit yourself to books?”
With that, Leo beckoned. Enrique stepped forward and handed Leo a short spear. But Leo didn’t take it; instead, he gestured for Gregory to accept it.
“Don’t worry about such things. From now on, I’m your guardian. If your mother objects, let her speak to me. I’ll tell her how you ought to be raised.”
Gregory was taken aback.
“My mother isn’t so easy to persuade.”
He seemed to be warning Leo, but Leo didn’t mind at all. Maria, difficult to talk to? Leo didn’t think so.
“So, where did you say the wolves were? I once hunted bears with my knights—catching a few wolves shouldn’t be any trouble.”
Corrado, who followed behind, agreed.
“Spring is the best season for hunting wolves,” Corrado said. “Wolves mate before winter, and come spring, the pups are born. If we can find a den, there will be fewer wolves by autumn.”
Both Rossi and Enrique nodded. To people of this era, wolves were unequivocally harmful beasts.
“Who here knows how to track?” Leo looked to the knights. He had no expertise in such matters, so it was best left to the professionals.
Corrado, who had been speaking up, naturally stepped forward.
“I’ll do it.” Corrado took the lead, guiding the group onward, all the while recounting his past wolf-hunting adventures with Alberto.
These tales were utterly captivating to Gregory. He listened intently, occasionally asking questions, much to Corrado’s delight. Still, Corrado, though pleased, never forgot the task of tracking the wolves.
“Look here—fresh droppings,” he announced midway. Corrado leapt from his horse, picked up a pile of droppings from the ground. Leo watched the practiced motions, recognizing the hand of a seasoned hunter.
“It seems an adult wolf from the pack has gone hunting. There must be a den nearby. We can search for it.”
Corrado tossed the droppings, remounted, and led the knights as they pressed forward, parting the surrounding underbrush in search of the suspected den.
But as they brushed aside the shrubs, they were met with a grisly sight—wolf pups, scattered in pieces across the ground.
And beside these remains knelt two bearded men in chainmail. As the two groups locked eyes, both sides froze.
Who were these people?
Before Leo and his party could react, the two men leaped up like startled hares and bolted.
“Run!” one of the bearded men shouted in French, revealing his identity at once.
“They’re Normans—after them!” Gregory didn’t hesitate; he spurred his horse and gave chase.
After only a few strides, the two Normans, seeing Gregory closing in, lost all resolve. As he drew near, they dropped to their knees, raising their hands in surrender.
Gregory had been ready to attack, but their sudden capitulation left him only able to lower his spear.
Two live Normans were more valuable than two corpses.
When Leo caught up, the Normans were still on their knees, trembling.
“Impressive,” Leo said, clapping Gregory on the shoulder. The youth looked quite pleased with himself; after all, he’d been the first to charge, and these two were his prisoners.
The kneeling Normans, seeing Leo’s arrival amid such a retinue, immediately crawled forward.
“Father, Father!” they cried.
To see their behavior amused and exasperated Leo in equal measure. The South Normans and the Church had crossed paths before. In 1053, they’d even fought a battle and captured the first reformist Pope. Since then, they’d always believed that reformist clergy could be easily duped.
So, seeing Leo’s clerical robes, their first instinct was to try to talk their way out. The local nobility would show no mercy, but a priest, perhaps.
“Father, we meant no harm,” one Norman pleaded. “The Count of Capua forced us to come—we had no choice…”
“Yes, yes, we were only in the mountains to look for something. As you can see, we were hunting wolves.”
The two of them alternated in their tale, sounding quite convincing. If it were those reformist clergy, always buried in their scriptures, they might actually believe it. In playing the victim, the Normans had a natural talent—or perhaps it was simply thick skin.
After all, there was nothing they wouldn’t do.
“Perhaps we should let them go?” Gregory, feeling a bit of sympathy, seemed reluctant to see the Normans in such a pitiful state.
Leo could only shake his head.
Ah, youth.
“God loves peace, not swords. Put down your weapons, everyone,” Leo said. “You two, hand me your swords. I promise that my soldiers will not harm you as long as your swords are with me.”
“Truly?” the Normans asked.
“Of course,” Leo replied.
With Leo’s guarantee, the two Normans obediently surrendered their swords. As soon as they were in Leo’s hands, he passed them to Enrique, who hung them on his saddle.
The two Normans exchanged a subtle, satisfied glance. Once again, by deceiving a priest and playing on his conscience, they had saved their lives.
Priests were so easy to fool.
They could read it in each other’s eyes.
But in the next instant, the clinking of armor around them turned their smugness to confusion, then quickly to fear.
“Normans, is that right?”
As the group closed in, the two Normans shrank back in terror. Step by step, they retreated—until their backs pressed against something solid.
Turning around, they saw two more knights barring their way.
“Sirs, what—what are you doing…?”
“We’ll tell you everything!”
“Please, have mercy!”
The two Normans pleaded desperately, begging Leo to spare them. Hearing this, Leo’s eyes lit up.
“You’ll tell us everything?”
“Yes, yes! We’ll tell you anything we know—absolutely everything!”
With nowhere left to run, they fell to their knees again.
Such an answer left Leo quite satisfied. He raised his hand in signal, and the knights gathered, rolling up their sleeves.
“Beat them until they talk,” Leo instructed, then stepped aside to let the others do their work. The two Normans, seeing the burly men approach, burst into tears and cries.
“But you haven’t even asked us anything yet!”