A Holy Conspiracy
Our captors were imperial troops and spoke a language I could not comprehend. And so, we were guided back to the city in silence, and my initial shock gave way to anger and thus provided my mind with a new edge to start thinking of escape routes out of this perilous situation. It was Eleanor’s words that popped into my head, and although I now knew that it was pure horseshit, that she was merely trying to buy herself and her friend some precious time, I realised that it had been my only chance; I had to sell my story.
We reached the city centre after an hour of walking; it was utterly unrecognisable. Many buildings were in ruins, and the ones which were still standing were smoking. Even though the city was long conquered, the havoc had not yet ceased; we could still see distraught people, most of them now homeless and penniless, dressed in rags wandering; some looking for food in the rubbish, others searching for lost family members, others lying dead. As for the conquerors, the majority of them were still drunk or sleeping after a chaotic night. Here and there we saw groups of soldiers next to captured naked women, who had been without a doubt their playthings. It was the aftermath of a great tragedy, the living example of what men could unleash if one gives them a sword and a leave to act as they like: barbarians, beasts and inhuman.
What would happen to us now? Probably executed. My carelessness and trustworthiness had betrayed me for I should have known better and remembered Belfrigh’s saying about women’s truthfulness. But I was not willing to take on my conscience yet another person’s death; I would not be responsible for it. So, I bided my time, for the opportunity to speak to the commander and try and persuade him of our value, and soon enough it arrived…
This time they did not place us in the dungeons. Instead, they took all three of us in one of the enormous tents that had been set up in the square, next to where the barracks had stood the previous day. The tent covered a vast rectangular space, and it must have belonged to someone important as it was richly decorated like the inside of a manor, with marble statues that resembled those of Ancient Rome and carpeted with fluffy red rugs. There were also many oaked tables around the room, with the biggest one at the far end. Three wooden chairs that did not match the expensiveness of the rest of the furniture had been placed directly in front of the big table, which I came to realise it was the commander’s desk.
The guards placed us in front of a single man, no older than me. His dark eyes stared down at us in superiority; his perfect black hair hung loosely on his shoulders; his beaky nose seemed to be smelling us, whilst his thin moustache that curled above his upper lip twisted malevolently.
‘Do sit down, Messieurs,’ said the man after he had scrutinised us for what had seemed a whole minute each.
We obeyed and took our seats, looking up at him waiting like sheep for our fates to be determined.
‘First, I would like to offer you my apologies for this somewhat bad treatment that you have received,’ he said in heavily French-accented English and nodded to his guards to remove our shackles. ‘But, I trust you would understand that we could take no risks. We are still in a war zone.’
‘If by war zone, you mean the city you ravaged …’ said Belfrigh ironically, massaging his hurting wrists.
The man ignored him and continued with his speech as if he had never been interrupted. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Philibert de Chalon, Prince of Orange and Commander of the Holy Roman Empire troops here in Rome.’
Belfrigh chuckled. Again, he ignored him, determined as he seemed not to be roused by petty insults. ‘It has come to my knowledge,’ he carried on, ‘that you three could be of some assistance in my efforts- I mean the Empire’s efforts to... Um… How to say this delicately…’ he paused thinking and twisted his moustache between his right forefinger and thumb. ‘Get to the pope,’ he said eventually.
It was the last thing I expected to hear. I thought we were done for. The two women had not betrayed us, after all, but had merely made contact with the commander. None of us confirmed nor denied what Philibert had just said. In fact, I was in a bit of a shock of how fast he had come to the point.
In the end, Belfrigh the Suspicious spoke. ‘And who, if I may ask, my lord, told you of this?’
Philibert narrowed his eyes to scrutinise Belfrigh and his insolence; his patience was being tested. I turned and looked at Belfrigh in disbelief; his rudeness and suspiciousness were going to get us all killed. Or was he right to be suspicious? He was after all the veteran in our midst, the most learned warrior… Had that made him mistrust everyone, though? Sometimes with little or no reason? Belfrigh as I slowly started to discover was very good in diplomacy, although he lacked the manners. He always needed to be entirely sure before acting. Hence, his question to the commander. Belfrigh was trying to find out what exactly Philibert had been told by Eleanor and Agnese and whether it was prudent for us to say more in an attempt to save our skins.
The commander did not answer, he instead spoke in French to one of the guards, and he turned around immediately and left the tent only to return moments later with Eleanor at his heels. Philibert forcibly smiled and nodded to Eleanor, who was now decently dressed in a deep blue satin dress. She approached him reluctantly and once next to him, Philibert grabbed her by the waist.
‘To answer your question, sir… This young woman here,’ Philibert said, ‘told me of your story,’ he concluded straight-forwardly, his fake smile still on. ‘Now, whether I believe her or not does not matter… What matters is that your story might help us get rid… I mean to approach the pope. What say you, Prince Edward?’
It was the first time in my life that someone had called me prince and it sounded sweet, yet somewhat odd. ‘I am no prince,’ I said firmly. ‘And my name is Ed.’
‘I beg to differ, My Prince. If you are to succeed in this endeavour, you ought to embrace your royal self. Therefore, you shall now be known as Prince Edward,’ said Philibert with a tone of finality on his voice.
Prince Edward sounded perfect to me, as though from a life I had never known, a potentially better life, from a different world, a world I was happy and complete and still had my family.
‘You think the pope can be convinced to help me?’ I asked and then added: ‘My lord!’ trying to be polite and respectful.
‘I should hope the pope surrenders. He had better do it, Edward. Otherwise, I daresay you are of no use to me… Nor your friends. So, I’ll say this once,’ he said whilst he still had a good grip on Eleanor’s waist, something that seemed to be bothering me. ‘On the morrow, you will be sent to Castel Sant’Angelo along with a dozen soldiers, and you will attempt to negotiate His Holiness’s surrender in whatever way you see fit. If I were you I would rehearse my story overnight, for you must make sure that by the end of your meeting with the pope, he has agreed to pay a ransom in exchange for his life,’ he said.
Then, at last, he released Eleanor, stepped closer to me and bent a bit so we could be at eye level and looked at me coldly. ‘Fail to do so, and you will never see the light of day again. The only thing you shall gaze upon is your friends’ heads on spikes; whilst you will be left a prisoner in the castle along with the pope so you can count your sins waiting for God’s deliverance as you starve to death. Do I make myself clear, My Prince Edward?’ he asked with a sarcastic tone, and I nodded.
*
We spent the whole morrow in Philibert’s tent. We broke our fast and then discussed details of our plan and how to best convince the pope. By midday, I was almost trembling with nerves. I had achieved what I wanted, and I could scarcely believe it. However, I was dreading the moment I would meet with the pope. He was after all the Holy Father of our Church. How could I, a mortal man, be able to persuade him to do something that would hurt his pride and reputation? Furthermore, I would be going alone, without Belfrigh or Aeron, both of whom, despite having our differences lately, I trusted greatly; even though, none of them had clearly stated that they agreed with me on my plan to manipulate the pope. N
ow that the time was approaching, I had a feeling of hesitation myself.
They fed us well and then even permitted us to bathe in great, hot-steaming barrels. Eleanor and Agnese where nowhere to be found and I was fearing that they had been warming the beds of nameless soldiers.
‘’Tis the whores’ plan to get rid of us,’ said Belfrigh as he was trying to find a comfortable position to lie down. Aeron gave him a warning look but thankfully did not answer. We were sitting on a hard bench outside Philibert’s tent. The sun was ironically shining that morrow, as though mocking the wrecked city; although one could spot the remnants of the previous night’s storm, many alleys were still flooded, as were many of the destroyed houses.
‘Have you considered,’ I started, ‘that they might have actually been helping us? And this was but a plan to bring us in contact with the commander?’ I finished my suggestion. It was what I wanted to believe.
‘You’re a damn fool, Ed,’ Belfrigh said. ‘You’re naïve. Don’t you get distracted by a nice pair of tits! ‘Tis what they want you to believe,’ he said scornfully, and I frowned. ‘Don’t you find it a bit suspicious that they knew where and how to find the commander? You didn’t even consider asking me how I ended up chained before you’d even risen from your sleep.’
‘I-’ I started saying, but Belfrigh cut me through.
‘They escaped in the middle of the night, you idiot. When I realised, it was already the crack of dawn and I hurried after them,’ he said whilst I was looking at him in surprise. ‘I had walked but a couple of miles towards the city when I got caught. See, the two whores had already been to the city, alerted the guards and told them where to find us. They were on their way to our shack when I stumbled upon them. They sold us for a handful of coins, no doubt,’ he finished the story, and my heart sank. No, it was not true! I could not believe it, I would not. We saved their lives; how could they repay us in such a way?
‘And why I pray ye, did you not wake us the moment you discovered their absence?’ asked Aeron suspiciously.
‘Because I went out to pursue them immediately, I didn’t want to start arguing, you bag of horseshit,’ Belfrigh replied convincing enough.
Aeron did not answer, nor did I. We could not be entirely sure of Eleanor’s and Agnese’s intentions until we spoke with them. However, we were not allowed to see them, and when I asked one of the guards, he laughed at my face and touched his crotch indicating pleasure. ‘They fuck well, my friend,’ he said, in rather good English. ‘I will revisit them tonight. When they give it to you willingly, it changes your perspective. Especially when they are two of them together,’ he added laughing even harder along with the other three guards that were around us.
The day passed without anything else significant happening, except for my anxiety to rise even more, as the sun was sinking slowly to the west. We spent the night in a small tent, which was so tiny that it could hardly house the three of us together. However, it was undoubtedly an improvement from the cold, moisty cells we were imprisoned a couple of days before. Four guards were posted outside our tent, to make sure we did not attempt to escape during the night. As if we would. We were in the midst of the wolf’s den, and there was nothing we could do but obey the wishes of Philibert.
We laid one next to the other, Belfrigh on the left, Aeron in the middle and me on the right. We did not speak to each other at all that night and slowly we all fell asleep. I was the last one. Hours seemed to have passed until finally, I fell into an uneasy sleep…
Everything started spinning, I started seeing blurry images all around me, not knowing where I was. Then as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. I gazed upon a beautiful, black-haired woman. We were in a courtyard under an enormous white tower. The woman seemed sad and was on her knees, with her hands clasped together praying. She was gentle and looked innocent, yet in my heart, I felt an inexplicable hatred towards her and all I wanted was to hurt her. So, without hesitation I raised Defier and took her head from her shoulders, splashing warm blood on my face and armour. My heart burst into joy and satisfaction, and then I heard a bodiless man’s voice whispering in the air…
‘There will be consequences, Edward. For you are a sinner!
My surroundings changed, and I was in a dark room. I tried to move but I could not. I found myself kneeling in front of a black figure. I realised I was naked and weaponless, my shiny armour had disappeared. It was dark, and the only source of light was a single tall candle that was burning slowly, filling the walls with strange shadows. It seemed like our old small, family chapel.
I raised my head and gazed at Father Edmund, our family priest. There was something odd about his face, though; it was not as I remembered it, gentle and kind; it was all burned, his features disfigured. Had he also perished in the fire? I never found out…
His face scared me, and so I looked down again, gazing my nakedness.
‘Repent, my child!’ he spoke; at least his voice remained the same, although sounded a bit eerie.
‘For what, Father? What have I done?’ I asked, still looking down at my knees.
‘You are a sinner, Edward, and you must repent,’ he replied enigmatically and then I understood.
‘All I do is to avenge my family, Father!’
‘Vengeance is a great sin. You must not dwell on this feeling. You ought to forgive and eventually forget,’ said Father Edmund solemnly. ‘Only God reserves the right to avenge.’
‘Forgive? Forget?’ I asked incredulously feeling my blood rising. ‘They murdered my family, our family, Father. What does God have to say about that?’
‘Edward of York, you are a sinner, and you will burn in Hell’s fires to purge your soul.’
I raised my head and looked at Father Edmund once more. He gazed back at me, his eyes now were fiery, and the next time he spoke, the voice of my sister Margot was heard.
‘It’s your fault, Edward. You deserve to die, to be punished, to burn.’
I took a few steps backwards, frightened. I tried to stand up, but I could not, my feet were chained on the wall. Everything started spinning again, and Father Edmund transformed into a different figure, a taller one, younger and more elegant, his head was encircled by a golden crown. The man seemed familiar, although I was sure I had never met him before. My heart was still racing when he spoke to me, and his voice was booming, echoing around the four walls that were enclosing us.
‘You treacherous, bastard. You will rot here alone in the dark, it’s what befits traitors and heretics,’ he said with malice. ‘Then you will burn… Burn until you are nothing but ashes in the wind, but your soul shall never be free… You are damned for all eternity.’ He laughed devilishly, spittle coming out of his mouth, which I could now see was full of rotten teeth.
‘I’ll kill you for what you’ve done!’ I screamed back at him, but he laughed even harder.
‘You are a Godless bastard, and you will die as such!’ said the man in the crown.
My head was spinning again, the voices hurting it and I woke up suddenly by Aeron who had heard me yelling in my sleep. The voices were still echoing in my ears…
It’s your fault, Edward! You’re the reason we’re all dead!’
*
Castel Sant’Angelo was quite a fortress. Fortified by thick walls, the castle was initially meant to be the Roman Emperor Hadrian’s family mausoleum. However, we were told that it was converted into a military base more than two hundred years ago. It could hold against a great enemy siege. However, that day we went as mere negotiators and not conquerors, although, Philibert had made it clear to me that I should be firm with the pope and impose his weak position, for he was after all on the losing side of this war.
The castle was of course sealed from the inside, and one could not tell that people were occupying it. However, we knew the pope was there, along with a handful of Swiss Guard soldiers who had apparently accompanied him to ensure his protection. We were admitted into the interior reluctantly and were guided silently by ha
lf a dozen Swiss Guards through dark, windowless corridors to the place where the pope had made his residence. Once there, I was astounded to discover that the main interior of the fortress was magnificent, more like a palace than a military base and it seemed to provide any comfort that would be fit for a king.
And there was the pope at the end of the great hall, sitting on a high chair, resembling a throne, trying to salvage whatever dignity he had left. Around him, his guards, holding their tall spears and all dressed in their orange, blue, yellow and red uniforms.
‘We come in peace,’ said one of the imperial soldiers that were accompanying me, in Italian. We all bowed in respect.
‘We shall see,’ Pope Clement the Seventh replied feebly. He looked at us with tired eyes. His red cape was glowing over his white garments, whilst his precious rings were shimmering as if they were producing the sun’s light. He must not have been very old, though he did have a long grey beard that did not compliment his age.
For a moment, I stared at him. He was the Holy Father of the Catholic Church, and although I had every reason to question whether he was God’s anointed representative on Earth, I was in awe standing in the same room with him.
‘We are here to negotiate, Holy Father,’ I said eventually after taking a deep breath. My Italian was flawed, for even after three years in the city I did not have an excellent command of this strange language.
‘And who are you, my child?’ asked the pope in English this time startling me.
‘Your Holiness speaks English?’ I asked surprised.
‘Naturally!’ the pope responded. ‘Although Italian is clearly God’s language, I am but obliged to respect those who do not command it.
I did not wish to provoke the pope with my opinion on that matter, so I said nothing. Instead, I proceeded to the reason for our visit. ‘Your Holiness, we are here to negotiate your immediate release,’ I claimed, still speaking in English, I felt more comfortable in my own mother tongue.
‘Is that so?’ said the pope suspiciously.
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