"I have not been crushed by anything that has happened so far," he proclaimed firmly.
In the counts former office, which was now being used by New Vatican, Alfonso d'Este looked into the faces of the priests lined up.
Whilst they had been immersed in the meeting, the sun had come up. The snow was stopping, and through a break in the clouds, brilliant sunlight shone. The light reflected off the fresh snow, making the whole world seem to shine like silver. The priest looked up at the light, a burning defiance in his eyes, as if he had the gall to challenge God himself. "I follow the will of God. Of course the heavens will shine on us. Is that not right?"
"Yes, Your Holiness." Heidrich nodded. He was still wrapped in bandages, after sustaining injuries at the battle of Brno. He was a famous soldier, known for wielding swords in both hands. He adjusted the two large swords on his back and nodded with a confidence that bordered on fever. "The proof is that I escaped from Brno safe, despite being surrounded. The rotten scum in Rome will be wiped out if it's God's will."
"It is as my brother says, Your Holiness!" Friedrich, a priest, spoke up in agreement of Heidrich. He wore long whips that were attached to his belt on both sides. He clenched his fist and, turning to his master and allies, raised his voice to spur them on: "When spring comes, we will leave this rural town and head north. We have heard that there are considerable numbers of men who are opposed to the tyranny of the Vatican. We will work with them and bide our time."
"Until we are able to fight again," Alfonso commented. He looked out at one of the castle gardens and nodded.
This snow was their ally. The church's forces had not been able to track them down because of it. Using this to their advantage, they had regained their strength and were waiting for the time when they were strong enough again. The Vatican's authority was by no means firm. There were many cracks in which they could hide.
"Your Holiness, I'm sorry to disturb you when you're busy..." From behind, a monk called for his attention. "There are some men here who urgently need to speak to you."
When Alfonso looked around, he saw that there were several people at the doorway to the office—many townspeople, wrapped up against the cold. With them, they carried two coffins.
"What are the caskets for?" Friedrich eyed the boxes suspiciously. He took a few steps forward and looked in.
"No, you mustn't," the largest of the townsfolk hurriedly recommended. It was Sergei, the owner of the town's hotel. "They are in a very bad state. I would recommend that you do not look."
However, his warning was ignored. The priest bent down and easily lifted the lid with one hand. Immediately he screwed his face up. "Wh-what is this?!"
Inside the coffin was a corpse. Of course, just any corpse wouldn't catch Friedrich off-guard. The corpse was completely wrapped in bandages, with not a single section of skin showing, and the bandages themselves were covered in blood.
"What is with this body?!"
"It's... it's the body of the monk," Sergei answered. He closed the lid again and continued. "This is Alois and Richter... We found them dead last night in the street."
"WHAT?"
They were being told that their friends were dead. The blood ran out of the priests' faces. But both men had been well last night. They had gone out to patrol the town, but they had returned as corpses.
"It is very difficult to say this, but they must have been murdered by one of the townsmen." Sergei timidly offered an explanation: "Last night, I heard yelling outside my hotel. When I went to look, there were several men in the streets, fighting. I ran out as quickly as I could, but I was too late."
"How? Two of our monks..." Alfonso said, his voice quivering with anger. His vision blurred in rage. He knew that there had been unrest among the locals, but this was the first time there had been casualties. And it was clear that something considerably violent had occurred. "The names of their killers? Do you know where they are?" Alfonso asked.
"Yes... In fact we caught one of them. Shall we bring him to you?"
"Yes! Now!"
Sergei didn't have to be ordered. From among the small group of townsfolk, a young man in chains was pushed forward.
"So this is him..." Alfonso looked down with contempt at the man. He was covered in bruises and looked pitiful. But Alfonso was surprised when he looked into the man's face. "It's the count! You disappeared very quickly from the castle. We've been worried. It's not very polite to neglect your guests," Alfonso chided.
"Guests? You're nothing but thieves! And disgusting heretics!" The count looked up at Alfonso. His face was not only bruised but covered in blood and dirt. "Well, the master of the house has returned. So get out!"
"I'm sorry, but we can't do that. It's still snowing. We're not moving until spring. Anyway, are you the man who killed these two? Killing men of the cloth is a serious crime, you know that, right?" Alfonso was playing with Eulis.
"Men of the cloth? They looked like heretics to me!"