The Reversed Hierophant
Chapter 43: Judgement III

“No, I didn’t accept that order willingly. It was His Holiness Sistine I who threatened me with my family – ,” Old Russo retorted.

Julius quickly interjected, “But you just said that His Holiness inherited a weak papal palace, that he didn’t have enough manpower or authority. So why would you fear of His Holiness who has no real power?”

Old Russo’s face turned green, “As a devout believer, it is a truth taught by the doctrine that I respect and believe in His Holiness’s authority!”

Julius quickly laughed lightly, “The doctrine tells you to obey the orders of His Holiness, but it doesn’t tell you to uphold the good virtues of being honest, kind, and refraining from killing? Are you following the orders of the illusory His Holiness, or are you driven by personal interests?”

The mockery in his smile was so heavy that some people started laughing as well.

Old Russo gritted his teeth, his cheek muscles bulging like a frog about to croak, and his eyes darted rapidly. “I admit that there was a little personal desire involved…”

Julius didn’t wait for him to finish, and began to question him rapidly, “What were you conspiring about at the Dural Mansion on March 18th?”

“You claim that all conspiracies were ordered by the glorious His Holiness, is there any witness who can prove it?”

“What specific benefits do you hope to gain from this?”

Before Old Russo could fabricate more lies, Julius quickly raised his hand, “Of course, our one-sided words are not enough to convince anyone. Why don’t we let the participants at that time answer for us? I think the testimony of seven people is more powerful than our two-person debate.”

The Chief Judge understood the secretary’s meaning and quickly knocked the gavel, “Bring in the witnesses!”

The oak side door was pulled open, and under the guidance of a black-clothed monk, seven lords walked in with their heads bowed. They deliberately avoided the vicious gaze from the defendants and nodded to the judge.

“Ladies and gentlemen, as witnesses here, can you swear under oath that all your testimony in court comes from your heart and is absolutely true?”

A black-clothed monk came forward with the Holy Book, and several lords placed their hands on the Holy Book one after another, “I swear.”

“The defendants are accused of committing an unforgivable crime during the great plague in Florence, and the beginning of all conspiracies was in the secret meeting on March 18th. You are all accused of participating in that meeting. Please make a truthful statement on this.” The Chief Judge said solemnly.

The several lords looked at each other, and a middle-aged man with a long golden wig spoke first, ” I first received an invitation from Lord Quentin at a dance party. He said there was a secret small gathering – of course, I didn’t know the content of that gathering was, was so unconscionable.”

He swallowed, his eyes flickering, skipping over this detail, in fact, no one would pursue this insignificant little thought of his. “After arriving at the Dural Mansion, I found that the participants in the meeting were all my old friends. We are all lords of the Papal States and have always maintained a close relationship. His Holiness invited us to Florence to participate in the the Feast of Divine Grace, but he has never allowed us to return. Some of us expressed our uneasiness about this. They seemed to think that His Holiness had… well, anyway, it was a very bad speculation, so they planned…”

As he said this, he was silent for a moment, his whole body trembling slightly. This meaningful silence made everyone recall the tragic situation of the plague. The dead were piled up like mountains, and the fires of cremation burned day and night, turning half the sky of Florence’s lower city red. Everyone who couldn’t sleep could see that despairing fire symbolizing death, which almost dragged the holy city into eternal death.

“They originally wanted to start a war,” another lord took over, his voice low and slow. “But war is uncontrollable, so Lord Russo finally proposed a disease. Use the plague to disrupt Florence and cause unrest among the people in the lower city—this plan was originally successful until His Holiness entered the lower city. The people who were inciting the people inside could not carry out the next step, which caused this plan to fail halfway.”

Many people belatedly realized that the Pope, who was accused by Old Russo of causing the plague, was the first person to enter the epidemic area when the plague broke out.

“God has made all people equal in the face of death and disease, Lord Russo. The Pope, whom you say wanted to profit from this epidemic, was the first person to dare to step into that place. Are you trying to say that His Holiness used his own life and death as a bargaining chip on the gambling table—for the sake of an illusory benefit that he wasn’t sure he could get?” Julius asked pointedly.

Old Russo didn’t speak. The four lords who were also defendants looked at each other and were ready to turn against him. If they didn’t push Old Russo to the front now, would they be hanged on the gallows with him? This was not called betrayal, but a wise choice made according to the circumstances.

At this moment, they seemed to have forgotten the accusations they had made against their seven companions when they entered the court.

“Please continue your statement,” the Judge brought the trial back on track.

The only woman among the seven lords wore a huge Romanesque hard hat, with a soft veil hanging from the brim that could just cover her face, completely blocking her entire face. For a noblewoman, this was the only way to maintain her dignity in front of the public in the court.

At this moment, the female lord took over her companion’s words: “Lord Russo proposed the method of using the plague. If a plague breaks out in Florence, the Pope will leave the holy city to protect himself. We could also take this opportunity to return to our territory to protect ourselves. We—we agreed.”

As soon as she finished speaking, there was a huge boo in the courtroom. Someone in the audience shouted loudly, “Demon!”

“You should be hanged in the marketplace!”

“Hell hates your filthy, stinking souls!”

The female lord’s face turned slightly pale under the veil, but she insisted on continuing, “…This matter has nothing to do with His Holiness Sistine I from beginning to end. Russo’s accusations are all slander.”

She clearly and frankly stated the Pope’s innocence.

Russo stared at her viciously, and slammed his fists on the oak table in front of him: “Foolish woman! Do you think he will forgive you because of your surrender?! He has already thought about chopping off your head!”

The expressions of the other six lords became somewhat strange and shaken because of this sentence, but the female lord turned her head and glanced at Old Russo through the veil. From the gap in the veil, Old Russo was stunned to replace that his rare honest warning didn’t arouse her vigilance.

On the contrary, she seemed to have made up her mind, and her tone became more fluent: “After His Holiness entered the lower city, we knew that our plan had failed. Lord Portia guarded us more closely, we couldn’t escape Florence in the chaos, and we couldn’t even send any information outside. I knew that our conspiracy would eventually be exposed, so I chose to confess everything to His Holiness who had returned, and I was forgiven by him.”

When he heard the word ‘forgiveness,’ Old Russo let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh.

Rafael was unmoved by his ridicule, calmly turning a page of the book. Instead, a series of curses rang out from the audience.

“Does the defendant have any rebuttal or supplement to the above testimony?” The Judge knocked the gavel hard and shouted at the top of his voice to drown out the boos and curses in the courtroom.

The several lords standing with Old Russo exchanged glances at the same time, and the one standing at the far end cleared his throat, “I… I plead guilty.”

Old Russo’s face changed the moment he cleared his throat. He wanted to say something, but the other three were afraid that he would say something to drag them down, so they quickly followed, “I plead guilty!”

“I plead guilty!”

“I plead guilty!”

Julius leaned against the railing with a half-smile on his face. His deep purple eyes looked like an abyss looking down from above in the dim light. He pressed his silver cane with one hand and said, “You are all too eager. Uninformed people may suspect that the court had used improper means to force the defendant to plead guilty. Please take your time and explain clearly what crimes you have committed—or rather, what else do you have to ask for?”

For a moment, it seemed as if an absurd comedy was staged in the courtroom, with the defendants rushing to confess their crimes, while the plaintiff began to slowly refuse their overly quick confessions.

“As the Judge and Sir Ferrante have accused, we tried to disrupt Florence with the plague, force the Holy See to flee, and then, then…” The speaker swallowed. Even though this was indeed what they wanted to do, when these dark and cold things were brought to the light of day, they still felt stiff and cold all over, as if they were being stripped naked for others to see, “Then we wanted to take advantage of the chaos… to harm the Holy See.”

In the end, he still vaguely summarized it as “harm”.

But everyone already understood what he meant. For a moment, the whole courtroom was in an uproar. People stood up from their seats and threw small things in their hands—folding fans or pocket watches, brooches, and stones from nowhere—at the people in the defendant’s seat.

The monks who maintained order around the courtroom turned a blind eye and watched for a moment, before slowly stepping forward to stop their behavior at the shout of the Judge.

Because the audience was too excited, the Judge had to announce a temporary recess. A sharp and clear bell rang, and the bailiffs shook their copper bells around the court. The judges, jurors, witnesses, and defendants quickly exited from the side door. The Pope on the high platform had already been protected by Julius and left when the court became noisy.

Embarrassingly, the witnesses and defendants happened to walk through the same door. They met in the corridor behind the door and showed uncomfortable expressions to each other. Old Russo stared at each witness like a hyena staring at a rabbit. Some of the witnesses turned their heads away guiltily, while others looked at him expressionlessly. The female lord didn’t pay any attention to him at all, and followed the black-clothed monk who was leading the way straight forward.

As she passed Old Russo, the old man said coldly, “Do you think he will really forgive you? Just wait for that that vengeful devil to twist your head off.”

The noblewoman paused, her veil swaying slightly, and the fine silk shimmered like waves with her movements.

The woman, her red lips curved up under the peacock blue veil and deliberately painted with the most crimson lipstick glanced at Old Russo, as if she saw some disgusting bug or presumptuous thing, and a trace of condescending contempt and pity flashed in her eyes. She said softly, “Do you think I’m doing this to survive?”

Her voice was but a whisper, but it sounded like a loud bell that knocked open a barrier in Old Russo’s mind that he couldn’t figure out no matter how hard he tried.

He suddenly remembered something and widened his eyes in shock, “You—what did he promise you?”

The woman ignored him and walked past him, her expression calm and composed.

They were guarded separately in several simple rooms. There were silent black-clothed monks at the doors and in the rooms. The presence of these crow-like people was intimidating in itself, making the nervous and guilty lords restless, waiting for the summoning bell to ring outside to restart the court.

But the bell was slow to ring, and in their anxiety, the whistling voices seemed to penetrate the heavy walls and smashed into their eardrums. The shouts were too chaotic and vague to make out any words, and they could clearly feel the anger that broke through everything.

The shouts and roars of countless people gathered together, like a violent storm hitting the closed rooms, making the already uneasy lords even more frightened. They didn’t care about the surveillance of the black-robed monks anymore, and subconsciously huddled together, like baby birds huddled together seeking the sparse comfort of their companions. Only the female lord who made the most powerful accusation sat alone in the armchair.

Hearing the strange cries from outside getting louder and louder, the female lord raised her head from her contemplation and walked quickly to the window to listen carefully. As she listened, her expression changed, first shock, then realization, then fear, and finally a calmness as still and silent as death.

It seemed that at that moment, she suddenly understood something.

“What’s that noise outside?” The lord who was imprisoned with her couldn’t help but ask.

The woman was silent for a moment and replied, “It’s the death knell calling us to hell.”

After saying this, she returned to her armchair and didn’t say another word.

The others looked at each other for a moment, trying to imitate her and listen, but the sound of uniform footsteps came from outside the door, followed by the ringing of the bell announcing the opening of the court session.

The black-clothed monks, still as a sculpture, suddenly came to life and walked towards them, ready to take them out.

The lords walked out of the room again with doubts and uneasiness in their hearts. Without the sound insulation of the thick door, the deafening roar from outside the courtroom hit their ears.

“Death to these devils!”

——Countless people were shouting.

“Hang these demons who want to murder His Holiness!”

——Shouting at the top of one’s lungs.

“To hell with them! Off with their heads!”

——Men, women, young and old were all roaring.

“Wicked people! Apologize to Florence!”

—The voice came from the largest and most humble people in the lower city.

“Protect His Holiness! They still want to slander the Holy See! These villains deserve to be burned to death!”

—I don’t know whose shout it was, but it was met with widespread approval.

The entire people of Florence was shocked by this trial. Those who were not qualified to enter the courtroom surrounded the Tribunal building tightly. The originally solemn and grand building looked as delicate and fragile as a toy in the hands of a child, as if it would collapse with a gentle push.

The black-clothed monks at the door formed a rope to block the crowd. It was precisely because they wore the thorns belonging to the papal palace that the people respectfully waited outside. However, no one knew who leaked Old Russo’s words in the court, and these people became unprecedentedly enraged.

Those devils who tried to destroy Florence actually wanted to murder the Pope, and after their sinister plan failed, actually tried to slander their Pope in court?!

They surged forward angrily, wanting to rush directly into the courtroom and kill those sinners with their own hands. The boiling emotions gathered together, forming a storm that terrified everyone in the courtroom. They seemed to have lost their reason, and it was as if a hand was twisting them into a long spear, which was held in a certain person’s hand, waiting to stab his enemy.

This was an unprecedentedly terrifying scene. The rioters held bricks and broken tiles picked up from the ground in their hands, and old farm tools became their spears. Sticks or bottles were excellent weapons. They were like ferocious lions, tigers, and hungry wolves, surging up the steps in front of the courtroom.

The rumbling footsteps and shouts made the glass windows in the courtroom tremble. Everyone who was led back to their seats turned pale and restless. They began to subconsciously look for a way to leave, but they found in despair that there seemed to be no way for them to pass through this group of irrational mob unscathed, except by flying from the sky.

—People who have lost their reason won’t care whether they are jurors or defendants, they will only wash away their anger with blood.

Instinctively, they began to pray, looking at the statue made of colored glass on the dome of the grand courtroom, praying that God would send a savior to take them away from this desperate situation.

Julius was accompanying Rafael through the corridor from the lounge to the courtroom. Of course, they also heard the sound of this crazy wave, and even the ground beneath their feet was shaking.

The Pope’s white robe fluttered gracefully on the ground like the tail fin of a swimming fish or the wings of a flying bird. The golden vestment wrapped his shoulders and waist, and the tail end fell on his abdomen, turning into beautiful golden waves with his steps. He walked quickly through the gaze of the portraits on both sides, and the sunlight cast by the glass window danced on his golden hair, splashing out a blurry golden luster.

“You heard them,” said Julius absentmindedly, “Are you going to answer them?”

This sentence had no clear direction and it seems to apply to both parties inside or outside the courtroom.

The young Pope stood in front of the last door. Behind this thick door was a terrifying tide that could sweep away and crush anyone into pieces.

He gave a strange smile: “Of course, I am their father, the incarnation of God on earth.”

Without letting the knights behind him take action, he pushed open the door with his own strength. The last half of the sentence floated away in the oncoming shouts.

“I never leave any prayer that comes to me in despair.”