Chapter 31 Jadeite Gem (2)

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The team members, who had learned from the captain what was happening in the lower city before coming, were nervous and wanted to mobilize all their muscles to avoid their touch. This evasive action made the poor people's eyes show anger and hatred. The hands that stretched out from the gaps in the fences and caltrops were like waving black flags, revealing an ominous color.

"Go back! Everyone, go back! Stay at home!"

The man dressed as a squad leader held up a crude loudspeaker made of rolled tin sheets, pressed it tightly to his mouth, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

The silent crowd turned their eyes to him, and gradually, low whispers appeared in the crowd.

"They locked us up, wanting us to die here?"

"They don't want to care about us... This is an order from the Papal Palace. The Holy Father has abandoned us."

"Go home? I don't have any food at home. The York family in the bakery are all dead. There are so many corpses in the church that there is no place to put them. I will die if I go home. Does the Holy Father really not want us?"

The whispers and confused sounds gradually grew louder, and the team leader noticed that more and more people were coming from the street behind. They were pushing forward in confusion and anger, like a dark tide hitting a weak dam.

"The nobles in the upper city just don't want to be infected by us. They are afraid of death. They may flee Florence soon. Then we will be the only ones who die here."

Not knowing who said this in the crowd, the team leader was startled and looked quickly, but the crowd was too dense and he could not tell who said what.

"The Holy Father will not ignore you!" the captain shouted at the top of his voice, "The doctors in the Papal Palace are already preparing the medicine, and they will be here soon!"

But his words did not seem to calm the rioting crowd. Fiery red light appeared in the eyes of the numb people. They looked at the people on this side of the fence with hatred, and some people had already begun to try to pull the caltrops on the fence.

“Oh my God, this won’t do.” The captain was acutely aware of something. His whole body was numb and he subconsciously wanted to step back. However, in front of the crowd staring at him angrily, he felt that if he stepped back, he would be swallowed up by the surging waves. “Go and inform the Pope’s Palace. They want to resist!”

The Holy Father in the Papal Palace did not

Just as people imagined, while they were comfortably waiting to evacuate Florence, the cardinals and nobles in the council hall were arguing fiercely. Fear was on each of their faces, and they were divided into two distinct factions, arguing over whether to withdraw the Holy See from Florence.

The facts were just as Raphael and Julius had expected. After the news of the epidemic in the lower city reached the Pope's desk, the same news soon appeared on the tables of the cardinals and the nobles of Florence. The bailiffs from the council chamber of the Papal Palace knocked on their door holding a cane with a holy thorn pattern, and invited them to the council chamber for talks in the name of the Holy Father. Everyone knew one thing: what needed to be discussed was whether the Holy See should leave.

Since Saint Lear placed his throne in Florence, the Holy See has never left Florence for more than a thousand years. Under the threat of epidemic, the Pope fled his own country, which was a huge blow to the prestige of the Holy See. Doesn't this prove that the Holy See has been rejected by God, so that divine punishment has actually descended upon the Pope? The Pope's embarrassing escape as God's representative on earth will nail the Holy See to the pillar of shame forever.

The kings would be ecstatic about the decline of theocracy. They had long been looking forward to freeing the crown from the scepter of God and completely stripping away the Pope's influence on the people that was weighing on them. Isn't this a great opportunity?

Supporters who insisted that the Holy See should stay in Florence had strong arguments and wanted to point at the opposition and say that they were demons who had betrayed the glory of God. Those who demanded that the Holy See withdraw were even more righteous. They said that the disease might very likely completely destroy the Holy See, and rather than facing an empty Holy See, it would only be a loss of prestige, which was nothing to be unacceptable.

They asked again, is this their piety to watch cardinals, bishops, monks, and even those noble people die one after another? ——When he said this, he glanced at the Pope. Everyone knew that the "honorable person" he wanted to mention most but omitted was the Pope, but he did not say it out of etiquette.

The two sides were arguing fiercely in the meeting hall. An archbishop of the migration faction was waving the report in his hand and shouting at the opposite side while standing on a stool. On the other side, the archbishop of the conservative faction immediately jumped onto the table and hit him in the nose - his movements were so fast that Raphael didn't even have time to ask the deacon to stop him. The two gray-haired clergymen started a Florentine version of gladiatorial combat on the long table, panting like bulls.

The people standing next to them stood up to break up the fight, and of course there were some intentional or unintentional physical clashes. Raphael looked at the scene below that gradually turned into a fight, and turned to look at the secretary-general beside him as if nothing had happened: "How is the blockade of the lower city going? - No, let the gentlemen vent their anger, they know when to be quiet."

His last words were addressed to the nervous-looking deacon.

Julius smiled and said, "The security team has already gone to the lower city. If they move quickly, they will report back soon."

He was right. Almost in the next second after he finished speaking, a young man in a security uniform came hurriedly over, led by the deacon guarding the gate. He stared in amazement at the fight between the well-dressed bishops and nobles in the hall. His expression was as if he saw a god holding a roasted leg of lamb suddenly appear at his door and invite him to dance samba.

They walked through the flying papers and robes that had been torn off someone, tiptoeing carefully to avoid stepping on the broken glass ink bottle, like Saint Moriah who had gone through nine tribulations to ask God for help, and finally came before the Pope.

"Your Majesty." The security team member knelt on one knee at the foot of Raphael and kissed the lily and thorn embroidery on the corner of his robe.

Raphael looked at him gently: "Please stand up, sir, what do you want to tell me?"

——"You evil big-nosed freak! You're a fool whose brain has been clouded by the devil! Do you want the entire church to be destroyed along with you?"

——"Bah! Misada, who seduced the saint, can't be more evil than you! The Vatican will be condemned by God the moment it leaves Florence. You betrayed the Holy Throne of God, and you want us to betray the highest faith with you! I spit on you!"

The Pope's gentle voice was mixed with the archbishops' verbal attacks. They spoke wittily and instantly turned into eloquent ancient Greek philosophers, using allusions from the scriptures and various slangs at will. Anyone who came here would think they had come to the debate venue of a seminary.

In such chaos, the Pope had his own quiet world around him. All the noise and chaos could not affect the Pope at all. The security team looked at the book that just flew over their heads uneasily and said hesitantly: "Uh... the people in the lower city seem to be out of control. More and more people are gathering there. Unless we use force, our defense line will collapse at any time."

"Oh," the Pope said with a smile on his face, "thank you, sir, for bringing me this timely news. Please go down and rest."

"Your Majesty!" The team member suddenly raised his voice. He took a deep breath and stammered, "I...I'm sorry, but, but I want to know, will you give up on us? Leave Florence?"

He heard the argument of the protagonists, and he admitted that what they said made sense. Precisely because it made sense, he was confused about what he should think. As for himself, of course he wanted to stay away from the epidemic, but he still had some relatives and friends, and it was impossible for them all to leave.

"Of course I won't give up on you." The blond pope lowered his eyes and looked at him, his tone steady and powerful, "I am your Holy Father. Is there any father in this world who abandons his children?"

His words were not so sonorous, but the young man's heart suddenly settled down, and he bowed deeply to the Pope: "Thank you, Holy Father."

Raphael watched him leave the meeting room, then turned to the deacon beside him and said, "Okay, gentlemen, let's be quiet."

The deacon pulled the bell rope at the side, and the rapid and crisp bells jingled in unison, symbolizing that God's spokesman was about to speak.

The people who were chatting excitedly suddenly became quiet, as if they were waiting for such a ring.

They quickly straightened their torn robes, picked up someone's belt from the ground and tied it around themselves casually, staring at each other across the table like bulls.

"My brothers," the Lord of Florence turned a blind eye to their previous fight, "I am very grateful for your careful consideration for the Holy See, and I also sense your deep love for Florence. I just received a piece of news."

The clergy and nobles pricked up their ears and listened attentively.

"The members of the Florence Security Team I sent to block the lower city told me that the people in the lower city have shown signs of disorder. If they don't use force, they will not be able to control the situation."

Someone immediately raised his voice: "Then use force!"

The one who spoke was a nobleman in gorgeous clothes. He sat at the other end of the migration faction and had obviously exerted a lot of effort in the previous fight. His carefully curled beard drooped over his mouth, and he was trying hard to fix his beautiful beard with his fingers.

A bishop immediately glared at him: "They are also God's people! How can you say such cruel words!"

"Gentlemen, wonderful debates can be held in the lecture hall of the Florentine Seminary," Sistine I said coldly, "What I need is a solution. Tell me how to calm down the anxious and suffering people."

"If you can't come up with a feasible solution, then I have an idea."

People looked at each other for a while, then bowed their heads towards the end of the long table and said, "Holy Father, please give us your instructions."

Sistine I placed his hands on the armrests, his expression calm and relaxed: "I will go into the lower city and stay with the people there until the epidemic is over. All affairs of the Papal Palace will be under the full responsibility of my loyal and pious secretary, Mr. Julius Portia."

Everyone opened their mouths wide, with funny expressions as if they had swallowed a raw egg, and their faces were colorful as if a paint shop was opened.

Several people exchanged glances secretly, and their interactions, which they thought were hidden, fell into Julius's eyes. The Secretary-General stroked the ring on his thumb and wrote the names of these people into the blacklist.

"I don't need any objections." When they were about to speak, Raphael stopped them first. "This is the result of my careful consideration. You can stay with me, or leave Florence. I forgive all your self-protective behaviors and forgive you on behalf of God."

Many people immediately swallowed what they were about to say and began

"At your command, Your Majesty."

The most conservative group who reacted the fastest were already overjoyed and loudly agreed. As for the Pope's statement that he would enter the lower city... there would always be a way to make him change his mind.

What they didn't expect was that after Pope Sistine I walked out of the parliament hall, the Knights Templar were already standing at the door in solemn and orderly formation. He got on the carriage, and the knights surrounded the Pope, escorting the carriage straight to the west.

The bishops who were left behind looked at the direction of the Pope's carriage in confusion. After a while, their faces turned pale. "That's... that's the direction of the downtown area! He is actually serious!"

Of course I'm serious.

The resolute Pope Sistine I, surrounded by the Papal Guards and the Knights Templar, passed through the upper town and stopped in front of the layers of fences in the lower town under the watchful eyes of countless people.

The people there were still in a stalemate with the members of the security team. There were already the remains of a fence under their feet. The members of the security team were holding spears and flintlock rifles, and were confronting them from a distance in a nervous and panicked manner.

"His Majesty the Pious and Great Saint Sistine I has arrived!"

The pope's heralds rode ahead, solemnly calling out and announcing the pope's arrival.

The arrival of the Pope stunned everyone. Even the most angry people could not overcome their long-standing respect and faith for the Pope. When they saw the silver light armor of the Knights Templar and the snow-white uniforms of the Pope's Guard, they all knelt down, muttering the Pope's title and praying for his protection.

The carriage stopped and a tall and slender young man jumped off. He looked around and the members of the Knights Templar quickly found the alert position. The young man with black curly hair raised his face, revealing a handsome and somewhat enchanting profile, and stretched out a hand towards the carriage.

The thin Pope came out of the carriage with his head slightly lowered. He stood on the shaft and looked down at the crowd in front of him. The sun shone from behind him. Messy, dirty, depressing and low slum buildings lined up on both sides of him. Everything was so suffocating. The Pope standing in the sun was like a saint who came down from heaven and set foot on this long-forgotten land with God's grace.

"My people," the blond and purple-eyed pope was slender, with a snow-white robe and a golden chasuble wrapped around his body. He looked like the kind of messenger of God who could save the world that people could imagine in their barren imagination. God ordered him to come to the earth to see the sufferings of the world, so he chose to reach out and lift up the helpless and sinking souls. "I, Sistine I, am your protector, your Holy Father, the incarnation of God who swore to save you. My children, brothers and sisters, you have entrusted me with your precious faith, and I will be with you until the devil withdraws from this sacred land under the glory of God."

His words were very brief. After he finished speaking, he took the young man's hand and slowly got out of the car. He straightened his clothes and walked towards the fence with steady and firm steps.

"Oh my God... Your Majesty!" The members of the security team didn't know whether to be amazed or shocked. The sculpture-like knights of the Knights Templar beside them moved instantly. They strode forward, quickly dismantled the fences wrapped with caltrops, cleared away the wooden boards, stones and debris, and opened up a path for people to walk.

Sistine I did not hesitate from beginning to end.

Under Mo's gaze, he raised his foot and stepped onto the rotten land that was oozing with pus and growing scars.

“Seal off the lower city.”

He gave the order after he passed the fence.

This time, no one expressed anger at the security team members who had taken action. The fence closed again behind the Pope, and the creaking sound sounded like a meaningful declaration.