Chapter 51: Golden Ouroboros (I)

◎Heading to Roman◎〓

The carriages were traveling on the rugged mountain roads, the flags that covered the sky were fluttering, the team was winding like a snake, it was circling among the mountains, the white and gold flags were embroidered with lilies, irises and laurel leaves, the totem with thorny wings was spreading its wings as if ready to fly, the knights and infantry were advancing silently and quickly, the scouts at the front were moving back and forth repeatedly, rotating at the head and tail of the entire team.

This is the convoy of the Pope of Florence. They have been traveling in the mountains for four days and are about to reach the plains. After leaving the mountain, they can change to a train. A few days before the Pope's departure, the engineering team had already set off at full speed, making sure to lay the tracks before His Holiness arrives and connect the various unplanned and scattered stations to reduce the time spent on the road.

Behind the largest golden carriage were many smaller carriages. The Pope was God's representative on earth, and the place where he was was the Holy See on earth. A small number of Florence's clerks and clergy were taken away by him - although it was a small number, it was by no means a small number compared to the huge number of Florence itself. The list of these people had been carefully screened by Julius, with absolute loyalty to His Majesty as a prerequisite, supplemented by other conditions such as wit and capability. Those who were qualified to appear in the team were all considered to be the Pope's direct descendants.

The window of the carriage following closely behind the Pope's carriage was hung with a wine-red curtain. A small hand reached out, lifted a corner of it, and looked out through the pitiful gap. The bright brown eyes were round and innocent.

"Lucretia, come and have some tea." Ingrid called her little cousin in the carriage. She was holding a big-bellied tin kettle in her hand, and there were snacks and teacups on the small table.

The little girl immediately lowered the curtain and rubbed against her sister: "I want more milk and honey."

Ingrid shook the tin kettle in her hand, and the liquid inside made a gurgling sound. "Okay, the rest is yours - how is it outside?"

The Pope left Florence with a grand ceremony. Lesherdt led the Knights Templar as guards, and many clergymen accompanied the Pope. They might not follow him all the way to Rome, but might stop somewhere along the way to spread God's teachings and blessings. They were all devout and steadfast monks who were willing to give everything for their faith.

Not only that, the Pope's motorcade is followed by many civilians who insist on being bathed in God's gospel for eternal life and following the Holy See. In other words, they will follow the Pope for the rest of their lives until they are called by God.

There were some merchants following the caravan, who provided various supplies to the Pope and his entourage during the long journey and opened up new trade routes. These merchants were the best speculators in the world. They were greedy and ambitious, hoping to show their faces in front of His Majesty and gain more benefits.

Royal merchants have existed since before the Middle Ages. Every time the royal family traveled, there would be a group of people following them, looking for the best jewelry, silks, accessories, decorations, and all kinds of strange things for them. If they were lucky, they might become royal merchants, gradually enter the upper class, and gradually become one of them. Even if they were unlucky, they could still get the opportunity to make money.

Raphael was not a hedonistic person like François, but he also admitted that he did not like a hard life - this is human nature. If there is a more comfortable life to choose from, who would suffer for no reason?

The Pope's Palace took some of the things that His Majesty was used to using on a daily basis, and the rest was waiting to be provided by the accompanying merchants on the road at any time, which also reduced the burden on the caravan.

The pot of fresh milk and honey in Lucresa's carriage was presented by the merchants accompanying her. These agile and alert people had eyes sharper than an owl. They had long noticed this carriage that was very close to His Majesty's carriage. From ancient times to the present, the method of judging relationships by distance has never been wrong.

The merchants were like flies that could fly into any hole. They immediately found out who was sitting in the carriage. It was the only daughter of the female lord who died in the June Trial, a little girl of only six or seven years old. His Majesty kept her by his side and took care of her as if she were his own child.

They understood instantly what to do.

It is not too difficult to please a little girl. His Majesty is heavily guarded. The ubiquitous black-robed monks guard His Majesty's carriage closely. Anyone who wants to get close to him must go through at least six rounds of interrogation. His Majesty seldom comes out to see people, so saving the country in a roundabout way becomes their first choice.

Thanks to them, Lucreza

I had a very comfortable time on the road. Not only did I not feel tired from the journey, I even had a little more flesh on my face.

Ingrid filled the silver cup with milk, opened the honey jar, and let Lucretia scoop herself a spoonful. When the little girl looked at her with wide eyes and pity, she shook her head and announced in a heartless manner: "Only one spoonful, dear."

Lucreza pursed her lips, carefully scooped a full spoonful, and stirred it in the cup.

Ingrid put away the honey jar and did not add any more to her cup. Instead, she picked up a book on the shelf and said, "Have you finished reading the book His Majesty sent me yesterday? What is it about?"

At this mention, Lucretia's eyes lit up instantly, and a strange glow appeared on her fair face: "It tells the history of Rome, very interesting! But there are some words that I don't understand. Maybe you can read it again for me tonight? I would love to use it as a bedtime story!"

She quickly squeezed over to Ingrid, opened the book to the first page, and looked at her sister with expectant eyes.

"Okay." Ingrid smiled. She was very happy to see her sister regain her former innocence and liveliness. Although their future life would be more difficult without the protection of Ms. Bianchi, their guardian even knew that Lucreza liked reading... This seemed not bad.

Beside the running carriage, a wheat-colored hand tightly grasped the shaft. The young man, like an agile cheetah, followed the steam carriage for a few steps, then exerted force with his arms to lift his body onto the speeding carriage. This set of movements was full of danger, but neat and graceful. The knights on horseback guarding on both sides saw this scene and cheered.

The car door opened and quickly closed, and the monk with long black curly hair quickly took off his dusty outer robe and threw it casually on the ground. The dust was more than a person high where the convoy passed. No matter how tightly protected, the dust could not be stopped from clinging to the body. Even if staying in the car, he needed to change clothes several times a day.

Ferrante stopped there and shook his hair vigorously. His long, curly black hair was soft and shiny, like a lion with gorgeous fur elegantly cleaning its fur. Every inch of his hair revealed a wild and primitive charm. He casually combed his messy semi-long hair behind his head, bent down and walked to the table and sat down.

The person behind the desk heard the sudden cheers from outside and obviously knew who had come. He leaned back on the soft cushion without even lifting his eyelids, still concentrating on the book in his hand and just pointing at the table.

The teacup on the table is filled with black tea of ​​suitable temperature, and sugar cubes and honey are placed in a transparent glass jar on the side, exuding a sweet and crystal fragrance, waiting for people to taste it.

But Ferrante is not a person who is good at tasting and enjoying wine. It is undeniable that his early experience in the slums has left him with very little experience in this area. Even if he finds a teacher to teach him, his solidified and damaged taste buds cannot allow him to taste the difference in smell between wines produced in the same season from two estates. So Ferrante spent more energy on crash courses, such as various social skills, ballroom dancing, jewelry analysis, spice identification, etc. The former are for the purpose of better blending into the corresponding occasions at the right time, and the last one is for personal safety.

In this age of medical ignorance, spices were often confused with poisons, and many poisons were used as fragrant incenses. The most famous plant among them is belladonna. The spherical fruit of this berry is purple-black and smooth when ripe, with purple juice. The rhizome is rich in scopolamine, and just one oral dose can cause nerve paralysis and death in an adult. However, it has anesthetic and sedative effects, and can also dilate the pupil. Therefore, many noble ladies drip its juice into their eyes to dilate their pupils, showing a touching and pitiful appearance. Many people have died from this wonderful plant.

Whatever the purpose, Ferrante needed to know as many plant species and ways of using them as possible.

He sat down at the table, threw enough sugar cubes to make one frown into the teacup, stirred it with a teaspoon, and poured all the warm tea into his mouth in one breath.

After finishing his tea, Ferrante felt his restless heart calm down. "In about three days, we will leave the Kaliana Mountains and enter the River Plain. The engineering team has sent a message that the rail connection has entered the final stage. All connections can be completed before you arrive. We will then change to a steam train. The first stop is Valando City. The person you asked us to find lives there. Several monks have already found him."

After saying this, he hesitated for a moment and said, "They said he was a lunatic, a mentally handicapped person, and he seemed to have intellectual problems as well."

Raphael closed the book and asked back with interest: "Really?"

The Pope leaned back on the soft pillow in a very relaxed posture: "A madman, a mentally ill person, but what this person wrote is very interesting, although most of it is the crazy ramblings of a drunkard."

Ferrante obviously knows what he is talking about and has read that "very interesting book". When he thought of the book, his face was not very good, and he replied after a long time: "I felt like a herd of elephants trampled my brain after reading it."

His bad metaphor made the Pope laugh so hard that his pale face turned slightly red. At the end of his laughter, Raphael even felt the pain of lack of oxygen in his lungs. He pressed his waist and wiped away the tears that oozed from the corners of his eyes: "Well... its wording is indeed a bit... unexpected, but did you notice the picture?"

The picture that the Holy Father was referring to immediately appeared in Ferrante's eyes. The picture on the manuscript was painted entirely by hand. It was incredible that the painter could use the simple red and blue ink to draw such a detailed picture. All parts of the human body were spread out naked on the paper, abandoning beauty, ugliness, height, and even gender. The person who was dissected was just a "person" itself. After taking off all the accessories, the bloody organs, blood vessels, and bones were terrifying to look at.

To be honest, Ferrante was no stranger to these things, but he could not understand why someone would paint them so meticulously, as if they were studying some treasure.

"Julius recommended this person to me, and I should go and meet him," Raphael added.

The book was sent to him after Julius had selected it. Before handing the book to the Pope, he would definitely read it first. Even Ferrante thought it was outrageous, so it was impossible for Julius, who had profound literary attainments, to fail to see it. However, he still gave the book "Natural Sciences and Human Medicine" to Raphael.

This is a silent recommendation.

Julius believed that this book was absolutely outstanding, and even the confusing and incoherent text could not erase its brilliance. Raphael felt the same way, so Raphael gave the author's name to Ferrante and asked the group of cute little crows to help him investigate.

After hearing the name, Ferrante narrowed his eyes, and a cold light flashed in his dark blue eyes: "Recommendation from the Secretary-General?"

There was something strange in his tone. Raphael caught it and thought he was wary of Julius planting someone, so he sighed and said, "Don't think too much. Julius is very rational, and this is my own judgment. You seem to be wary of him more than you trust me, dear."

The last syllable of his voice dropped, and his lavender eyes looked at Ferrante quietly, without any emotion in them. But when he looked at me silently, that cold and oppressive feeling hit me like never before, forcing me to clear all my thoughts and even want to take out my heart to prove my devotion to him.

Ferrante opened his eyes slightly, and a fear of being scrutinized, divided, and abandoned surged into his brain. He thought nothing and immediately denied it: "No, I didn't think that."

Raphael didn't say anything, just staring at him quietly, which made Ferrante feel uneasy. Then he said softly, "Really?"

Without waiting for Ferrante to answer, he reached out his hands and gently held Ferrante's face, his nose against Ferrante's, and looked closely into those ocean-like blue eyes: "I hope you will trust me and give me everything you have, including your fears. I promised you that I would let you see the new world you expect, and the price is that you become my property."

It was the first time he had spoken so bluntly, but as he had expected, such bluntness did not make Ferrante resist. Instead, the young man with black curly hair felt safe, like a tamed wolfhound, the contact with the collar made him feel at ease and controlled - it meant that he would not be abandoned or thrown away, there would always be someone who would open their arms to him and accept his ugliness, sin, unbearableness and meanness.

What a great happiness this is.

“Yes, I belong to you,” Ferrante repeated, closing his eyes meekly.

He inherited beautiful facial features from his mother. His feminine appearance was neutralized by the masculine traits into a more bizarre beauty. However, he usually had a cold face, with his curly hair and hood covering most of his facial features. He carried the cold and bloody smell of a torture chamber, and few people dared to look directly at him. When he closed his eyes, his gentle and docile temperament washed away the cold barbs.

Raphael placed a kiss on his forehead: "I accept."^o^

The author has something to say:

Do you remember where this book appeared? It was the reading material that Raphael used to pass the time during the trial.

Diary of Saint Sistine I: To be honest, when I read the first half of this book, I felt like I was surrounded and trampled countless times by mad wild horses, and those mad horses were trying to perform an opera on me. If Julius had not brought me only this book, I would have thrown it into old Russo's mouth, at least to sort out the garbage - to be honest, I suspect the only reason Julius brought it to me was that he was driven insane by it.