Chapter 41 Jadeite Gem (12)
Judgment (I)
Redrick sat on the chair with a gloomy face, his eyes fixed on the long table in front of him. He felt that many people were looking at him obscurely. Duke Lusen, who was already in a bad mood, smacked his lips hard, and then he found that the timid civilians sitting on both sides of him shrank their bodies away from him even harder.
…I feel even worse.
Redrick pulled his face and glared fiercely at the front and side - there was only a thin curtain that had fallen, and a figure behind the curtain was sitting quietly, and it seemed that he was holding a book in his hand.
Redrick exhaled heavily through his nose, looked around again, and rolled his eyes at the chattering Chief Justice when his sight passed him, not hiding his annoyance.
In fact, he had no idea why he was here - among this group of lowly paupers.
All members of the special jury composed of twelve people were randomly selected by the Pope. The Florence Archon's Palace keeps the household registration certificates of all the residents of Florence. The Pope only needs to randomly report a few numbers to select the corresponding people from the corresponding boxes. These household registrations include poor people from the lower city and nobles from the upper city. This is probably where they have been closest to each other in their lives.
The chosen ones are not allowed to refuse to attend unless they are sick. This is their duty as a citizen of Florence. If they refuse, they will be immediately stripped of their status as residents of Florence and expelled from the holy city.
Compared to such a cost, just sitting in court for half a day is not a big deal.
——Redrick originally thought so, until he came to the courtroom and saw who were his fellow jury members.
Redrick was surprised.
Redrick was confused.
Redrick was furious.
Redrick determined that this was definitely a conspiracy by Rafael Garcia!
He wanted to see him make a fool of himself! He was mocking him! ⊕
The Duke of Luxembourg, who was dressed in dazzlingly gorgeous clothes, had his hands on his cane, and was careful not to let any part of his body touch the table, which he didn't know whether it had been cleaned carefully or not. His anger was spread equally to everyone who looked at him.
The innocent audience members wisely turned their eyes away and didn't look at the Duke who was obviously unhappy. When no one was looking at him, the young Duke looked even more irritable.
Julius, the Secretary General of the Papal Palace, stood behind the curtain accompanying Raphael. He noticed Redrick's series of reactions below and showed a knowing look. Through the lenses, his deep purple gem-like eyes turned away without any ripples.
"What do you want to see from Redrick?" He leaned close to the young Pope's ear and asked with a hint of helplessness in his tone.
Raphael seemed to laugh: "Ah... I don't know. Maybe I won't know what I want until I see it. But it's interesting, isn't it? Look, he still sits here, even though he knows it was my instruction."
Although it was a "random selection", it was obvious that no one could refuse the Pope's request.
Julius stood up straight with an indulgent smile and did not ask any more questions. However, Raphael was still staring at the people below with interest.
He was neither too high nor too low, and the ingenious architectural structure allowed him to have a clear view of the entire court without being watched like a clown. This small platform symbolized ultimate power. The fence in front of him was wrapped with a white and gold tapestry embroidered with the Pope's emblem, and fresh and fragrant crown lilies climbed on the wood. There was a golden candlestick on the lectern in front of the Pope - there were also ancient candlesticks on the tables in front of the jury and the audience, but they were made of silver.
And in this occasion, the only one who can really make use of the candlesticks is the Pope.
He was holding a book in his hand. This book came from the Secretary-General who knew him too well. When the silver-gray-haired Lord Portia hurried over from the secretariat, he did not forget to bring a book for His Majesty to pass the time. Facts have proved that Lord Portia, who is always well-planned, never makes mistakes.
Raphael turned a new page. The human anatomy diagram outlined in red ink on the paper was bloody and eye-catching. Raphael raised his eyebrows subconsciously, and his energy, which had been lazily listening to the Chief Justice's nonsense with one ear, was finally focused on the thing in front of him.
He closed the book again and took a look at the cover. On the handwritten cover was written a short line of words in neat and rigorous letters - "Natural Science and Human Medicine".
Raphael sat up straight and opened the book again with an unreadable expression.
Like any other work of this period, the book contains lengthy sentences praising God's grace and the Church, mixed with some pretentious scientific stories. The author keeps repeating theories that have long been proven correct or wrong by history, as if he were a low-level folk scientist who proudly mixed together all the things he heard from others and presented them as his own achievements, explaining them with his own unique imagination and theories, and classifying all the inexplicable things as miracles of God - a double believer in science and theology, a double pagan.
Those tasteless, cumbersome, and rotten words mixed with overly literary nonsense made Raphael's forehead twitch. He turned to the page of the picture again and stared at the overly bloody picture in silence for two seconds. This picture was obviously too rigorous, completely beyond the imagination and creation of art. The organs and blood vessels were nakedly exposed in the red and white texture, and the visual impact caused was no less than when Raphael saw a group of Redricks appearing in front of him with a flattering smile.
Raphael closed the book forcefully and stared at the author's name for two seconds.
Anastasia.
No last name.
Raphael touched the rough paper and wanted to say something, but the sound of the chief justice banging the gavel came from the bottom of the courtroom: "Silence!"
"We gather here solemnly to seek the truth about the plague that broke out in the lower city of Florence in early 1080. Some people accused this disaster of being caused by human hands. At the order of Saint Sistine I, God's representative on earth, the Arbitration Bureau has established a special investigation committee to investigate the allegations that twelve lords of the Papal States, headed by Lauren Russo, were suspected of spreading the plague in Florence, murdering the Pope, and massacring innocent people. The Florentine Tribunal upholds fairness and justice.
In accordance with the principles of openness and justice, before God and His human incarnation, we swear to be loyal to the law and Florence, to judge impartially and with a clear conscience. ”
When he spoke the oath, all the court members, including the jury, echoed loudly: "Fair! Open! Just! Loyal to the law, loyal to Florence!"
Everyone shouted three times in unison, mixed with Redrick's reluctant mutters.
No one noticed the word "Arbitration Bureau" that the Chief Justice interspersed in the long and cumbersome clichés. Perhaps some people noticed it, but they were just wondering, as if they had never heard of this institution before? And only a smaller number of perceptive people could quickly connect it to the group of omnipresent black-robed monks like crows.
After the shouting subsided, the Chief Justice continued, "In accordance with your Majesty's request, the testimony of the witnesses in this case has been prepared. Do you allow the court to open now?"
He turned his body towards the direction of the Pope, who was sitting behind the lectern, holding the book in his hands, with a calm expression: "I allow it."
The Chief Justice straightened up, his old, wrinkled face glowing with light, and he said loudly: "I declare! The case is now open! Bring the defendant up!"
The bailiff guarding a side door grasped the heavy gilded handle on the door and pulled the thick oak door open with force. A team of black-robed monks walked in silently, like a group of crows perched on a nest. An invisible sense of oppression spread wherever they went. Their hands were crossed at the wrists and folded on their abdomens, their eyes calmly and steadily resting on the ground a few feet in front of their toes. They looked extremely harmless, but with the intuition of biological instinct, no one would underestimate these seemingly unarmed people.
Under their "escort", the five lords were brought to the dock. They looked at each other in surprise and suspicion. After discovering that there were only five of them, they realized something at the same time. Then they began to curse those cowardly and weak things in their hearts, and regretted infinitely that they did not betray them earlier.
They were placed under strict surveillance after the epidemic ended. Ferrante even sent people to watch every window and chimney of theirs. No one could communicate secretly under such strict defense. It was not until today when they were brought out by the black monks that they saw their former allies for the first time.
Old Russo only took a glance at the person standing next to him, and his face became gloomier than ever before. The cruelty of murder and robbery in his early years was revealed from under his well-hidden skin. This kind of vile, mean, greedy and sticky malice made the lords around him shudder.
"Now, please allow His Excellency Ferrante, Chairman of the Arbitration Bureau's Investigation Committee and Captain of the Pope's Guard, to read out the charges." The Chief Justice knocked the gavel to draw people's attention back.
Rafael also leaned forward slightly and looked intently at Ferrante who stood up. Before that, he had been sitting in the jury box in a low-key manner.
The young boy with black curly hair holds the title of captain of the Papal Guard, a title that is only at the bottom of the Florence official system, but the people it can reach and its practical significance make each captain have invisible power close to that of the Archon of Florence. What is beyond people's expectation is that this powerful captain of Florence is just a boy no older than twenty years old.
His youth brought a nostalgic look to some of the older people in the audience. They vaguely remembered that a long time ago, there was also such an overly young child standing in the center of the power storm in Florence.
Ferrante did not wear the neat uniform of the Pope's Guard, but a black robe similar to the previous black monks. His wrists and ankles were tied with cloth ropes, which made him flexible and easy to move. The loose robe and short cloak covered the body above his forearms, making him completely wrapped in black, which symbolized secrecy.
He stood up, bowed in the direction of the Pope, and then bowed to the court seat, and then said: "In accordance with the order of our glorious father, Saint Sistine I, in the name of eternal truth and justice in the world, I promise that the following words are true."
He pulled out a roll of parchment from somewhere, unfolded it, and began to read.
"On March 18, 1080, Lauren Russo, Alessandro Piero, Materazzi Dune, Clemente Lulanco, Simone Quentin, and seven other lords of the Papal States conspired in the Durala Palace to murder our Holy Father for personal gain. They chose to spread the plague in Florence, causing riots and unrest, forcing the Holy See to leave Florence, and then assassinate him on the way."
"On April 3, 1080, Simone Quentin purchased infected livestock with the help of his servant Albert. On April 10, Clement Lulanco sent servants to place the sick livestock and patients together, causing them to be infected with the disease. He then bribed the dock sailors Jerome and Joe, and on April 16, he placed the patients under the deck of the ship and brought them to the lower city of Florence, disguising them as sick travelers visiting relatives and sending them to an inn to live."
"On April 19, 1080, the innkeeper developed fever symptoms. On April 21, all the inn guests were infected with the disease. Through the testimony of nearby residents, we can confirm that they were the first to die from the disease, a total of 24 people."
"On April 23, patients with the disease began to appear in the lower part of Florence. The disease spread outward from the hotel. Between the 23rd and 27th, about 236 people died."
"Starting on April 28, the disease entered a stage of uncontrollable large-scale spread, with countless deaths."
"Until the Holy Father entered the Lower City and completely sealed it off, the number of deaths caused by the conspirators led by Lawn Russo had reached 3,000."
He summarized the whole process in a clear and concise manner. Anyone could tell that he did not mix any personal emotions into the report. The cold time, numbers and characters made the report seem more authentic. The shocking numbers made everyone's scalp tingle. Even if they had experienced the disaster personally, they seemed to have just realized what a terrible disaster it was.
And such disasters are entirely man-made, for one's own selfish desires.
The audience had already begun to look at the defendant with angry and contemptuous eyes, and the people from the downtown area in the jury seats had red eyes and clenched fists, wishing they could rush up and die together with the other side.
"I have concluded my statement of accusation." The long narrative did not arouse people's disgust. They listened carefully to every data and detail. After Ferrante sat down, the whole audience fell into solemn silence.
"Defendants, Mr. Ferrante has accused you of crimes. Do you fully understand these charges? Do you think the charges in this complaint are vague?"
the Chief Justice asked.
The five lords stood there expressionlessly like ice sculptures in the cold winter. Finally, Old Russo sneered, and pulled up his eyelids, which were drooping like a Shar Pei dog, revealing his black eyes that were even darker and more turbid than before. He stared at the position where the Pope was, "...No."
"Do you admit that the charges against you are true?"
An extremely malicious smile suddenly appeared in old Russo's turbid eyes. His back was hunched, and he stood among the other four lords who were considered to be dignified and upright, like a dwarf who suddenly collapsed. But no one dared to underestimate him, and everyone knew that he was obviously the mastermind of this earth-shaking conspiracy - only a person with a devil's heart could commit such a heinous crime.
"I admit that I have committed some of the above-mentioned crimes, but I did so at the behest of our respected and glorious Pope."
After a brief silence, everyone's faces showed expressions of shock that were about to break.
Ferrante's lips flattened.
Raphael lazily raised the corners of his eyes, tilted his head and looked coldly at old Russo who was staring at him below. They looked at each other through the thin curtain. In his peripheral vision, he noticed that Redrick, who was sitting in the jury seat, spit on the ground.
The author has something to say: ◣
Diary of Pope Sistine I: I am vindictive and petty. Anyone who angers me will suffer. I am not tolerant and I do not forgive.
Here I come, my babies~~~ Why do I see you always saying that you need to fatten them up? Oh, oh, oh, don’t let the fat pigeons go so soon. The fat pigeons have tried very hard, oh, oh, oh... But if you can’t wait any longer... don’t forget me! [pulling trouser legs and crying loudly]
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