Chapter 108: A Papal Banner
Katarina sat up. She threw her legs over the edge of the mattress and quickly wrapped a heavily fur-lined dressing gown tightly around her body.
Her bare feet made no sound as she crept across the expensive rugs toward the narrow glass window overlooking the inner courtyard.
She pressed her hand against the glass, wiping away a thin layer of winter condensation.
When she looked down into the courtyard, her blood froze in her veins.
Fifty black-armored Reiters were sitting perfectly still on their massive warhorses, ready for combat.
And at the very front of the formation, sitting tall and unbothered by the wind, was Konrad.
Even so, he hadn’t told her he was leaving... Just a few hours ago, he had been standing in the nursery, crushing willow bark to save his infant son.
He had promised to deal with the army marching on the northern border, but this didn’t look like a defensive maneuver.
Katarina watched as Ragnar shouted a final command, and the gates of the keep began to slowly groan open.
Something catastrophic was happening...
Had the Bavarian guards found out about the Savoyard massacre? No, her father’s men were still sleeping peacefully in the lower barracks.
Was it the Pope’s men? The exiled Duke?
She didn’t know...
Though her immediate instinct as a future Duchess was to rush down the spiraling stone stairs and demand answers from her soon-to-be husband, she kept her feet planted firmly on the cold floor. She didn’t go to him.
She knew Konrad.
If he was riding out into the dawn with fifty of his best killers, he wasn’t going to stop and explain his logistics to her.
He would just tell her to lock her door and wait.
Katarina chewed nervously on her lower lip, her dark, highly intelligent eyes watching the black-armored column slowly ride out through the main gates.
A thought suddenly crept into her mind.
Should she tell her father?
Duke Wilhelm was currently sleeping just a few doors down the hall, completely oblivious to the fact that his host was acting like a rogue warlord.
If she woke the Duke right now and told him that Konrad had just secretly marched an elite cavalry force out of the keep, her father would instantly panic.
He would wake his halberdiers.
He would sever the alliance, pack their treasury wagons, and flee back to Munich before the sun fully rose.
It would be the logical, safe thing for a Bavarian princess to do.
"....."
She couldn’t do it... If she told her father, she would be betraying the man who had trusted her with the secret of the Savoyard invasion.
She would be destroying the alliance that was supposed to protect her own future.
Konrad was arrogant... but he was also the only lord she had ever met who actually treated her like an intellectual equal.
She watched the last Swabian Reiter disappear into the morning fog, the gates slowly slamming shut behind them with a deafening thud.
She was officially a co-conspirator in a war she didn’t even fully understand yet.
All she could do now was sit in this freezing stone keep, wait for the inevitable explosion, and pray to the saints that Konrad’s wheellock pistols were as reliable as he claimed they were.
The eastern trade road was entirely swallowed by a freezing morning fog.
Konrad rode at the very head of the Swabian column, his dark eyes squinting through the mist. The absolute silence of the forest was deeply unnerving.
There were no early morning merchants, no wandering peasants, and absolutely no birds singing in the pine trees.
"Keep your eyes on the tree line," Konrad ordered smoothly. "If the Vatican brought hidden crossbowmen, they will be concealed in the upper branches."
"We see them, My Lord." Klaus, one of the veteran riders, replied calmly. "Our hands are on the triggers."
They rode for another twenty minutes.
Then, the fog slowly began to part.
Konrad yanked his reins, pulling his destrier to a sudden halt.
Behind him, the fifty Swabian Reiters stopped in unison.
There it was.
Just a few hundred yards ahead, the heavily loaded Swabian treasury wagons were stopped in the middle of the muddy road.
Marshal Eckhard and his veteran halberdiers were standing in highly disciplined defensive squares around the carts, their long pikes bristling aggressively in the morning air.
But it was the force blocking their path that made Konrad’s jaw tighten.
A solid wall of over three hundred Vatican knights. They sat on pristine white warhorses, completely covered in immaculate, incredibly expensive silver plate armor.
Massive papal banners - bright crimson silk embroidered with the golden crossed keys of Saint Peter - snapped in the wind.
Sitting at the very center of the holy blockade was Commander Orsini.
The Vatican officer had his visor raised, revealing a sharp, highly arrogant face devoid of any respect for the Swabian border.
"Viscount von Frundsberg!" Commander Orsini’s voice boomed across the muddy divide, echoing with absolute, unquestionable holy authority.
"...we demanded your presence! And I see you have finally decided to grace the Mother Church with your unauthorized company!"
Konrad didn’t say a word... he slowly urged his horse forward, leaving the safety of his fifty Reiters behind.
He rode out into the open space between the two armies. He stopped twenty paces away from the Vatican commander.
"You are blocking my trade road, Orsini." Konrad stated. "Move your horses."
Commander Orsini let out a laugh. "Your trade road? Do you honestly believe you have any legal authority left, Heretic? We have heard the rumors... we know exactly what your ’trade’ wagons are carrying from the Savoyard border! You are a butcher and a thief, and in the name of the Holy Father, I demand you surrender those wagons to the Church immediately!"
Konrad looked past the commander.
He looked at the wagons containing fourteen thousand silver florins.
He then looked back at Commander Orsini, ignoring the three hundred holy lances pointed in his direction.
"I am going to ask you one more time." Konrad whispered. "Are you going to move, or am I going to find out how much blood it takes to stain a papal banner?"
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