Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[GeneralHankerchief]

A monastery east of Milan, 1170

Conrad Salier arose from his bed very early in the morning, at the same time he had done nearly every day for the past ten years. His life was one of ritual and habit ever since that fateful night in 1160, when he was informed that his father was Maximillian Mandorf by Mandorf himself. While he had managed to keep his composure through that unpleasant conversation, the next few days were one large downward spiral.

Although by right he was a Bavarian Elector, he had skipped the Diet session, opting instead to hole himself up in several churches in Genoa and taking many long walks in the hills outside of the city. He missed the passage of all of the Electors heading north after the session had concluded, including the Crusaders. He was unaware of much during that time, with the thoughts of “MANDORF IS MY FATHER” being drilled into his brain constantly.

Eventually, he departed the city, mumbling and reciting old prayers. He trekked the northern part of the Italian Peninsula on foot, carrying no possessions aside from the clothes on his back and his Bible. He walked for days on end, barely stopping for food, water, or sleep. After forty days, he finally collapsed under the Italian sun, starving and incoherent. He was within sight of a large, ornate building, but at that point Conrad was in such bad shape that he assumed it was just a mountain.

Luckily, that building happened to be a monastery, and he was nursed back to health under the care of the monks that resided there. After some time, he decided to join them. The world out there is too complicated and too corrupted, he said to himself as justification. I am more likely to be a good Servant of God if I leave that world behind. And for ten years, he did.

Today, however, things were to be different. As he made his way down to the chapel for Lauds, he noticed that the monks were a bit more animated than usual. Apparently, someone of importance had arrived during the night. Once he had taken his seat, Conrad scoured the pews for a new face, but the only one he was not used to seeing seated was the abbot himself. A figure in fancy white robes had taken the pulpit in his place. Conrad made out the “guest preacher” to be Cardinal Charles Otterbach.

During the sermon, Conrad took an eager interest in the man who was nearly Pope. For once, the Cardinal seemed to be speaking with power and conviction, as compared to the other occasions Conrad had seen him preach, when he seemed nervous and not quite focused on the sermon. This time, however, Otterbach was eloquent and convincing. In addition, the Cardinal seemed to be staring right at Conrad for most of the time, as if the mass delivered was specifically aimed at him.

After the mass let out, Conrad was walking alone in a hallway to his study, when the Cardinal came out of nowhere and spoke to the surprised monk.

“Brother Conrad,” he said, “What did you think of the sermon?”

“It was excellent, Your Eminence,” Conrad said respectfully. “I must admit that it is refreshing to hear a different take on Scripture than the Abbot’s version.”

Otterbach laughed. “I regret that this is the only time you will hear a fresh voice at mass, at least, coming from my mouth. I am returning to the heartland of the Reich after my time in Rome, a short but eventful stay.” The Cardinal was referring to his giving Last Rites to Kaiser Heinrich and then the disastrous Papal election three hours later. “My time here was only an overnight stay. However, before I leave this place, I would be honored to hear your confession.”

Conrad gave the Cardinal a sad smile. “I am afraid you are out of luck, Cardinal. I gave it just last night, did my penance, and went right to sleep. The first things I have done since waking up were preparing for and attending Lauds, and now talking to you. I do not believe that I have sinned at all since I last confessed.”

Otterbach arched an eyebrow at this last comment. “Indeed? And there are no sins, older sins, that you have forgotten to mention in past confessions?”

“If there are, I am not aware of them. I have no reason to compromise my chances of eternal salvation.”

“I maintain that there have been things that you have forgotten. Every moment you spend in this place is a sin, Brother Conrad. Walk with me.” Conrad, slightly befuddled that a Cardinal, especially one so revered as Otterbach, would be denouncing a monastery, had no choice but to follow along.

“Conrad, Kaiser Heinrich is dead. The new Kaiser, Henry, is off on a Crusade along with much of the Reich’s senior leaders. Heinrich’s preferred choice of Pope, myself, did not win the Seat, so we are faced with a hostile Pope and almost no chance of reconciliation unless an Imperial Cardinal somehow manages to win. The four Houses, depleted both in manpower and leadership thanks to the Crusade, are being invaded by Venice, Poland, France, Milan, England, and Hungary. The last country is especially a threat. If they get past the Bavarian Household Army, then any Imperial city in Italy is ripe for the taking.”

All of this news had troubled Conrad. This is exactly what he wanted to leave behind. “Your Eminence, why are you telling me of all this? I, along with you, have left the material world behind.”

“Brother Conrad, I learned long ago not to restrict myself to spiritual matters,” said Otterbach smartly. “You are qualified to assist the Reich in these hard times, both by blood and by merit. But you ran here to shut yourself away forever the first time you heard something that you did not like.”

Conrad’s mood shifted from troubled to annoyed. “Cardinal Otterbach, with all due respect, you do not know what was said, how it affected-“

Otterbach cut the young monk off. “With all due respect, Brother Conrad, I know exactly what was said. Maximillian Mandorf told me when I traveled to Zagreb to give the Crusaders my blessing.”

Maximillian Mandorf. The mention of that name brought back the whirlwind of the old memories. His Spartan study. The ever-present smile on his face when he casually told Conrad the most sensitive thing possible. Those forty days wandering through Italy, half-insane.

Otterbach, either unaware of Conrad’s emotions or uncaring, continued. “He told me that he was acknowledging his parentage of you. He told me that he made you his heir. He told me that he was giving you a position in the Diet and his titles in Nuremburg! Why can you not accept who you are and take a position in the Reich’s nobility?”

Conrad, defiant, responded with a phrase that he had used to reassure himself that what he had done was right. “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” he said, using the same reading of Matthew that the late Cardinal Peter Scherer had used in Sigismund der Stolze’s funereal.

Otterbach seemed mildly amused. “Honor thy mother and thy father,” he fired back. “Don’t even try to win an argument against a Cardinal by quoting Scripture.”

Conrad, defeated, tried one last defense. “But I choose to have this life! I want nothing of the Reich or Nuremburg. All I wish to do is remain here in solitude.”

“Then that, Brother Conrad, is a sin. You may not realize it now, but you are being extremely selfish by remaining here. There are other ways that you can be a good Servant of God aside from staying in this place and watching your life waste away for nothing. I will have no more of this. Your penance is to leave this monastery immediately. I will inform the Abbot of your departure. You are to go to the Diet, introduce yourself, and apologize for your ten-year absence. Once that has been accomplished, you are to join Gerhard Steffin and the Bavarian Household Army, and assist them in the task of driving off the Hungarian invaders. Do you understand me?”

Conrad looked at the Cardinal with a sigh. “Yes, Your Eminence.”

Otterbach smiled. “Good, my son. May the rest of your life be fulfilling in more ways than one, Conrad Salier.”

Two hours later, Conrad Salier mounted an old brown horse and departed the monastery for the first time in ten years, heading south. He was finally ready to live up to his identity.