CHAP. II
The smith walked into the council room. Adorned with crosses, sculptures of Saints, the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and paintings of scenes from The Bible, it was a very intimidating, yet serene, area. Her footsteps echoed off of the walls, sounding like a muffled version of a hammer striking against an anvil. She saw him, the pope, sitting elegantly on his throne. She knelt, and questioned him “Your Holiness, what would you like?” He responded with “ I have thought for a long time, and have decided that it should be a great sword, one to terrify the infidels whom would question the word of god.” The smith was dumbfounded, she had been expecting him to ask her to make a religious work or jewel, but once she got over her shock, she nodded and told him that production would begin soon.
Then, she remembered something that she had forgotten to ask. She raised the query of “What quality should the sword be, Your Holiness? I ask so that I may finalize the blueprints, and also to expect what payment I should receive.” The Pope, after muzzling over it for a few minutes, replied with “ Give me the highest quality you have. I shall pay you 500 gold for it.” She nodded, and set out on her way to begin making it.
Some time later, the Pope was alone in one of his rooms, reading. He snoozed for a second, before snapping awake. He groggily thought “I am always tired in the morning! I should seclude myself, and spend some time alone. Yes! I should do that!”
Some time later, and he had much newfound respect for those hermits he had read about. His time secluded had done him good, and he beleived that God had strengthened his mind.
Some time later, and as Alexander walked near Mistress Beatrice's smithy, he heard not the satisfying sound of hammers striking anvils and of progress, but of… voices. He peeked inside, and his daughter, Aurelia, had been talking with Beatrice about different metals. “This must be why the sword is taking so long!” Alexander angrily thought. He angrily ordered his daughter to not do such things with Beatrice, and wasting her time. That night, as he explained it, Aurelia was quite dissapointed, and avoided him for the rest of the day.
After being asked to by one the seniors of the Dominican Order, Alexander began packing for a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Yet, as he was finishing packing, he heard a soft *knock knock* on his door. A servant walked in, and told him “Your Holiness, Mistress Beatrice’s work is finished.” Alexander went back down to the council room. There, one of her assistants handed him the sword, and he examined it. It was elegant yet simple, truly a sword to bring to battle. Soon after, he embarked on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
Sleeping at the inn, Alexander dreamed. He was in a dense forest, walking through. Tiny squirrels ran across the path, and a few birds sang, a song more beautiful that all the earthly instruments combined. He sniffed the air, full of exuberant and exotic smells. He also smelled one familiar smell. One charred one. Yes, yes, it was…. FIRE! He startled awake, and his worst nightmare had come true. The inn was on fire! He carried buckets, and slowly, together, everyone helped put out the fire.
It was late at night, and he and some others were sitting at their camp, telling stories and eating. Then, a large group of fellow pilgrims appear. They travelled far, and are very hungry, and they checked their supplies. Alexander and the others saw that they only had some bread and a few fish. Those he was traveling with were saying that they should let the fellow pilgrims go without food, but Alexander reminded them of the time Christ had shared his bread and fish with people. It was very filling, and they shared it around with the other group.
He had finally reached Jerusalem. He walked past the gates, and was overcome with awe. He quickly made plans to visit every holy site in Jerusalem, but first he had to find a place to stay, as he didn’t want to end up in a stable.
He was in his room, pondering his day. He had hoped for more than this. It was simply a lot of people, some churches, and oddly suspicious bones. He had heard amazing stories, but it simply wasn’t as described. He was overcome by a sadness, and soon became quite cynical.
He had finally returned. He felt… mixed feeling about the pilgrimage. He wished that he hadn’t done it, but at least it was over and he could forget about it.
Hoping to find some sort of fulfillment, he delved into work on his book. But he overworked himself, and became grievously ill. He was forced to retire to bed. Thankfully though, he was soon better after much resting.
He soon received a messenger from the French king. “Your Holiness, my lord, Philipe of France, accepts your proposal of an alliance between our two nations. The Pope smiled, as this was the best news he had heard in weeks.
The pope was sitting in his council room, when an envoy came in. He knelt and said “Your holiness, my liege, count Guthekeld Keled wishes to buy indulgences for his sins, and to clean himself. The pope managed a smile and replied with a “yes, my child. He will be forgiven by God.
As the pope is relaxing, a servant hurries in and tells him “My lord, a letter from hungary has arrived” The pope received and and soon read it.
“Your holiness” it read. “I would be very much pleased if you could come to personally coronate me at my coronation in a few weeks” The pope read it again, inked his pen, and began writing back.
“Arpad Salomon, king of Hungary. I would be much pleased to coronate you at your upcoming ceremony. I ask only for a small donation to the papal treasury”
He ordered a servant to come here, and giving him the paper, told him to tell a messenger to deliver it to Hungary.
It had been weeks since his letter was received. The pope looked around at the quite… bare throne room. Compared to his, it was nothing. Clearing his thoughts, Alexander looked at the soon-to-be king, Salomon, whom was especially nervous. A bell rang. It was time. Salomon knelt before Alexander, whom slowly placed the crown on his head, officialy making him king.
Now at home, the French king asked for the betrothal of Leonello to Emma Capet be honored, which Alexander happily accepted.
Now fully back at home, Alexander set back to his work of following the will of God. Yet sadly, he learned that ssome men, whom thought they were better than god, and neglected the laws which Jesus himself gave to the Holy Church. He wrote a letter asking this king, Sancho II as he was known, to follow the true doctrine. He also decided to send him some money to fight the Saracens with, as the coffers of the church were quite full.
Later, as he was riding on a horse, Alexander inexplicably fell down. His riding mate screamed, and rushed for a doctor, but by the time they got there, he was already dead. Later research showed that he possibly had a heart attack. Even as the Cardinals mourned him, they got down to the business of electing a new Pope. All of christendom mourned and weeped for a great, pious, temperate man, whom was… Alexander II.
-OOF: Sorry guys, I've been really busy, the next update will be a lot quicker!
Can't wait to see how Urban II does