Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Medieval-Style Reversal Trial (4)
That bastard Christian looked at me and grinned.
“I am a bishop of the Deus Church and a doctor of theology. I have studied the word of Deus since the time you were still suckling. I have devoted my life to seeking His will, and now I judge you according to the scripture—do you truly think it makes sense for you to stubbornly resist with your shallow knowledge?”
If Christian and I debated theology, I would lose.
I didn’t major in theology back in Korea, and I have no title to boast of like he does.
Even if “auxiliary bishop” sounds a bit weak, he is still a legitimate bishop.
And a bishop is a powerful clergyman with authority comparable to that of a baron in any region.
In this situation, how could I maintain my dignity and hold out until the archbishop arrived?
“Respected Bishop, I respect the authority and responsibility that the Lord has granted you.”
Christian’s expression twisted.
Murmurs of confusion rose from the audience.
It was only natural—they expected someone proclaiming innocence, yet I seemed to be affirming the judge’s reasoning.
“And I also respect all the endurance and hardships you have gone through in answering the Lord’s call.”
“You know this, yet you remain so arrogant! Repent your sins even now, and the Church will show you mercy.”
“However, respected auxiliary bishop and everyone present, I swear before Deus, the head of the Church. If I confess to sins I have not committed, would that not be deceiving all of you?”
One effective way to drive someone mad in an argument is this.
Acknowledge the parts of the opponent’s words that do not conflict with your claim, and firmly deny only what is incorrect.
To an outside observer, it makes me appear composed and reasonable, while the other side seems forceful and irrational.
“I stand here due to a misunderstanding, so I will explain everything. Café Medici is by no means a place of immorality.”
If this were Joseon under strict Confucian values, I would indeed deserve death.
Providing a place where a noble lady could converse with a man not chosen by her father?
That would be no different from facilitating prostitution in Korean terms.
But in the Tuscan Empire, providing a place for men and women to meet… is not a crime.
“Those who have visited Café Medici would know. It is a place where anyone, regardless of gender, can come to enjoy tea and cake and converse freely with their companions without rigid formality.”
Several people in the audience nodded in agreement.
“And as for the concern raised by the bishop about men and women meeting, such interactions occur quite naturally.”
“Are you confessing that you created a place for men and women to gather and fall into romantic relations?”
He looked as if he wanted to devour me.
I can see the drool forming—at least try to hide it.
“The scripture says to be fruitful and multiply. It also says that man and woman shall become one. Then how can it be a sin for a man and a woman, who come separately, to be drawn to one another and fall in love?”
There is one major misunderstanding people have about the Middle Ages.
That only Latin scripture was considered valid and that only Latin could be used for proper mass.
But even rural priests who had not studied theology often ignored such rules, and while Latin scripture was prioritized, it did not mean other versions could not exist.
Rather, many who translated scripture into local languages were considered heretics, and it became an added charge when they were executed.
The Tuscan Empire is similar.
“Unless I deliberately seated unrelated men and women together, how can it be a crime that they naturally grow closer?”
Even in this medieval setting, the audience’s reaction matters.
Why? Because these idle spectators will spread rumors afterward like reporters, criticizing Christian and spreading my reputation.
“Is it wrong for men and women to fall in love at a ball, dressed beautifully, upon seeing one another?”
Most titled nobles marry through political arrangements.
But in every era, there are those who fall in love at balls and marry.
Such marriages are often for second or third sons like me, free from succession burdens…
But even those in arranged marriages consider it a kind of romantic ideal.
“I, too, wish to experience such love someday.”
That is not an empty statement.
Even I find it quite romantic.
Leaving a grand ball where everyone dances, the two of you slipping away to talk alone.
And then a kiss… just imagining it feels good.
With a logically flawless rebuttal and the support of the audience, the atmosphere shifted entirely in my favor.
“Yes, people can fall in love at a banquet.”
“It seems Café Medici is innocent.”
Christian glared at me and spoke more nonsense.
“Even falling in love at a banquet could be considered a violation of church law. And judging by your confidence, do you think you have received the Lord’s grace? How dare a mere second son of a baronial family insult my authority as judge in a church trial?”
I don’t know who is backing the viscount behind the scenes.
But one thing is clear.
There are powerful forces determined to eliminate me, even at the cost of the auxiliary bishop’s dignity.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t make such reckless moves.
And that damned question—no matter how I answer, it’s a trap to label me a heretic.
“If the Lord has bestowed grace upon me, I pray it continues. If not, I only hope that from this moment onward, He may grant His grace to this humble soul.”
If I claimed I had received grace, he would accuse me of arrogance and heresy.
If I said I had not, he could condemn me as one abandoned by divine grace.
But by giving an ambiguous yet devout answer, I left him speechless.
Christian grabbed the back of his neck.
“Y-you… blasphemous wretch.”
The audience looked at me with shining eyes.
Some even stared with mouths agape, watching a mere noble youth verbally overpower a bishop in a church trial.
Careful, a fly might fly into your mouth.
“The Archbishop’s cross! The Archbishop has arrived in person!”
He should have arrived long ago—why is he so late?
Did something happen?
“His Excellency, the Archbishop of Florence!”
At those words, Bishop Christian and the viscount turned pale—no, almost bluish.
This trial itself was built on absurd accusations.
And now an archbishop with authority to overturn everything had arrived?
It meant their end.
“Silence.”
If a bishop holds power comparable to a baron, an archbishop holds power comparable to a count.
Especially the Archbishop of Florence, who is almost certain to be elevated to cardinal, holds unmatched authority.
“Fabio de Medici is not guilty.”
After that declaration, he continued as if following a prepared script.
“I have just visited Café Medici. The tea was excellent, and the cake was delightful. I went with other bishops, and all of them enjoyed it. Ordinarily, men and women alike would come with friends to converse. It seems some have fallen in love there, but that is neither doctrinally nor scripturally unnatural.”
The archbishop raised his staff and pointed at the viscount.
“Therefore, the viscount must have grown envious of the café’s success and fabricated this baseless accusation.”
The viscount’s face turned pale.
“And you, Christian. As a bishop, you must have sold your conscience and faith for money. Otherwise, such a ridiculous trial could never have taken place.”
Selling one’s conscience may be a mild insult in Korea.
But in the Tuscan Empire, accusing someone of selling their faith is a far more severe condemnation.
Especially for a clergyman.
“You would be justified in drawing your sword and striking them down.”
“The final judgment will be confirmed after the cardinal reviews it and receives approval from the Holy See. However, as Archbishop of Florence, I sentence the viscount to be burned at the stake for abusing the authority of the Church for personal gain.”
The viscount collapsed to the ground upon hearing this.
“And as for Bishop Christian, I will petition the Pope for your excommunication, and you will be burned at the stake as one would punish a heretic.”
Christian fainted upon hearing this.
In a world where heaven and hell are believed by all, becoming a heretic condemned to hell is a fate worse than death.
Moreover, with excommunication, his entire family would be ruined.
Because of one fool, hundreds would be cast into the streets.
“With this, the church trial of Fabio de Medici is concluded.”
At those words, a tremendous cheer erupted.