The Pope’s Reply
Inside the church, splendid decorations intertwined with a solemn atmosphere, and light streaming through stained-glass windows cast dappled patterns on the floor, as if a divine revelation.
Pope Pius II stood tall on the pulpit, his face bearing the marks of time, gentle yet serious.
The multitude of bishops ceased their whispers, their gazes still filled with vigilance and speculation as they looked at the Pope.
William sat in a secluded corner, observing everything silently as a bystander.
The conference officially began, and the Pope's voice broke the silence in the church: "My lords, today we shall discuss two major matters that concern the relationship between the Church and the entire secular world.
The esteemed Roman Emperor, Ladislaus I, has invited the Papal States to join the Empire.
I am inclined to accept the Emperor's invitation, as the Emperor has, after all, repelled the Ottoman in the east, annihilated the Hussite in the north, and now has punished the excommunicated Venetian sinner for us—the former Doge of Venice, that shameful traitor, the prime culprit responsible for the destruction of the Papal fleet.
He is still hanging outside the city walls of Vienna, and I presume you are all aware of this.
So many achievements will surely be recorded in history and sung by generations, and the Emperor has thereby proven his piety.
I believe that after joining the Empire, the Church and the Empire will be able to cooperate better, ultimately establishing a new universal Christian world order."
This sudden topic startled William.
He had not expected such a significant matter; only now did he understand why the Pope was so shocked upon receiving the letter.
Recalling the Emperor's prolonged contemplation before handing him the letter, he surmised that Emperor must have hesitated for a long time before making such a bold decision.
In an instant, the church erupted into an uproar.
A white-haired bishop furiously waved his arms: "This is simply absurd! The Church is God's spokesperson on earth; how can it submit to secular imperial power? Once we join the Empire, our pure faith will be defiled by dirty politics. Where will the independence and dignity of the Church be?"
His words were full of power, and many bishops nodded in agreement, their indignation evident.
Another portly, amiable bishop also stood up, his voice booming: "Your Majesty, we must not forget the efforts our predecessors made for the Church's independence.
From Emperor Constantine's support to the political and religious struggles of the Middle Ages, the Church finally achieved its current status with great difficulty; how can we abandon it so easily?
Although the Emperor has achieved great military feats and fought against the enemies of the Church, this does not mean he has the right to interfere in Church affairs.
Amidst the chorus of opposition, William noticed that several bishops wore grave expressions and remained silent.
Among them, a younger bishop, Andre, slowly rose.
His gaze was firm and calm, and after looking around, he said: "My lords, I understand your steadfast adherence to the Church's independence, but we also need to face reality.
The Emperor has attacked on all fronts, sweeping away all threats to the Church, but this does not mean these threats have disappeared.
I wonder if you have heard of the alliance between France and the Ottoman; some despicable scoundrels are willing to betray the holy faith, which is utterly shameless.
They reject the Pope's authority and refuse to pay taxes and annuities; they simply do not take the Church seriously!
By joining the Empire, we can leverage the Emperor's power to jointly resist these threats and revitalize the Church." As soon as these words were uttered, the opposition grew even more intense. "Bishop Andre, this is a shortsighted move!"
A seemingly gentle and amiable bishop, his face flushed, retorted, "The Emperor's ambition is clear; joining the Empire is merely inviting a wolf into the house.
We are very likely to lose the power to independently decide on fief matters and manage church affairs; the Emperor is very likely to infringe upon our rights, and the Church will become a vassal of the Empire."
The church was noisy, just like a market in Rome.
The two sides argued endlessly, each holding their ground, unwilling to yield.
William watched this intense scene, sighing inwardly.
These bishops, some adhered to tradition, viewing the Church's independence as life itself; others focused on reality, attempting to find a new path.
And he, as the Emperor's envoy, also had his own views on this matter.
The Emperor is still too impatient; such a major event as the Church joining the Empire will certainly face opposition from other countries outside the Empire.
It is feared that by then, the Pope will have no choice but to excommunicate monarchs from half of Europe to assist the Emperor in fighting the Empire's enemies.
Such a scene is simply unimaginable.
However, he unconditionally supported any decision made by the Emperor, because the Emperor was the savior of their small, declining family.
If the Emperor wishes for this, then it would be best if it could be realized, but looking at the current situation, the possibility is not great.
William could clearly perceive that the vast majority of the bishops present did not wish to join the Empire; they were worried that the Emperor would infringe upon the rights of the Papal States—that is, their rights.
Several hours passed, and Pope Pius II finally stopped the debate, allowing the bishops to vote.
The bishops stepped forward one by one to cast their votes, the atmosphere so tense it was suffocating.
William's gaze was fixed on the ballot box, as if it were the place of destiny's judgment.
When the final results were announced, and the votes against joining the Empire held an absolute majority, the hall erupted in cheers; this result satisfied most people.
They praised the Pope's enlightenment, believing that this decision would ultimately save them from experiencing the conflicts between imperial and papal power, as they did centuries ago.
William was not surprised by this, only disappointed that he would have to bring bad news back to the Emperor, but he immediately noticed that the Pope had other plans.
This made him very curious about the upcoming developments.
At this moment, the Pope spoke again: "Since we have rejected the proposal to join the Empire, then the reform of the Church is imperative, and this can also give the Emperor an explanation.
I have decided to convene a Grand Duke Conference in Ferrara to discuss Church reform matters, just like the conferences held fifty years ago in Constance, and thirty years ago in Basel and Florence; this time, we must make real changes!"
This news was even more explosive than the issue just discussed, causing the bishops to blanch.
Even some older bishops clutched their chests in pain, as if they had suffered a severe shock.
An elderly bishop tremblingly said: "Your Majesty, Church reform is a matter of great importance, involving complex intertwined interests; rashly convening a Grand Duke Conference, I fear, will cause much chaos."
The Pope's gaze was firm: "Precisely because the Church has suffered from long-standing problems, we cannot delay any longer. We must be responsible for the future of the Church and for the faith of the believers."
This time, the Pope did not allow the bishops to vote; convening a Grand Duke Conference was the Pope's duty and power, and even these bishops had no right to prevent it.
After the meeting, William strolled through the corridors of the Vatican, his thoughts racing.
He saw bishops gathered in twos and threes, still intensely discussing the reform, some worried, others full of anger.
He was certain that this Church reform would undoubtedly be a difficult journey.
The interplay of various interests and the conflict between tradition and change would all be revealed at the Ferrara Grand Duke Conference.
Now, he had to bring these messages back to Vienna to tell Emperor; what role the Empire would play in this would depend entirely on the Emperor's attitude.