Chapter 92: The Caltrops
When Ashur was brought into the Papal Palace once again, she didn’t take the secret passage like before. Instead, Ferrante led her openly through the main entrance, following the Grand Gallery past the Reception Hall. Ever since the relationship between the Pope and Assyria had been disclosed, the hall was perpetually crowded with people waiting for an audience with His Holiness.
Most were envoys from the weak and small states surrounding the Papal States. They dared not overlook any developments within the Papal States and tried to impose their own stance on His Holiness—whether to wage war or seek peace—even though they knew full well that their opinions had no real impact on the Pope. But what if, just what if, they could glean even a scrap of new information from the Papal Palace?
With this mindset, these heavily burdened envoys sat in the Reception Hall from dawn till dusk, sipping the fine tea provided by the palace—or requesting wine instead. When hungry, they helped themselves to refreshments; the Papal Palace was always generous with its pastries, even those meant for guests were laden with expensive honey, a luxury some envoys could not afford even within their own lands. When tired, they could ask the servants for a temporary room to rest.
In short, as long as the Pope did not grant them an audience, they would linger there indefinitely.
As for when the Pope would receive them?
That remained an uncertain mystery.
Not that Rafael minded the expense; he would rather keep them comfortably fed and housed within the Papal Palace than let them wander outside spreading baseless rumors.
As Ashur passed them, the envoys were lounging comfortably in armchairs, cigars in hand, debating the value of an “Ancient Roman-era” antique pocket watch. One middle-aged gentleman had the bottom buttons of his shirt undone; with one hand tucked inside his shirt, he was puffing out his chest and stomach while composing an abstruse fugue. Ashur swore she didn’t hear a single “H” note throughout his composition, giving it a distinctly Roman flavor.
When Ashur was led through the hall, these seemingly idle envoys reacted like deer catching a whiff of a stranger. They ceased their movements and observed this unfamiliar woman through what they imagined were subtle glances.