The "Devil's Bridge", which stretches north of Lucca, is a magnificent sight, almost feminine, and even the nearby riverbank is decorated with marble white and immaculate. From here to the south, the avenue to Rome via Florence, where pilgrims crowd the bridges like lambs to be slaughtered.

Angus, wearing a light helmet and a pair of dark eyes under the raised face guard, looked at the dress of the soldiers on the bridge, and the tip of his nose frowned slightly.

"Be careful, it looks like they're on the same path with that guy." He whispered to Gillick in Highland Gaelic language, "Don't get into trouble......

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of horses' hooves came from the reckless heights behind him, and a group of light cavalry quickly approached the embankment with elm and willow from the slope. Angus felt that something was wrong, so he quickly ripped a cloak from the cart and threw it on Maeve in the cart.

"Put it on!" Before Maeve could complain, Angus immediately ordered, "Don't come out after the change, and don't talk later." ”

A light cavalryman with a snow-white inverted mustache rushed to the arch of the bridge, and his Berber horse hung a ribbon of black silk and gold thread, and the warrior took off his star-shaped helmet, and a frightening scar hung on his left forehead.

A dozen or so soldiers on the bridge saluted the old knight, and when he pointed with his right hand in the direction of the left bank, he seemed to say something in a rage, and then galloped into the midst of the pilgrims, stirring up the scene like a bird, and then rejoined the ranks of the light cavalry, and went away.

The next checks were apparently much stricter, which meant that the pilgrims had to empty their pockets before they arrived in Rome. Gillick nonchalantly assured the lord that everything was under his control.

"Next!" The sound of thunder sounded, and I saw a Teutonic sergeant with a slightly crooked helmet in front of him, holding a short spear with an iron tip, a heavy red-handled long knife at his waist, and a black chain mail hanging like a waterfall.

Angus pulled down his armor and rushed to the front of the car, and Gilick dressed as a retinue and walked at the front of the car.

"Who's in the car?" The sergeant, speaking in a Germanic language, asked impatiently.

"The niece of King Alba is on a pilgrimage to Rome." Gilic hurriedly replied.

The Germanic man looked suspicious, and without saying a word, lifted the curtain of the carriage.

Angus made a brutal appearance and pushed the Germanic arm away from the cart, and the soldiers immediately surrounded him with a loud shout.

"Ladies and gentlemen, be careful, our young lady is a sick person and can't see the light!" Gilic shouted in Italian.

"Patient?" The sergeant immediately withdrew his outstretched hand, "What disease?" ”

"Our prince had heard that Rome had a holy relic that could cure leprosy, so he ......," Gillick recounted fluently.

“Cazzo！” The Germanic cursed in Italian, "What a." ”

The soldiers drove the cart of the three as if they were on the verge of an enemy, and when Gilic passed, he almost laughed maniacally to the Germanic sergeant shouting for his clothes to be burned.

"Suffocate me!" Maeve lifted her cloak, stuck her head out, and breathed greedily into the air outside the car, only to see that Angus was still covered in his visor and did not say a word.

"Bastard, what are you thinking?"

Maeve's voice was nice, but every time she spoke, Angus was so angry that he wanted to hit someone.

"Hey! Did you hear that? The Highland Maiden reached out and patted Angus on the shoulder, and saw an iron mask turn, and only two fire-breathing eyes shot through the holes of the black hole, and she was frightened for a moment.

Angus didn't say anything, maybe it was the innocence and coquettishness on the girl's face that he couldn't bear to speak ill of for a moment. In fact, he was remorseful for his impulsiveness the day before, if it weren't for the loss of control for a moment, he wouldn't have put his two companions at such great risk just now, and after crossing the bridge, they were getting closer and closer to the battlefield, and from now on, either choice could be fatal.

Modena was an important stronghold in the Po Valley, known as the "most beautiful Mutina splendidissima" (Mutina splendidissima), where the Etruscans used to herd horses. Now that the Emilian Avenue outside the city had been cut off by a barracks, and at night weapons bound in cowhides were constantly being brought from the city to the camp, and Madame Matilda, who had been raising soldiers nearby since the spring, seemed to be planning a decisive battle in the near future, which was a relief to the inhabitants of the city, but the reaction of the camp was different.

"We've been waiting for two months, and we've been waiting for more priests and lords to mutiny." Matilda's voice was a little agitated, and across from her, Milan Bianbo Alberto seemed to be asleep.

"It's good enough now, although we have fewer troops, at least Henry is no longer on the other side, four years ago, my soldiers refused to fight that puppet emperor!"

"Who have joined our enemies now?" Milan Bianbo stroked a white cat and said softly, "The northerners of Adalbert and Bosso have been working against us, and now Reina and Hugo have betrayed you as well......"

"Let's not forget the Bishops—Alberhardt of Parma and Gandalf of Regio, these two pathetic worms are also opposite us." Matilda replied angrily.

"Let's wait, there may be reinforcements from the south."

"No one will come until the Po River freezes, my lord." Madame Matilda shook her head, "The Holy See is gone, and the Normans will never send troops - their duke is seriously ill, and I heard that the Capuas are hooking up with Bohemond in Greece, and perhaps as soon as Robert Giscard dies, a civil war will break out." ”

"Alas...... Is there still no news from Salerno? ”

"The cardinals want to elect Dean Desiderius, but he keeps refusing." Matilda sighed.

"What about Bishop Odo?" The old marquis of Milan remembered the energetic Archbishop of Ostia, a Frenchman who was clearly better suited to deal with the present crisis than the frail Abbot of Mont San Cassino, Desiderius.

"There are currently four candidates, and Bishop Otto is nowhere near enough."

"Don't you have enough money to buy him enough votes?"

"He's not going to accept it, and the more times like this, the more careful we have to be, because once there's a scandal, it's all over."

"Now, then, we can only wait for a sick person who may be called by the Lord at any time to receive the priest's staff? God save us! ”

"So you have to understand that we won't have any other reinforcements, and if Henry defeats your son, what awaits us will be doomed." Matilda was referring to the vassal son, Welf IV, the eldest son of House Esther, who was now the heir to the House of Welf and ruled over the most powerful anti-Imperialist faction in Germany.

"Then let's fight a decisive battle, before those rebels completely destroy the whole of Lombardy!" The old man finally made up his mind, and then his voice changed, "But you have to convince the old stubborn first. ”

"You mean, another old stubborn?" Matilda's sarcasm made the marshals of Milan burst out laughing.