A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

”Is that direct enough?” Eric lifted his head to look at Matilda.

Matilda seemed much calmer now.

In the face of Eric’s sudden question, her cheeks flushed, and she grew a little flustered.

She felt a little ashamed of her actions.

’Perhaps I really was a bit too harsh.’

”So, can I have your answer now, my Marchioness?” Eric asked again, still holding her right foot.

Her toenails, dyed pink with madder root, gleamed uniquely under the sunlight.

”P-perhaps...” she stammered, looking flustered.

...

From the basements to the bell towers, Canossa prepared for the wedding. Inns were swept clean and hung with banners and garlands to accommodate the villagers and out-of-town guests who came to join the festivities.

Cartloads of supplies were hauled into the city from the surrounding countryside, and herds of livestock awaited slaughter.

Seamstresses toiled over a wedding gown of pale gold satin, to be worn by their Marchioness, the future Countess of Gloucester. The hem was studded with hundreds of pearls, and the sleeves, which stretched from wrist to ankle, were fitted with decorative gold hooks to roll them up when needed.

Aside from this, there was much to prepare for the grand Tuscan wedding, but none of it concerned the bride and groom.

By tradition, they were to spend most of the seven days before the wedding in the Church, repenting and partaking in a restricted diet.

A wedding is a secular ceremony of witness, but it is also a religious sacrament.

In an ordinary wedding, people tend to emphasize the former and neglect the latter.

However, with the Pope himself officiating Eric and Matilda’s wedding—a Pope known for advocating asceticism, no less—this wedding would naturally lean toward the religious.

Matilda had little interest in such matters to begin with; she was only getting married out of necessity.

Compared to the wedding itself, staying in the Church was a decent alternative, as by custom, the Church belonged exclusively to the bride and groom for the seven days prior.

From that day on, right up until the day before the wedding, Matilda grew much milder and was no longer so aggressive.

It was a welcome change.

....

Eric walked through the ornate portico and stood within the holy temple of God.

The Cathedral’s interior was a cool, sacred sanctuary from the midsummer heat. Eric breathed a long sigh, inhaling the mixed aroma of incense and candles.

Eric was already familiar with the place. The wedding would be held here tomorrow, and he and Matilda had already spent six days within its walls.

He rounded a corridor and headed for the chapel.

Pushing open the chapel door, Eric saw Matilda.

Matilda was leaning out the chapel window, standing on one of the pews, which she had dragged from its original spot.

She wasn’t as aggressive anymore, but she had become much more silent.

’I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.’

She was still wearing that simple, linen-colored robe. Every day, when she entered the Church to confess, her maids would dress her in an ivory brocade gown, but she would always take it off before entering the chapel, changing into the much lighter linen robe.

It was her riding habit; she always wore this linen robe when she rode.

However, she still hadn’t found her riding boots these past few days, so she was now standing barefoot on the pew.

Her small, fair feet were a bit grimy again, though it was much better than the other day—they were only stained with dust.

When Eric opened the chapel door, she glanced back at him before turning her gaze away again.

Eric said nothing. He walked over, slipped off his own shoes, and stood beside her.

Outside the window, pigeons circled over the red-tiled roof of a dovecote, and the river glittered like a treasure chest in the morning light.

Matilda stared at the Norman tents on the opposite bank. They looked like clusters of exotic mushrooms, a style completely at odds with Canossa—at least, they were to her.

A noble-looking Norman Knight tossed a handful of silver coins into the water. He and his companions watched as the youths of Canossa dove to retrieve them, laughing from time to time and mocking their desperate scrambles, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

The foreignness of it all made her uncomfortable.

”I won’t leave Tuscany, and I won’t go to Normandy.”

”Mm.”

”You will have to consider my opinion on Tuscan affairs.”

”Mm.”

”You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to.”

Matilda looked at Eric, but his silence made her heart sink.

’Of course. We get married tomorrow, and today he shows his true colors.’

’The last few days were just to keep me from causing trouble.’

”Mm.” Eric finally answered.

But this time, it felt completely different to Matilda.

’A pretense... such a flimsy pretense... it’s not even a good one.’

”Why did you pause for so long?” Matilda asked irritably.

Seeing her conflicted expression, Eric explained, ”To keep you from thinking I was just spouting nonsense, I had to pause intentionally to show my inner turmoil. That way, you’d believe I was answering in earnest.”

Matilda: ”...”

”Whatever. I don’t care about your answer. Don’t think for a second that I’ll just sit back and do nothing if you go against my wishes.” Matilda huffed, expressing her displeasure. ”Tuscany is mine.”

Matilda was concerned about whether Eric would defy her after the wedding, and Eric was happy to give her the answer she wanted. But he was actually more focused on something else.

He noticed that the scent of blood that had clung to Matilda for the past few days was gone.

That evening, a celebratory banquet was held as a prelude to the wedding. Tables covered with white linens were set up in the garden cloisters, allowing guests the option to sit outdoors and listen to musicians play as they dined.

The castle was strewn from one end to the other with fresh, fragrant rushes, and enough candles and torches were lit to banish every stubborn shadow.

The cooks prepared a sumptuous feast: fresh herring, stewed chicken, seasoned rice, a spectacular roasted peacock re-plumed in its feathers, meatballs made of beef marrow, pea soup, Lombardy cream pudding, and nutty sweetmeats, all served with spiced red wine, Hippocratic Wine, and sweet white Malmsey.

Afterward, a French minstrel from the sun-drenched south began to sing, strumming a gittern and reciting a very popular poem, the *Song of Roland*.

After everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, with Gregory as witness, the Bishop of Lucca read out the details of the marriage contract. It stipulated, among other things, that Matilda’s domain would not be absorbed into the Kingdom of England, but would remain an independent Duchy, nominally swearing fealty to the Papal States.

Once the contract was read, Eric and Matilda began to present their wedding gifts.

The bulk of Eric’s gifts had been prepared in advance by Belem, whose father, Montgomery, had plundered many fine things from England. There were ivory-bound books, a Holy Relic Box, jewel-encrusted caskets, a Silver Chalice, glass goblets from the Tyr Workshop, carpets, and scrolls of fine fabric.

To add a personal touch, Eric drew a ’Fearless Sword’ from his own collection. Its stats were quite good. Since Eric currently used the Viking Longsword Ansebel had given him, he had no immediate use for the ’Fearless Sword’.

He had even commissioned a rather exquisite scabbard for the ’Fearless Sword’, crafted in the Tuscan style.

”My father gave me nothing, but I will still find the best for my wife.” Eric presented the ’Fearless Sword’ to Matilda.

Matilda was surprised by the gift, but Eric could see she was pleased.

”I have something for you as well.” She beckoned, and an attendant brought forward a beautifully carved ivory box.

Matilda carefully lifted her vase from its wool lining. The faceted crystal felt cool between her fingers as she turned to formally present it to Eric.

”My grandfather brought this back from a Holy War in Spain,” she said. ”It is very ancient.”

It was clear, exquisite, and unique. As she set it gently on the table, a spray of rainbow light, like colored diamonds, scattered across the white tablecloth.

Although Eric had to admit the thing was beautiful, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Matilda had just put one over on him.

’So who’s the vase, and who’s the sword?’