Chapter 1664 - 1570: Blazing Flames Spread

Chapter 1664: Chapter 1570: Blazing Flames Spread

Yes, to avoid that Baden Princess and any other "scheming" princesses his mother might line up for him, Charles decisively followed his elder brother’s earlier suggestion and took up the post of Governor of Ravenna.

Only recently Queen Mary had been sending more and more letters to Ravenna, endlessly urging her son to "leave the harsh land of Italy."

Helpless, Charles began an "art and tradition" tour across Italy—if I’m not in Ravenna, I can treat Mother’s letters as if I never saw them.

Who could have known that on the very next day after he arrived in Rome, a massive protest march "against papal rule" would break out here.

Harsh whistles shrieked as a squad of brightly dressed Vatican Guard suddenly charged out from the street corner, led by Secret Police.

The leading policeman shouted loudly: "Everyone stay where you are and submit to inspection. Anyone who disobeys will be arrested on charges of complicity with the murderer!"

A middle-aged man who looked like a teacher spread his arms to block the nearest policeman, and angrily shouted: "What murderer? There are only Romans here who pursue freedom and equality!"

The captain of the Secret Police immediately looked over: "Archbishop Muzareli was assassinated this morning. We are under orders to hunt down the killer.

"You look very suspicious to me. Pino, arrest him."

Several Secret Police instantly pinned the middle-aged man down and dragged him out of the crowd.

"Let him go!"

"Muzareli should’ve died long ago. Even if someone killed him, it’s no crime."

"Right! Long live the ’murderer,’ may Jesus bless him!"

The people nearby immediately closed in, trying to stop the Secret Police.

The Vatican Guard moved, roughly knocking down the few people at the very front, then pointing their Flintlock Guns at the crowd. "Back! Or you’ll be shot dead!"

No one paid them any mind. At last an officer shouted, "This is a riot," and fired his pistol into the air.

"Bang—"

The gunshot not only failed to scare the protesters away, it turned them into mad beasts, roaring as they surged in from all directions. "We must learn from Vienna!"

"Long live freedom and equality!"

"Don’t be afraid, we can drive out the Tyrant just like the Austrian revolutionaries did."

"For our National Assembly, fight them!"

Indeed, the power of example is boundless. Before this they would never have dared to do such a thing, but with the successful experience of the great revolution in Vienna before them, the Romans had become unimaginably fierce.

The Secret Police, terrified by the sheer momentum of the crowd, kept retreating. But those Swiss mercenaries of the Vatican Guard swung their gunstocks and started brawling with the citizens of Rome—they were all simple-minded men: since they took the Pope’s pay, they would risk their lives to carry out the Pope’s orders.

In only a few minutes, the entire street had turned into a battlefield.

Whistles, screams, curses and the sound of bones shattering blended together; blood was everywhere and people lay collapsed in the dirt.

Charles’s Captain of the Guard, Rosh, face dark as iron, shouted orders to his men to protect "Mr. Charlie"—Charles’s alias—and then turned to whisper to Charles: "Your Highness, this is too dangerous. It would be better to reveal your identity..."

However, before Charles could decide, hundreds of citizens came sprinting this way with the Court Guard in hot pursuit.

"Stop! This is France..." Rosh had barely finished half his sentence before someone shoved him so hard he stumbled.

The trusted aides drew their pistols, but didn’t dare fire at all—if the protesters mistook them for accomplices of the Secret Police, it could bring annihilating disaster.

Another group surged in from the side, scattering Charles and the guards in an instant, and the carriage was flipped over onto the ground.

Rosh used his strong body to shield Charles desperately, edging along the wall toward the other end of the street...

Close to noon, the exhausted Rosh finally heard the clamor behind them die down—a wave of chaos had swept through all of Rome as the news of Archbishop Muzareli’s assassination spread. They were like leaves in a raging sea, dodging about for over an hour before making it here.

Turning his head, Rosh saw a medieval-style gate, and the words "University of Rome" carved above it. He couldn’t help letting out a sigh of relief. It seems only places that pursue knowledge can stay calm.

"Mr. Charlie, let’s rest here for a while. As soon as Captain Patrice and the others find us, we’ll head straight to Florence."

Charles, still badly shaken, nodded. Back when he was a child, Paris had seen protests even larger than this, but he had been too young to remember them. Later, once his elder brother took charge of governance, Paris never fell into chaos again.

Just then, a young man passed by the mouth of the alley. Seeing the equally young Charles, he immediately turned over, pulled out a leaflet from the stack in his arms and shoved it at him, speaking in a tone full of complaint: "Which class are you in? Why are you still here, are you scared? Be brave—Muzareli is dead already. We’ll soon take Rome back from the Holy See!"

Seeing that Charles showed little reaction, he sighed and hurried away.

In truth, Charles had never learned Italian, and only understood a few words.

Curious, Charles unfolded the leaflet; the ink smell was pungent.

Relying on the close kinship between French and Italian, he barely managed to make out that it listed Muzareli’s crimes of rampant embezzlement, manipulating the Inquisition, persecuting dissenters, and so on, signed at the end as "The Reckoning of the People of Rome."

A rapid clatter of leather boots interrupted his reading. Several Secret Police ran over; one of them snatched the leaflet from his hand, glanced at it, then pointed his baton straight at Charles’s nose and said coldly: "You are under arrest for participating in the riot. Behave yourselves!"

Rosh slowly moved to stand in front of Charles, his right hand sliding toward the pistol at his waist.

Charles himself was stunned on the spot. This "incitement to riot" leaflet alone was enough to have him thrown into the dungeons of the Inquisition.

Must he really reveal his identity? His mind was in utter panic. If word spread that he was involved in Rome’s unrest, it could bring needless diplomatic trouble upon France...

Just as he wrestled with this, three young people, faces full of excitement they could not conceal yet walking with their heads down, arrived at the front of the University of Rome. They were about to go in when the one in front—a sixteen or seventeen-year-old, slim student—glanced over at Charles and frowned, stopping in his tracks.

The tall student beside "him" immediately tugged at "him," whispering: "Josiah, the Secret Police are scouring the city for us. Don’t create complications."

Josiah shook off his hand: "He’s holding our leaflet. He’s one of us."

"Are you insane?"

"It’s fine, we’re already out of danger." Josiah bit down on his lower lip, but his eyes were very firm. "We can’t just watch revolutionary fighters get arrested. I have to do something."