A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

He was small and insignificant before the glory of his father. His father, who shared his name, had been far more successful than him in the affairs of the Empire. Under his rule, almost no one had dared to challenge his authority in the Empire—not even the so-called Pope of Rome.

He had personally deposed three Popes and installed four. He was the Lord’s undisputed Governor on earth.

The memory of his sister, Mechthild, who had died at thirteen in an unnaturally early marriage, was always filled with regret and bitterness.

As he traveled to Canossa for an audience with that venomous Pope, that grasping charlatan, he decided to bring them with him.

He planned to ask the Pope to hold a mass for them, allowing them to be reburied in Rome.

’Such groveling would surely please the detestable Hilbrand.’

Moreover, the dire situation in the northern Empire made him anxious about leaving them there.

The new King of England, that disgraceful Norman, had openly declared his support for Hilbrand and stationed troops in the Hainaut region. This forced him to abandon his plan to assemble an army and march south to Italy. Of course, he also feared that a large-scale military march would antagonize the southern Counts.

The southern Counts were not all that supportive of him.

Hilbrand had intimidated them, warning that any noble who attempted to host an excommunicant would come under the scrutiny of the Holy See.

Indeed, his assessment had been frighteningly accurate. His escort, numbering less than eight hundred, had attracted the attention of the local Count in Kalf. Terrified by Hilbrand’s childish ploys, the pathetic and foolish country Count had audaciously imprisoned him.

Fortunately, the nearby Count Albert Habsburg heard the news. Eager to curry favor, he immediately paid a handsome ransom to secure Henry’s release.

Henry had invited him before setting out, because the Count of Habsburg was a grand-uncle to Beatrice, the mother of the Marchioness of Tuscany. He knew that Beatrice and her daughter, Matilda, held great influence over Hilbrand.

However, the Count of Habsburg was also unwilling to attract Hilbrand’s attention. He publicly announced that he was going on a pilgrimage to Rome, not acting as an envoy for the Emperor.

It was time to go. He walked out of the Church, where his escort was waiting for him.

His young advisor, Goth Shalke, was also there, standing at the Church entrance. He must have just arrived, for the young monk’s fingers and even his face were smudged with ink.

The young monk had studied and taken his vows in Goslar before joining the Royal Office.

About eighteen months ago, his rhetorical talents had caught Henry’s attention.

Goth Shalke’s wisdom and unwavering loyalty were as impressive as his penmanship, so Henry put him in charge of the daily briefings.

But there was a more important reason Henry had made him an advisor: Goth Shalke’s father, the Saxon Archbishop, Adalbert of Bremen.

When Otto of Nordheim had snatched Henry from his mother’s hands, the great Saxon Archbishop had taken on the responsibility for the young King’s education.

It took Henry some time to trust him, but eventually, he came to see him as a father. The Archbishop, in turn, loved him like a son, faithfully protecting and advising him.

On his deathbed, the Archbishop revealed a secret to Henry: he had an illegitimate son, Goth Shalke, and he begged Henry to look after his poor child.

Henry was very fond of Goth Shalke, who seemed to have inherited all of the Archbishop’s virtues. That was why he had brought him along on this difficult journey. He could see the Archbishop’s shadow in the young man.

"It’s a good thing you don’t illuminate manuscripts, Goth Shalke! Otherwise, your face would look like a rainbow!" Henry only ever joked with Goth Shalke, though he knew he couldn’t truly feel happy.

But Goth Shalke, who would normally have laughed at such a joke, stood with a tense jaw, his face turned toward the bright moonlight.

Henry urged, "Is something troubling you?"

Goth Shalke opened his mouth slightly, but said nothing.

Henry pressed on, "Does this have to do with my snake of a brother-in-law?"

After taking his sister Mechthild by violent and unlawful means and burying her, his ’brother-in-law,’ Duke Rudolph of Swabia, had remarried. His new wife was none other than the sister of Henry’s own wife, and in this way, he had wormed his way back into the Royal Family.

"I’m afraid so, my lord." Goth Shalke had inherited his father’s deep blue eyes, but not his skill at concealing his emotions. "It seems... Duke Rudolph left his domain... two weeks ago," he added nervously.

"Where did he go?"

"Canossa. He should have arrived already. He seems determined to see the Holy See before we do."

"Without my permission!"

Henry pressed, "Is there anything else I need to know?"

The moonlight cast shadows on Goth Shalke’s face as he hesitated. "According to reports from merchants sailing along the Will River, the Saxons are spreading their seditious ideas on the other side."

"They’re trying to spread rebellious ideas to the Thuringians? The rebellion cannot be allowed to spread."

"There is still no news of casualties," Goth Shalke said.

Henry’s brow smoothed in relief. "Thank God."

"May God hear our prayers," Goth Shalke said softly.

"My soldiers in Franconia... what is their morale, Goth Shalke? Is... is anyone... calling me a coward for running instead of fighting?" Henry felt a pang of pain and embarrassment.

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