Capítulo 64: Chapter 64: Render Unto God What Is God's, and Unto Caesar What Is Caesar's
Upon arriving in Lancaster, John heard distressing news. It wasn't from England or Ireland, but from the continent—Henry II was demanding money from him. John never expected Henry II to reach into his purse before the war even started. Henry II wasn't even willing to deplete his own treasury; he only thought about how to make money from this war.
"The old man actually asked for a thousand pounds right off the bat. How could I possibly come up with that!" John complained directly to the messenger, "Just one week's deadline, can't it be postponed a bit?"
The messenger shook his head; he was just following orders.
Indeed, demanding a thousand pounds from John within a week was extremely difficult. Most of his wealth was in Ireland, and it would take much longer than a week to transfer it to Lancaster.
But the messenger was helpless too, fearing punishment from the king for not carrying out his duties properly.
Thus, both sides stood on the coast, lost in thought. John found a large stone, sat down, and held his head in his hands, unsure how to handle the situation.
"This is too sudden. I only have a little over two hundred pounds on hand; I can't possibly come up with that much money..." John muttered to himself.
The others around him seemed equally clueless; they were all as poor as church mice, and pooling together enough money was almost impossible.
Just as John was agonizing over the situation, Guy approached him.
"Your Highness, what do you think... if I were to use a bit of the monastery's funds, do you think it would be disrespectful to God?" Guy asked tentatively.
His probing wasn't baseless; many devout rulers would never consider touching church funds. However, there were also some less devout rulers who would do whatever it took to get money from the church.
Up until now, John hadn't hinted at using church funds, so Guy needed to test John's stance first.
John looked up at Guy, "Of course not, the current situation is urgent."
Saying that, Jacques also came over to Guy's side, and the three formed a small circle, as if planning something bad.
"In that case, Your Highness, I can provide you with eight hundred pounds to cover the gap," Guy suggested, "I can definitely raise this amount within a week, but you know..."
"I absolutely won't let you lose this money for nothing, Guy. I'll pay it back, and with some convenience, just like I said in Ireland, you understand," John's face was full of sincerity.
Eight hundred pounds wasn't a huge sum for John, but the biggest issue was that he couldn't come up with that much money all at once.
Guy's actions were essentially just a temporary relief measure. But such assistance was crucial for John.
Jacques said, "Your Highness, instead of going to Lancaster right away, why not temporarily stay at Preston Abbey? Once the money is gathered, then we can move elsewhere."
"This lad really plans meticulously," John thought.
The two men before him were clearly colluding, but John didn't mind; after all, they had helped him solve his problem. Besides, he was sure they harbored no ill intentions toward him. They were both looking to prosper alongside John, so why would they harm him?
"Very well, let's go. We'll head to Preston Abbey instead of Lancaster," John quickly decided.
Upon hearing this, Guy remained expressionless, but Jacques was visibly pleased. John, busy notifying the royal guards of the change in plans, didn't notice their differing reactions, focusing only on the task at hand.
The procession, originally bound east for Lancaster, now turned southeast and made its way to Preston Abbey.
Preston Abbey wasn't a massive institution, but it wasn't small either. Responsible for collecting tithes in the area, the abbey was relatively wealthy.
Bald monks worked the fields, and various crafts thrived under the abbey's patronage, including textiles and brewing. Brewing, in particular, was renowned among the monks of Preston Abbey for their exceptional skill.
Upon arrival, John sampled Preston's wine. While it didn't rival the wines of France in flavor, it was certainly superior to common market wines.
Additionally, the food within the abbey surpassed that found elsewhere. Though religious restrictions somewhat stifled technological progress in the late Middle Ages, the monks were among the most cultured individuals in Europe at the time.
Naturally, John received excellent hospitality. The abbey's banquet, though not extravagant, offered dishes worthy of praise, far surpassing the rough fare common among nobles.
John graciously thanked the monks and began to enjoy the abbey's fine cuisine. Jacques, by his side as an attendant, ensured John's plate was full and his wine glass brimming.
After a few rounds of wine, the tone of the banquet shifted from mere feasting to conversation.
"Did you grow up here from a young age?" John inquired of Jacques.
"Yes, Your Highness. I've been here since I was a child. Before, it was Brother Fred who raised me. After his passing, it was Brother Guy who took care of me. They taught me a great deal," Jacques replied, nodding.
Brother Fred was a name John had never encountered, but he could sense he must have been a decent man.
"The food here is truly delicious, far better than the swill those Irish nobles eat," John commented openly, displaying his disdain for Irish fare.
As his attendant, Jacques nodded in agreement with John's assessment.
Suddenly, a nun appeared beside John, placing a bowl of stew in front of him before wiping her hands clean.
"Thank you, Margaret," Jacques spoke on behalf of John.
John was curious. "You have nuns here?" he asked, pointing to the nun.
Margaret nodded in response. "Certainly, Your Highness. I am Sister Margaret, a nun here, and a friend of Jacques."
"A friend, hmm..." John's gaze shifted strangely between the two, pondering.
Jacques casually ignored John's gaze, leaning in to whisper in John's ear, "Your Highness, Sister Margaret has something she wishes to discuss with you. Could we move to a more private setting?"
In a sober state, John would have certainly been alert. Many assassinations in the Middle Ages occurred under similar circumstances. However, in his slightly inebriated state, John completely missed any hint of danger. He simply raised his cup in acknowledgment to the guests before following Jacques out of the banquet hall.
As they walked, Jacques and John engaged in idle conversation, while Margaret remained silent, seemingly preparing for something ahead.
When they reached a door to a room, Margaret opened it and walked in. John followed closely behind, and as he entered, the door closed softly behind him. Hearing the door latch against the frame, John suddenly sobered up from the alcohol.
A wave of immense fear surged through him. This place was ideal for an assassination. John was unarmed, and Margaret could easily end him with a small knife right here.
"Margaret?" John's voice was very soft, as if testing the nun.
The nun turned around and walked slowly towards John, her demeanor far from that of an assassin. With each step Margaret took, John's fear diminished bit by bit.
She gently placed her hand on John's waist, her trembling hands revealing her lack of experience with worldly affairs.
"What are you planning, Sister Margaret?" John's words were cautious, but his body showed no restraint.
Margaret wrapped her arms around John's waist, guiding him to the edge of the bed. She gently pushed him onto the soft mattress, then removed her heavy nun's habit, revealing a near-perfect figure. In the dim light, her physique made John's blood rush, almost uncontrollably.
As her perfect form pressed against his, John could no longer restrain himself. He swiftly rolled over and pinned her beneath him. Yet, amidst his desire, a sliver of reason remained.
"You're a nun, how can you do this?" John's eyes seemed to burn with fire, as if he could devour his prey at any moment.
Margaret smiled slightly, her voice sensual as she said, "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's. My Lord, tonight, I am yours."
With that statement, like a switch, Margaret effectively shut down the last shreds of John's reason.
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