Chapter 107

Bill was inspecting the monastery when a stranger suddenly rushed out and grabbed his shoulder. The man’s head was covered in blood, and another unfamiliar young man followed behind him, holding a blood-stained handkerchief.

“Sir…” Bill supported the man’s arm, “Do you need help?”

Barnett stared intently at Bill. He would never forget this face, not even after fifteen years… a face so similar to his wife’s… “Carl…” Barnett murmured in a trance, and for the first time, tears rolled down his eyes.

The situation made Bill a little flustered. “Sir, you…”

The King, observing from the bishop’s hut, immediately understood what was happening. He turned to the bishop and said, “This time, you’ve truly done a good deed.”

Bill was completely puzzled, not understanding why the middle-aged man in front of him was clinging to him and crying, seemingly muttering a name that was unfamiliar to him. Feeling extremely awkward, he looked at Achill. “Hey, do you know him? Are you friends? What’s going on with him?”

“Bill.”

The King’s call freed Bill from his embarrassing situation. He tried to shake off Barnett’s hand, but Barnett held him too tightly, muttering something unintelligible. Bill, sweating, could only call out in the direction of the King and the bishop, “Your Majesty, Bishop.”

“Barnett.” The bishop first touched Barnett’s shoulder and then said to Achill, “Achill, pull him away.”

Achill hesitantly agreed and went forward to grab Barnett’s arm. He was known for his strength among the revolutionaries, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull Barnett away. Barnett clung to Bill tightly, causing Bill great pain. In desperation, Bill looked at the King, who seemed lost in thought.

“Son… my son…”

From the man’s tearful cries, Bill heard these two words. It was as if he had been whipped, looking at the King with shock and questioning eyes.

The King said, “Bill, tell him to stop crying.”

*

Barnett cried for a good ten minutes, attracting the nuns and the guards. None of them knew that the person in front of them was the leader of the revolutionaries.

Bill’s initial panic gradually turned into fear, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to suppress the fear, and after Barnett was pulled away by the guards, he took a step back. But Barnett pounced on him again, unwilling to let go.

Several guards had no choice but to escort the inseparable pair into the monastery. The nuns, who hadn’t seen such a scene in a long time, wondered where this man came from. The bishop stepped forward to calm them down, and they dispersed.

The monastery’s central hall was dim and towering, with colorful paintings of the Madonna on the walls. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting a rainbow of colors on the dark red benches.

The King ordered the guards to leave. Achill stood aside, somewhat at a loss. Bill was even more nervous, his arms stiff and his demeanor helpless. He looked to the King for help several times, but the King sat silently, and the bishop stood quietly, saying nothing.

It wasn’t until Barnett slowly calmed down and raised his head, his voice hoarse, “Carl, my Carl, I knew you were still alive…”

“Carl? I’m not Carl…” Bill said awkwardly, “I’m Bill, Bill Wood.”

“No, you are Carl, Carl Field!”

Barnett insisted, “My child, I would never mistake my own child’s face!” He reached out to touch Bill’s face, but Bill dodged. “This…” His mind was in turmoil. He was an orphan! How could… Bill looked at the King, who frowned slightly.

“Barnett,” the King said, “Are you sure he is your child?”

Bill was again shocked, for “Barnett” was the name of the revolutionary leader.

“I’m sure, of course I’m sure!”

Barnett nodded repeatedly, then remembered to ask about the person in front of him. “Your Majesty,” his tone was extremely respectful, “What is going on? How did my son become your guard?”

Both father and son looked at the King, yearning for the truth. The King’s almost certain expression from Barnett’s excitement indicated their father-son relationship. “Barnett, tell me, how did your child go missing?”

This is a heartbreaking story. That year was like a nightmare for Barnett. First, his wife contracted tuberculosis, leading to prolonged treatment and constant prayers. His wife was a devout believer, and Barnett often took their son to church to pray for her. Little Carl was very naughty and could never sit still, often running out of the church’s central hall to play. Since it was within the church, Barnett didn’t pay much attention. On that fateful day, bad news came from home. Barnett wanted to take Carl home immediately to see his wife, but Carl was nowhere to be found…

Barnett searched for a long time, with the butler and the coachman also looking everywhere in the church. Finally, a servant from home came running to the church to inform Barnett of his wife’s death.

“That day, I lost both Lillian and Carl… it drove me mad…”

Barnett recalled, tears streaming down his face. His eyes were red, gazing at Bill with deep affection and sorrow. “Carl, have you forgotten me? Have you forgotten your mother, Lillian…”

Bill was certain he didn’t know the man in front of him, but when he heard the name “Lillian,” he couldn’t help but feel a jolt in his heart as if something buried deep in his memory was struggling to surface. He looked at the King again, hoping the King could give him an answer.

“Bill,” the King gave him a confirming look, “greet your father.”

The King explained to Barnett that he had found Bill on the road when he left the capital. At that time, Bill had a head injury and couldn’t remember anything. The King needed a servant of his age and disliked the palace servants, so he took Bill in and brought him to Oss.

“That’s the story,” the King said to Bill, “you probably don’t remember anything from that time.”

Bill was stunned. Who would recall their childhood memories out of the blue? Thinking back, his memories seemed to start from when he was about ten years old, all in Oss. He always thought he was a complete Ossian, an orphan without parents!

But in fact… he had a father?

“Are you… really my father?”

Barnett excitedly took out a necklace hanging around his neck. “Look, this is your mother’s portrait. You look exactly like her…”

Bill was extremely shocked to see a portrait of a noblewoman, elegant and refined, with facial features strikingly similar to his own!

At this moment, the King stood up and discreetly supported the bishop’s arm. The bishop understood and followed the King out, leaving the bewildered Achill standing there, dumbfounded, watching the reunion.

The King and the bishop walked briskly to the small garden of the monastery.

The King’s breath was slightly erratic. The bishop said, “Your Majesty…”

“No, don’t call me that.”

The King turned and embraced the bishop. “Call me Randes. Only you can call me by my name, or something affectionate… um—” The King received a punch in the stomach.

“Things aren’t that simple, are they?” the bishop asked.

The King gently stroked the back of the bishop’s neck. “You’re still so smart.”

The bishop frowned slightly. “What is really going on?”

The King released the bishop, then took his hand and sat with him on a bench.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” the King said. “You asked me before, but I didn’t say. Now, I feel like I should share everything with you. There’s nothing you can’t know.”

At twelve, the prince reluctantly agreed to be baptized. He had endured much hidden mockery and malicious speculation since childhood and had never received much kindness. This made him harbor a special resentment towards religion. On the day before his baptism, he had the sudden idea to secretly observe the Hebrew bishop, to see if he was truly qualified to baptize him.

“At that time, I didn’t know that the monks had already entered the palace the day before the baptism.”

The King recounted calmly. “When I went to the church, it was empty.”

The King paused for a moment. “But coincidentally…” he paused again, “the Hebrew bishop had returned to the church from the palace…”

The young prince wandered around the empty church and accidentally opened the basement door.

“He was terrified, kneeling on the ground, confessing to me that this was absolutely the first time he had done such a thing. He hadn’t had a chance to do anything to the unconscious child. He regretted it and wanted to come here to let the child go. Anyway, you understand,” the King said coldly. “He said every word a begging man could say.”

“And then you killed him,” said the bishop.

The king replied, “No, I ordered him to confess and face trial.”

The bishop remarked, “That sounds like you.”

The king smiled.

“And then?” the bishop asked. “Did he refuse? Did you execute him?”

“He died,” the king said flatly, “just scared to death.”

The bishop was silent for a moment, then said, “That’s absurd.”

“Yes, the truth is absurd,” the king said. “Bill… I still prefer to call him Bill. Bill inhaled an excessive amount of the drug and remembered almost nothing when he woke up. The bishop was telling the truth in one aspect: he didn’t touch Bill. Bill had no wounds on his body. I think he was a cowardly beast, you understand? Some people are beasts but are also very afraid of the consequences of their actions,” the king sneered. “And he was a bishop, a devout believer…”

The bishop detected something in the king’s mocking yet detached tone. The king repeatedly acknowledged and emphasized that he had executed the Hebrew bishop, so self-righteous and even proud of it, which was quite unusual for someone as proud as the king.

“Do you feel any guilt about it?” the bishop asked.

The king’s intense tone abruptly ceased.

For years, he had buried this matter deep in his heart. No one knew any details besides him.

When a person keeps a secret alone, they tend to think about it countless times.

Despite appearing as a hideous, ill-tempered cripple, he had always maintained integrity and kindness in his heart. Due to his physical imperfections, he was somewhat harsh on his inner self.

Landes had collected all information about the Hebrew bishop’s actions and words. The more he knew, the more he believed that the bishop’s pleas and confessions might have been true.

How should one deal with a sinner who hadn’t yet committed a real crime? Even in court, the Hebrew bishop might not have faced the death penalty. Had he gone too far in punishing this man? He could say the bishop was scared to death, but his threats were more than just calling for a confession. He had said he would ruin him, make everyone despise him…

“I don’t know,” the king said, kissing the bishop’s hand, “I don’t know.”

“I think you did make a mistake,” the bishop said, withdrawing his hand and standing up, his eyelashes casting a shadow. “If it were me, I would have cut off his genitals and put them inside him. I wouldn’t have let him off so easily, allowing him the luxury of dying on his own terms.”

The king’s lips parted slightly, his expression revealing a confusion that had been delayed for over a decade. “But perhaps he hadn’t committed a crime at all…”

“You saved Bill, and the bishop received his due punishment. That’s my judgment on this matter.”

The king sat quietly on the bench, looking up at the bishop.

In the sunlight, the bishop’s profile was as beautiful as a painting. His noble and indifferent demeanor was like that of a true deity. “The future Pope of the Auston continent’s judgment. Even the emperor must kneel and accept it.”