Chapter 53 – The Crimson City
Two days had passed since their escape from the town. Time moved on, carrying with it their weary bodies and resolute spirits. Now, only a day's journey remained to Bologna. The sun had climbed to its zenith, pouring blistering heat onto the parched earth. The air was both hot and oppressively humid.
They rode their horses at a gallop, raising clouds of dust along the dirt roads that cut between forests and fields. Each face was sunburned, each pair of eyes carried the weight of the road. Yet despite their exhaustion, there was no hesitation in their pace. Their goal was clear.
In the past two days, Ellie had grown more at ease within the group. Her initial fear had given way to curiosity and respect. She now approached them more warmly, joined conversations during meal breaks, and often asked questions about the Turks.
The one she spoke with most was Kasim. The young warrior answered her questions with great patience and courtesy, explaining everything with care. With every answer, Ellie seemed more astonished—watching her old prejudices crumble one by one.
That afternoon, as the sun began its slow descent, the silhouette of a small town appeared on the horizon. Before weariness overtook them, they decided to spend the night there. They found lodging in the town's sole inn. One by one, they washed up and changed. Then came a simple yet filling meal. Sleep followed quickly—descending upon them like a heavy blanket in the silence of the night.
By dawn, they were on the road again. Bologna was now only half a day away. The morning air still held a trace of coolness, but every step drew them closer to a great reckoning.
Balibey nudged his horse forward and drew up beside Murat, scanning the horizon as he spoke:
"Sire… Word of Gritti's death has surely reached his master by now. They're likely waiting for us. I wonder… before we cross into Rome, should we linger in Bologna a while—make them forget about us for a time?"
Murat kept his gaze ahead, eyes locked on the road as he replied:
"Perhaps. We'll discuss it when we arrive in Bologna."
Balibey gave a respectful nod and pulled his horse back, letting Murat ride at the front. He was the leader now—the burden and direction both rested on his shoulders. And each day, they pressed onward toward the coming storm.
When they reached Bologna, the city's grandeur unfolded before their eyes. Broad avenues fed into narrow stone alleys, and countless towers pierced the skyline like spears. Nearly every building was made from red-tinged stone that glowed under the sun—hence its nickname among the people: The Crimson City.
From atop his horse, Murat gazed at the towers, the yellow bricks, the faint smoke rising from the rooftops.
"It's no Istanbul," he thought. "But it holds a majesty of its own."
The group made their way deeper into the city, to a district filled with inns. They chose one away from the noisy crowds—quiet, secluded. After reserving their rooms, everyone retreated to rest for a short while.
After spending a few minutes in his room, Murat turned to Balibey.
"Once you've unpacked and rested, come see me before dinner. Bring Cafer and Kasim as well."
"At once, my lord," Balibey said with a bow, and left.
Not long after, a knock came at the door.
"Enter," said Murat.
The door opened, and Balibey, Kasim, and Cafer stepped inside. Murat gestured for them to sit. Once they had, he turned to Balibey first.
"How is Viki?" he asked.
Balibey straightened his shoulders.
"She's improving, my lord. I placed her in the same room as Ellie. They seem to be warming up to each other. I thought it might help distract her mind."
Murat nodded. "A wise choice."
Then he turned to Kasim.
"Kasim… I'm pleased with your progress. Your ability to manifest nature energy as flame is a major step forward. This power will serve us well. Keep going."
Kasim bowed his head, slightly embarrassed. "Thank you, my lord."
Murat stood, pacing slowly around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. Then he stopped, facing them all.
"As you know, Leonardo is hiding in the Vatican. But entering there will not be easy. I've thought it over… and found no clear path. Do any of you have a plan?"
Balibey and Cafer gave slight shakes of their heads.
Then Murat's eyes fixed on Kasim. He sensed a flicker of thought stirring in the young man's eyes.
"Kasim?" he asked. "Do you have something in mind?"
Kasim hesitated, then looked up.
"I'm not sure, my lord. But… on the road, I was talking to Ellie. She asked me about Turks, and I asked about her culture and beliefs. She mentioned that this year is a holy year for Catholics—something called the Jubilee Year. It happens once every twenty-five years. And this year is one of them. The rituals begin in ten days. People make pilgrimage to the Vatican to seek forgiveness. I thought… maybe we could disguise ourselves and blend in."
Murat's eyes lit up faintly. Destiny, he thought.
A soft smile appeared on his face.
"A brilliant idea," he said. Then he turned to Balibey. "We'll proceed with that plan."
Balibey bowed without hesitation. "It is a sound plan, my sultan."
Murat smiled after a brief silence.
"Then we're agreed. Now, let's eat and regain our strength."
Together, they descended to the inn's dining hall and shared a simple but satisfying meal. Afterward, each returned to their rooms for rest.
At dawn, the city erupted in the ringing of bells. Their loud, solemn chimes echoed through every street, jolting even the deepest sleepers awake.
Murat sat up and went to the window. The streets were overflowing—people clutched crosses, prayer books, and handkerchiefs, all heading toward the church. He blinked in confusion.
"What now…"
Throwing on his clothes, he stepped into the hallway. As he descended the inn's stairs, he spotted Ellie and Viki in the courtyard. Ellie stood trembling, eyes wet with tears.
Murat rushed to them.
"What happened?" he asked Viki.
She turned to him and whispered:
"His Holiness… the Pope has passed away."
Murat froze.
"What?" he said. "The Pope is dead?"
His shock was brief. His gaze drifted into the distance, thoughts spiraling elsewhere.
"Will this disrupt the plan?"
But deep down, he knew—every crisis opened a new door.