Of course, Marian refused to hand over the key.
She became Skork's mistress for no other reason than to protect her own family's territory. Now, with the Skork and Howard brothers holding all the power in Göttingen, their rebellion on the verge of victory, and Canossa about to be driven back to the ducal court, how could she allow all their efforts to be for naught?
But Horten was a young man who had been bombarded by the countless strange and varied forms of information warfare of the modern era.
First, he had Greb lead the three children out of the room. Then he leaned in close, stared at Marian, and said, "My Lady, I know what you're worried about. But think clearly. If you hand over the key, we can consider ourselves underground allies. I can recommend you for a position in the Countess's court. Your son can take your family name, and you can even keep this entire manor."
In short, Horten's meaning was simple: The Skork and Howard brothers are about to fall. Are you with me or against me?
Marian, naturally, shook her head continuously. She was just an ordinary country noblewoman. All she had ever seen was Skork swaggering about the countryside. How could she believe that Horten, a mere son of a knight, had any power to subvert the brothers' hegemony?
"Fine, don't believe me. But I will tell you this: I've ordered three of my soldiers to fetch a nearby hornet's nest with a sack. I know this watchtower is sturdy, but I wonder which is tougher, your flimsy flesh or a hornet's sting? I hear that after a hornet attack, one's entire body swells up and becomes extremely ugly..." Horten finished with a cold smile, the very picture of a classic villain.
But Marian was truly terrified. She would rather have been violated by Horten; as a widow committing adultery with a cleric, she was already breaking major precepts.
But to be stung to death by hornets and placed in a coffin looking hideous... she would rather surrender to Horten.
Marian straightened up in defeat, lifted her skirt to reveal an iron key tied to her underbreeches, and closed her eyes, her face flushed red. "Take it, you cunning little brat."
Medieval women didn't wear bras or silk panties. Important items were often hidden within their undergarments.
Horten, shameless, reached out, wrapped an arm around Marian, untied the cord, and took the key.
After Horten had left, Marian muttered angrily behind his back, "You little lecher! If I'd known you were this rotten, I never would have helped sponsor you into the abbey!"
As it turned out, Marian and Horten's mother were on reasonably good terms. When Horten had entered the abbey through the back door, it was Marian who had mediated, helping the Bovenden family get rid of the burden of their youngest son.
In the wine cellar, Skork's treasury was hidden beneath a barrel in his storeroom. Skork had revealed this once while boasting at the abbey during a drunken stupor. But he had never said which barrel.
Horten entered the cellar with a torch. A few longbowmen had already been searching for a while and found nothing.
After a quick look around, Horten wisely abandoned the plan of searching the cellar. Unless Skork himself was present, who could possibly know where the treasure was?
The exasperated Greb suggested, "Chaplain, let's just go drag that bitch over here. With her son in our hands, how can she keep hiding it?"
"No need. Skork is a cunning bastard. How could he not have anticipated this kind of situation? The treasury this key belongs to is surely known only to him," Horten said, shaking his head with regret.
He had been outplayed, underestimating the sly nature of medieval nobles.
And sure enough, Marian later confirmed that she didn't know the location of the treasury door. There were two copies of the key, and Skork always handled the hiding of his wealth personally.
Since that was the case, Horten had no choice but to give up on this manor and lead his reinforcements back to help his father.
Generally speaking, a protagonist's story is easier to develop if their parents are dead and their family is in decline. Yet here Horten was, eight years later, and not only were his parents doing fine, but his older brother had even gotten married.
With the fire at the gate followed by the bloody fighting in front of the residence, most of the manor's subjects had figured it out: the manor had been taken by an inside job.
If the lord had been a man of high repute, loyal subjects would naturally have rushed to his aid. But Abbot Skork was a notorious scoundrel. Not only did he collect a marriage tax from his serfs, but he also exploited the free folk with all sorts of exorbitant taxes. Yet when war, flood, or drought came, Skork would refuse the free folk refuge in his castle, because they were "free."
If the free folk wanted safety, they had to apply for his protection and become his serfs. And even becoming a serf required them to hand over a portion of their wealth.
Therefore, when Skork's residence was attacked, not only did the people not resist, but there were even faint cheers.
Aside from the hidden treasury, Horten used the remaining time to clear out the manor's armory and stables. He was finally able to put on a suit of chainmail and, at last, had a horse to ride.
He was no longer a donkey knight.
After re-equipping, under the light of a starry sky, Horten led his men away from the manor.
Marian, clutching her unfortunate child, hid in her room, weeping ceaselessly. Fortunately for her, Horten had no interest in a bastard with no status. He only took Howard's two legitimate sons, trussing them up like pigs and carrying them away.
The unlucky widow suddenly began to wonder: with a man of action like Horten, leading a band of what looked like bandits and robbers, could Canossa actually manage to stabilize the situation?
On the hill, the knights were cold and hungry. Their dead squires could no longer serve them and help them sleep. And Horten, who had come to their aid only to run off again, had lit a fire of hope only to extinguish it.
Many began to discuss a new plan: why not just have the Countess return to the duchy and marry the Duke's son to save the County of Göttingen?
It was just a political marriage, after all. Even if the Duke's son was an idiot, it wouldn't stop Canossa from having fun on the side, finding some young piece of meat from the abbey, like Horten, to amuse herself.
Why was Canossa being so stubborn?
"I can't take it anymore."
As the sky began to lighten and the red sun started to rise, a group of knights who felt they had been wronged gathered together. Led by a knight named Wagner, they blocked the path of the Captain, Joan 'the Flash'.
"Girlie, get the Countess out here. We need to talk."
"Wagner, what do you think you're doing?"
Joan was shocked. Were these knights planning to rebel against the Countess?
Wagner appeared to be in his forties or fifties, one of the more staid and respected knights in the county. He roared with a hoarse, angry voice, "What am I doing? Give us an explanation! Why was that bastard Howard in such a high position? The Master of the Stables, such an important post, was given to him? Tell me, whose fault is that?"
Whose fault?
It was, of course, Countess Canossa's fault.
But was this the time to admit guilt? From Joan's perspective, admitting guilt now would be tantamount to shattering the morale of their own side.
"You want to be the Master of the Stables? Do you have the qualifications?" Joan retorted angrily.
Wagner laid his cards on the table. "That's right, I do want the post. You ask if I'm qualified? First, ask yourself if you're fit to be Captain! Didn't you get your position through the back door?"
This public airing of dirty laundry made Joan's face go pale.
Canossa's shortcomings in personnel appointments were now on full display.
Some of the other knights began to clamor, demanding more fiefdoms. If Canossa promised to meet all their demands, where would she find the resources?
In her tent, Canossa's mind was in turmoil.
Even though she disliked him, she couldn't help but pray, "Oh God, please let Horten come and save me. I would truly rather marry..."
Just as morale was collapsing and dissent was rampant, the forest suddenly began to speak.
The sounds grew more numerous, more clamorous.
Canossa couldn't help but feel a surge of surprise and hope. Could it be... was Horten back with reinforcements?