'Are they happy about the union between Tuscan and the Normans, or are they already plotting a rebellion?'
'Are they happy for her, or are they filled with doubt?'
Regardless, she would do everything in her power to hold onto Tuscan, crush all the rebels, and mercifully hang a few of the ringleaders.
It would take time, but she firmly believed that Tuscan belonged to her—and would be entirely hers.
She glanced over, then looked away, lifting her chin to focus on the altar's soft glow.
Pope Gregory VII stood before the altar. He was not a tall man, and his skin was dark. His features were severe, his cheekbones square; his entire face looked like a canvas filled with straight lines and right angles.
He rarely smiled and almost never revealed his small, even teeth. Only the cleft in his chin softened his features somewhat. It was a true face of the Middle Ages, a living portrait of Judgment Day.
