"These Normans and Greeks are a menace! Italy must belong to the Italians!"
Pietro Mezzabarba, the bushy-bearded Bishop of Firenze, chuckled at his friend's angry, impassioned words. Taking a sip of wine from his pewter chalice, he remarked mildly, "Oh, it isn't just the Normans and the Greeks, old friend. A German holds the title of King of Italy and there are several of his countrymen in the land."
"That is precisely what I mean!" spat Iacopo Orsini, the Count of Orvieto, his chubby cheeks burnishing red with his ire, "They are polluting a land that should be only for Italians and no other foul ilk!"
The bishop smiled and drank some more of the finest wine Orvieto had to offer, his brown eyes aglimmer with amusement, "And I suppose you are going to take on this task? The Duchess, my liege lady, is in far better position than you to purge Italy of its impurities. Not only does she have large... tracts of land, but she also has the fealty of many vassals."
"That bitch Mathilde has no ice in her veins! She is a milksop, a big, dumb cow who is all breasts and no brains!" retorted the aggravated Count as he grabbed a leg of mutton from the nearby table and tore savagely into it with his teeth.
While his companion was occupied with eating, the delighted Pietro mused aloud, "True, there is that. She is content only to keep what her battleax of a mother left her with. But there is also the matter that you are both poor and unmarried. You must find yourself a wife posthaste, or all gains that you make in your lifetime will be for nothing."
Iacopo swallowed his bit of sizzling food and growled, "Yes, yes I know! But where to go? The number of eligible, worthy Italian girls are slim and I refuse to marry a Norman girl, no matter what benefit I may gain from her father's inheritance laws."
"Hmm... yes, that is a problem" admitted the bishop as he tapped his ringed fingers on the table's edge, "not to mention that it also precludes French maids, for there are the source largely of Norman stock. Too, you can forget about the court of England. Perhaps a Castilian or Leonese girl? Those tongues are close to Italian and I have heard they are quite skilled with their tongues indeed."
"I will cons-"
"No, wait. There is more. Also consider the prospect of Saxon maidens. They hate the Normans as much as you do and have been known to produce fierce warrior stock. You may wish to include the Danes, Scots, and Norwegians in your quest for martrimonial bliss, for much the same reason of strong military issue. After all, it will be the sword that wins Italy, for to engage in... underhanded methods... would not please His Holiness."
"Leave my liege lord out of this!" snapped the Count, "I thank you for your advice, and I will take it well into consideration. But for now, let us leave off and return to our repast and turn to other topics."
"But of course" serenely smiled Pietro as he sipped of his wine again, "It is a marvelous stock you have here. Tell me more of it."
And so they moved on to the discussion of vineyards, the pride and joy of Iacopo Orsini's past-times, but in the back of the Count's mind, he was already beginning to plan his next move...
The cheerful Bishop of Firenze
Ambitious Iacopo, the real hero of the story
The Duchess with large... tracts of land, Pietro's liege
The first of umpteen liege lords for Iacopo, as Popes die off quickly in this game