She approached on silent feet, wary to come too close lest her presence disturb his audience with the Heavenly One.
He reached a hand out to his side and beckoned her forward with his fingers. “Join me in prayer?”
Still maintaining her distance, she knelt and arranged her skirts around her legs. She bowed her head but peeked at the man through her lashes. She had never heard another besides Bishop Wilmer offer a prayer. Did Anabaptists pray differently than priests? Did they invoke the saints to intercede for them? Offer a number ofAva Mariasor recite the Apostles’ Creed?
Lorenz blinked his brilliant blue eyes open and stared at her with a small smile.
Her skin flushed. “I…My apologies.”
His smile traveled upward and, if possible, lit his eyes to shine even brighter. “Apologies are not necessary. Like Daniel, I am not shy about my prayers to God.”
She tilted her head. “It is to God himself you speak then? Not through a saint?”
He winced as he shifted off his knees and extended his legs in front of him, gingerly resting his back against the stone wall behind him. “Jesus Christ alone is my intercessor. He who died and rose and is now at the right hand of God. The saints have no power, being but dead men.”
Blasphemy. She could almost hear the accusation flying with spittle from Bishop Wilmer’s lips, her own father closeting her away from such a declaration lest her mind be tainted by heresy.
But neither the venerable Bishop nor her father were present. And her soul craved an assurance. One she’d never felt, though her fingers had grazed relics and her feet had trod upon the marble of the Holy City itself.
She eyed Lorenz. He had changed out of his black scholar garb and donned the extra clothing Hette had gathered from her brother Nikolaus. He had also washed with the water and small basin provided him and no longer resembled a man left for dead among the underbrush. But no amount of scrubbing could erase the kindness from his face or the wisdom that creased his brow.
Could this man, humbly attired compared to the scarlet and violet robes worn by the church’s hierarchy, and unassuming compared to the clergy’s haughty expressions, lead her to water where she would thirst no more?
She remembered Kampff then. And the landsknecht captain. Their lips curled in sneers, hunger in their eyes, and thirst in their own bellies. Thirst for heretic blood.
For Lorenz’s life.
She would not make this man a sacrificial lamb for her own curiosity. She had a Bible, translated into her own language, hidden in her chambers. If God was really speaking to men outside of the Church, then mayhap He would speak and show His truth to a woman as well.
Though she knew he must be the man for whom the duke searched, she wanted confirmation. If there were another out in those woods…
“Are you from Zurich?” she asked.
He studied her with that piercing gaze of his. “I am. I was once a student of Urlich Zwingli. Have you heard of him?”
Bile rose in her throat. “Too recently.” She pushed down the acidic flavor on her tongue, sickened that so-called men of God could act in such a torturous manner toward their fellow men. “How is it that your teacher has turned against you?”
He looked past her, as if he were staring into another place, another time. “Sola gratia, sola fide, sola scriptura.”His gaze captured hers. “Do you understand these things?”
The Latin words she understood—by grace alone, by faith alone, by Scripture alone—but grasping their meaning was as difficult as clutching the wind in her fist.
“By grace alone. There is nothing we can do to achieve salvation. It is a gift, freely given and needing only to be freely received. As a gift, it cannot be earned. There are no works. Only grace.” His brow smoothed and he steepled his fingers in his lap. An energy radiated off him, an excitement. His vitality reminded her of her father’s prized stallion. Muscles bunched and rippling under a palomino coat, chomping at the bit to extend his stride, to not be held back.
She could imagine Lorenz as a teacher, standing in front of a rapt class as he extrapolated from the Scriptures. In such as place he would be as a mountain lupine in a meadow: where he belonged.
She studied him closer. Did he not feel as if he were wasting his breath explaining to a woman? Most thought the weaker sex only useful in producing male heirs, that their minds and faculties could not grasp nuances like a man. Yet no condescension marred his smooth features. He leaned forward, his gaze earnest.
“Only faith.” His rich timbre echoed in the deep room and bounced off the hewed stone walls. “And I add to this, in Christ alone. Faith in Christ works in man a transformation and renewing of the mind and soul.” He sat back, a smile playing across his lips. “And finally, Scripture alone. The book of Timothy describes this tenet best. ‘All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.’ The Scriptures are the instrument through which God reveals himself, not unlike an artist using a brush to paint a beautiful fresco. The Holy Writ reveals the beauty of salvation through faith in Christ.”
She settled into a more comfortable position, albeitcomfortable,at this moment,lacking its usual charms. Instead of the tufted couches and rich furnishings she was accustomed to, her palm scratched across the dirt floor so she could shift her weight. It was surprising, her presence here in the underbelly of the castle when she was raised to grace its opulent halls. And yet, instead of feeling as if she were lowering herself, she somehow felt lifted up. As if, by setting aside the expectations of her station, she was allowing herself to be raised up to a status even beyond her birthright.
She inclined her head, not wanting to miss a word or meaning from the teacher’s lips. “These threesolas, they are what caused a fissure between student and teacher?”
“Nay. Thesolasare the foundation on which all these teachers have built their theological arguments. Much like the stones you see all around us in this very room.”
“Pray, forgive me. I do not think I understand.” But how she wanted to.
“If you think of these men as masons, each building upon thesolatruths they discover through the Holy Spirit and the Scriptures, you may begin to understand the picture. Some masons are quick to build, hewing stones only as much as is necessary to build a strong edifice and therefore erecting each course of stones rapidly. Others deem it necessary to continue hewing the first course of stones until it is completely smooth, thus taking much longer to erect each course. Some of Zwingli’s students, myself included, were dissatisfied with the slow and cautious pace of the reform in Zurich as well as the extent of the reforms. We believe there is a need to return to the apostolic faith and the church of the New Testament.”
