While not the grandest cathedral she had seen, it had sufficient size to impress without feeling intimidating. The old bricks held an earthy charm and the simple windows seen from the outside made it seem rather modest.
Of course, the inside still had the vibrancy expected of a church, full of vivid artwork, even the doors themselves having Biblical carvings upon them. How beautiful the Virgin Mary looked upon the pillars, how touching was Christ’s suffering upon the wall, with even a vast mural of a saint, red cloak so bright.
This quiet day, she stood loosely in the centre of the hall and looked up at the stained glass windows up high above the pews.
“Which prophet does my child seek guidance from today?”
She did not move at first, her gaze staying there before finally coming down. “Bishop of Augsburg,” she said, her smile small, and gave a curtsey as if before a duke. “I look to the prophet Jonah.”
“Ah, he is certainly one that I enjoy preaching. While there is much nuance in what Christ taught us, the Book of Jonah shows simply that repentance is at the heart of our Lord,” he said, his voice a touch deep, seeming loud even when speaking quietly.
He wore an amicable smile, his hands behind his back as if to show he hid nothing. An older man, he looked some age over fifty, how much over entirely depending on how well he had looked after himself. From what she knew, he looked after himself well and had turned fifty-nine last month.
“If I may, sir, could that we would begin with the Sacrament of Penance?” she said.
“Of course, my child,” he said.
The confessional had a more ornate style than the building, intricate and carved from finer wood than the ageing pews. While his side had a door, now closed, hers simply had a doorway, exposed to the rest of the church. Between them there was a mesh of criss-crossing wood and, on his side, a velvet curtain. She sat patiently.
After almost a minute, the curtain slid over and he made the sign of the cross. “Upon learning of what Jonah had done, the men of the ship did not throw him overboard, even at his own behest. However, they could only do the Lord’s will in the end. So He spared them just as He would come to spare Jonah. In this, we see that He is kind in his justice.”
He paused there to clear his throat.
“Pray speak, my child, that He may show you His kindness.”
She bowed her head. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a year and three days since my last confession. I have since committed a grave sin, which is to be glad for not showing mercy to my fellow man, one time. I have also committed the sin of lying on three occasions, and I have encouraged others to murder on two occasions. These are all my sins.”
Silence followed, but only for a moment. “Let us discuss this. Why does my child think not showing mercy is a grave sin?” he asked, his voice soft and even.
“The man had been sentenced to death for his crime and made a petition for mercy, which I denied. It has since been revealed to me that his trial did not include evidence that may have seen him acquitted.”
“Such a thing, while unfortunate, does not constitute a grave sin. If my child honestly believed him guilty and the trial fair, then it would be considered a venial sin.”
“Father misunderstands me. It is that I still do not show him mercy, thinking it fortunate that this evidence did not come out in time. Christ asks us to forgive, yet, knowing this man’s crimes, I cannot. Pray give me guidance, Father.”
The silence lingered for longer this time.
“It is indeed a difficult topic, one where I can only encourage my child to have faith in the Lord and his ways. Just as He had the sailors sacrifice Jonah to save themselves, perhaps He had you act in His stead,” he said. “However, it certainly is a grave sin to hold such hatred in our hearts towards fellow children of Christ. While it may feel like forgiveness is to forget the crimes the man committed, rather forgiveness is to realise that he has been judged by the Lord, so now our righteous anger may become compassion for those impacted. Does that help my child?”
“Thank you, Father,” she said softly, “it does.”
A creak sounded out as he adjusted his position. “Of your other sins, how is it that they came about?”
“As Father knows, I am a ruler and, at my command, I had men go to battle. It may not be a sin to some; however, I feel heavy the burden. Those on the battlefield… if they should slay a man and then be slain in turn, have they not committed murder and lacked time to repent? My only salvation is that they did not do so entirely willingly, that I am the one who compelled them to sin.”
“My child has a difficult journey through life,” he said, his tone light as if joking, yet no laughter spilled from either him or her. “As far as your soldiers are concerned, be at ease. The Lord is just and would not judge them for not seeking penance given their circumstances. As for you, I ask, did you make those choices lightly?”
She gave a slight shake of her head, a tinkle of glass from the Rosary beads around her neck. “No, Father,” she whispered. “I truly wished with all my heart for a peaceful alternative. However, I feel torn between my faith and being a ruler. I would follow in Christ’s example if it was my life alone. My people, though, I have a duty to protect them. If I must commit a sin, is it better to murder or to betray my subjects?”
By the end, laughter tainted her voice, yet there was no humour. A desperate lament, masking her pain.
“My child,” he said, tinged with sadness.
“I apologise for losing myself. To think, last year I so fretted over the sin of divorce. A simpler time.”
He said nothing on that, a few seconds passing with only her deep, measured breaths to break the pressing silence. “The question of which sin is lesser or greater is not one that can be answered in a simple way. One may murder to save a life, and one may cause another to commit that most grave sin through withholding wages. What matters is that, when given such an impossible choice, one chooses that which they believe is lesser, and that one confesses once it is feasible.”
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
“Thank you, Father. Although I fear I shall struggle with this my entire life, your guidance is reassuring,” she said.
After giving her a moment, he asked, “What of my child’s lies?”
She brought up a hand, holding one of the rosary beads between her thumb and finger. “I lied in pursuit of one murder. I lied to the King out of fear. I lied to a servant.”
“May I consider the first has been addressed?”
Gently nodding, her fingers moved from one bead to the next. “Yes, Father,” she said.
“The second, then. What need has my child to fear the King?”
“That is… he asked if I still loved Prince Hector, and I told him I did not. However, I do. He was my husband in my eyes and I…. My apologies, this is not the place for such talk. When the King asked me, I thought the truth would upset him and he would make my life difficult, and I felt weak at that time, so I lied.”
He waited a moment to see if she would continue, then asked, “Does my child feel weak now?”
“No. If he asked again, I would speak the truth this time,” she said, her voice that little firmer as if to prove it.
“Very well. Then, your last lie?”
She bowed her head, but a smile came to her lips, letting go of the rosary beads with another tinkle. “It may sound foolish, I know; however, I felt upset one evening and, in my spite, I sent a maid on a pointless errand. She had to walk far for it and it was on a cold evening. When she returned, she was shivering. Although I dismissed her so she could go warm up in the servants’ quarters, I still felt guilty afterwards, even now. It is a small thing… but it reminded to be kind in all matters, whether big or small.”
“I am pleased to hear that, my child.”
Lifting her head up, she sat upright, smile lingering for a moment before fading away.
“Has my child honestly confessed her sins?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Father.”
His shadow played on the mesh between them, bringing his hand to his face for a long moment, then settling into a similar position to before. “These are the penances I would give my child,” he said before listing off a few prayers. “In addition, the man denied mercy, I would ask that my child sees the family of his victims are comfortable. My child should have a prayer led for those lost in each battle and a prayer led for the King. Last of all, my child should offer her maid an extra day’s pay.”
She waited a beat, then recited what he had told her.
“Good. Now, if my child would show contrition?”
Bowing her head once more, she recited the prayer, apologising to God and promising penance and asking for mercy.
Once she finished, it was his turn for prayer as he gave absolution. At the end of his, she said, “Amen.”
“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.”
“His mercy endures forever,” she said.
“Pray go in peace.”
She slowly rose to her feet and shuffled out, saying, “My thanks, Father.”
By the time he rejoined her, she had returned to the same spot as before with her gaze still up high upon the depiction of the prophet Jonah. However, she now held a rosary bead between her finger and thumb, the cross in her other hand, lips moving in silent prayers. It was not the ones she had been assigned for penance, but many Hail Marys along with the other parts of the Rosary.
So he waited until she had finished, no longer moving her finger along the beads, albeit still holding the cross. “Which Mysteries did my child meditate upon?” he asked.
“The Sorrowful Mysteries,” she replied without hesitation, finally releasing the cross. “I feel closer to Christ for the burdens I carry.”
Unseen to her, he smiled.
“Sir,” she said as she turned to him, “may we discuss the matters I wrote of?”
“Of course,” he said and clapped his hands together. Rather than say more, though, he looked to the back of the hall where a person stood alone. “Deacon Schmitt, if you would!”
His words carried and summoned the man. She watched as he walked over, finding him to be someone fairly young, yet without any exuberance. Often, she found the youth of the church to have the fire of God inside them. However, he hadn’t the weight of God like the mayor did, instead seeming like someone more reserved.
“This is Deacon Schmitt,” the bishop said. “He has been in the church for a while now and is the one most familiar with our charitable accounts.”
“Mr Schmitt,” she said, offering only a smile.
The bishop gestured at her next. “This is Countess Augstadt, her family a generous contributor to our causes. Of course, it may not be obvious as you only took over after the late Lord Augstadt’s passing, but he and her mother were both beloved patrons of ours.”
“My Lady,” Schmitt said, bowing to her.
A higher-pitched voice, thin. Beside the bishop, he looked all the skinnier, but his robes hung loose off him, only showing in his gaunt face. Still, he did not look weak as he held himself well.
“I am here to continue their tradition. Forgive me for the delay, that I have had to learn much this last year,” she said lightly.
“What forgiveness is necessary? We do the Lord’s work with or without alms, alms something which is for the giver’s benefit,” the bishop said, ending with a chuckle. “Still, it was not simply alms you wrote of, so I thought to include Deacon.”
Her smile lingered a moment before vanishing, covering her mouth. “Oh, pray do not think I am only here to seek indulgences,” she said, then dropped her hands back down to her rosary beads. “The timing, I think it reflects poorly on me.”
“How could it? Good work is good work, regardless of when or why. The Lord knows your heart, my child,” the bishop said, his hands loosely gesturing along.
She put on a small smile, then turned to the deacon. “Mr Schmitt. I do not know how much Bishop has said, so I shall give a summary. Of course, I would continue the alms my parents contributed; however, I would also seek to raise money for the construction of something like a university for children? Nothing too grand, simply a place for children of both sexes to be taught reading and writing, perhaps the counting necessary to work in a shop, as well as instruct them on the Church’s teachings. One may think of it as a Sunday School that would be open all days to those who may attend, free of charge, and even entice the unfortunate with warm food.”
Pausing there, she turned to the bishop.
“Now that I think about it, such a place would serve well to train more clergy. This is… having seen how the secular courts work, I think it would not be a terrible thing if more cases could be referred to ecclesiastical courts. However, I would not wish to burden the Church with such cases that it interferes with its other duties.”
The bishop gave a small look of surprise, his eyebrows turning up, but settled into a warm smile. “I think seeing justice done is an important duty of ours. If it may be arranged, we would be glad to do so.”
She let out a long breath, leaving behind a smile, and she let go of her rosary beads. “Our city has grown so large and I feel like the Church has lagged behind. Yes, even if I must pay for it myself, I would see a place built that may bring more into the Church. First this school, then places of worship.”
The bishop chuckled and raised a hand to stop her there. “Please, my child, do not pledge more than one can give. Let us take this one step at a time and see what our hearts believe is right. As good as building churches is, we may find other causes that would benefit more from charity at this time.”
“Bishop is right,” she said, her smile broader. “However, I feel confident this school is the Lord’s will.”
After returning her smile, he turned back to the deacon and said, “When Lady Augstadt or her people come to discuss the specifics, please do show them suitable hospitality.”
“Yes, Father,” the deacon said, bowing his head.
“Deacon is dismissed,” the bishop said, then readied to speak again to her.
However, she had something else to say to the deacon. “Oh, Mr Schmitt? Miss Gianna has asked me to pass on her apology.”
He stilled hearing that name, then bowed his head again. “My thanks, Lady Augstadt,” he said softly.
While he left, the bishop asked, “Miss Gianna, I think I have heard her name before?”
“She often volunteered here with her mother until an unfortunate incident recently….”
The deacon closed the door behind him, cutting out their voices, and stood with his back to it as his heart pounded in his chest.