Book of Souls

“Come here!” Bedier raged. “I will not tolerate Lutheran heresy in my classroom!”

“Do you intend to beat me?” Jean asked, provocatively. None of his fellow students could recall him ever receiving the whip, and they exchanged excited glances.

“I do, monsieur!”

“Well then, I shall make it easy for you.” Jean strode forward, stripping off his cloak and his shirt, and knelt beside Edgar. “You may proceed, Master Bedier.”

As the rod landed on his flesh, Edgar saw Jean looking over at him, and he swore he saw the boy wink.

Martin Luther had never been to Paris but his influence was surely felt in that city as it was throughout the Continent. The monk from Wittenberg had exploded onto the religious scene on the day in 1517 he nailed his 95 Theses onto the door of Wittenberg Cathedral and began railing against the corrupt state of the Papacy and the abusive power of indulgences.

In the modern era of the printing press, certificates of indulgence had become a lucrative business for the Church. Indulgence salesmen would come into a town, set up their wares in a local church, suspending all regular prayer and service. Their certificates were mass-produced, with blank spaces for names, dates, and prices, and all good Christians were obligated, for the sake of their dead friends and relatives and for their own souls, to purchase this afterlife insurance to speed the sinner’s exit from purgatory to heaven. Luther found the practice vile and replete with ecclesiastical errors and feared for the fate of people who believed that salvation could be bought. The priests in Wittenberg had a loathsome saying that sickened him, “As soon as a coin in the coffer rings, another soul from purgatory springs.”

After all, Luther proclaimed, Paul had written in Romans that it was God who would save us: “For in the Gospel, a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written the righteous shall live by faith.” Surely, Luther argued, men did not need the Pope and priests and all the trappings and finery of the Church for salvation. All they required was a personal relationship with God.

Luther’s Wittenberg thesis was quickly translated from Latin to German and widely published. Devout men had already been quietly grumbling about the decadence of the Church and the abuses of the Papacy. Now, it was as if a match had been tossed on the dry kindling of discontent. The fire that began to burn, the Reformation, was sweeping Europe, and even within a conservative bastion like Montaigu, smoke from the Reformist fires was wafting in. Students with open and brilliant minds, like Jean, were beginning to feel the heat.

Edgar was in his room struggling to memorize the tract of Pope Leo by the light of a small candle. He held the pamphlet with one hand and rubbed the welt on his cheek with the other. He was cold, tired, hungry, and sad. If suffering were a requirement for salvation, then surely he would be saved. This was the only positive thought he could muster. Then a knock startled him.

He opened the door and looked up at the placid face of Jean.

“Good evening, Edgar. I thought I would see how you were doing.”

Edgar sputtered in surprise, then asked Jean to come in. He offered his chair, and said, “Thank you for visiting.”

“I was only down the hall.”

“I know, but it is still unexpected. It is the first time.”

Jean smiled. “We have more in common today than yesterday. We have both been branded by Bedier.”

“Perhaps,” Edgar said glumly, “but yours was for brilliance, mine for stupidity.”

“You are burdened by the language. If I had to conduct myself in English, I would not be so brilliant.”

“You are kind to say that.”

Jean rose. “Well, old Tempête will be patrolling the yard soon, looking for candlelight. We had better to bed. Here.” He handed Edgar a piece of bread secreted in a handkerchief.

Edgar teared up and thanked him profusely. “Please, stay a short while,” he begged. “I would like to ask you something.”

Jean obliged and folded his hands on his lap, a benign and patient gesture. He waited for Edgar to wolf down the bread and finish swallowing.

“I am having great difficulties,” Edgar said. “I am no scholar. I find the curriculum at Montaigu difficult, and I dread each day. Yet I cannot leave, for my father would suffer me worse than the masters.”

“I am sorry for you, Edgar. Your soul is being tested. What can I do?”

“Help me with my studies. Be my tutor.”

Jean shook his head. “I cannot.”

“Why?”

“I do not have the time. There are not the hours in the day, for I am determined to read everything I can on the great issues of our time.”

“The Reformation,” Edgar grunted.

“We are fortunate to live in this exciting era.”

“My family is wealthy,” Edgar said suddenly. “I will find a way to pay you.”

“I have no need for money. I only thirst for knowledge. Now, I must be gone.”