THE INQUISITOR’S SECRETARY

Again two days passed which Harm spent all alone in daily communion with his God. How he wished he could get in contact with the other prisoners who, like him, suffered for the truth’s sake, and who languished in bonds only a short distance away from him. But the heavy stone walls prevented any conversation, and a word spoken through the cross-barred window in the door reached the adjoining cell so imperfectly, and resounded to such an extent through the vaulted corridor, that it was impossible to speak with one another. Only the singing of the prisoners frequently broke the painful silence, and by means of the psalms that were sung one heart spoke to another in the holy communion of suffering, comfort, and hope.

During the hours of lonely contemplation, now no longer disturbed by the rats, as Harm had pried some stones loose from the center of his cell and placed these in front of the holes through which the uninvited guests entered, the prisoner constantly recalled the promise, the fulfillment of which he formerly never doubted—the promise that he would meet his eldest son some day. Even during the night, when lying on the hard floor made sleeping impossible for him, he reflected on this promise and doubt arose in his heart whether he might have appropriated this promise out of a fleshly desire. Does it not often happen, he asked himself, that a wish, constantly cherished by the flesh, in the end takes on the form of a promise which is believed to have been received in a special way from the Lord? And even if he did not deceive himself, should he not then much rather believe while he was still here on earth that he would meet his son in heaven when soon he would be summoned to finish his earthly life as a martyr? Would God’s promise be less wonderful that way? Would its fulfillment then be less glorious for the father who feared the Lord? Oh, when Harm thought about seeing his wife and children again; when he reflected upon the blessed, never-ending fellowship which they would enjoy before the throne of God and of the Lamb, then his reins longed within him and with Paul he wished to depart in order to meet, albeit through the flames of the stake, his Redeemer! In such hours Harm Hiddesz became humble before God; he then felt unworthy to ascend the stake; he then discovered by the illumination of God’s Spirit so many sinful and fleshly desires within himself that he was constantly pressed to kneel down before God; and he realized that still many ties, whose existence he had never suspected, bound him to this earth.

On the morning of the sixth day since his stay at the Holy Cross Tower, the prisoner noticed by the unusual commotion and the opening and shutting of doors that something unusual was going on. Earlier than otherwise his guard came to bring him his coarse bread, accompanied by Bouke who hastily swept Harm’s cell with a broom. Again the similarity between this man and the farm hand of his faithful friends on the Vliet struck Harm. While he stood there, musing about that, the regular guard left to open the cell of another prisoner. Bouke made use of that opportunity. He quickly stepped over to Harm Hiddesz and whispered in his ear: “Keep courage, Master! Trust in the promise of God that He will neither leave you nor forsake you!”

Before Harm had recovered from his astonishment, Bouke shut the door of the cell with a bang and bolted it on the other side. Then the big key turned with a harsh sound in the lock, and the prisoner was alone again.

Harm did not know whether he was awake or dreaming. What was the meaning of Bouke’s words, and how did he get here? Certainly, the Lord would not forsake or leave him; He would impart His nearness to His faithful followers even unto the stake; yet, these whispered words seemed to have a special meaning.

An hour before noon a group of several persons descended the stairs that led to the corridor flanked by Harm’s cell.

It was Del Castro, the Provincial Inquisitor who, headed by the jailer and the wardens, and accompanied by the Bailiff and some Magistrates, came to investigate the conditions in the prison personally.

When they were in front of Harm’s cell, the jailor stopped and very politely said to Del Castro, “Your Lordship, in this cell is locked up the prisoner who was brought here last week from Leyden.”

“Open the door!” Del Castro replied in a commanding tone of voice. Harm’s wardens opened the cell and Del Castro and the Bailiff entered. For a few seconds Del Castro looked piercingly and sternly at the prisoner.

“Are you the Flemish merchant who was apprehended near Leyden?”

Harm Hiddesz nodded.

“Have you requested sentence from the Magistrates?”

“That I have. Sir,” Harm replied, “because I am of the opinion that it is contrary to all customs to keep a person in jail without a sentence. I have been accused by the lord Bailiff to be an anabaptist, which is contrary to the truth and cannot be proven by the Bailiff.”

“I have asked for two weeks’ respite,” the Bailiff now said to Del Castro, “to gather proof that this man is really polluted with Lutheranism and other heresies.”

“This proof I shall give you tomorrow,” Del Castro said. “A longer respite is not needed for him.”

On their way out Del Castro said to the Bailiff, “I had expected to find a peasant or an agitated scatterbrain, like there are so many in these lands, but this one I consider far more dangerous. Lately, followers of Calvin are beginning to come here from the Flemish regions. They do not intend a complete overthrow of society, as do the Anabaptists of Munster; they do not run around naked, cause no disturbances, or revolt against the King; but they go deeper and touch the root of our most holy faith. They deliberately undermine the foundations on which our entire Holy Church rests, and these people are the worst of all. Tomorrow I will personally begin his examination, and so I request you to have his documents ready by that time.”

The Bailiff bowed courteously.

The jailer was ordered to prepare the chamber of examination.

That afternoon, Harm Hiddesz received, besides his usual dish of yellow peas, a piece of fried meat and half a bottle of wine. He did not know that such a meal was given only to prisoners who had to undergo “sharp examination” (on the rack).

The next morning Del Castro, more serious than otherwise, entered the room where Cornelio, his secretary, was already working.

“You will have a hard day, my son!” Del Castro said, “and so you will have to show what you can do. Most likely the scene which you will witness will greatly affect your already tender disposition and weak nerves; but one gets used to these things soon, and besides, this is a thing the clerk of the Inquisitor must be immune to.”

Cornelio looked at Del Castro, puzzled. The secretary’s face was paler than usual. He looked sad, and it was evident that the dinner discussion at the house of the priest of St. Jacob’s was still vividly in his mind.

“I want you to come with me and be present at a hearing of the heretic who was caught very recently. You write fast, and it is very important that his confessions will be recorded as completely as possible, so that he can be judged on their basis,” the Inquisitor said.

A few hours afterwards Harm Hiddesz was taken out of his cell and told that he had to appear before the Inquisitor. The prisoner, who had anticipated this, was wholly prepared and let his hands be cuffed on his back.

“Lord,” he whispered softly, “Thy will be done. Make Thy servant faithful, faithful unto death. Give him words of a sound mind; open his mouth to resist the lie, and to magnify Thy Name.”

Still praying, Harm Hiddesz proceeded. At the end of the corridor Bouke joined the man who led Harm. The two men seemed to have become the most intimate of friends.

After the prisoner had ascended the first stairway and started to climb the second one which led to the room where he had appeared before the Magistrates, his guard indicated that they had already reached their destination. A door was opened and a large hall, illuminated by a lantern and a few candelabra, presented itself before his eyes. For a second he shrank back from it, but then he entered the room with steadfast step. The cross-vaulted ceiling told him that this room was still below ground level; and once inside, the jailer could have assured him that no sound, no scream of pain, no matter how penetrating, would be heard outside. The large wooden bench with the windlass beside it, the wide pole with the iron bands, the many instruments of torture on the wall clearly told Harm that he was in the torture room where already so many before him had spent hours of unspeakable agony.

Around a table were seated Del Castro with the Bailiff and a few Magistrates who were to assist them in the interrogation. Several documents were lying in front of Del Castro and a large hourglass was standing beside the inkwell.

At the end of the table Cornelio was seated. When the prisoner entered, he looked up curiously. But what emotions overwhelmed the secretary! In that pale face, framed in a black beard, he thought he recognized features that carried him back many long years. Indeed, it seemed that he noticed the same emotions in the prisoner, for uninterruptedly the latter fixed his staring gaze upon the young man.

“Harmen of Antwerp, or whatever your correct name may be,” Del Castro said to the prisoner who had approached the table with his guards.

Cornelio startled when he heard the word “Harmen.” Harmen — that was the name of his father. But his father was from The Hague, and this prisoner did not contest the mention of Antwerp.

Cornelio succeeded in pulling himself together and with rapid pen wrote down the questions Del Castro asked the prisoner.

The Inquisitor at once concentrated his examination on matters relating to the church and beliefs. After having asked the prisoner when he had been to confession last, and when he had last observed a holy day — questions which Harm answered frankly — Del Castro asked whether he believed in the seven sacraments of the Holy Church.

Harm answered this question in the negative. He recognized only two sacraments, holy baptism and the holy supper.

“Are you an Anabaptist, then?” Del Castro asked.

Harm said that he believed in infant baptism.

“Are you a sacramentary, then?” was the next question.

“If milord means that a dese-crator of the sacrament of the altar is called a sacramentary, then I declare that I am wholly innocent. Do you mean, however, that a sacramentary is one who denies the miracle in the Mass, then, indeed, I am a sacramentary. For I believe that the Mass is an idolatry accursed of God; and I believe that your priests and monks are sacramentaries when they want to put a piece of bread, like that which the bakers display in their windows, on the tongue of the people as the real body of Christ.”

Harm wanted to continue, but Del Castro ordered him to keep silence.

“You heard, gentlemen, and you, Lord Bailiff, how the heretic speaks of the venerable sacrament of the altar,” Del Castro said, and his voice trembled with indignation, “the great, holy mystery he calls an idolatry accursed of God!”

“Do you need more proof to be convinced with what a dangerous person we are dealing? In the case of a simple wandering sheep of the church I would be willing to attempt to convince him of his error by reasoning with him; in the case of this fellow, however, that would be casting pearls before the swine. This heretic has, according to all kinds of information I have in my possession, not only attended conventicles, but has also led them as an ordained preacher.

“You won’t deny that?” Del Castro said, turning to Harm Hiddesz.

“That is true, Sir. With the laying on of hands I have been sent out from Wesel and have, as the servant of Christ, preached the pure gospel to the poor flock whom you and your monks with your statues and pater nosters have barred from the way of salvation.”

“And have you not sold and distributed heretical and forbidden books?”

“That is also true. And, thanks be to God, I have already distributed so many Bibles that your whole Inquisition will not be able to destroy the seed that I, at God’s command, have sown in these regions.”

“I must admit.” Del Castro said, “that I seldom come across so much impertinence! Do you realize that every word you say here is equal to a sentence of death that you pronounce upon yourself? Are you not acquainted with the placards?”

“Oh, yes!” Harm replied. “If I had not been acquainted with them, then surely the smoking stakes in Flanders and Holland would have informed me how the Roman Church wants to exterminate the faithful followers of God’s Word. As for me, I am ready to offer my body as a sacrifice, and I fear, thanks be to God, neither your threats nor the stake; but as for you, you had rather fear Him who can destroy: both body and soul in hell!”

(To be continued)

THE DEATH OF JOHN HUSS

When John Huss, the Bohemian martyr, was brought out to be burned, they put on his head a triple crown, with painted “devils” on it. On seeing it, he said, “My Lord Jesus Christ, for my sake, wore a crown of thorns; why should not I then for His sake, wear this light crown, be it ever so ignominious? Truly I will do it and that willingly.” When it was set upon his head, the bishops said. “Now we commend thy soul to the devil.” “But I,” said Huss, lifting up his eyes to heaven, “do commit my spirit into Thy hands, O Lord Jesus Christ; to thee I commend my spirit, which Thou has redeemed.”

When the fagots were piled up to his neck, the Duke of Bavaria was officious enough to desire him to abjure. “No,” said Huss, “I never preached any doctrine of an evil tendency; and what I taught with my lips I now seal with my blood.”

Deze tekst is geautomatiseerd gemaakt en kan nog fouten bevatten. Digibron werkt voortdurend aan correctie. Klik voor het origineel door naar de pdf. Voor opmerkingen, vragen, informatie: contact.

Op Digibron -en alle daarin opgenomen content- is het databankrecht van toepassing. Gebruiksvoorwaarden. Data protection law applies to Digibron and the content of this database. Terms of use.

Printen