Netenyahu of the 16th Century by The Protected by Allah - HTML preview

Chapter Two:

The Master, Up Close

 

Catherina’s “turn” had transformed into conversations— exchanges of words and glimpses into two opposite worlds. She had grown accustomed to his provoking tone, and he had grown accustomed to her face, a quiet companion to whom he whispered his curiosities and thoughts that never quite matched his narcissistic nature. And yet, Catherina found in her captor the only presence that eased the darkness around her.

Then suddenly, the chain broke. Several days passed without anyone being summoned. It was clear the master was unwell. Catherina, however, knew his ailment—and searched in her spirituality for a cure, hoping he might rise from his boredom and abandon his cruelty.

Thousands of imagined conversations spun in her mind, as though she lived in a world shared only between them—though certainly not a world of love, as the others assumed.

The moment came abruptly when Arthurus finally called for her. Catherina hurried to Johannes’s room, where he lay bedridden. She approached with trembling steps, her face pale with cold and fever. The moment she entered, Johannes snapped irritably: “You’re sick too?!”

“What’s strange is not that I’m sick—I barely sleep from the cold. What’s strange is that you are sick, when you have warmth and comfort.”

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Johannes scowled. “Arthurus… take her away.” But after a few steps, he changed his mind. “No. Leave. Close the door.”

He fixed his domineering gaze on her. “Kati, I brought you here to take care of me while I’m ill. And I expect you to do it properly—if you want to stay warm.” She coughed. “It’s good you trust me… because I trust in the Lord.”

“I don’t want you speaking today.”

At his commanding tone, Catherina fell silent and began tending to him without a word. She didn’t mind—not if it meant warmth. Naturally, Johannes noticed the fever burning in her as well. He wrestled with his cruelty for a moment before muttering through clenched teeth:

“There are blankets in the drawer. Take one.”

Catherina’s face lit up. She rushed to snatch the blanket, whispering a quiet prayer of thanks as she wrapped her trembling body in it. She sat hugging it, savoring a small taste of humanity she had begun to believe she no longer deserved.

Her chair was beside the bed—sometimes tending to him, sometimes gazing at the blue sky. After a while, she gathered enough courage to ask: “What is that sound… like dripping… distant and uneven?”

From under the covers he replied, “Look out the window.” She stared at him, puzzled. He clarified:

 

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“Look, and you’ll know.”

She leaned out toward the valley and saw a line of people moving slowly in and out of a cave far below. Moments passed before she understood—they were being whipped to keep working in the forced-labor mine. She clapped a hand over her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut, and recoiled instantly, sinking back into her chair without a word.

Johannes grinned broadly.

“If I ever get tired of you all, that’s where you’ll end up! Ha! What do you think of that?”

She lowered her head. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Ah, well said!”

She exhaled, gathering her strength “Are you still bored?” He let out a short, mocking laugh “Why else would I be sick?” Her voice burst out:“I thought of something that might cure your boredom, and—”

He cut her off sharply “If it’s about the Lord, don’t tell me.”

She hurried to correct herself, clasping her hands. “I—I’ll sing for you. A song to lift your mood.” He lowered the blankets. “What an idea. I’ve never made you sing for me before. Is your voice any good?”

“You’ll be the judge.”

“If I don’t like it, you’ll stop immediately.”

“I’m waiting for your signal.”

She drew a deep breath and began chanting one of David’s

 

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psalms—one she loved and knew by heart. Every moment she expected him to snap at her once he realized she was singing about the Lord, but he said nothing. She continued, growing more confident, pouring her heart into the melody… until she finished.

Silence.

Only the sound of heavy breathing.

He had fallen asleep.

She sighed deeply and leaned back in disappointment.

Two hours later, he woke, stretched, scratched his chest, and looked at her with a mocking smile.

“Oh, it’s you, deceiver. Your voice is awful, by the way.”

She countered firmly:

“So awful that you didn’t tell me to stop—and even fell asleep. I’ve never heard of anyone sleeping through an awful voice.” He smirked “I was listening to the words. I got bored into sleep. But it was a comfortable sleep, especially while sick.”

Catherina shifted uncomfortably as he continued: “Sleep is the only state where I feel at ease. Sometimes I think of sleeping forever—just to rest. What do you think? Should I end my life?”

She answered firmly, though her voice trembled with the weight of the topic: “If you did that, you’d be choosing a path of suffering.”

He glared, so she quickly added, “And so would I.” He snapped:

“I speak of rest and sleep, and you speak of suffering?!”

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“That’s because true rest is for the pure-heart-ed—those who love and do good. But criminals, killers, thieves… their path leads to darkness.”

“Good you told me, I’ll take a lantern with me!” He shot her a mocking look.

“That’s assuming such a place even exists. Tell me—do you villagers live like animals, terrified of the dark?”

She clarified: “No. It means the One who created you will raise you again for accountability—so you answer for everything you’ve done.

Every time you think it’s over, Christ judges again. ‘He who lives by the sword shall perish by the sword.’”

He chuckled.“You like that line, don’t you? Remember—you’ll be there with me… by your own admission.” Catherina fell silent, grinding her teeth in anger. He laughed louder.

“Come on—there’s no punishment. What proof do you have that any of this is real?”

“Because the world would never be just unless you—and your gang—and everyone like you—were held accountable!”

He scoffed “And why should the world be just? The law of the world is simple: the strong devour the weak. Everything lives by that law. Should animals go to punishment too?”

“You Wouldn’t say that if You were the weak one!”

“Answer me—do animals go to punishment?”

“Animals don’t… they don’t have eternal souls like humans.”

 

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“So animals never get justice. Why should humans? You invent stories to imagine you’ve avenged yourselves on us— your powerful masters, you miserable slaves!” He burst into cruel laughter.

Catherina finally snapped, her anger barely contained: “I don’t know about animals. But I know this—your soul is tormented with emptiness despite all your power. ‘What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his soul?’ You’re the one thinking of ending your life!”

Johannes fell silent, his laughter dying out. She continued: “Should I laugh at you now? Mock you the way you mock everyone?”

“Try it and see.”

She pressed on, voice tight:

“Ending your life would only mean you failed at living. You failed to find meaning. No one envies you—not even with all your strength. What matters is your heart, not what you hold in your hands. People—”

Johannes exploded: “Catherina, you’re starting to anger me!”

A minute of tense breathing passed. Then he inhaled slowly, calming himself, before looking at her with a hateful, triumphant glare.

“At least my power will strip the joy from your heart—until you wish for death as I do.”

He lifted his chin and ordered coldly: “Put that blanket aside. (Then, with quiet malice) So you won’t be too shocked by the cold when you’re sent to the mine. Al—”

 

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Before he could call Arthurus, Catherina lunged forward, trying to cover his mouth with her hand, tears streaming as she begged him. He seized her wrists violently and shouted: “How dare you, you—!”

The slap echoed through the room for several seconds before Catherina’s weak, trembling voice broke out: “Please… I’ll do anything… have mercy… I’ll kiss your feet… anything but this!”

“So now you beg?” he sneered. “Either I kill you, or you go down there!”

She whispered helplessly, “Then kill me… in both cases, I’ll die…” He swelled with triumphant cruelty “You wished for death so quickly! Isn’t your Lord supposed to fill your heart with joy, even when you’re weak?

(And with cold mockery) Unless strength is what truly matters?”

Catherina collapsed into tears, burying her face in her hands. “I was on my way to learn my faith… I don’t even know how to answer your strange questions—questions I never imagined in my life!”

He replied victoriously:

“Of course. You only repeat what they told you. You know nothing.

As for me—I won’t sell my life to some idea living in my head, forcing me to interpret the world as it wants. I’ll spare you on one condition: you abandon this ‘Father’ nonsense forever.”

“I don’t want your mercy, then!”

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Johannes’s face darkened. He bared his teeth and shouted: “You still believe it, you insolent girl?!”

“And… and I’m ready to die for it too…”

“Very well, since you said so! Arthurus! Take her to the mine!”

Catherina buried her face in the mattress, shaking with terror. But Arthurus didn’t come. Johannes shouted again: “Arthurus! Arthurus! Where are you, you useless—?!”

Then he muttered, puzzled:

“Strange… he’s never failed me in his life.” He shoved Catherina toward the door. “Go out and see where he is!”

She curled up on the floor. “So he take me? No…!”

Minutes passed. Johannes's thoughts churned, while Catherina sobbed. Finally the door opened and Arthurus entered, eyes lowered.

“Forgive my delay, sir. Master Jacobus was here checking on your health.”

“My father? Huh! Whatever. Take her to the mine—let her work like a dog there!”

Arthurus grabbed Catherina’s arm to drag her away, then stopped.

“Sir… her fever is very high. She’s shaking from the cold.”

“And what is that to me?”

“The weather is freezing today—especially in the valley. Even Leader Vilmos ordered the slaves moved to the upper barn so

 

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they don’t all perish.”

“My uncle did that? Then it must be serious!”

“Yes. So if you want her to die from the cold, I’ll take her there.” Johannes exhaled, tapping his fingers for a few seconds, then turned his face away.

“Fine. We’ll postpone the punishment. Take her out.”

Catherina staggered, struggling to keep up with Arthurus’s pace. Returning to the cell felt like a blessing from heaven. But the moment she entered the cellar, she heard the others protesting: “Arthurus, look at us—”

“We’re freezing to death—”

“My feet are numb—”

“If we were animals, you’d have moved us already!”

Arthurus groaned, then herded them all upstairs into an empty room and ordered the jailer to guard them strictly.

Catherina sat alone in a larger corner, while the other five huddled together, welcoming Jorvoss back among them, clinging to each other for warmth.

She shivered and shivered, fever gnawing at her, but the days passed without mercy. She fought her illness alone, curled in her corner, her blue fingers tracing slow circles as though turning a rosary, whispering the hymns her soul longed for.

From her frozen place, she watched her companions laugh and joke, casting her into the ice of solitude. She realized with every

 

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fiber of her being that principles sometimes cost a person their life—but she believed the cost was worth it.

“Curse you all… because of you I’ll spend Christmas night like every dull night.

If only you’d frozen in the cellar—I’d be spared your miserable faces…”

That was the jailer muttering as he slammed the door. The “crickets” laughed and sang at him. Catherina sighed, remembering last Christmas—how innocent she had been, believing the world was built on boundless mercy and compassion.

She remembered how she used to dream, how she felt like the purest sister in the whole monastery. Now she wouldn’t dare enter it except in memory. She couldn’t even lift her eyes toward the statue of Christ. Even the warm sunbeam on her old bed had become one of her fading, unreachable dreams.

She exhaled, blowing on her toes, hoping they would move. Then the jailer burst in shouting: “You cursed face! Come here!” The “crickets” glared at her. Catherina rose slowly, terrified, bracing for the postponed punishment. The jailer yelled at her to hurry, but she stumbled on her frozen toes and fell on her face.

To the sound of their mocking song, she crawled toward Johannes’s room on her knees, Arthurus dragging her by the arm. Her heart pounded, and her blue lips had found yet another reason to tremble.

 

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He shoved her into the room. She fell forward, landing on her face with eyes tightly shut, her lips moving in a frantic, silent prayer. Even in her terror, her body greedily drank in the room’s warmth—a luxury she hadn't dared dream of.

Finally, she gathered the courage to lift her head. The room was empty. Exhaling a long, shuddering breath, she crawled toward the fireplace. She sat there for a long time, trying to convince herself she wasn't dreaming, gasping and writhing in pain as the blood began to circulate through her frozen fingers. At last, she collapsed onto a pile of warm blankets, surrendering her weary eyes to the blessing she had craved for days: sleep.

Hours passed like a heartbeat. Suddenly, from the depths of a heavy slumber, she felt a boot shove her from behind. She bolted upright, still swaying with exhaustion, only to meet his piercing gaze.

"A miserable Christmas to you," he said, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. "Did you enjoy my gift? My generosity?"

Catherina struggled to open her bloodshot eyes. "Sleep is the greatest gift I could have received on this wretched holiday..."

She traced a cross of gratitude over her chest, rubbing her eyes and smoothing her hair before blurting out, "But wait! How can you celebrate this day when you don't even believe in Christ?"

"Huh?" he scoffed. "What does Christ have to do with any of this?"

"The holiday is for celebrating His birth, His blessed coming into the world," she insisted. "We recite His commandments,

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remember His glorious Nativity, and sing the hymns of heaven." He waved a dismissive hand. "To us, it’s just an excuse to drink blood and count the year’s spoils."

He paused, then burst into a jagged laugh. "Wait, it turns out God has a Wife, too? Hah! How? He is like no other, yet he has a wife and a son?"

"No," she said, her voice trembling with conviction. "Not a wife. Saint Maria was a virgin... the Holy Spirit came upon her, and she conceived without the touch of a man."

"Incredible! A new fairy tale," he sneered. "A woman conceives without a man, and then God claims the boy is His son.. and everyone believes Him."

"You fool!" she cried. "I told you, it was the Holy Spirit! Weren't you listening?"

He glared at her with sudden resentment, his expression darkening with insults of spiteful revenge. Catherina shrieked, "Don't start with your vile words! Just forget it, please!"

"Plee-ase... plee-ase!" he mimicked, his voice dripping with venom. He turned to her with pure malice. "You’ve been impudent with me. I’ll make you pay for that."

She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on her chest, pleading, "Fine, it was I who insulted you. Take the price from me. Say what you want to Me, do what you want to Me—but do not blaspheme against the holy."

He turned away, shoving her aside. "Do you truly love this -*- that much? I feel like I’m talking to a child who can’t tell the

 

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difference between the dead and the sleeping!"

"What if I... what if I massage your feet?" she interrupted, her voice laced with desperation. "As an apology, so you can calm down and..."

"...And change the subject? No. Don't touch my feet."

Silence hung heavy between them for a few moments. Then, Johannes sat before the mirror, stretching his legs out. "Cut my hair instead. There’s a revelry tonight, and I want to look handsome. I need to be charming so that..."

"Cut your hair? I've never cut a man's hair before," she stammered. "But... I'll try."

He gave her a knowing smile. "Is this for the sake of the fireplace?"

She picked up the comb with a flicker of forced cheer. "I won't lie to you—it is."

It took over an hour of painstaking effort before the haircut was passable. He stood up, surveying himself.

"You are ugly and incompetent. But... it will do." She sighed heavily. "Does your tongue ache if you miss an opportunity to insult me?"

"Sometimes, yes," he admitted.

They exchanged a long, meaningful look before his tone softened ever so slightly. "Now, Kati, help me practice my dancing before the party."

 

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She shrank back, distressed. "I’ve never danced in my life! How can I help you practice?"

He reached out and snatched her hand with a wicked glint in his eyes. "No matter. I’ll teach you, just like I’ve taught you everything else."

Her face flushed with shame. "You are a cursed teacher," she muttered.

He let out a sadistic laugh. They spent another hour dancing before he finally reached for the doorknob. "Since you were an obedient little dog, I’ll be gracious and let you stay by the fire."

She listened to the lock click with bitter resentment, whispering to herself:"A gift, a haircut, a dance... It’s so hard for him to admit his feelings, and so hard for me to endure that a murderous villain harbors such filthy emotions for me."

She looked around the room, her heart sinking. "Where was I last Christmas, and where am I now? Lord, have mercy!"

She sat on the floor by the hearth, mourning her luck. "Oh Lord, are You truly pleased with what is happening to me? Is this a punishment or a test? At least let me know the wisdom behind it, so that my heart may find faith."

The next morning, Johannes returned to his room, exhausted. He ordered Catherina to leave, but she dared to ask, "Can I take the blanket with me? It’s so cold out there."

He yawned. "I’ll give you a chance to beg for my favor." Catherina bowed, kissing his hands and showering him with

 

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desperate praise to feed his ego. Finally, he relented as he drifted off to sleep.

Catherina took her "prize" and hurried back to Arthurus, her heart a tangled mess of humiliation and relief.She huddled in her corner, seeking warmth in her new blanket, ignoring the spiteful eyes of the cockroaches in the shadows.

It wasn't two days before Catherina was called back—this time to nurse Johannes. He was bedridden, not from physical illness, but from a crushing depression and a growing desire to sleep forever. Catherina saw the depth of his despair; the spark in his eyes had died, and his mocking laughter had turned cold. His face was a void of hope, a sickness of the soul.

He held a knife in his hand, occasionally pressing the tip against his own throat before drawing back. Finally, he made his decision. He handed the blade to Catherina.

"When I fall asleep," he whispered, "drive this into my neck with all your strength."

Catherina’s hand shook as she took the knife. "They won't know I was following your orders," she breathed. "They’ll kill me!"

"Then kill yourself after me."

"But I don't want to die, Johannes!"

"I’ve decided for you," he snapped. "Your life has no meaning anyway. Look at me—I’ve reached the pinnacle, I have everything, and I’ve found nothing worth living for. Not a single thing."

He pulled her closer. "Trust me; there is nothing to cry over. Let’s

 

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go to our rest together, Kati."

"That is because you have never tried faith, Johannes. Faith gives you a purpose; it makes you understand why you draw breath!"

"Ah, still clinging to your old delusions..."

Before he could finish, the door burst open. A man in his forties entered—dark hair, brown eyes, and a weathered, lined face. Yet, Catherina could see the striking resemblance between him and Johannes.

"Johannes! What are you doing, my son?" Jacobus cried out in alarm. "How can a young man like you think of suicide? You haven't even tasted life yet!"

Johannes sat up and sighed. "What is there left to taste? I have money, power, men, women, beasts, food, drink... everything! There is nothing to wait for. Every day is a copy of the last."

"But you haven't experienced... fatherhood. You must! You are the last of the Vilmos line!"

"And why should I bring another soul into this empty life, only for them to kill themselves in the end? Better they never exist at all!"

"Johannes!"

Catherina stood aside as father and son locked eyes in a fierce stare. Finally, Jacobus spoke.

"From now on, everything changes. Since having everything has robbed you of hope, I will create hope for you myself. From this moment on, you shall not eat or drink unless you go out and raid for it every single day!"

Jacobus stepped closer, his voice hardening. "And you are permitted only one woman—the one who will be your wife. As

 

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for your other girls, they will be moved to the servant quarters. Forget about them entirely."

Johannes surged to his feet, furious. "Are you seriously trying to convince me to stay alive with this idiocy?"

"Nothing will make you value your life except you," Jacobus countered. "When you see how others fight to keep theirs, you will realize the worth of your own."

Jacobus walked over to Catherina and snatched the knife from her hand. He turned back to his son. "If this woman is not the one you choose, then she must leave this room right now!"

"Let her leave" Johannes spat, grinding his teeth, his entire frame trembling with a suppressed rage. Catherina looked at him one last time before turning away. She returned to her corner, her face ashen, her mind drifting in a hollow daze.

When the crickets began their rhythmic chirping in the shadows, she whispered to them with a painful bitterness: "Stop your laughing. Let us enjoy this room while we can... we may well be sleeping in the valley tonight."

She broke into a jagged sob. The other captives exchanged uneasy glances before the women erupted into mocking laughter. Only Jorvoss stepped closer, his voice low. "What happened? Tell me."

When Catherina finished recounting the ordeal, a heavy silence fell over the group. They had all lived for the hope of leaving this prison, but now that the moment of truth had arrived, the reality felt more like a sentence than a release. Disappointment hung in the air like a fog until Jorvoss finally broke the stillness.

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"Catherina... I apologize for everything I've done to you. Please, forgive me."

Shocked, Catherina stared at him, struggling to find her voice. "You... apologizing? I’ve never known a moment of kindness from you."

"Life forced me," he muttered. "Be generous. Don't seek revenge on me... alright?"

"Who said I would seek revenge? How could I even do it?" she asked, a sad smile touching her lips. "I don't even belong to myself."

"How humble you are," he remarked.

"And how pathetic you are!" Elisabetha shrieked from the shadows. "No matter what happens, never apologize!"

"The day is coming soon, Elisabetha, when you’ll realize that pride is a useless shield," Jorvoss countered. She scoffed, "Look who’s talking!"

The following day, Arthurus led Catherina down an unfamiliar path. Her trembling steps mirrored the dread in her heart; she was walking toward a destiny she could neither see nor control. They entered a new room where Johannes sat stiffly in a chair, his elbow propped on a table, radiating fury. His father, Jacobus, paced the floor with his hands clasped behind his back.

Upon seeing her, Jacobus approached. "Your name?"

"Catherina."

"And your family name?"

"It is... unknown."

 

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"Unknown? Hmph." Jacobus paused, studying her. "Imagine that —my son chose you out of all the beauties available to be his wife. I cannot fathom the reason for such a strange choice, but that is not my concern."

Jacobus cast a look of utter disdain toward Johannes, who remained staring fixedly at the wall. Jacobus turned back to Catherina:

"Marriage is built on consent and trust; coercion serves no purpose here. So, I ask you: do you agree to be a faithful and chaste wife? To please your husband, raise your children, and sacrifice everything for this home?"

Johannes turned then, his voice cutting through the air with mocking irony. "As you can see, you are 'perfectly free' to vow your life to me... or head to the valley. There is no compulsion here; you have total liberty!"

Jacobus smiled at the grim irony. "So, what is your decision?"

Catherina was a storm of internal conflict. She had paced her cell all night weighing this choice, yet the words felt stuck in her throat. Should she vow before God to serve an enemy of God for the rest of her days? Or should she choose death under the lash and a life huddled among human herds who had lost every ounce of dignity?

Finally, she forced her pale lips to speak the impossible words. "I so vow."

"Speak it," Jacobus commanded. "What do you vow?"

"I vow to be a good and obedient wife, and to raise my children

 

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with love and devotion."

Johannes turned his head, his eyes gleaming with a dark confidence. "And I vow to be an unrestrained husband, to do exactly as I please, and to punish you mercilessly should you fail in any part of the vow you just made me."

"Johannes!" Jacobus roared. "That is not what we agreed upon!"

"Heh. Despite my faults, I am an honest husband. I cannot lie and say otherwise."

Johannes erupted into laughter. Jacobus shook his head in frustration and headed for the door pointing "This is your room from now on. Fix your appearance and put on something decent. You are a Vilmos now. Respect your new name: Catherina Vilmos."

"What a wedding," she whispered dejectedly. Johannes wore his usual smirk. "What wedding are you talking about? How long have you lived at my' now?"

"Seven months."

"Truly? I hadn't noticed."

He laughed lightly, but she looked him in the eye. "I, however, felt every single second of it."

"Hah! Know this: my treatment of you won't change. The truth is, I chose you out of pity. Nothing more. The pity of the strong for the weak."

Her tongue slipped, fueled by a spark of defiance. "It’s no sin to admit that you love me."

Johannes faltered for a heartbeat, his silence lingering. "Don't

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count on that, you fool. When I find someone better, I’ll move on without a second thought."

Catherina lowered her gaze. Johannes added, "Tonight, we attend a communal dinner. We shall drink a toast to our marriage with the others."

He swaggered out of the room, leaving Catherina to mourn what she had sold. She had sold her life to a man who mocked her pain and openly declared his intent to discard her. It was a choice that would either elevate her to the elite or cast her into the depths of ruin.

As the dinner hour approached, she composed herself and bathed. She looked in the mirror with a flicker of resentment, remembering her father-in-law’s words: "My son chose you out of all the beauties... I cannot fathom the reason."

She began to do what she hadn't done in months. She brushed her hair, smoothed her features, and donned a respectable gown. She found herself winking at her reflection, longing for the woman she used to be, when Johannes walked in. "Are you rea—?"

He stopped mid-sentence, moving closer to inspect her. "It seems a man marries half a woman and half a dress. And to think you were wearing that ridiculous black rag all this time!"

"It was meant to hide my beauty," she replied sharply, "so I wouldn't fall into the hands of men like you."

"Really?" he mused. "Tell me more. It only increases the thrill of crushing you. Hahaha!"

 

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As she shot him a piercing look, he added, "But you know, something is missing... ah, yes."

He stepped to the door and shouted, "Arthurus! Bring me the ladies' jewelry."

A minute later, Arthurus returned with a chest overflowing with precious gems. Catherina’s eyes wandered over the shimmering hoard, but the beauty was tainted; she knew every piece was the spoils of cruelty, torn from the bodies of others.

"So," Johannes said, "which one? I’ve never chosen for a woman before."

"Of course not; you spend your life dealing in pain.. This one looks fine."

He picked up a pearl earring, squinting at it. "This? It’s tiny! The smallest thing in the box!"

She toyed with her fingers. "It seems right for my face... in my opinion."

"Fine," he said, handing it to her. "Try it on. Large or small, all I care about is that you look enchanting."

Catherina took it, whispering to herself, "At least Christ set an example with 'pearls of great price.' At least they won’t realize that, to me, they symbolize the Kingdom of Heaven!" Indeed, Catherina donned the pearl set, convincing herself it was the least sinful choice due to its modest size. She braced herself for Johannes’s mockery, but he only remarked with a smirk, "It seems my own taste has improved as well!" He linked his arm with hers, pulling her forward. "Come, we shall be late."

 

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There, the banquet table was crowded with the lords of the criminal underworld. For the first time, Catherina sat at the head of the table beside Johannes as his wife. All eyes were fixed upon her, scrutinizing the choice of the younger Vilmos.

Within minutes, Jacobus leaned toward Johannes and whispered, "Now that her hair and appearance are mended, it seems your taste isn't so poor after all—especially with those pearl earrings."

Johannes smiled with arrogant pride, glancing at Catherina. She, however, felt a sickening coil in her stomach, melting into the grim reality that she was now a prominent figure in a den of thieves. Her heart bled at the thought: the nun had become one of the matriarch of a den of vice.

Moments later, the Leader of the gang entered to take his place at the very head of the table. Everything suggested to Catherina that this was no mere band of mountain outlaws; it was a vast, disciplined organization.

The conversations around her spoke of operations spanning the length and breadth of the country. It felt less like a gathering of thieves and more like a summit of dark kings.

Soon, Catherina caught the attention of the terrifying Leader. He fixed her with a piercing, predatory gaze that raked over her from head to toe.

Catherina’s eyes darted away as they met those savage orbs, set in the face of a man in his fifties. Gray hair and a silver beard invaded his features, but their whiteness did nothing to soften

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the malice written upon his dark, loathsome face.

The feast began. Servants scurried about the hall as the guests fell upon their food. Catherina found no choice but to lift her fork, just as she heard a man call out to Johannes: "What a waste! I had hoped you would marry my daughter." Johannes let out a short, sharp laugh "The door is never closed for me!"

A lump formed in Catherina’s throat. Her hand froze. Her heart wavered—was she a wife to him, or merely an obligatory partner?

When he spared her no attention, she exhaled sharply and thrust the fork into her mouth, almost snapping it between her teeth in frustration.

Johannes ate ravenously, engrossed in the talk of business, while Catherina forced down a few tasteless bites. The atmosphere repulsed her; the air was thick with tales of atrocities, spoken of with a total absence of humanity or conscience. The vulgar sounds of their eating and their barbaric manners turned her stomach. She was, after all, sitting among the lowest of men.

Worse still, she noticed the Leader watching her pearl necklace, his gaze sharp and thorny whether he was speaking or silent. Anxiety gnawed at her, so she kept her eyes anchored to her plate until the end of the banquet, seeking only to escape his presence.

When the time for toasts arrived, Johannes stood among the men, clutching Catherina’s hand. He called for a toast to their

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marriage, and the room erupted in cheers. A sob caught in Catherina’s throat as she yearned for the sacred rites of a church wedding, calling out for purity from behind the heavy veils of her new life.

Yet, she held herself together, performing her role despite the condescending whispers of the women present. A feminine hiss reached her ears: "Like a piece of wood... what could he possibly see in her?"

Catherina pressed her fingers against her pearl ring, trying to vent the overflow of her disappointment. She felt scorched by the weight of the gown and the pearls upon her conscience. She was on the verge of breaking until Johannes suddenly pulled her into the wedding dance.

In the depths of his powerful eyes, she sensed her own weakness —and his smirk, which seemed utterly indifferent to the critics. In that moment, the internal court of her mind ruled that she must overcome her fragility to secure her place, before he was stolen from her—or before he discarded her himself.

Sensing the danger, she began to compare herself to those around her. Her own movements were stiff and restrained compared to the brazen women in the hall. She searched for a single woman who carried herself with the dignity she once knew, but the place was a cacophony of limitlessly vulgar laughter. She felt herself dissolving in a sea of discomfort and shame.

It was the image of that terrifying face—the Leader’s face—that

 

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haunted her as she walked with Johannes toward the main chamber the following day. She knew she was about to face him personally. She had barely escaped his gaze the night before; now he would speak to her face-to-face and pass judgment. One word from him could end the marriage and cast her back into the abyss of slavery.

As soon as their eyes met, he asked in a commanding tone, "Your name?"

She curtsied slightly, her dress rustling. "Catherina, Uncle."

"Catherina what?"

"Catherina Vilmos."

"Not yet... I am asking for your father’s name."

"It is unknown."

The Leader shrugged and extended his hand, whispering, "Johannes!"

Without a second thought, Johannes moved to kiss his uncle’s hand. The older man gripped the hair at Johannes's forehead with sharp nails, looking at Catherina as the gold bracelets on his forearm jingled with a metallic ring.

Then, the Leader released him and asked with chilling confidence: "What is it?"

Catherina swallowed hard, receiving the silent message. She replied in a hushed voice, "Pristine."

Pristine?" the Leader echoed. "Is that not the name of the Bishop of Marona Church?"

"It is."

His voice darkening into a reprimand "Do I have to drag it out of

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you? Tell me everything!"

Trembling and flustered, she stammered, "He is my father. I was raised in the convent under his care, he and my mother. I know nothing of the world beyond my prayers."

The Leader cut his eyes toward Johannes with a look of pure disgust. "Of all the women in this world, you chose a nun? The daughter of a Bishop? You utter simpleton."

Johannes pulled back, his brow furrowed as he tried to process the word. "And what, exactly, is a Bishop?"

The Leader’s face transformed, and he erupted into a fit of laughter that shook his frame. "That is the most unexpectedly idiotic answer I have ever heard in my life! You marry a nun and you don't even know what a Bishop is?"

He took a breath, his tone turning speculative. "I assume it has something to do with that 'Lord' of theirs..."

The Leader smiled with a predatory vanity "A Bishop, Johannes, is the man who presides over church gatherings. He mocks the masses to swindle them out of more money—pretending he can convince their supposed God to forgive them and keep them from being kicked out of Paradise, no matter how many sins they've piled up."

Catherina spoke up with cautious defiance, struggling to master her terror. "You mock Johannes with a definition like that; it blinds more than it illuminates."

 

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He raised his shoulders and arched his eyebrows in a sneer. "Aha! Enlighten us then, Sister. Define your father’s rank for us." Catherina hesitated under his mockery, then sharpened her voice. "A Bishop is the shepherd who carries the staff of service. He teaches us the mysteries of the Church—baptism and repentance.

He listens to our confessions to free our consciences from the weight of sin through the love of the Savior. He urges us to give alms, for he who has mercy on the poor lends to the Lord."

Silence followed. Catherina was shocked that they had listened at all. The Leader then turned to Johannes with a mocking grin. "And what did you gather from that, Johannes? Give us your definition now."

Johannes scratched his head vigorously, racing to connect the dots of what he had just heard.

"What I gathered? Hmm... alright. A Bishop is the leader of a church gang who, through rituals I don't understand, manages to convince people there is a King called 'The Lord.' People have to follow Him because He created them.."

He looked aside: "..and this King apparently likes people to be generous to the poor, so they give their money to the Church, while the whole thing is just nonsense born of the Bishop's own greed."

He turned sharply toward Catherina. "By that logic, you’re the daughter of a gang leader too!"

The Leader chimed in with a note of dark admiration. "A prince

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married to a princess—all with the full resentment of God!"

Catherina went pale at the mocking comment. Johannes, looking puzzled, asked the Leader, "I didn't realize this 'Lord' I heard about by chance was so well-known to everyone."

The Leader shook his head. "You fool... haven't you noticed we use His name in our curses?"

Johannes recoiled in embarrassment. "What? Oh... right. It never occurred to me that it was a separate word, or that it had such a meaning."

Suppressing a laugh, the Leader looked at Catherina. "Is death in the mines not easier than living under the wing of this infidel?"

His voice then turned into a cold, clear threat. "You still have a choice. But if you decide to become one of us, I will scrape the skin off your bones with saws if I hear a single word about your Christ again."

Catherina lowered her head, the horrific images of the mines flashing through her mind. Her soul whispered in agony, "Father, I find no heavenly aid in a trial as wretched as this!" No. She knew she could not throw herself into forced labor, into the sound of the whips... that sound would become a searing flame on her skin night and day, without a shred of mercy. And what would become of her at night in those foul, rotting shacks? No!

She pressed her fist against her chest. "If the Father is as merciful

 

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as they say, He would not wish for me to be tortured. If my mother knew, she would forgive me; she would not want this agony for me. If Christ were here, He would have pity..."

She was jolted back to reality by the Leader's rasping voice. "Catherina, to become a 'Vilmos' means the Church is a past from which there is no return. To put it in your terms: you must renounce your past, deny your vows before us now, and curse the very church that sheltered you!"

Catherina raised her head, her eyes frozen. Her lips moved. She didn't truly listen to what her tongue uttered, but she knew she had forsaken her faith when she saw the look of satisfaction on the Leader’s face.

"She will do for now," he told Jacobus.

Catherina returned to her room, her vision blurred and her soul hollowed out. She collapsed onto the bed, unable to believe the magnitude of the sin she had just committed. She remembered the stories of the saints…

How had they managed to remain steadfast through every hardship?

How had they stood tall before tyrants, earning their place in history for centuries to come?

She whispered, grinding her teeth, "A cowardly failure like me will never know the answer to that. At least... it is a blessing that my parents will never know what became of me."

 

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