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

Chapter Three:

Farewell to the Past

 

Catherina tossed and turned in her bed, trying to gather the shattered fragments of her soul after the spiritual calamity that had struck her. She bit her lip until it bled, then gnawed at her fingers, writhing in the suffocating grip of an anxiety that bordered on madness.

The door swung open abruptly, breaking her trance. She jolted upright, eyes wide with alarm, as Johannes stood in the frame. “Kati, come. We’re going for a ride.”

“A ride?” she stammered.

“And why shouldn't we?”

“No reason... of course, we’ll go.”

"At least it’s a chance to distract my mind", she whispered to her soul as she prepared to leave.

For the first time in months of long, sunless confinement, Catherina stepped out of that cursed house. She took tentative steps upon the dewy snow—strides of a freedom she had nearly forgotten—squinting against a glare that felt alien to her eyes. She turned back, seeing the structure for the first time from the outside, finally grasping the nature of the prison that had held her.

It was a massive two-story stone edifice perched precariously on the edge of a great mountain gorge. Around it, various houses,

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stables, and huts were scattered across a wide expanse. Everywhere she looked, men of the gang moved about—some loitering and talking, others training, while some drove groups of slaves to their daily labors.

Before she could fully process her surroundings, Johannes hoisted her onto his bay horse. Panicked by the sudden height, she grabbed the horse’s mane. The animal tossed its head violently, and she shrieked, losing her balance, only for Johannes to steady her. He laughed, a sound of genuine mocking surprise. “What is wrong with you? Have you never ridden a horse before?”

“No!” she cried. “This is terrifying!”

He let out a sharp bark of laughter as he vaulted up behind her. The horse shifted under the added weight, and Catherina screamed again, curling into herself and burying her head in her arms. Johannes reached around her to seize the reins, forcing her chin up to meet his mocking gaze.

“Steady now. You won’t fall while you’re in my hands.”

Catherina raised her flushed face, looking at him with a mix of shame and trepidation. He planted a swift kiss on her cheek and nudged the horse forward. Soon, the biting mountain air began to whip against their faces, playing with their hair as they moved. The brief moment of beauty was strangled by a haunting memory: the day he had brutally forced her onto a horse, draped facedown like a carcass. She couldn't help but compare that agony to her current position—cradled between his arms like a respected wife out for a legitimate stroll with her husband. And

 

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what a marriage it is, she thought bitterly.

She tried to find solace in the breathtaking scenery she had craved, her mind racing for a way to bury the bitterness and enjoy a fleeting moment of peace. Beside her, she noticed a rare gravity in his features. She broke the silence.

“It seems I hold the title of the only woman in the family.”

“No,” he replied casually. “Didn't you see my cousin? The one in the short brown dress?”

“Oh, that was your cousin... how stupid of me. I thought she was one of your uncle’s girls.”

“Both.”

“Pardon?”

“She is both: his daughter and his girl.” Catherina gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth. “That... that is revolting!”

“What’s so revolting about it?” He looked at her with genuine confusion.

“How can he dare to do something so heinous?” she exclaimed, her voice thick with indignation.

He glanced at her with utter disdain. “And why not? He’s the one who raised her; who has a better right to her than him? I don’t see what’s so strange.”

Catherina was stunned into silence, the words dying in her throat. He followed up with a piercing question: “Is this something to do with that God you were just cursing in front of us?”

 

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In a jarring flash of clarity, Catherina realized the vast, hollow void left behind when God is removed from human life. She swallowed hard, her voice low and hesitant.

“And do you all live like this? With no laws at all? Is everything permitted?”

“My uncle sets the laws here,” Johannes said firmly. “Just as your father does in his church. You should realize that our laws are the only ones that matter to you now.”

Catherina looked down in shame, her throat dry. “Since you’ve introduced me to the man in control, who is the woman in charge? I haven't seen his wife.”

He took a sharp breath. “My uncle doesn't believe in marriage.” She blinked, startled. “He doesn't believe in marriage? But you just got married—and isn't he the one who makes the rules?”

“No, I said he doesn’t believe in it, not that he doesn't allow it. Personally, he prefers women to remain merely... tools.” A deafening silence fell between them before Johannes added, “As for me, my father believes in marriage, and so he forced me into this, as you saw.”

She threw a side-long glance at him. “I don't think I’ve seen his wife. Your mother?”

“Yes. My mother was the only one he ever married. She vanished suddenly when I was small. I never saw him mourn her or ask after her. I’ve always believed my father killed her out of revenge —I used to see her with my uncle quite often.”

 

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Johannes spoke with chilling calm, while Catherina burned with a mixture of rage and terror. Her eyes widened in horror, her hands trembling as she spoke in a whisper. “I should have asked this from the start... what is marriage to you?”

Johannes laughed, a cruel, triumphant sound. “A late question indeed! To me, being married to you means you are my girl, the one who will bear my children. That’s it. And since there is a custom that you represent me to the world, I had to distinguish you from the others. But between us—which is how it will be most of the time—I am your master, and my boot is above your head.”

He paused to let the weight of his words sink in, then added, “And what did you think it was?”

“That I was... your other half,” she replied gloomily, her teeth clenched as she stared at the ground rushing beneath the horse’s hooves.

But instead of the expected lash of his mockery, she was met with a strange, heavy silence. He didn't answer. He didn't comment. There was only the rhythmic thud of hooves, which seemed to quicken as if he were riding toward a grim destination rather than a leisurely outing. Catherina snapped back to reality, looking ahead, and realized she had walked into a trap disguised as a stroll.

She clutched at her chest, her heart hammering in sync with the horse’s gallop. The terrifying realization hit her: the Leader's test hadn't ended with mere words. Becoming part of this family

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wouldn't be so simple.

She thought she had surrendered, but in the face of imminent disaster, her hands scrambled for Johannes’s chest, clutching his coat in a desperate plea. “No, please... is there not a shred of mercy in your heart? Put yourself in my place...”

Her voice trailed off as she realized her words were dissolving into the wind. She stared at his stony, unyielding face through a veil of tears. The moment shattered when he yanked the reins with brutal force. The horse reared, neighing loudly, and his command came down like the strike of a blade: “Get down! Stand by that tree!”

She dismounted with a face drained of all color. Before her lay her village—the meadows of her childhood that had now become a foreign land. She cast a bleeding look toward the horizon before retreating into the shadows of a tree, her head bowed in shame. Johannes offered no farewell. Instead, he spurred his horse and galloped back the way he came, abandoning her to the winter chill and the snowflakes that began to settle upon the head of that "wilted flower."

The silence of winter was soon pierced by the laughter of a group of village women, shedding the exhaustion of the road with idle chatter. They were returning with balanced water jars, their weight forgotten in the heat of a pleasant conversation.

As they passed the tree, they drew near. At first, they did not recognize her. But soon, one of them

 

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shrieked, "Catherina! It’s Catherina!" The air filled with jubilant cries and laughter as they swarmed around her.

"We hardly knew you in these clothes! You’re finally back!"

"How did you escape those bastards?"

"We can’t believe you’re still alive!"

They vied with one another to pull Catherina toward the village, each wanting to be the one to deliver her to the convent. But to their shock, Catherina resisted in silence. She recoiled back toward the shadow of the tree as if she feared the light, preferring the cold embrace of solitude.

They stood stunned, attempting to comfort her, to reach her, to reason with her. But every effort was met with a hollow wall of silence. Finally, some of them rushed ahead to bring news of the "miracle" to the convent, and soon, a long procession began to wind its way toward her.

Within minutes, the circle around her grew and darkened as the Sisters arrived one by one. Each expressed her joy in her own way; laughter mingled with sighs of relief. Catherina felt she might lose consciousness, until she heard a voice that made the hair on her neck stand up and her heart beat like a funeral drum.

The Mother Superior pushed through the crowd, darting like an arrow toward Catherina. She seized Catherina’s hands and pressed them against her tear-stained cheeks, her eyes searching Catherina’s with raw, honest emotion.

 

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"Kati, my darling... the Lord has brought you back alive. Praise be to God that you are safe!"

The moment the word 'Lord' touched Catherina’s ears, her eyes erupted in tears. Her lips trembled for a second before she wrenched her hands away with shocking violence, thrusting them behind her back against the tree. She averted her gaze like someone dodging a dagger thrust.

The Mother was horrified. She began to beg for a single word, trying every way to reach her. After many failed attempts, she elicited only a fragmented sentence: "I am not..."

"Not?!" the grieving Mother cried out. "Not what? Why won't you speak? At least tell me what prevents you from talking to your mother, who would do the impossible for you! They can strip you of everything, but they cannot take your mother's heart!"

Suddenly, a new group of churchmen arrived, led by her father, the Priest. He did not embrace her. Instead, he placed a heavy hand upon her head and began to recite incantations loudly, hoping to drive the demonic spirit from her soul.

He did not realize that what was swirling inside his daughter’s head was something far beyond the reach of a few chanted words. For the first time, Catherina could not look at her father as the great man of faith she had once adored, or the commanding figure she was proud to call father.

Instead, her mind was flooded with the words of the Vilmoss

 

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family—the voices of Jorvoss, Elisabetha, and the others. They swirled in her mind, memories soaked in the pain of isolation and the slow rot of their influence.

The words of blasphemy she had uttered that morning acted like liquid lead poured into her ears and veins. All she could hear was the echoing voice of doubt in her soul: Those hymns, Father, did not save me from outrage, nor did they shield me from pain. I am no longer the girl who sees the world through the eye of a needle, dear Father.

The prayer was cut short by a voice shouting from the distance:"Villagers! Sisters! Bandits are raiding the church... there are at least ten of them!"

Her father’s face turned a deep, bruised crimson. He seized his daughter’s hair, forcing her eyes up to meet his, shouting with frantic rage: "Was it a trick? Speak, Catherina! Speak!"

Catherina’s pale lips finally moved to a whisper: "And how did you think they let me go so easily in the first place?"

Her mother shrieked, grabbing Catherina’s clothes and shaking her with heart-wrenching sobs. "Catherina, no... I don't believe it. You didn't conspire with them... tell me it’s not true! Tell me! Tell me!"

The mother wailed, ignored the sound of thundering hooves as the gangsters surrounded the group from every side. The crowd recoiled in terror at the sight of the ruthless blades drawn before them. Only Catherina’s parents remained, flanking their flesh and

 

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blood.

One of the masked riders shouted, "Kati, let’s go!" Catherina did not hesitate to bolt toward Johannes, but her father’s grip was like iron.

"What do you want, enemy of God?" he roared. "You took the money—do you want to take her too?!"

The mother clung to her as well, screaming with desperate courage, "You won't touch my daughter, you wretch! Get away from here, son of Devil!"

Johannes’s response was cold and certain. "If you don't let her go, I’ll take her with your severed hands still clutching her." As the distant clamor of the King’s soldiers drew near, Johannes shouted to his men:"Work your steel! Bring her to me unharmed from their hands!"

In a moment of frenzied desperation, Catherina bit her father’s hand until he recoiled, releasing his grip. She began to fight her mother with every ounce of her strength, but the woman’s hold was unyielding, fueled by a primal iron will.

Finally, the father grabbed her shoulder, hispering through gritted teeth, "Don't you understand yet? He is her lover!" Catherina flinched as if struck. Her mother glared at her, eyes brimming with the searing agony of betrayal. "I cannot, Catherina... I cannot believe you have done this."

Catherina’s lips trembled, desperate to fend off the looming beast

 

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of shame. "No, he is my husband!"

The mother’s fingers dug into Catherina’s skin, shaking her violently as she shrieked, "Did I force you into the vow; so that you fleed with him?!

How... how did this demon possess your mind? There were a thousand respectable men... Why him, you mad?!"

The father tried to pull the clinging mother away, his eyes fixed on the threatening glint of Johannes’s blade as it drew nearer. Catherina whispered, pleading as she struggled to free herself, "Let me go, Mom... I have suffered enough. I will die if any harm comes to you!"

It wasn't the words, but the haunting tone and the steel shimmering before them that finally spoke the truth to the mother’s heart. She released her darling daughter, meeting her eyes one last time. "My beloved," she whispered, "may Christ be with you."

"Thank you," Catherina whispered back, her voice raspy with agony.

She bid them farewell with a gaze drowned in tears before Johannes seized her hand, hoisting her onto his horse in a blur of haste. He watched from the corner of his eye as his bandits skirmished with a few arriving soldiers.

Then, they vanished into a storm of dust, leaving behind a mother’s scream that tore through the very heavens: "Catheriiiiiine!"

Catherina pressed her trembling hands to her ears until the

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sound of birdsong returned to the foreground. Her tears flew with the wind, the sound of her soft sobbing reaching the ears of Johannes, who lowered his mask and remarked, "To be honest, you handled yourself better than I expected. I didn't think you'd actually stay put under that tree until I returned!"

Receiving no answer, he pulled her closer with one arm. "You cannot leave your other half behind." Johannes glanced at Catherina’s eyes and found them swimming in tears. He fell silent, comparing the scorn of his uncle and father that morning to the condemnation of her parents now, and the judgment of everyone at the banquet last night. He knitted his brows, her mother’s contemptuous words ringing in his ears.

Does that b*h not see how strong I am? he hissed to himself, grinding his teeth. She is the broken one, yet she dares mock me and try to turn Kati against me! I will prove to Katy that I am a worthy partner; I’ll make her cast her mother’s words to the wind.

He raced the wind toward the house, seething. As they entered the main hall, his men followed, spreading looted gold across a table set before the Leader. "This is what those bastards hid in the church," one of them boasted. "We turned the place upside down in record time!"

Johannes took his seat at the Leader’s right hand and sat Catherina beside him. He felt a gnawing anxiety; his wife’s strange expression and his own intuition were sounding an alarm.

 

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The Leader, meanwhile, began sifting through the gold with a cynical air. "The gold of the poor... yet shaped into crosses. I wonder, how does this benefit the poor in such a form?"

He turned to Catherina, whose face was flushed with suppressed emotion, and handed her one of the crosses with a smile. "Take this. Hang it in your room as a memento."

"No. I want no crosses."

Catherina’s voice was sharp, despite the tremor in her throat.

The Leader tossed the cross aside and scanned the loot until he picked up a large, radiant pearl necklace. "What about this, my little daughter-in-law? Pearls suit you."

Shock registered on Johannes’s face as Catherina stood, took the necklace, and fastened it around her neck in front of everyone. She moved with a haunting grace, despite the visible traces of her weeping.

"What do you think? Does it suit me?"

The men erupted in approval, save for one young man who remained silent. The tension tightened when Julia, the Leader’s daughter, approached Catherina with a swaying gait. "Let me style your hair, pretty one. I’ll make it look perfect—look, with this sparkling pin!"

Julia snatched a golden pin from before her father, who seemed lost in thought as he stared at Catherina. She showed her how it would adorn her hair, and Catherina was about to follow her when Johannes suddenly gripped her arm. His tone was dry and brittle.

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"Your hair is fine as it is. There is no need for styling."

Julia stepped in quickly, resting her hand playfully on Johannes’s chest. "Are you jealous, cousin? I’ve seen her with you for months —where did this bridegroom’s jealousy come from all of a sudden? Hmm?"

Johannes shoved her away threateningly. "I have told you a thousand times not to come near me. And now, I tell you: stay away from my wife. Do you hear me?"

He turned his command to Catherina. "Change your clothes and come to my room."

"Yes."

He stormed out, his rage palpable. Catherina followed shortly after, filled with trepidation. As she closed the door, she overheard Julia saying to her father, "It seems today is not the day."

The Leader replied with a boastful air, "I... have no need for trickery like you do."

Catherina glanced back at them from behind the door, her mind a blank slate of exhaustion. She hurried to change and went straight to Johannes’s room. When she entered and shut the door, her nerves tightened at the sight of him pacing the room, a whirlwind of restless fury.

He saw her, and with a sudden, forceful movement, dragged her toward the open window. His breath came in ragged gasps as he

 

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pointed a trembling finger toward the vast expanse of the sky. "Who is up there?" he demanded.

Catherina recoiled, her senses reeling. "No one..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He shook her violently, his desperation boiling over. "Catherina! Have I ever silenced you for speaking of God?"

Bewildered, she stared at him, unable to grasp the frantic shift in his soul. "Answer me!" he roared.

No," she breathed.

is eyes were searing now, dark pools of inner conflict. "Have I ever commanded you to blaspheme?"

No."

Did I ever make your marriage to me conditional upon changing your faith?"

No."

Then what," he shouted, "do you conclude from all this?"

Catherina’s confusion sharpened into a painful tension. She stammered, then finally drew a sharp breath, forcing the words out in a rush: "I think you simply amuse yourself by mocking my story. You think I am a fool—that is all I know! I don't understand what you want from me now!"

A flicker of hesitation crossed Johannes’s eyes, cutting through his rage. He took a long, stabilizing breath. "I... very well. To be honest, my mockery has ultimately turned against me."

 

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He averted his gaze. Catherina stared at him, her heart still hammering against her ribs, trembling in the wake of his outburst. "What do you mean by that?" she asked tentatively.

Johannes squared his shoulders and turned back to meet her eyes. "First, answer me: Do you love me?"

"And do you love me?" she shot back, her voice laced with indignation.

"Do I truly need to say it? Then listen: I love you. And the very reason I love you is because..." He exhaled sharply, pausing for a heartbeat before leaning in to whisper, "...because you are the only one here who believes in God."

Catherina stood paralyzed, struck by a bolt of pure shock. The very thing she feared was her greatest flaw in his eyes—the belief she thought he merely tolerated—was the very thing that drew him to her.

Sensing her upheaval, Johannes pulled her into a sudden embrace, hiding his face to avoid the vulnerability of their meeting eyes. "I have a secret," he murmured against her. "Will you keep it with me?"

A small, hesitant smile touched her lips. "Of course. Tell me, I’m listening."

He froze for a moment, gathering his resolve, then moved cautiously to shut the window against the world. Tucked beneath the heavy shroud of the bedcovers, his mood finally began to settle into a somber calm.

 

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"The truth is," he whispered, "there is no master in this family but my uncle, Jonathas. For as long as I have known the world, I have lived in his cage, a creature of his whims. He uses me and hurts me; he profits from me and rewards me. Sometimes, he simply sets me aside to drink and gamble until he decides to move me again—just as he did a few days ago."

He paused, the weight of his agony evident in his voice. "Naturally, there is no escape. He has eyes everywhere. And to be honest, I have no stomach for the life of the poor; here, the pleasures of life come easily. So... I am trapped here, in body and in lust, even if my mind holds a different opinion."

He stared into the darkness. "Since I was a child, whenever he hurt me and I found no protector, I looked for someone stronger than him. For a long time, I was certain no such power existed. I thought he was immortal."

His voice grew cold and analytical. "But now that my mind has matured, I see the points where he is defeated—crushed just as the lowliest animal is crushed."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "I mean: Was he not once mere 'unclean water'? Was he not born of a woman? Was he not a helpless babe? Is he not forced to eat to survive? Is he not humbled by the basic needs of the body? Must he not sleep? Is he not eventually conquered by sickness and death?"

 

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He turned to her, his eyes bright with a strange logic. "These aren't just weaknesses. If you connect these dots and look from a distance, the truth emerges: a Power far greater than him controlled him before he even entered this life, guided him through it, and will eventually end him as rot in the soil. Despite all his tyranny, he cannot deny that one day his eyes will dissolve —either through the putrefaction of the grave or the flames of the pyre."

 

He fell silent, drinking in her stunned expression. "So, I was stunned when I heard you speak of God. I realized it wasn't just a stray thought of my own, but something many had pondered before me.And there you were, ready to die for it."

His voice took on a sharper edge of disappointment. "That is why my mockery turned on me. Because you grew weak... so weak that you were ready to renounce your faith today before you even heard a real threat."

Catherina flushed with shame. "The truth is, I didn't say those things as myself. I... I said them imagining it was you speaking, and I was simply ignoring it, as I always do."

A fleeting smile passed between them. Catherina’s face brightened. "Then we can say it, Johannes... you believe in God!" Johannes swallowed hard, weighing his words with solemn precision.

"I believe in the Force that governs the universe," he said. "But I

 

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am struggling to learn how to connect with it. I believe that whoever connects with that Power gains their protection... and becomes the strongest of all."

"But what is the way?" Johannes mused, his voice laced with a newfound hunger for understanding. "At the very least, I want to know why this Power has shackled me to the chain of existence. I do not believe it was a whim of creation; I look at other creatures, and I see no such aimlessness."

"That is wonderful, my dear! How did you come to that conclusion?"

The word 'dear' did not escape Johannes’s notice. A faint, eased smile touched his lips; the jagged edges of his nerves finally began to smooth.

"Consider the calf," he began. "Its death at the jaws of the wolf is no mere sport; it is the very means of the wolf’s survival. To the cow, the loss of her offspring is a nightmare, yet the wolf sees only the virtue of feeding his young. It is a simple truth: a single event can be a grace and a calamity all at once."

Catherina shivered. "Never in my life would it have occurred to me to look at the world so."

"You feel that the world of the cattle is distinct from the world of the wolves," Johannes added, pride swelling in his chest at her approval, "even though we see both unfolding within a single realm. And so, yes... this intricate design suggests to me that I am part of it, somehow."

Catherina smoothed her hair, a mischievous glint touching her

 

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eyes. "You mean, like Catherina of the peasant-world? Hunted by a wolf from the mountain-world? Her mother left grieving, while the wolf counts her as his beloved prize?"

Johannes went silent for a heartbeat before erupting into a sudden, genuine laugh. "I didn’t mean it like that! I truly didn't... So, I am the wolf then? Ha! How perfectly you fit the pieces together."

"But do you see the irony?" she asked, her voice softening. "Both the peasant and the criminal are humans. The calf and the wolf are different species entirely, but we... we are the same creature, yet we represent different worlds."

She sighed, a heavy sadness clouding her face. "That was my feeling this morning. When I passed from my parents’ hands into yours, I felt as though I were crossing into a foreign land. Different laws, different masters... even the clothes are not the same."

"Let us return to the beginning," Johannes whispered, his expression hardening. "Add this to your knowledge: this is the world of Jonathas."

He exhaled a breath of pure agony and placed his hand on her hair, his gaze turning deadly serious. "You do not understand. Let me tell you how this ends: my uncle intends to lie with you. That is why Julia was leading you away, you naive girl."

Catherina’s eyes narrowed in horror. "This is why I refused to marry," Johannes hissed. "I knew our privacy would vanish the moment his eyes fell upon you. But had I not married you, you would have been forced into his direct

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service anyway, and I would have lost you entirely."

"But your father!" she stammered, shocked. "He was the one who insisted on the marriage."

"A charade," Johannes spat. "It was my uncle’s decree, not his. Realizing that I am a prisoner in my uncle’s claws—and that my father is merely a puppet by his own admission—is why I have come to loathe this life." His voice cracked. "I refuse to be a puppet in his hands as well."

He seized her hands, his grip desperate. "Do not make yourself beautiful for him. Do not smile. He is a monster... he is the one who killed my mother, and now he enslaves both my father and me."

As Catherina reeled, wondering which version of her mother-in-law’s death was the truth, Johannes’s voice rose with a sharp, macabre edge. "What more do you need? He killed his own father and devoured him! Every time a child is born to him, he roasts them alive and eats them..."

Catherina’s eyes darted in terror; she clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress the rising bile. Johannes left her to her silence for a moment before snapping:

"What you did on your first day... it defied everything I expected! Why did you wear that necklace? Why did you try to draw every eye in the room? That isn't you. You showed me the meaning of modesty; for months, you couldn't even shed the crimson of your blushes. Why change now?"

 

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"I... I..."

The tears choked her. She rubbed the fabric of the bedsheets between her fingers, trembling with shame. "I thought... if I was going to Hell anyway, this was my only chance to enjoy life. And so…"

"You fool!" Johannes growled. "You are a woman. The moment you think men are admiring you, know that in that very instant, they are calculating how to humiliate and possess you."

She glanced at him with a flicker of disdain, lowering her head. "I know," he replied, shamed by his own deeds. "But now... I am a 'friendly wolf'."

She exhaled, turning her face away. "Friendly only in this strange hour."

"No," he insisted, grasping her hands again. "Forget the past. I will change, I promise! Haven't you felt it? I have become your other half." He stroked her hair, his voice ringing with a rare honesty. "Solitude was killing me. I couldn't even speak to my father, knowing he would carry my words back to Jonathas. I wanted to trust you... I wanted you to be my friend. Someone who has nothing to do with Jonathas. Someone I can speak to with freedom."

The grief in his voice moved her. She looked up, meeting his eyes. "If I am to be honest, the feeling is mutual. Loneliness is what broke my faith and made me falter." She smiled through the gloom. "But now, knowing you are with me—that you believe in a Sovereign God as I do—it gives me warmth. It gives me the courage and safety I’ve been missing."

 

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Johannes smiled back, but a sudden gloom reclaimed him. His words became clipped, hesitant. "I am sorry... if I cannot shield you from him tomorrow.. I saw him staring at you. Be strong. Just... go along with his whims. And endure."

Catherina would need far more than words to endure the night that followed. A man possessed by the megalomania of Jonathas knew no bounds when he held absolute power over soul and flesh.

Unexpectedly, the "monster" Johannes had once been in her eyes transformed. He was no longer the apex predator; he was a fellow inmate, sharing a miserable cell, groaning under the weight of the same tyrant. It was a surreal revelation.

Back in the jail, everyone lived under the assumption that the arrogant Johannes was the head of the hierarchy, a man to be flattered and feared. Now, standing beside him, she saw he was a slave who didn't even own himself.

Does Jonathas suffer the same? the thought nagged at her. She sat in Johannes’s room now, as he tried to comfort her after her ordeal. Catherina had not uttered a single word since her return; Jonathas’s cruelty had been many times worse than anything she had known. Yet, she did not weep as much as before. This time, she had a chest to lean on—the very same chest she had once fought to flee.

After a long silence, she spoke with a heavy, contemplative tone. "Yesterday in the village, I saw a sister from the convent. I had

 

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despised her once, when she came to us seeking repentance after a dark past. I shrank from her, believing she was unworthy of God’s mercy... and now, I see I have traded places with her. I have become worth even less. Who knows how long I must pay the price for doubting the Lord..."

At that moment, a sharp knock echoed at the door. Upon Johannes’s command, Jorvoss entered and knelt. "The Master has ordered me to take over your service, replacing Arthurus," he announced.

"You?" Johannes frowned. "And what has become of Arthurus?"

"In the 'Box of Thorns,' I believe," Jorvoss replied coldly. "He saw fit to anger the Leader."

The atmosphere in the room turned brittle. Johannes’s head sagged, while Catherina let out a sharp gasp of protest. "No! Such injustice! No matter what he did, he doesn't deserve —"

"Kati!" Johannes roared, cutting her off. "Don't you dare utter those words! Have you lost your mind?"

Catherina bit her lip, forcing back the torrent of indignation. She exhaled slowly, looking away; suddenly, the weight of her own misfortune felt lighter against the backdrop of such casual cruelty.

Johannes, meanwhile, turned his attention to Jorvorss, barking out service instructions. The servant remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed submissively on Johannes’s boots. Finally, with a low bow, Jorvorss retreated.

 

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"That is his way," Johannes whispered to Catherina, his voice haunted. "He destroys anyone I find a connection with, using any excuse he can conjure." He let out a weary sigh. "Today he decided to prune the 'tree' of servants. He has appointed a maid for you as well."

"Truly? His whims are impossible to predict," she murmured.

A heavy silence settled between them. Catherina watched him for a long moment, a strange, piercing look in her eyes. "Johannes," she began, her voice tentative, "I must tell you something I noticed tonight. I don't know if it will shock you..."

She trailed off. Johannes straightened his posture, his features bracing for a blow. "What is it?"

She moistened her parched lips, her voice trembling with doubt. "I don't know if you’ve realized.. that Jonathas is.. he is your father. Your father, Johannes, not your uncle!"

Johannes surged to his feet, recoiling as if stung. "What nonsense is this, Kati?!"

"Wait! Think—" she urged, pointing toward the looking glass. "Think of how often you saw him with your mother. Look at the resemblance! It is so striking that now, for fleeting moments, you looked like a younger ghost of him."

Johannes’s eyes widened, the blood draining from his face. "By contrast," Catherina pressed on, "you look nothing like Jacobus. Jacobus has a round face; yours is long, like Jonathas’s. And beyond the physical, the way Jonathas speaks of his bond with you... it hints at a deeper claim."

 

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Johannes folded his arms tightly across his chest, a defensive scowl deepening. "And where did you conjure this from?"

"Didn't you hear him? He told me, 'You bear my name.' He called me 'my daughter-in-law'!"

Johannes waved his hand dismissively, though his agitation was palpable. "Familiarities! He uses them because he is my uncle— he is like a father to me."

Seeing the storm brewing in his expression, Catherina retreated. "Perhaps," she said, averting her gaze. "But the mere shadow of a doubt is living proof of why chaste marriage exists. See how lineages blur and the truth is lost when the laws of God are forsaken."

Johannes remained motionless, his face flushed a deep, angry red. He walked slowly toward the mirror, staring into his own eyes for several long minutes. He clutched his head as if trying to crush the thought within it. "I can't believe it..." he hissed. "I look like him... hauntingly so. No, it cannot be. Is that devil Jonathas truly my father? I shall go mad..."

His mood plummeted into a dark, volatile valley. Catherina rose, sensing she should leave before his temper turned on her. Just then, Jorvorss arrived with dinner. The moment the door creaked open, Johannes snarled, "Get it away from me, you son of a b—! You bring me this? Do I look like I have an appetite?"

"Johannes, please, calm down," Catherina whispered. "Leave me be!" he shouted. "Go! Go to your room!" Catherina retreated, a sharp sting of regret in her heart for having

 

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spoken. As she entered her chamber, she found a woman setting the table. She closed the door and sat down, offering a small, weary kindness: "Thank you."

She looked up, only to find a familiar, sullen face—a face she had once known with bitter intensity. The woman’s voice was as harsh as ever.

"Don't look at me like that, you little—" Elisabetha bit her tongue, turning her face away. "Whatever. Enjoy your meal."

Elisabetha snatched up a bottle and stood stiffly by Catherina’s side to perform the ritual of service. Catherina took the bottle from her hands.

"Don't trouble yourself; I can pour for myself. Why don't you sit and eat with me?"

"I’m leaving then," Elisabetha snapped, bolting for the door as if escaping a ghost.

Catherina smiled faintly to herself as she ate. This is why one should never make enemies, she thought. Before she could finish, a knock sounded. Elisabetha led Jorvoss in, who approached with a formal air.

"The Master wishes to check on you," Jorvors said loudly. "He asks if all is well?"

"Yes," Catherina replied, puzzled. "Everything is fine."

Once he was certain Elisabetha had retreated a safe distance, Jorvoss leaned in and whispered, "The Master said nothing. It is only I who am starving!"

Catherina chuckled, handing him a loaf of bread. "I told myself: this isn't like him at all!"

 

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She watched in silent amusement as Jorvoss tore the bread, hiding pieces in his mouth and his pockets. She handed him a piece of meat and some cheese. "Don't they feed you well now?"

"A single loaf after a day of back-breaking toil," he muttered with his mouth full.

She sighed. "It seems Johannes was a blessing by comparison." Jorvoss quickly drained the rest of the juice from her cup. "I must go; Elisabetha is not to be trusted." He stood by the door and shouted pretending: "Yes, at once!" He exited, leaving Catherina laughing softly.

Elisabetha is offered a feast and refuses, she thought, while the other fakes an errand for a few crumbs and drinks from my cup without a second thought. Truly, it takes all kinds.

A few days later, Catherina was in her room, whispering prayers in her forced seclusion. Elisabetha entered, carrying a bundle of black cloth. Catherina stood abruptly, her heart leaping into her throat. She wanted to feel joy, but a cold intuition warned her to be wary.

Her hands shook as she touched the habit of a nun. Tears pooled in her eyes. "Why have you brought this?" she asked, her voice thick.

"How should I know?" Elisabetha replied coldly. "They told me to give it to you to wear."

Catherina panicked, remembering Jonathas’s earlier threats of

 

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the "saws." She ran to find Johannes, desperate for clarity before making a fatal mistake. When he saw her, he looked merely annoyed.

"Haven't you put it on yet? I thought you'd be in it the second you saw it!"

"I feared it was a trap..."

"You are the very trap here, you simple girl," Johannes said with a tired sigh. "Hurry now, put it on and meet us outside."

Catherina failed to grasp the riddle of his words—'You are the very trap'—but she wasted no time. She stood before the looking glass, drinking in her own reflection. The loose, heavy folds of the habit, the wooden cross, the headpiece, and the familiar weight of the rosary beads.. it was a sight she had yearned for so desperately that she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her own image in the mirror.

She hurried outside to find Johannes waiting by his horse, deep in hushed conversation with two of his men. After a moment, he approached to hoist her onto the saddle. To his utter bewilderment, she recoiled, darting out of his reach.

Johannes’s expression flickered through a dozen shades of confusion and annoyance until she suddenly burst into laughter.

"You should have seen your face!" she teased, stepping closer. He forced a tight smile, muttering under his breath, "Damn it. I knew that dress was cursed."

She hid a grin behind her hand. "Then why did you make me wear it?"

"Mount up and I’ll tell you on the road."

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"You want to hold me in your arms while I am wearing this?" she asked, her voice rising in feigned scandal.

Johannes scratched his head, genuinely stumped. "What is the problem?"

She gestured wildly at her attire. "Johannes! A nun is celibate! She does not even touch men!" He rolled his eyes and extended his hand anyway. " My wish is to touch every nun..."

"And the best part," she cut him off sharply, "is that you never will!"

He rubbed his chin. "Regardless, the cloth doesn't change the fact that you are my wife."

"Perhaps not to you, but everyone else will convict me with their eyes. They will see me as a fraud! "

A look of realization finally dawned on Johannes. One of his men clapped him on the shoulder, masking a smirk. "She can ride the carriage, and you drive it."

They set off under the bleeding light of the sunset. Catherina sat huddled in the carriage, her fingers white as she gripped her rosary. Her heart felt leaden; she knew she was committing a fresh sin, using the sacred garments of her faith to facilitate a theft. She gritted her teeth, watching the road go by, imagining the shattered faces of her parents and friends if they ever discovered this sacrilege. She sighed, a cold acceptance settling over her: This is my family now, and I had to endure their burden.

 

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The plan unfolded with chilling precision. Catherina approached the warehouse guard, using the polished, pious tone of a nun—a role she knew by heart. She spun a tale of a broken carriage and the falling darkness, her voice trembling with a weeping edge. The guard, moved by her apparent distress, had no idea she was truly weeping for the state of her soul.

While he worked on the "repair," Catherina grew frantic. The signal had not appeared. To stall him, she stood over him, showering him with blessings and impromptu sermons.

The guard eventually managed to escape her pious ramblings, terrified his absence would be noticed. The moment he vanished, the sound of galloping horses reached her. She let out a breath of relief, thanking God—only to be struck by the sickening realization that God would never bless what they had done.

The men moved like shadows, tossing crates into the carriage. Catherina scrambled inside as they tore away, the night air filled with their crude laughter and jests. As they boasted of their success, Catherina prayed the guard would think the theft a mere coincidence and not her treachery. But in her heart, she wondered: where did all those blessings I spoke go?

In the months that followed, the Leader played his new card—the "Nun"—in countless robberies. He claimed his own name didn't come for free, and Catherina was forced into the fray, sometimes as bait, sometimes as a thief.

It was a grueling existence, but Johannes’s constant presence beside her acted as a shield against the crushing weight of her

 

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own shame.

The Leader, ever the strategist, knew exactly how to balance the risks of his new pawn.

One evening, Catherina returned from a mission and entered Johannes’s room. He was eating dinner, but he paused the moment he saw her. "Your pregnancy is beginning to show," he remarked.

"Indeed," she said, leaning heavily against the table. "Walking is becoming a chore."

Jorvoss entered with a fresh bottle of wine. Catherina picked up a loaf of bread and asked the same weary question she asked every night: "May I give it to him by hand?" Johannes smiled with forced patience. "For the thousandth time: No! You should thank me that I even allow you to feed him at all."

Catherina dropped the loaf onto the floor. Jorvoss immediately dropped to his knees, eating it with his mouth like a dog. Catherina watched him, then turned her gaze to Johannes. "Do you know that He—the Sovereign Lord—will never listen to you as long as you insist on treating a human being like this?"

Johannes squinted over his glass. "Did He speak to you on my behalf?"

"He speaks to all of us!" she said, her voice rising with excitement. "And I will prove it to you." Johannes took a leisurely sip of his wine. "Prove it then."

"Why don't you ride a cow?"

He looked at her with pure disdain. "You're going to prove God to

 

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me with a cow?"

"Answer me first!"

He leaned back, swirling his wine. "Hmm... I don't know, honestly. If you asked Jonathas, he’d have an answer, but I am no farmer."

Catherina blinked in surprise. "What does Jonathas have to do with farming?"

"He was a peasant in his youth, before he decided to become a thief."

She clapped her hands together. "No! Impossible!"

"It’s the truth."

She smothered a laugh with her hands. "I cannot imagine him as a farmer... it's too ridiculous!"

"He felt his father was turning him into an ox," Johannes said, playing with his glass. "That is why he was so angry."

Catherina erupted into laughter. The disaster was that even Jorvoss, despite his terror, failed to suppress a snicker. Johannes, ever prone to violence, immediately delivered a series of kicks to the poor man, cursing him until he fled the room. When the door slammed shut, Catherina regained her composure.

"Back to our subject," she said. "We don't ride cows because their bodies are not built for it; they are built for milk. Conversely, why do we not milk a mare, even though she nurses her young?"

Johannes signaled for her to pour his wine in Jorvoss' stead. "That I can answer. Her milk is scant, and she... well, she refuses to be milked."

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"Exactly. Because her body is perfect for the saddle." Johannes raised his glass dismissively. "What does the nature of beasts have to do with speaking to the Sovereign Lord?"

"This is the speech of the Lord," she insisted. He rubbed his hair mockingly. "Has the wine hit me this quickly?" She laughed softly. "By creating the cow in such a way, God is telling us to use her for milk. By creating the horse so, He tells us to ride. A man can ignore God’s words and try to ride a cow or live on mare’s milk, but he will soon realize he is in error."

"Ah... I see now," Johannes said, his tone shifting. "You are saying that Creation itself is a language. Symbols of what He wants. We could say God addresses the mind through action rather than words.. Am I following you?"

"Precisely!"

"Fine... but what does any of this have to do with the loaf of bread?"

Catherina put her hands on her hips. "Why does a dog eat with its mouth?"

Johannes began to laugh, then went silent, a knowing smile playing on his lips as if to say, I have understood what I did not wish to understand.

"You see my point," Catherina concluded. "When you force a human being—endowed with hands—to eat like a beast, you are defying the order of God and corrupting His creation. And so... He will not listen to you. At the very least, not while you do that."

Johannes looked away into the distance. After a heavy, hollow

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silence, he spoke.

"Sometimes I wonder... if God truly did speak to me, if He gave me a direct command, would I even listen? Would I obey? If He told me, 'No—do not drink,' would I stop? Even though the drink is the thing I truly enjoy?"

"That is the very essence of worship, Johannes!" she cried. "To do what He commands and turn away from what He forbids." He averted his eyes, shaking his head in dismissal. "That is too difficult. I want to be stronger, not more humiliated."

Catherina sighed, falling silent for a long moment before she looked up at him with a clever glint in her eyes. "Should I wait until tomorrow to ask you about the loaf of bread? To see the result of this conversation?"

"Tomorrow I shall tell you: do not feed him at all, for he has earned my wrath!"

She exhaled sharply, leaning her head back, exhausted by his stubbornness. He let out a spiteful laugh. "Who forces you to fight their battles anyway? As long as you are well, leave the misery to those it belongs to!"

"Weren't you the one who said Jonathas tormented you as a child, and you found no one strong enough to protect you?"

"And he still does."

"Then what stops you from being that 'strong one' for others? Why not lighten their burdens?"

"Nothing stops me," he said coolly. "But when I crush others,

 

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when I take my revenge without consequence, I feel the rush of power! If I start to care for them, I’ll become like them. I won’t be strong at all."

She grimaced with pure loathing. "You hurt others just to feel a 'rush'?"

He raised his glass, grinning at her. "Exactly. I steal their happiness to add it to my own."

Catherina stood up, fueled by anger and bitter disappointment. "Then I cannot blame Jonathas. If you were in his place, you would do exactly as he does. Goodnight."

She slammed the outer door behind her and walked with her head down, lost in thought. She had only taken a few steps before she nearly collided with someone. She recoiled, looking up to see the same eyes as Johannes’s, but filled with a terrifying, absolute narcissism. She steadied herself before the Leader. "Excuse me, sir. I didn't notice you were there."

The Leader’s features shifted, softening into a mask of false gentleness. "Do you know? I don't believe our meeting is a coincidence. A question about God has been weighing on my mind, and my heart thirsts for an answer to pluck it from its darkness."

Catherina stammered, realizing she was in a trap. If she answered him, it might be a snare; if she refused, she might lose the chance to turn a man whose guidance could save dozens. Ultimately, her intuition told her he was a liar. "Forgive me, sir, but I no longer believe in God, as you well know."

"I know," he chuckled darkly. "But you were a nun. You can

 

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remember, and perhaps quench my thirst."

"I don't know if I can recall something from a past that no longer concerns me."

Jonathas laughed with pure malice. He reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek as he narrowed his eyes. "This mask you wear... don't you feel its weight heavy upon your heart? Your eyes still search a heaven that no longer sees you, and a God who no longer cares to watch over you."

He extended a hand like a claw, using the tip of a nail to lift the pearl necklace from her throat, playing with it mockingly. "Let us see when you will finally be free from the 'pearls of the Kingdom'."

Catherina was stunned. He knew her secret symbols; he saw right through her. She swallowed hard. "Will you give me your word of safety if I ask you just one question?"

Jonathas made a clicking sound with his tongue, basking in his own power. "I give it."

"It seems from your words that you have had a religious experience of your own. You aren't just an atheist, are you?"

"I gave you my word of safety," he replied indifferently, "but I never said I would answer you.” Stroking his beard, he continued, "Ah, let us play. What is the meaning of my name, Catherina?" He added mockingly: "Catherina: The Pure. The one whose purity I personally ensure!"

Ignoring his mockery of her name, she searched him with anxious eyes: "Jonathas... Yonatan... it means 'Yahweh gives'." Malice dripped from his face: "So, do you like the 'gift' your Lord

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has given you?"

He burst out boastfully: "You’d be better off asking what kind of great sin I’m going to make you commit, oh ‘Pure’ One... Tomorrow... Why not? We shall have time tomorrow."

He opened his eyes wide, leaning in until his face was nearly touching hers. She trembled.

"You do not care for my pain," she whispered. "Nor my death, for that matter. But when it comes to religion, you care. You labor to 'save' me from my stupidity."

He straightened his back, stroking his chin. "No, do not misunderstand me so crudely. I truly do not care if your stupidity destroys you. My insistence on your apostasy is merely about the variety of the crushing. Every person gives me a different pleasure when I break them in a new way. Understand?"

Jonathas walked away, nudging Catherina’s shoulder with his "claw" as he mocked her. "I advise you not to sleep. Spend the night in prayer; perhaps the Lord will save you from tomorrow. It will be a trying day!"

As Jonathas’s guards passed her like silent shadows, Catherina whispered to herself, "It’s as if he heard Johannes. Or did he teach Johannes?

The same idiocy: finding pleasure in the misery of others. What an excuse."

She rubbed her shoulder, shivering with dread. "I only hope tomorrow passes gently."

 

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