Everyone knew the witch trials were just a formality. No one who had been accused had ever been pardoned. Then Hans received a letter from Rome, explaining that despite her sins, she would soon be called upon by the Bishop of Rome to serve a higher purpose. She naively believed her prayers had been answered, until she learned the Church planned to take her son. But what could they possibly want with the seven-year-old son of a poor copper smelter? She doubted the pope himself would travel so far just to have Martin become an altar boy. Lost in thought, she suddenly realized Martin had left her grasp and was running toward the carriage.
Hans took off after him, but Martin had a good head start, having bolted out so quickly. “Martin, stop!” Margarethe screamed. Nothing was set in stone yet. The pope could easily change his mind should Martin do anything uncouth. One simply didn’t disturb the most powerful man in the world, the Vicar of Christ, the supreme judge and lawgiver.
Her husband was doing his best to reach their son before he brought disgrace to his family, but years of toiling in mines had injured Hans’s knees, making him lag behind. Ignoring his mother, Martin reached for the door handle of the carriage and opened it. Inside sat two men. One was dressed all in white, a gold sash draped around his neck. Seated across from him was a man clothed in a black robe with a red belt.
“Hello, Martin,” said the man in white. “It is good to finally meet you.”
“You want to do what?” Margarethe asked, stunned.
“It is not your place to question His Holiness!” The thin glass of the windows rattled with Leonardo’s booming voice. How dare this impudent witch do anything but grovel before Pope Innocent VIII.
The pope raised his hand. “She needs to know and agree fully. Without her consent, this plan will fail.”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Leonardo replied, stepping back.
Margarethe shot a look at Leonardo, his head bowed, arms folded across his chest. “You do not approve of me.”
Leonardo looked to the pontiff then, with a sneer, said, “No. All heretics need to be punished for their sins. Their only mercy should be given in death.”
“But I am not a heretic. ” Margarethe paled. So, they didn’t believe her. Had they really only pardoned her to get their hands on Martin?
“There are tests we can do to be sure.” Leonardo’s smile held no comfort. Hans, who had been sitting quietly at the table listening, couldn’t help the involuntary gasp at the thinly veiled threat. Those tests always resulted in death. Either the woman was determined to be a witch and burned alive, or she never survived the trial—which was the only way she would be deemed innocent.
Seeing Hans’s clenched fists, Leonardo realized he had gone too far. The man was a good Christian who had just married the wrong woman. Feeling compassionate, Leonardo gentled his voice. “Of course, we have dismissed all charges against your wife. All we ask is that you allow us to train your son for the greater good of our Church and people.”
Margarethe knew she should bite her tongue, but she couldn’t just stand by and watch her son be used by these men. If they could so easily toy with her life, what would they do to Martin? “But how will this be for the good of the Church? You are telling us you want Martin to be trained to turn against the Church.”
Pope Innocent VIII stood, stretching the kinks out of his legs. Two weeks was far too long to sit cooped up in a carriage. “That is correct,” he said. “He will turn against us, with our blessing. Your son will be an important part of history. He will shape the future of our religion.”
Margarethe shook her head. “I do not understand.”
“I know, my child,” the pontiff answered. “It is complex, but all you need to know is that you are serving your Church in the highest possible way.” Then he turned and focused his piercing gaze on her. “And only this will allow you redemption for your association with those witches.”
Margarethe nodded slowly. She wished with every fiber of her being to be forgiven and accepted into Paradise, where she might spend eternity with God. But was it right to subject her son to such unknowns for her own salvation?
“But why our son?” Hans asked. “We are grateful for your grace and compassion, but I just do not understand the reasoning.” He had always hoped his son would become a lawyer.
The pope turned to Hans. “I understand your concerns and am allowing you to question us, but you must understand that this decision has already been made. Your son will take part in the plan laid out by my predecessors. This is bigger than any of us. It will not die with me, but will be passed along to the next pope and the next, far into the future.” He walked over to the fireplace, smiling softly at the child sleeping peacefully in a cradle. “The truth is our numbers are declining. There is no vigor in our congregations, no excitement for young people considering which path they should follow. Christians are becoming complacent and lazy. They are easily tempted by the cunning words of heretics. And the problem will only get worse unless we take action now.” He looked to Leonardo. “It is our job to convert every last man, woman, and child to follow our Blessed Redeemer and Glorious Lord.”
Margarethe watched the pope pace around her small parlor, his crisp white robes so out of place among the simple wood furnishings.
“We need to wake up the world to the correct way of thinking before it is too late and their souls are damned to Hell for eternity,” he continued excitedly. “We need a new wave of disciples—boys who can lead the charge in different areas of the world, giving people something to fight for.”
“You’re planning to start another Crusade?” Hans whispered, horrified.
“We need passion, Hans. Passion like our Church has not seen in centuries. Passion like Christ brought when He revolutionized the world with His message.”
His question left unanswered, Hans tried again. “But what you are suggesting—"
The pope waved his hands impatiently. “Do you know your history, Hans?”
He frowned. “For the most part, yes.”
“Then you remember the fate of the Waldensians.”
Hans nodded slowly. Every Christian knew that story, how early in the thirteenth century, the Waldensians were persecuted for their teachings conflicting with the Church. “They were heretics, who were justly punished.”
“Correct,” the pope said. “We burned dozens of Waldensians at the stake. And? What was the result?”
Hans thought for a moment. “A dividing line was set, showing the people the correct path to choose for salvation.”
“Our flock became more faithful, more devoted,” the pope said, nodding in agreement. “We grew stronger.”
Margarethe couldn’t help but see the similarities between what had happened with the Waldensians and the current witch trials. Were Anna and Sophia being made an example of for the same reason? And now they demanded her son as well. Would the Church’s greed never cease? “But the Waldensians were heretics,” Margarethe said, trying to keep the rising panic from her “Our son is not. We are devoted followers of the only true Church and—”
Hans raised a hand and Margarethe fell silent. “I think I understand,” he said. “Martin will become influential, will he not?” It wasn’t the life he had planned for his son, but the alternative was far worse.
“That he will,” the pope said with a knowing smile. “Your son will be known throughout time. People will follow his word and fight against us.” His smile faded. “There will be bloodshed, but I will protect Martin and his future family. No harm shall come to him.” Margarethe relaxed a bit, placated by the pope’s oath. Yet, anxiety continued to nag at her.
The pope smiled at Leonardo then turned back to the boy’s parents. “It’s a small price to pay to unite this world under one church. Martin’s