Chapter 55 The Bishop
The Bishop
The papal delegation arrives beneath bright banners under a blazing sun. Jan Smet bows low, ushers them into the deep shadow of his manor. “Rest well,” he tells them. “Tomorrow you will witness wonders.”
In the late afternoon, he’s surprised when a servant announces a visitor at the door.
“She refuses to leave, sir.” Jan looks out the window.
It’s the Janssens widow, the begijnhof magistra.
He hurries down himself. He doesn’t want her anywhere near the legate, doesn’t want the delegation to think he tolerates such women.
Out, out, he gestures. “Go away. Whatever it is can wait.”
“I need to tell you,” she says. “It’s not me.
The new Dutch scripture in the Markt. They’re not mine.
” She is pale, clenching her hands before her.
“I swear to you I stopped. I kept my end of the bargain. I beg you, Your Grace.” She drops her gaze.
“Whatever you do, don’t blame Sophia. Don’t excommunicate my sister for my sins. ”
He’s never seen her humbled. It’s a bit disturbing. And what is this about new translations? He glances up. The legate could look out the window at any moment. “Away with you.”
“But . . .”
“Such matters are decided by men of God, not women of the begijnhof. You are trying my patience. Don’t try my mercy.” He shoos her away with his hands. “Begone. Don’t return.” Jan watches her back recede across the plaza. “Willems!” he shouts.