Free The Silver Sword by Angela Elwell Hunt Page A

will he be forced to support his magistrates?” Petrov asked as the three walked home from church.
    Anika turned to study her father’s reaction. She had wondered the same thing. “There is no way we can know,” Ernan answered, clasping his hands behind his back in a thoughtful pose. “The king loves Jan Hus, but Wenceslas is a temperamental man, subject to moments of fury. And Master Hus has never been afraid to make enemies of those who stand against Christ. Do you remember his friend Palec? I heard he and Hus recently held a debate over the sale of indulgences. Palec thought the sales ought to be allowed under the pope’s authority, but Hus stands firmly against them. At the end of their confrontation, Palec left the hall, his face set in anger, and Hus said, ‘Palec is my friend, truth is my friend: Of the two it is only right to honor truth most.’”
    A scowl flitted across Petrov’s lined face. “Master Hus had better be careful. Palec is not without influence.”
    â€œNeither is truth,” Ernan remarked gamely. “And I find I must agree with the preacher. For how can a man receive pardon of his sinsfrom a pope, a bishop, or a priest? Scripture says that God alone can forgive sins through Christ, and he pardons the penitent only.”
    Anika brightened, recognizing words she had recently penned. “Master Hus has asked us to set forth his convictions on placards for church doors,” she explained, glancing up at Petrov, “for he intends to debate anyone who would say it is permissible for the Holy Father to sell permission to sin.”
    â€œAnika, you must be fair,” her father remonstrated, lifting his hand. “The Church does not regard indulgences as giving a soul permission to sin. In theory, indulgences are to be granted only to the repentant and are to cover only the element of penance which requires good works.”
    â€œBut people do not make such fine distinctions,” Anika argued. “They see the indulgences as covering all the elements of repentance and penance. They want to give their money to the church, then live like the devil and experience no consequences for their behavior.”
    â€œYour daughter’s tongue and mind are as sharp as my sword,” Petrov remarked, a gleam in his faded eyes. “She looks like a woman but talks like a monstrosity, Ernan O’Connor. Women should not debate such matters! Did Hus not tell you the girl would be better served by learning to cook and sew than by reading and writing?”
    â€œA friend does not gloat,” Ernan answered gruffly, slipping his arm around Anika. “Especially when he is right.”
    â€œFather!” Anika cried, feigning disdain.
    Bending down, her father planted a loud kiss on her cheek. “And though I may have erred, I’ll take a bright and literate daughter in place of an idle and foolish one any day. I would place odds on Anika in a debate against the archbishop, for she has learned all that Master Hus teaches, having copied most of his books and sermons herself—”
    At that moment the sound of galloping hooves and a shouted warning cut through the hubbub of the street. A carriage barreled through the narrow boulevard, scattering women and children, men and servants. Petrov flung out his arm to shield Anika, nearly knocking her from her feet. A few paces beyond her the carriage lurchedinto a puddle in the road, throwing up a mud shower. Much of the grime, Anika noticed in dismay, flew into her father’s face.
    Anika had often been impressed by the power of her father’s temper; in him dwelt a white-hot rage that harmlessly expended itself after a few blustery moments and then vanished without leaving a trace or bearing a grudge. His temper erupted now, flaring toward the occupants of the offending carriage. Later, looking back, she would think that if a hundred carriages had passed them, ninety-and-nine would