Hans could not read himself, but he was inquisitive. He plied his young master with questions, to which Eric very willingly made replies.
“Then you put no faith in the Pope, nor believe that he is the only rightful ruler of the Church?” observed Hans in reply to a remark made by his young master.
“I have been led to doubt the supremacy he claims from all I have read,” answered Eric modestly. “More especially do I believe that he is not a descendant of the Apostle Peter from what I have read in my Greek Testament. I there find that Saint Paul, on one occasion, thus wrote of this supposed chief of the Apostles: ‘When Peter was at Antioch, I withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed,’ (Galatians two 11.) Peter was also sent especially to preach to the Jews and not to the Gentiles. Paul, when writing from Rome, sends no salutations from him, which he would have done had Peter been there; indeed he never once mentions his name. The third or fourth Christian Bishop of Rome speaks of Saint Paul having suffered martyrdom under the emperors; but, by the way he speaks of Saint Peter, evidently believing that he suffered martyrdom elsewhere in the east, and does not allude to his having been at Rome. If, therefore, the very foundations of the pretensions of these august Pontiffs are defective, what can we think of the rest of their claims? However, when I have been some time at Wittemburg, I hope to know more about the matter.”
“But, my dear young master, if you upset the foundation of our faith, what else have we to build on? I, for one, as an old soldier who has seen the world, say that we can not go on without religion,” exclaimed Hans, in a tone which showed the perturbation of his mind.
“That is right, Hans,” answered Eric, “but, my old friend, we do not destroy the real foundation of our faith, we only overthrow the false and cunningly-devised superstructure. The foundation of our faith is in the sufficient sacrifice once made for man by Jesus Christ, the Son of God, on the cross, and the complete justification of all who repent and put faith in that sacrifice. That is what Dr Martin Luther teaches. He says that no man should venture to come between the sinner and God; that Christ is the only one Mediator—the go-between, you understand—that He is all-loving, and all-merciful, and all-kind, that by any one else interfering He is insulted, and that all indulgences, penances, works, are the devices of the Evil One to make man lose sight of the full, free, and perfect redemption which Christ has wrought for us.”
“That sounds like a good doctrine,” observed Hans, thoughtfully, “the ‘pfaffen’ will not like it, because it will deprive them of their influence and the chief portion of their gains; but how do you know that it is the true one, my young master?”
“Because it is in the Word of God, the Bible. And I am very certain that God, who has done so much for us, would not have left us without a clear statement of His will—clear rules for our guidance, and therefore I believe that the Bible is the Word of God,” observed Eric.
Hans rode on in silence. He was meditating on his young master’s remarks. They had not gone more than a league or two when some sharp cries reached their ears. They came from some person before them. They rode on, and arrived in sight of a big youth who was belabouring with a thick stick, in the middle of the road, a young boy. The boy had something under his cloak, which the youth was insisting on his keeping concealed. Eric’s generous feelings were at once excited. He could never bear to see the strong tyrannising over the weak. He rode forward and demanded of the big lad why he was thus ill-treating the little one. The youth did not reply, but looked up sulkily at him. Eric turned to the little fellow.
“This is the reason, noble sir,” answered the boy, “he is my ‘bacchante,’ and I am a poor little ‘schütz.’ We are poor scholars seeking education at the schools. For the protection he affords me he insists that I shall provide him with food. Lately his appetite has been very great, and I have not got enough for him, and to-day he insisted on my stealing this goose, and hiding it under my cloak, that if it was discovered I might be punished and he escape.”
“So, my master, and is this the way you afford your protection?” exclaimed Eric, looking angrily at the big bacchante. “What is your name, my little schütz?” he asked of the boy.