“Hearken to my confession. I have sinned against God, His Mother, and the Holy Angels, inasmuch as I melted into a drinking-cup the golden crucifix which I took from the body of the Abbot of Nördhausen after that I had slain him.”
And Michael the Breaker spoke: “Hear me. I also have sinned, inasmuch as last Ash Wednesday in my forgetfulness I ate the leg of a fowl at a farm-house we were pillaging.”
And Franz of the Ram’s Pate spoke: “Hear me. I also have sinned, inasmuch as I hunted a buck on the day of the last Communion, despising the holy sacrament.”
And Priest Clement spoke: “Hear me. I also have sinned, inasmuch as forgetful of my sanctity as clerk, I did kiss the daughter of mine host of the ‘Crown and Bells’ the last Sunday that I was in Eisenach.”
“And now,” commanded Ulrich, roundly, “speak it out, the word ‘absolvo.’”
What strange thing played on Jerome’s stern face? Was it the smile of the avenging angel or of the demon who sees his sinking prey? Louder the crash and wrack without. The Graf was almost in the Wartburg. Jerome’s eyes seemed burning into all the four.
“Is this all?” demanded he, implacably. “Have you no murders, thefts, gross wickednesses of the flesh to own to, ere you pass to God’s assize?”
“A few throat-cuttings, holy Father, only a few,” smoothed Clement; “I do assure you the Church lays major stress on what we have acknowledged, and time now presses.”
Jerome swept his hands about in fearful anger.
“‘Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and his angels.’ When I absolve such as you let Satan possess my soul with yours!”