Perplexed by the strange mix of Ruth’s practical knowledge of scientia nova and her investment in the old ways, Detlef again decides to trust his instincts.
‘I believe you. I will search out this woman and make sure that her child and her silence are provided for.’
‘I am both reassured and sorry to see that you have such a realistic turn of mind, Canon,’ Ruth replies, a wry twinkle in her eyes. Detlef cannot help but smile back.
‘Would you have your inquisitor otherwise?’
‘No, I believe I would not.’
Again the space between them thickens, empathy catching each like a spiderweb. Awkward in his desire, Detlef steps back.
‘There is something else. Your father has made a supplication to the archbishop.’
‘My father?’ Her voice cracks with sudden emotion. ‘How is he?’
‘That I cannot say, but I do know he has offered to waive Maximilian Heinrich’s debts in exchange for your freedom.’
‘They are Herr Hossern’s debts, the exchange will include my hand.’
‘Your hand? But I thought that perhaps you were already…’
‘Pledged?’
‘Forgive me, I know not the customs of your people.’
‘I am maiden and have vowed to have no congress with man.’ Then she adds mischievously, ‘Nor devil.’
Surprised, Detlef looks away. What else had he imagined? But then her ways are foreign to him.
‘So you are to marry the moneylender?’
‘It is his nephew, Tuvia, my father’s assistant, who seeks the match.’
‘In that case we must secure your freedom for then you shall have both husband and father to return to.’
‘The freedom I desire, the husband not. My father tried to marry me before; it was another reason I fled to Holland.’
They both sit and watch each other, she on a small wooden stool, he towering over her on a chair. And for an instant they are neither canon nor heretic but simply man and woman.
‘Are a woman’s desires ever relevant?’ she asks softly, a statement more than a question, a plaintive echo of her own frustrations.
‘It is written that a woman needs guidance for her own welfare and that such guidance is best supplied by a husband and the security of the hearth. Most are betrothed by fifteen, Fräulein, you should consider yourself lucky to have a suitor at such an advanced age.’
‘I am twenty-three.’
‘Ten years younger than I.’
‘But you are a man of the cloth, such matters are superfluous to you. If I were a man I should dedicate my life to philosophy and medical knowledge.’
‘But you are not; you are a woman. And I am a priest.’
‘You are more than that, I suspect, just as I am more than you know, Canon von Tennen,’ she adds defiantly, then leans towards him. ‘You have as much curiosity as I. You seek knowledge.’
And upon seeing his ears begin to burn, she realises she has stumbled upon a hidden truth. ‘What have you read?’
‘Careful, Fräulein, be sure you understand your intentions. After all, if I am to burn too, who will be left to rescue you?’
‘See it as a pledge of faith. Confess, as I have confessed to you, and then we shall be equals. I swear on my father’s life that I will never betray you.’