Back straight, head high, Isabella marched to her rooms, jaw clamped and fists clenched. Once inside her bedroom, she ran and threw herself across the bed, weeping like she’d never wept before.
Her door opened, and a moment later Maria was at her side. “Why, Isabella, my darling, whatever is the matter?”
“Nothing…” Isabella cried. “Oh, everything, Maria.” Head in her arms, she sobbed into the bedcovers. When she had cried the last of her tears, Isabella lifted her head. “Do you have a handkerchief?”
Maria pulled a linen cloth from her pocket and handed it to the princess. “Whatever happened to upset you so?”
Isabella did not respond.
Maria thought for a moment. “Could it be that stable boy?”
Isabella nodded and dabbed her eyes.
“Tell me what happened, Isabella, dear.”
“I…” Isabella rolled over and sat up. “I went to the stables to apologize to him for my… my bad behavior… the way I acted when I struck him, and I asked him to show me how to work with horses the way he does.” She paused.
“And?”
“He…” She sniffed. “He thanked me, then refused my request and reminded me that he was only an ignorant stable boy before he sent me away.”
“What?”
“That’s exactly what he did! He is despicable. I hate him.”
Isabella slid off the bed and went to the window. She needed air, so she pulled the drapes and opened the window. A spring breeze slipped through; it felt cool against her cheeks.
Maria came and slipped her arm around Isabella’s waist. “You poor dear. That must have been painful for you. But he displayed wisdom.”
“Wisdom, Maria?” She pursed her lips. “Is it wisdom to treat a Polish princess in such a rude manner?”
“That is my point, Isabella.” Maria placed her hands on Isabella’s shoulders and turned her so they were face to face. “You are a princess, and as he reminded you, he is but a stable boy. You are miles apart in status and destinies.” She smiled. “Think, Isabella! When you are a queen, Johan will still work in a stable, pitching hay. He will have a fat wife and boisterous sons he will teach to be stable boys in their time. He sounds like an intelligent young man, for he has grasped the truth, though you have not.”
“What do you mean, I have not, Maria?”
“Princess, you are no longer a girl.” Maria smoothed Isabella’s dark hair. “You are a beautiful young woman whose passions and soft heart will draw you to a strong, handsome young man like Johan. But you must learn to be more discreet, for your feelings for him are obvious. Your parents would be furious if they discovered your secret.”
Isabella covered her face with her hands. “Is it that obvious?”
“My dear…” Maria laughed. “I am not that much older than you, but I am, shall we say, more experienced in these matters. You could only be more obvious if you took the royal trumpeters to the tower and announced your infatuation to the entire kingdom accompanied by mighty blasts.”
“Come, sit with me for a moment.” Maria led Isabella to the couch on the other side of the room. “Isabella, you must listen. Johan has shown wisdom by keeping his distance from you. You must not allow him any further into your heart.
“I overheard your father and mother speaking of your future. They concluded the negotiations for you to marry John Zápolya, King of Hungary. Isabella! You are to be the queen of my homeland!”
Isabella frowned. “Yes, I know about John Zápolya. But he is an old man. I told my mother I am too young for him. Besides…” Isabella shook her head. “You are right, Maria. My heart belongs to another.”
Maria’s brow furrowed. “If you complicate this with an affair of the heart, it will enrage your father.” Her eyes narrowed. “Royal princesses are born for one reason—to marry kings. The joining of Poland and Hungary will stop the greedy Hapsburgs from swallowing my country… and yours.”
“But don’t my feelings count for something? Don’t I have a say in my future?”
“No, Isabella, you do not.” Maria shook her head. “If you treasure this young man’s life, you will not continue this flirtation. If your father found out someone stands in the way of his plans… Well, Sigismund could make him disappear. He would take steps to ensure you never see him again.”
“Are you saying my father would have Johan killed?”
“That is one possibility if your relationship interfered with the Zápolya marriage.”
“Oh, Maria, that is horrible. To think my father would have someone I love killed is... well it is just too awful.”
“But it is truth. As harsh as my words may sound, if you love this young man, you will forget him and look to your future.”
After he spoke with Isabella, Johan kept busy. He did his best to avoid the princess, but if he came in contact with her, he remained polite but distant. For her part, unless she had a specific request, she would nod and pass by without speaking. Several weeks passed this way and Johan felt like he was getting control of his feelings. But one morning, all that changed. He was grooming Al-Buraq when he heard the familiar rustle of skirts. He turned to see Isabella entering the stallion’s stall. She had a determined look on her face.
It startled Johan to see her. “Your Highness, what...?”
“I need to speak to you.”
“But Your Highness, we agreed—”
Isabella waved his comment away. “I didn’t agree to anything. Actually, you told me how we should behave toward each other and I had nothing to say in the matter. But the way we treat each other troubles me deeply. You have been so mean.” The words were barely out of her mouth when she put her face in her hands and burst into tears. Al Buraq snorted and shied away.
“Mean? But what did I do? I thought…”
The princess kept crying and her tears pierced his heart. He wanted to take Isabella into his arms and comfort her but that was impossible. He looked around to see if anyone else was with her, but she was alone. Johan did not know what to do, so he waited while the girl cried.
When she finished, she pulled out a handkerchief and dried her eyes. “I like you as a person and I admire your skill with horses. I only want to be friends. Can’t we at least be that?”
Johan hesitated. “I could be your friend, but...”
“What, Johan?”
It was the first time she had used his name, which sounded strange but wonderful coming from her lips. He looked out into the hallway and then closed the stall door.
“I must confess, Your Highness, I would like to be your friend but it seems like an impossible thing. Not only do our stations in life create a great gulf between us but I am not of your faith. I do not see how we—”
“That is of no matter.” Isabella shrugged. “Many Protestants have immigrated to Poland, fleeing the problems in Germany. My father leaves them alone as long as they keep their religion to themselves.”
“Your Highness, I—”
Isabella interrupted again. “You may call me Isabella. Your Highness is entirely too formal.”
“Yes, Your Highness… I mean, Isabella. The problem is that I am more than a Protestant. I am an Anabaptist. You are a Catholic, and I have vowed to hate all Catholics.”
He saw the startled look on her face. “Does that trouble you, Isabella?”
She put her head down and her voice was faint. “My teachers taught me about the Anabaptists. But they did not tell me why Anabaptists hate Catholics.”
Johan led Isabella to a bench by the wall and sat with her, being careful not to touch her. Outside horses neighed or whistled and stomped in their stalls. The smell of sweet hay mixed with the pungent smell of liniment. Through the walls, Johan could hear other grooms working their horses. He took a deep breath and began.
“Catholics claim paying money to the priests can keep a person from hell. Anabaptists do not believe that. Nor do we believe the bread and wine of the Mass turns into the actual body and blood of Jesus. And we do not practice infant baptism.”
Isabella stared at him until Johan had to look away from her shocked expression. At last, she spoke. “My teacher told me Anabaptists do not baptize infants, but what you are telling me about the Mass and indulgences is blasphemy. How will your soul get out of purgatory if the priests do not intercede for you and if your loved ones do not pay indulgences for your soul’s salvation?”
Johan shook his head. “Anabaptists know the Catholic Church invented purgatory to fatten the priests’ purses. Isabella gasped and jumped to her feet.
“That is a lie.”
“Isabella, before you get angry, please listen for just a moment. You asked why Anabaptists hate Catholics. I am telling you.”
Isabella sank down on the bench while Johan went on. “The Bible is clear. Jesus died for all people. He bore everyone’s sins on the cross, and if you trust in him alone, you will go straight to heaven when you die.”
Isabella shook her head. “But that is too simple. And what about the Mass? Are we not to eat the flesh and drink the blood of Jesus? The Mass has great magic.”
Johan turned and looked into her eyes. “The way Anabaptists see it when Jesus broke bread and served his disciples wine he did not mean the bread and the wine were his physical body and blood. They represent his body and blood and the price he paid to provide salvation for all. We are to remember his sacrifice when we take the Eucharist, but we are not cannibals, eating his actual body and drinking his actual blood.”
Isabella had a pained expression on her face. “But what about baptism? Are you not condemning infants to hell without baptism?”
“No, Isabella. If babies are baptized before they can understand what baptism means, when they are babies, then they go through the rest of their lives expecting to go to heaven because of an act, not a relationship with Jesus.”
Johan stood and paced back and forth as he spoke. His words came hard and fast like arrows. “Anabaptists believe a person must understand what they are doing when they accept baptism because it is such an important act. You can’t accept Christ as your Savior when you are a baby, and you also shouldn’t receive baptism without understanding what you are doing.”
Isabella was silent for a moment. “So what you have told me is informative, but holding different beliefs is not a reason for you to hate Catholics so much, is it? What is the real reason? What have you not told me?”
Johan turned to Isabella. He felt the muscle on his jaw twitching and he took another deep breath. “My Aunt Elspeth was the most wonderful, kind woman I ever knew. She cared for everyone as Jesus commanded us to do. She was a true Christian. Yet, the Protestant Reformists in Basel arrested her and tried her and my uncle for heresy. They turned her over to the Catholic soldiers, who could have put her in prison. Instead, they burned her and my Uncle Hans at the stake.
“Because we were Anabaptists too, they forced us to flee the city. We left our farm and all our possessions behind. My mother died on the journey to Krakow. After that, I vowed never to rest until I could take vengeance on the Catholics and the Reformists who killed my aunt and uncle—and my mother, too, for she would still be alive today, if not for them.”
“Johan, that’s terrible.” Isabella shuddered. “I know hatred exists between Catholics and Lutherans, but for religious leaders to kill innocent, good people is a sin.”
“Yes, Isabella, a great sin. That is why we cannot be friends.”
Isabella stood and faced Johan. “You may hate Catholics, but can you put that aside for my sake? I want to be your friend—that is what I care about. It doesn’t matter what our faith is if we care for each other.”
“You are right, Isabella.” He took her hand and pulled her down beside him. “People should be able to choose their friends based on their behavior, not their religion. I must confess that, despite the huge gap between us, I… I…” He stopped and turned his head.
Isabella’s eyes opened wide. “Why, Johan, you are blushing.” She laughed, and the sound of it was like a rippling brook in a mountain meadow. “What must you confess?” She was smiling now.
“I have wanted to be your friend.”
Isabella looked into his eyes and took his hand. “Yes, we will be friends.” Then, without warning, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Giggling, she jumped up and ran, her laughter trailing behind her.