For five years, it continued like this. God had blessed us with a perfect measure of rain, and as we boys grew stronger, it became easier to tend to the fields during growing season, and so our mother and father would allow me to continue my work at the monastery during the twilight hours.

Whereas my body grew during those five years, Johann’s growth seemed to be concentrated in his mind. He always had crazy ideas which he would tell me during the hours we spent using the press.

“What if the smith could make the type?” He asked me one day. I looked at him as though he had gone mad.

“The smith? He makes horseshoes and swords! How the devil will he make small letters?” I said.

“Watch your tongue, Otto!” Johann scolded, “If the prior hears you speaking that way, we will both be beaten with the switch.”

“I can withstand that old levereter’s weak slaps,” I said, imagining how joyous it would be to turn the switch onto the old man myself.

Johann opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of what he had planned to say. With a shake of his head, he returned to his explanation.

“If the letters could be carved into a cast, like the ones the smiths use to make swords, then when the steel is poured into the cast, it will make type that is better than our wooden blocks,” Johann explained. His disapproval of our work was painful; I could feel an uncontrollable fury rising in my throat.

“What is wrong with our letters?” I screamed.

“They…” Johann struggled to speak, “They split! They crumble!”

“Everything breaks, Johann! Only God is perfect-”

“Otto!”

I breathed heavily, fists clenched. I had to turn away from him, I could not believe my friend could be so calloused.

Calloused. I had words to say the things I felt now. I felt pride, and though I knew it was a sin, I let it linger. No longer was I trapped in the dark hole that was ignorance.

“Otto…” Johann said calmly. I had forgotten what we were arguing about.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you ill?”

“I’m…”

The rage felt like a haze. The sun was rising within my heart, and the haze thinned out as the light took over.

I had hurt my brother.

“Forgive me, Johann. I…forgive me,” I said.

For the first time I could remember in years, I left the monastery before the sun completely faded. I needed to go home, so I would not sin in the house of the Lord.

******

My education on the Bible itself began that winter, but it was a cause of great frustration to me.

The friars had taught me to read, and Johann taught me to read well. The word of God, however, was confusing. It wasn't the words and the chapters themselves which perplexed me; those were abundantly clear to me, and thanks to our printing press, not sullied by the Satan-cursed wretches who had not the faith to safeguard themselves against the spells of some hidden hags around a cauldron in the woods.

No, what vexed my soul was what I saw in the words, the deeds, and the hearts of the other holy servants.

“Thou shalt not steal,” The Lord had commanded, and yet infirmarer Ludwig would regularly pinch coins from the patients in the apothecary.

“Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor,” Almighty God had ordained, but there was no one who did not deny their very real sins to the roundsman.

“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife,” Was the clear command, but I could see the lecherous look in the eyes of the abbot whenever he lay his eyes on my mother.

“Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” It was the first, the greatest of his commands. Everyone, in both the monastery and the world outside, had committed this sin more often than they had confessed. I had committed this sin…and many others.

Oh Lord, forgive me, I cried. How could I have succumbed to the devil’s allure?

My soul ached. Damnation surely rested upon us. The Son had said that there would be those he would deny that called to him, “Lord, Lord,” but would not receive salvation on that day of reckoning. Had not the apostles and the Lord himself struck dead those who withheld what was due?

******

Part 3 below...