Friar Lukas serves as a deuteragonist and a complex antagonist whose spiritual ambition is both sincere and deeply flawed. As the leader of the Franciscan preachers in Brugge, Lukas is driven by a genuine desire to bring a more austere and authentic faith to a wealthy, materialistic city. He preaches to the capitalists and merchants outside the market but fears that his words aren’t being heard. As such, he seeks to expand his order and believes that finding a charismatic holy woman, a new Saint Clare, is the key to his success. His initial interest in Aleys is rooted in this ambition; he sees in her the “faith of a saint” and believes she can be the “ornament to the order” that he needs to revitalize his mission (29, 58). At the outset, he represents a potential alternative to the corrupt institutional Church, a path of apostolic poverty and earnest devotion that Aleys herself admires. At the same time, however, he has a vested interest in Aleys’s abilities that can be construed as self-interest.

Lukas’s piety is compromised by a deep-seated insecurity and spiritual envy. He feels like a failure in his mission, and, as a result, he grows jealous of the authentic, unmediated spiritual power that Aleys possesses. He envies the status she quickly amasses and the respect she gains from the same community that ignored his preaching. His faith is transactional; he believes that his devotion should be rewarded with divine affirmation, and he becomes resentful when that grace is bestowed on Aleys instead. This jealousy corrupts his role as her spiritual advisor, transforming him from a mentor into a possessor. He attempts to control her gift, directing her healings and taking credit for her miracles. His envy reaches a crisis point when he hears of her mystical visions, which he can neither experience nor understand. He confesses that her words “burn into [his] flesh” (260), revealing that her spiritual intimacy with God is a source of torment for him.

Lukas’s spiritual journey culminates in delusion and transgression. His desperation to experience the divine union that Aleys describes leads him down a dark path. He begins to see a perverse logic by which breaking his vows is the only way to achieve true spiritual fulfillment, whispering to Aleys about a “hidden path” to God. His eventual assault on her in the anchorhold is the climax of his corrupted faith. He is not lustful but instead acts out of a twisted, sacrilegious belief that a physical union with her is a holy act, something “sacred” that will make him one with God. Aleys escapes and is charged with heresy, while the shamed Lukas must watch on at the trial as his piety and devotion are rendered absurd in comparison to Aleys. Ironically, his fate is to be walled up in the anchorhold that Aleys called home and where he tried to assault her, his life now devoted to seeking understanding and atonement in the cramped space of his worst sin. His character arc serves as a powerful cautionary tale about the dangers of spiritual ambition when it’s poisoned by ego. He represents a tragic middle ground between true faith and outright corruption, a man whose sincere desire for God is ultimately destroyed by his inability to overcome his own human frailty.

Bishop Jan is the novel’s primary antagonist. He embodies the corruption and cynical pragmatism of the institutional Church. His motivations are entirely worldly: He seeks wealth, political power, and a promotion to the papal curia in Rome. Whereas Aleys has visions of God, Jesus, and Mary, the bishop has visions of himself traveling south to take up a seat in the college of cardinals in Rome. His visions are markedly worldly and self-interested in spite of his station. For the bishop, religion is less a matter of faith than a tool of governance and a source of revenue. He views the trade in holy relics as a “holy lottery” and the sale of indulgences as a simple means of raising revenue. His perception of the divine is telling; he imagines God as “a benevolent uncle who has left a bequest and disappeared” (79), leaving the Church free to manage its earthly affairs without divine interference. This worldview places him in direct opposition to Aleys’s search for an immediate, personal relationship with God.

The bishop represents a key element of the novel’s central theme of The Pursuit of Unmediated Divinity. He’s deeply threatened by any spiritual movement that operates outside of his direct control. He disdains the wandering friars, the independent beguines, and, most of all, the circulation of scripture in vernacular languages, which he fears will lead people to “reject the word of their deacons, their priests, even their bishops” (103). His primary goal is to maintain the Church’s hierarchical power and its monopoly on spiritual truth, particularly in the sense that he’s able to share in this power. He sees personal spiritual authority, especially in women, as a dangerous challenge to his own power, a form of “heretical depravity” that must be suppressed for the sake of order.

As a character, Jan is defined by his cunning and manipulativeness. He is a master of political theater, as demonstrated by his decision to stage a public healing for Aleys. He doesn’t care if her miracles are real; he only cares that they can be used to his advantage. When her newfound fame becomes a liability, he quickly pivots, orchestrating a heresy trial based on falsified evidence to eliminate her and reassert his authority, all while covering up the inconvenient truth about his brother’s actions. His behavior is driven by a cold, calculated pragmatism, rather than any ideology. He’s willing to sacrifice an innocent woman, threaten a community, and manipulate the faith of the populace to secure his own ambitions. In this sense, he’s the ultimate institutional man, a powerful and intelligent figure whose complete lack of genuine faith makes him the most dangerous adversary to Aleys’s spiritual quest.

Katrijn embodies The Transgressive Power of Female Spiritual Authority. A widow, a successful draper with a stall in the male-dominated Lakenhalle, and the secret translator of scripture for the beguine community, Katrijn wields significant economic and spiritual influence. Initially, she functions as an antagonist to Aleys, viewing the girl’s dramatic entrance into the begijnhof as a reckless act that brings “scandal under [their] roof” and threatens the community’s fragile stability and commercial interests (69). Her practicality and fierce protectiveness of the begijnhof put her at odds with Aleys’s seemingly otherworldly and self-focused piety.

Over time, Katrijn’s relationship with Aleys evolves from hostility to a grudging respect and, finally, to a protective alliance. This transformation is driven by her deep love for Sophia and her unwavering commitment to her community. Katrijn’s most significant role is that of a spiritual provider. By translating scripture into Dutch, she performs a dangerous and radical act, empowering the women of her community with direct access to God’s word, free from the mediation of the male clergy. This work reveals a deep, if pragmatic, faith that runs parallel to Aleys’s mystical path. While Aleys seeks a vertical union with God, Katrijn works to foster a horizontal connection, building a community of faith through shared understanding. Her ultimate decision to lead the beguines in the Ave Maria as Aleys is burned demonstrates her acceptance of Aleys’s sacrifice and her role as the new leader who will guide the community in its aftermath.

Sophia serves as a key mentor figure in the novel. As the magistra of the Wijngaerde begijnhof, she is a wise, compassionate, and pragmatic leader who represents a grounded, communal form of faith. Her character acts as a steadying influence, offering a contrast to the ecstatic mysticism of Aleys, the flawed ambition of Friar Lukas, and the cynical corruption of Bishop Jan. Sophia’s leadership embodies the novel’s true definition of holiness, which is found in quiet acts of service, charity, and mutual support, rather than in spectacular miracles. She creates and nurtures a space in which women can achieve spiritual, economic, and intellectual independence, demonstrating an alternative model of religious life that can exist outside the patriarchal structures of the convent or marriage.

Sophia’s most crucial role is guiding Aleys toward a more mature understanding of faith. She recognizes the sincerity of Aleys’s spiritual hunger but also shows concern for Aleys’s youthful impatience. Her gentle counsel to Aleys to “[t]ry to be simple” is a central thematic statement (98), encouraging a move away from the pursuit of extraordinary spiritual experiences and toward the holiness found in everyday life and community. She understands both the power and the peril of Aleys’s gifts, offering protection and perspective when the town’s fervor threatens to consume her. Sophia’s sudden death serves as a catalyst for the novel’s climax, forcing Aleys and Katrijn to step into their own roles as leaders and protectors of the community she built.

Marte is a dynamic character who represents the quiet resilience and burgeoning spiritual agency of the common woman. She’s introduced as a servant who has survived abuse; she’s a silent figure on the periphery of the begijnhof who earns her keep through hard labor. Her initial interactions with Aleys are marked by a weary subservience, but she possesses an observant and grounded nature. Marte’s journey from illiteracy to authorship is one of the novel’s most significant subplots. Taught to read by Aleys in the anchorhold, Marte discovers not just the ability to decipher words but the power to create her own spiritual truth.

Her most radical act is rewriting the story of Genesis, transforming Lot’s wife from a symbol of disobedience into a heroic mother and casting Lot as the one punished by God. This act of theological reinterpretation, born from her own experiences of suffering and motherhood, is a powerful expression of The Pursuit of Unmediated Divinity. It suggests that direct access to scripture empowers the oppressed to challenge and reshape religious narratives to reflect a more compassionate and just truth. Marte’s steadfast loyalty to Aleys, culminating in her act of braiding Aleys’s hair before the execution, is a quiet but profound expression of love and solidarity. Marte develops from a silent survivor into a creator of scripture and a pillar of her community, embodying the novel’s argument that true spiritual authority can arise from the humblest of sources.

Griete is Aleys’s younger sister who serves as a foil to the protagonist. A flat and largely static character, Griete represents the conventional, worldly path that Aleys rejects. While Aleys is quiet, introspective, and spiritually focused, Griete is dramatic, flirtatious, and concerned with material and social matters like marriage and dowries. Her initial reaction to Aleys’s piety is a mixture of incomprehension and mild annoyance; she sees saints’ stories as entertainment and can’t understand her sister’s deep spiritual yearning. Despite their differences, Griete’s character is not without depth. Her love for her sister is genuine, and she is the one who ultimately bridges the gap between Aleys and their estranged family. Her decision to pursue and marry Pieter Mertens, the very man Aleys fled, is more than just an act of personal desire. The act is also a pragmatic choice to restore her family’s fortune, demonstrating her own form of familial devotion. At the same time, however, she’s sincerely in love with Mertens, as she tells Aleys, showing how she has found an authentic expression for her emotions, just like Aleys has done. In the end, Griete represents a connection to the earthly life of love, family, and community that Aleys sacrifices for her spiritual calling.

Finn is a minor character who plays a crucial role in Aleys’s early development. As a boy from the dyer’s yard who is secretly learning Latin, he becomes Aleys’s first true friend and intellectual companion. Their relationship is built on a shared curiosity and a mutual desire to access the sacred texts forbidden to them. Finn introduces Aleys to the Canticle of Canticles, a central motif that shapes her understanding of divine love as an ecstatic, personal union. In this sense, her personal love for Finn shapes her understanding of her love for God, becoming the devotional model that she preaches throughout her short religious career. Finn’s decision to join the monastery at Ter Doest represents his choice of a sanctioned, institutional path to a life of spiritual study, a path that isn’t open to Aleys as a woman. This divergence marks a critical turning point for Aleys, forcing her to seek her own, more radical spiritual journey alone. His final appearance, offering her a chance to escape her execution, serves as a final temptation of an earthly life she has chosen to renounce.

Aleys’s father, referred to simply as Papa, is a draper whose actions serve as a catalyst for the novel’s plot. Caught between his love for his daughter and severe financial pressures, his decision to arrange Aleys’s marriage to Pieter Mertens forces her to flee and commit to a religious life. He’s a flawed but sympathetic figure, representing the patriarchal and economic realities that constrain women’s choices. Though his betrayal is the source of Aleys’s initial conflict, his later remorse and enduring love for her provide a sense of familial reconciliation. This later turn also hints at the broader religious understanding of redemption, in that Aleys accepts that her father—in spite of his betrayal—is never beyond redemption. His character highlights the tension between familial duty, economic survival, and personal spiritual calling.