by Jody Hedlund
“Perhaps it’s time for you to write another tract, one that addresses both nobility and peasants, imploring them to seek peace.”
“You’re right. And we’ll pray. Prayer shall be our greatest weapon.” Luther urged his horse faster. The long summer day was on their side, but they would be wise to reach the safety of Dessau before eventide.
They rode for several more hours in peace, discussing the merits of education and the need to develop tools whereby they could easily teach doctrines of historic Christianity to more people, perhaps through a catechism. “And perhaps when we finish with that,” Luther said, his mind spinning with possibilities, “we could write a smaller catechism that would be designed for children, like Anna.”
“I’d like that very much,” Melanchthon replied wistfully, no doubt thinking of his daughter and the newborn babe he’d left behind to accompany Luther.
Luther had a momentary pang of guilt for pulling his friend away from his family. But the instant he thought of returning to Wittenberg, he could feel Katharina in his arms again, the crush of her supple body against his when he’d freed her from her bonds. He could feel the silk of her hair, the delicate curve of her ear, the warmth of her lips in his palm when he’d cupped her mouth to keep her from making a noise.
As quickly as the thoughts came, he pushed them aside. He didn’t want to explore these new reactions to her. He wanted to keep that part of himself closed off as he had for so many years. But even if he tried not to think of how womanly she felt and looked, he pictured her anyway. He thought about her tenderness with Anna when the little girl had been injured, about how Katharina had come without being asked and had checked on Anna in the following days. He thought of how she’d doctored him. And he’d heard from others in town of her willingness to provide her physic services to anyone who needed them.
It appeared that no matter how far he traveled to get away from Katharina, he was destined to think of her wherever he went. He had to admit that although she was as proud as royalty, she was compassionate. And he respected her for that. She’d even shown considerable distress over her lost maidservant.
“That girl back at the peasant camp,” he said after a moment. “What if she was Katharina von Bora’s lost servant?” He tugged on his reins and checked the position of the sun. It hung low in the sky and lengthened the shadows around them. “Perhaps we should go back and check.”
Melanchthon shook his head and slowed his horse. “It’s much too far back. We’d never make it by nightfall. And besides, if it is her servant, I doubt she’d willingly leave the camp even if the Bundschuh allowed it.”
Luther’s mount came to a complete halt. He knew his companion was correct. Nonetheless, he could already feel Katharina’s disappointment. “Katharina wouldn’t let me live if she learned I allowed this opportunity to slip by.”
“I’m sure she’s too busy with Jerome Baumgartner to worry about a missing servant.”
The mere mention of Baumgartner’s name sent a rush of irritation through Luther. The sly weasel. The boy was full of flatulence and had been since his university days. And now he’d blown hot air in Kate’s face just as he had countless other girls.
Why did she want a man like Baumgartner? What did she see in him? But even as the questions bombarded him, despair quickly followed. He knew exactly what Katharina saw in Baumgartner. He was the kind of man who could give Katharina the lifestyle she desired.
Well, she could have him. If she was shallow enough to care for the boy, then she deserved him. He didn’t want Katharina von Bora anyway. Plenty of other women would have him. In fact, sixteen more nuns had just fled the Wiederstedt convent in Mansfeld. He could have his pick…if he wanted. But he didn’t want a wife. He wanted a reformation of the church. And as long as he had breath, his one and only desire was to carry forth the mission God had given him.
He felt Melanchthon’s intense gaze upon him as though waiting for him to come to the same conclusion. He guessed Melanchthon had mentioned Jerome’s name on purpose, had known the reaction it would elicit.
“Ach.” Luther kicked his heels into his mount, prodding it to a gallop. “Make haste, Melanchthon!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Do you have balls and chains on your hands and feet?”
Run. The horse hoofs pounded faster. Run.
He didn’t want to think of Katharina von Bora anymore.
Maybe if he ran farther and faster, he’d finally outdistance his thoughts of her.
Katharina placed her hands on the fine linen head coverings of the Reichenbach girls, her heart warm with contentment. After tutoring them for all of June, she’d grown fond of them. “You’re doing well with your lesson today, discipulae.”
The young girls sat straight on the bench in front of a low table. Their dainty faces peered up at her, alight with smiles. “Thank you, magistra.”
She shook her head. “In Latin. Gratias tibi, magistra.”
“Gratias tibi, magistra.”
“Good. We shall complete the Pater Noster, and then you shall finish memorizing vocabulary.”
They nodded and bent their heads back to their wax tablets and styli. They understood what a privilege she was giving them by teaching them Latin. Not only were they of burgher class, but also they were girls. While their brothers attended the school down the street, as girls they were lucky to be given any education, even at home in the hottest, dingiest dormer room of the house.
Katharina fanned herself with the lacy cap she’d pulled off her head. Today the low ceiling beams and normally cool walls seemed to radiate heat into the narrow room that was as small and plain as her cell had been in the abbey. In spite of the heat, she loved every minute she was able to spend with the girls.
She’d decided over the past month of tutoring that when she had children of her own, she’d never send them away from her home for any reason. She couldn’t imagine how a parent could bear the parting. How had her father been able to live with himself after he’d sent her to Marienthron?
Here was a portrait of what having her own children might be like, and it stirred her with anticipation. This was exactly what she wanted—a family into whom she could pour her life and love. A family of her own. A family that would never leave her.
The door of the dormer room squeaked open.
“Katharina?” Jerome peeked in, his hair flopping over his bright eyes. He spoke in a singsong tone. “Where oh where is Katharina?”
The girls giggled.
He glanced around. Then as if having satisfied himself of their privacy, he stepped into the room, ducking to keep from bumping his head on the slanted ceiling. He wore a new ready-made gray jerkin trimmed with black velvet and was attired as usual in brightly colored plunder pants with fashionable splits. He was the perfect representation of nobility, and her heart quickened at the thought that she would be restored to her rightful status when she married him.
“Sophie, Anna, time to go.” He cocked his head toward the door.
The girls started to rise.
Katharina had done her best to maintain propriety with Jerome. And against all rumors, he’d remained a gentleman. Still, she couldn’t cast aside the niggling apprehension at the thought of being completely alone with him.
“Discipulae, stay where you are.” She motioned for them to sit. “You’re not done with your lessons.”
Jerome smiled—one of his beguiling smiles that never failed to make her heart patter. “Of course you’re done, aren’t you, girls?”
Sophie and Anna smiled but turned confused gazes toward her.
“Start on your vocabulary,” she instructed.
Their attention swung back to Jerome.
He winked at them with his thick lashes. “I’ve something very important to ask Fräulein Katharina.”
“You may ask me now.” She mopped the dampness on her neck, wishing the tiny window afforded more breeze and light.
“This is something very, very important, my dear.” His eyes were fil
led with sparkling promises. “I must ask you in absolute privacy.”
Her body shivered with sudden expectation. Would he finally ask her to marry him?
“Now, girls, go on.” He propelled them toward the door.
They looked at her again, clearly wishing to please and obey her. The thought that they returned her affection warmed her heart. But how could she resist Jerome? “Very well. We shall finish our lesson later.”
Once the door closed behind her students, a voice of caution urged her to follow them. Certainly Jerome couldn’t make the customary visit to her parents to ask their permission to marry her. But shouldn’t they have witnesses for so momentous an event?
As he neared her, his gaze strayed to her neckerchief, to the dipping V that revealed her throat. His eyes were dark with a look she was beginning to recognize as desire. It was a look she’d seen there more frequently lately, one that filled her with a mixture of both wariness and strange anticipation.
She stepped behind the table, putting a barrier between them. “What do you need to ask me, Jerome?”
“I’m leaving for Nuremberg. My father and mother expect my return by the first day of July.”
“Then you’ll leave in the morning?” Her pulse sped. Would he take her with him?
His gaze slid down her body. “It depends.”
“Upon what?”
“Upon you, my dear.”
“You’re conversing in riddles. Speak plainly.”
He edged around the table toward her. “My dearest Katharina, it’s no secret you have captured my heart. I want nothing more than to take you back to Nuremburg with me and make you my wife.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Was this it? Was he asking her to marry him?
“You’re beautiful, Katharina.” He sidled nearer.
She couldn’t move. Even when he stood before her, she could only stare and wait—wait for the words that would finally give her everything she wanted.
He reached out and grazed her cheek. “Let’s be betrothed today, right now.”
“Now?” Her excitement over his proposal was tempered by his unusual request of urgency. “But we have no witnesses, no justice for the ceremony—”
“We don’t need anyone.” His hand strayed to her neck.
“You’re confusing me again, Jerome.”
He was close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her forehead. “There are many bishops who’ve been recognizing unions made in private.”
“But custom dictates we should have witnesses.”
“The customs are outdated. And that’s why the church sanctions secret marriages.”
Secret marriages? Katharina’s heartbeat slowed to a stammering halt. “Certainly we can have a proper betrothal. There’s no need to have one in secret.”
His mouth hovered at the edge of her forehead. “I must have time to prepare my parents for the news of our betrothal. And I need to make arrangements for your arrival.”
All the anticipation that had been mounting suddenly plummeted. “Then you’ll be leaving without me?”
“Only for a short time. But I’ll return for you.”
“Your parents won’t be pleased with me?” Was that it? Was her lack of a dowry a stumbling block after all?
“They don’t know you the way I do.” His lips grazed her temple. The pressure was hot and sticky in the heat of the room. “But if we’ve consummated our union, how can they disapprove?”
She was naive about many things concerning men and relationships but understood enough about the marriage bed to know what was required. “You want to lie with me and make me your wife in the truest sense?” As she spoke the words, embarrassment added to the stifling, stale air around her.
He smiled. “Exactly.”
“And then this secret marriage will be approved by the church?”
“Eventually, when the time’s right, we’ll announce our marriage and find a bishop to recognize it.” He cupped her chin. Desire had hardened the lines of his face, and he dipped toward her, aiming his mouth for hers.
Over the past month he’d tried to sneak a kiss whenever he caught her alone. But so far she’d always maintained boundaries with him, wanting to build a relationship based on friendship first. And it had indeed been a delightful month of talking, taking walks, playing games, visiting with Jerome’s friends, and doing ordinary things she’d never been allowed to do in the convent. She’d finally grown more comfortable in the presence of men, especially Jerome.
She couldn’t deny that she wondered what it would be like to finally kiss him. And now that he’d proposed, what was the harm in letting him kiss her, especially in light of his suggestion of a secret marriage?
As if sensing her acquiescence, suddenly his lips pushed against hers, slipping and sliding, hot with eagerness and passion. His body pressed toward hers. And she could feel her face flame with the embarrassment of not knowing how to respond.
If she gave herself to him, she’d secure her place as his wife. She’d get everything she wanted and more—a husband, children, a family, wealth, status. All she had to do was consummate their union.
His hands found their way to her back, roamed upward, and began to untie her laces.
With his lips still slippery against hers, she fought the urge to push away from him. Kissing was much messier than she’d expected. How much longer must she let him press against her before she could politely pull away?
His fingers continued to fumble with her laces until her bodice began to slacken, to pull away from her overheated skin. Was he undressing her?
Ave Maria.
She squirmed, unable to resist prying herself from his grasp. His mouth on hers was suddenly suffocating. “Stop, Jerome.”
His grip tightened.
What was the difference between fornication and a union made in private? She pushed against his chest. “Stop this instant.”
“Don’t stop me, Katharina.” His breath against hers was hot. “If you want to secure our future together, then you must let me have you.”
Was he giving her an ultimatum? With a deep breath she ripped away from him and hastily stepped back around the table. He stumbled toward her, and she held out her arms in warning. “I want you to stop, Jerome.”
Irritation flashed across his boyish features. He ran his fingers through his cropped hair and combed it away from his face.
“If you care about my reputation and my honor,” she spoke breathlessly, “then you’ll understand my need to betroth ourselves before God and witnesses as is required.”
“And if you cared about me”—his voice was strained—“you’d understand how important this is for me.”
“I do care for you.” She glanced at the ceiling. “It’s just that—” Just what?
Straggling cobwebs hung above her. The beams were dusty and rotting with mold. Lit only by the small dormer window she had opened earlier, the room was dismal—not the kind of place she’d consider appropriate for a marriage bed. Not here on the hardwood floor. Not with the fear of someone walking in on them.
“I can’t, Jerome.” In addition to the less-than-ideal conditions, she’d planned to be a real bride and experience a real ceremony. Since escaping from the convent, she and the other sisters had talked excitedly about what their wedding days would be like.
He blew an overlong breath which clearly communicated his exasperation.
“But I promise I shall wait for you,” she continued, not wanting to disappoint him. “When you return for me, then we shall be betrothed and follow it not long afterward with the Kirchgang, the public wedding ceremony.”
“I didn’t think you’d be so difficult, Katharina. I knew you’d be chaste. But I expected that after years of suppressing your desires you would show more willingness, more curiosity about the ways between a man and a woman.”
The boldness of his words made her duck her head in mortification. “I’m willing, Jerome. Just not like this—not for our first time.”
“Tomorrow then? I’ll find another spot, a private place.” His eyes pleaded with her. “Please, Katharina, I promise you celestial pleasure.”
She met his eager gaze. Her heart weighed each of his words. Surely she could give up her silly plans for a real wedding. Besides, she had nothing to lose by doing what he wanted. They must mate sooner or later. Why not now?
On the other hand she had everything to lose if she refused him. Perhaps he’d be angry with her and reject her. Perhaps when he told his parents about her, they would object. Perhaps he would find someone else.
But what of the rumors? What if his eagerness to bed her had more to do with winning a bet than consummating their secret marriage?
She allowed herself an inward groan at her predicament before giving him a compromise. “I shall think about it tonight, Jerome.”
He grinned.
“But only if you promise that whatever I decide, you’ll marry me the very first day you return to Wittenberg.”
“That, my dear, I can promise.”
Forgive me my sins, O Lord. Forgive me my sins.
Katharina unrolled the crinkled paper, her only possession of any value.
O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins. Maybe if she prayed through the Act of Contrition often enough and did penance, God would truly forgive her for what she was about to do.
She smoothed the paper on her lap and fingered the fading ink. And if He didn’t forgive her, she could always rely on her indulgence for help. Her mother’s hands had trembled when she’d given it to her. Her voice had been a mere whisper when she’d instructed her to keep it with her always so that someday they could see each other in heaven. If she was making the wrong choice—if she was sinning by consummating her relationship with Jerome—then surely the indulgence would keep her from condemnation.
Hurried footsteps clunked on the balcony outside the room in the servants’ quarters that Margaret shared with her sister, Eva. Katharina rolled the indulgence and stuffed it into her pouch.
“Katharina?” Margaret swung open the door, flooding the narrow room with light. It revealed the sparseness and the lack of worldly possessions that plagued them in their current working situations.