Luther and Katharina

by Jody Hedlund

  “Aunt Lena will be safe here with Sister Magdalene. Besides, she’s lost her faculties. They won’t seek her return to the abbey.”

  Katharina’s eyes glossed with tears as she gazed at the thin, slumped form of her aunt. “She protected me all those years in ways I never dreamed of. I cannot abandon her.”

  Something in Katharina’s expression ignited a flame in him. “What did that devil Baltazar do to you?”

  She closed her eyes and shuddered.

  “What did he do? Tell me. Did he violate you?” His entire body burned with a rage so intense he was certain that if Baltazar had been in the room, he would have plunged his knife into him.

  Katharina opened her eyes. The despair in them tore at his rationality. He reached for her hand and pressed it between his.

  “No. Not me,” she whispered. “But how many others?”

  He knew far too many others had suffered, but he couldn’t hold back the surge of relief that it hadn’t been Katharina this time.

  “We need to go, Martinus.” Jonas’s irritated call came from the other room. “We can’t afford to ride out of Grimma in broad daylight.”

  “Are you ready?” Luther didn’t know how he could leave her if she refused to come.

  She hesitated, then sighed in resignation. “Very well.”

  He pushed himself up to his feet. “Sister Magdalene, will you help Katharina get ready with all haste?”

  Sister Magdalene hesitated, her expression one of disapproval, before she finally nodded.

  As Luther closed the bedroom door, Jonas pursed his lips. “You’re pathetic.” He stood in front of the low, crackling fire on the hearth, drinking a mug of ale.

  Luther crossed his arms. “I brought you along this time instead of Melanchthon so I wouldn’t have anyone nagging me about Katharina.”

  Jonas snorted. “You told me we were only coming here to rescue her from danger.”

  “And we are.”

  Jonas’s thick eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “You’re an old fool. She doesn’t want someone like you, and she never will. You’re only torturing yourself to think she’ll ever have you.”

  Luther glared back. Why did Jonas have to be right about everything? Couldn’t he ever be wrong?

  “Get her back to Wittenberg,” Jonas groused. “Find her a noble husband. Then forget about her.”

  Luther shook his head but then grabbed the wall as dizziness swept over him. If he wasn’t suffering from one thing, it was another—dizziness, constipation, stomach cramps, melancholy. He was an old fool.

  “Ach.” Before leaving Torgau he’d resolved to rescue Katharina, but to consider her nothing more than a sister in the Lord. However, every time he got near her, all his willpower melted away like ice in a spring thaw.

  “If you’ve finally changed your mind about wanting a wife,” Jonas said, his hard, aristocratic expression finally softening, “you’ll have to set your sights on someone else.”

  Luther stomped across the room and grabbed his cloak from the bench where he’d discarded it in his haste to see Katharina. “I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want a wife.”

  Jonas just shook his head.

  Luther slung his cloak over his shoulders and refused to look at his friend again for fear of what Jonas might see in his eyes. Silently he resolved that after they returned to Wittenberg, the first thing he’d write was a letter to that rogue Jerome, insisting he follow through on his promise to marry Katharina. If Jerome was the man she wanted, then he’d do his best to make sure that’s who she got.

  And after she was married, perhaps he’d finally have peace of mind. Then he could get back to the work God had given him without thoughts of Katharina distracting him.

  When they arrived back in Wittenberg, Katharina was grateful that Doctor Luther returned her to the Cranach household with nary a word about her remaining there. Although he didn’t waver in his kindness and consideration toward her, she was more than a little disappointed that he left her again without a good-bye.

  Margaret informed her that Jerome had not visited once during her long absence over the winter and spring. But after all that had happened to Aunt Lena with the Bundschuh attack and then her own capture by the abbot, Katharina couldn’t find the energy to care overly much about Jerome’s return.

  As the days of summer passed, she stuffed down mounting despondency. She wanted to ignore the possibility that Jerome had rejected her. Not only was it humiliating, but also deep inside was the real fear that she might never find anyone at all.

  “Perhaps it’s time to consider another man,” Margaret whispered as they arose from their pew in the Stadtkirche after the conclusion of the Sunday morning service on the day of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.

  “Perhaps.” Katharina smoothed the folds of the voluminous skirt Barbara Cranach had given her when she’d returned from Marienthron. The skirt drew tight at the waist, as did the lacings of her bodice, showing off her bust and hips much more than she was comfortable with. “I just need to be patient. That’s all.”

  But time was hammering her patience away to nothing. She was nearing twenty-six and was rapidly approaching the age when she would be too old, when no man would want her. Then all chances of having a family, of fulfilling her deepest desire would vanish.

  “Dr. Glatz has been watching you.” Margaret cocked her head in the direction of the stall where important members of the University of Wittenberg often sat. “He came at the beginning of summer and has served as the rector of the university,” Margaret continued quietly. “From the rumors I’ve heard, Dr. Glatz is a very eligible bachelor. He’s wealthy and of the patrician class.”

  Katharina glanced in the direction of the white-haired rector. Even though he was talking with another professor, his attention slid to her as if he’d been waiting for her to look at him. Through the dimly lit church his expression was hard to read. With a vaulted ceiling and stained-glass windows, the church was rarely penetrated by sunlight. Even so, she could see that he wasn’t smiling.

  Turning away, Katharina took hold of Margaret’s arm and then steered her past the other townswomen, who glanced at them sideways and still regarded them as outsiders. “Dr. Glatz looks as though he has a pike pressed against his spine. Moreover, he appears old enough to be my father.”

  “I’m sure he’s a nice man once you get to know him.” Margaret allowed Katharina to lead her down the aisle toward the nave. “And who are we to complain about age? We’re nearly old maids ourselves.”

  “I’m well aware of my age. I would thank you not to say anything more regarding it.”

  Seemingly undaunted by Katharina’s sharpness, Margaret smiled and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It’s rumored that Dr. Glatz will become the next pastor of the university’s patronage parish in Orlamünde.”

  Despite Margaret’s high praise, Katharina couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the man, although she knew she should. “If you think so highly of him, perhaps you ought to marry him yourself.”

  Margaret’s smile only widened. “You know I’m still waiting to marry Doctor Luther.” The young woman’s sparkling eyes sought the object of her affection through the crowd of parishioners milling around him at the base of the high pulpit. “Doctor Luther had another wonderful sermon today,” Margaret continued. “And the new hymns are divine.”

  Katharina pressed her lips together to refrain from the negative comments that would serve no purpose but to hurt Margaret. The reformed Mass, the sermons in the common language, and the singing of simple songs—the changes were still difficult for her to accept. She understood the benefits in the changes to the prayers; she’d experienced them firsthand. But everything else seemed too ordinary for worship of the holy God.

  She also wasn’t sure how she felt about Doctor Luther’s preaching against indulgences. Of course, she agreed with his accusation that the pope was overcharging for his own profit. But that didn’t change the fact that the indulgence absolved t
he buyer from punishment for sins and provided eternal glory. Doctor Luther claimed that the pardon of the church was in God’s power alone. But certainly God worked in and through mortals and mortal things for His purposes. If her mother believed in the power of the indulgence, that it would someday bring them together again, then Katharina had to also hold out hope that it would.

  “Oh, Katharina, he is divine.” Margaret’s tone was worshipful. “He looks so handsome in secular clothes. I wonder what finally made him put aside his habit and cowl?”

  Katharina followed Margaret’s gaze to Doctor Luther. He did make a handsome picture in the new clothes. Like the other scholars, he’d donned a black pleated cloak with a plain flat collar and wide sleeves. Beneath a black beret pulled low, his eyes flashed with fervor, and his face radiated passion as he spoke to the friends who surrounded him.

  He was a complex man with a depth of emotion that was hard to ignore, especially when that emotion was directed at her. Thankfully, he wasn’t angry with her anymore, even though he hadn’t shown her any attention in the many weeks since her return to Wittenberg, since the day he’d delivered her to the Cranachs without a backward glance.

  Not that she wanted his attention.

  “So this is Katharina von Bora?”

  A voice at her side startled her, and she turned to find herself face to face with Dr. Glatz. To stand eye level with a man was a rare occurrence since she was petite. Yet the rector, though far from petite, was not much taller. With his wide girth he barely fit in the narrow side aisle. His head had a flat, squat shape that matched his body, and his jowls sagged, giving him a double chin.

  He scrutinized her from her face down to the shoe poking out from the edge of her skirt.

  Pastor Bugenhagen stood next to Dr. Glatz. He rubbed a hand down his beard and watched Dr. Glatz’s reaction. “What do you think? Comely enough?”

  Irritation flittered through Katharina. Did they think she was a mare for purchase?

  Dr. Glatz didn’t say anything. Instead he turned his sharp gaze to Margaret and perused her also. “What about this one?”

  Pastor Bugenhagen shook his head. “No. This is Margaret von Schonfeld. Doctor Luther has recently arranged for her to be married to Garssenbuttel from Brunswick.”

  Margaret gasped. “What? I haven’t heard this. It can’t be true.” Her panic-filled eyes sought Katharina’s.

  Katharina was as surprised by the news as her friend, but before she could question the pastor further, he spoke again.

  “You may have Katharina von Bora.” Pastor Bugenhagen directed Dr. Glatz’s gaze back to her. “Katharina’s lineage is also nobility. She’ll make a fine wife.”

  “She’s handsome enough. But I don’t like the ugly business regarding the murder of the abbot at the Marienthron convent. It could be a blemish on my reputation.”

  “Everyone knows that Bishop Petrus made false claims. Doctor Luther pursued the matter thoroughly and cleared Katharina’s name.”

  “Still, it’s a serious charge.”

  Katharina’s mind reeled. “Pastor Bugenhagen, I’m not sure exactly what you’re presuming. But let me make it perfectly clear that I’m not available for marriage to this man or anyone else.”

  “Oh? I’d heard the opposite—”

  “Then you heard wrong.” Although she knew that she shouldn’t protest, that she should be grateful for the making of a new match, she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m promised in marriage to Jerome Baumgartner.”

  “I assumed,” Pastor Bugenhagen said, “since Baumgartner hadn’t responded to Doctor Luther’s letter telling him to hurry back to Wittenberg and marry you, that you were in need of a new match.”

  Letter? Katharina’s attention swung to Doctor Luther. Had he written a letter to Jerome? The smile on his lips, though directed at another, warmed her heart. Had he actually told Jerome to hurry back to Wittenberg to marry her? After all his resistance to Jerome, why had he done such a thing for her now?

  “If Doctor Luther has written to Jerome, then he’ll surely arrive soon.” She smiled at Pastor Bugenhagen, with renewed hope springing to life inside her along with gratefulness to Doctor Luther. How could anyone resist his summons?

  “But,” Pastor Bugenhagen said, gentling his voice, “Baumgartner hasn’t responded.”

  “At least not yet. He won’t ignore Doctor Luther.”

  “I’ve heard enough, Pastor.” Dr. Glatz frowned at Katharina. “Find out the status of this other arrangement. If it isn’t viable, then perhaps I’ll consider taking Katharina von Bora as my wife.”

  He spun away from her, leaving her no choice but to swallow her tart retort.

  Pastor Bugenhagen hesitated as though he wanted to say more, but then he turned and hurried after Dr. Glatz.

  Katharina became aware of Margaret standing next to her, trembling.

  “Garssenbuttel from Brunswick?” Margaret’s eyes were windows to the shock and despair crushing her soul. “I don’t know who that is.” Her whisper spoke loud enough. If the man wasn’t Doctor Luther, she didn’t care who he was.

  Katharina reached for her friend’s hand and pressed the long, shaking fingers. “I’m sure Pastor Bugenhagen is mistaken. We shall go speak with Doctor Luther this instant and clear up this misunderstanding.”

  Doctor Luther was walking along the edge of the nave toward the stairway that led to the vestry. She started toward him, pulling Margaret along after her. “Make haste, Margaret.”

  When she reached the bottom, he was rounding the first bend of the stairway with Jonas and Melanchthon ahead of him.

  “Doctor Luther?” Katharina called.

  Their laughter and boisterous voices echoed in the narrow stairwell.

  “Doctor Luther,” she said louder.

  He stopped and turned. His gaze alighted on her, and he smiled. “Katharina.”

  She moved to the first step and stared up at him with a shyness she didn’t understand. She hadn’t spoken with him since their return trip many weeks ago. And seeing him up close in his secular clothes, suddenly she didn’t know what to think. Without the habit and cowl, he had shed the appearance of a poor peasant monk and had acquired a distinguished air.

  She tried to smile, but the darkness of his eyes and the way his gaze caressed her face left her breathless.

  “What is it, Katharina? No more midnight rescues, I hope.”

  “No. Most certainly not.”

  “You’re healing?”

  “Yes. Master Cranach has provided me with every remedy imaginable from his apothecary shop.” The scabs on her back itched more than hurt. They would soon fall away, leaving only scars. In time she hoped she could shed her haunted dreams too, for the blackness of the night awakened visions of pain and abuse, of Greta and Aunt Lena and countless others. And with it came an overwhelming guilt that she had survived, that she had somehow been spared when others hadn’t.

  Doctor Luther’s gaze probed deeper and seemed to see the pain in her heart. “Have you read the Gospels yet?”

  Katharina shook her head. Margaret had the German New Testament that Doctor Luther had translated, and her friend worshiped it as she did everything of Doctor Luther’s. But Katharina hadn’t wanted to test God any more than she already had.

  “You must read them. I’ll get you a copy of the New Testament. The words will give you great comfort.”

  “If you go to the trouble to give me a copy, then you’ll force me to try.”

  “Force you?” His voice hinted at humor. “I’ve learned that no one can force her ladyship to do anything she doesn’t want to do. At least not if he desires to live in peace.”

  She smiled at his teasing. “You’re a wise man, Herr Doctor.”

  “Then apparently my dealings with wayward nuns has been to my benefit as I’m all the wiser for it.”

  “Perhaps that’s why God created women in the first place,” she jested in return. “Without women to direct the male species and keep them in line, men ar
e all too apt to wander in their own foolishness.”

  At her quip Jonas guffawed and slapped Doctor Luther on the back. “She put you in your place, old man.”

  Luther grinned and elbowed his friend back. For a moment they were almost like two overgrown schoolboys teasing each other.

  With a final shove at Jonas, Luther beamed down at her. “So what is it you really need, Katharina? You certainly haven’t stopped me simply to proclaim the foolishness of my gender.”

  She hesitated, but Margaret nudged her from behind. “I want to thank you.”

  Standing on the stairs above Doctor Luther, Melanchthon shared none of his companions’ humor. Although his expression was softer than the darker, more aristocratic Jonas, something in his eyes warned her not to encourage Doctor Luther further.

  She wanted to order Melanchthon to continue on his way, but she bit her tongue and focused on Doctor Luther. “Thank you for writing a letter to Jerome.”

  His smile vanished. The light in his eyes disappeared, and coldness filled the space between them. “You’re welcome. Now we’ll have to pray diligently that he finally comes, won’t we?”

  The sudden change in his tone slapped her, taking her by surprise, filling her with unexpected hurt. She stared at him, not knowing how to respond.

  He gave her a curt nod, then he spun and started up the steps again.

  Margaret pushed her.

  “Wait!” Katharina called after him.

  He paused and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes shuttered, the window to his feelings closed.