Luther and Katharina

by Jody Hedlund

  “We’ve both stated our motives. So as you can see, we’re together for convenience, not love.”

  “Then, my deluded friend, let’s be off to write this letter. We need to give the world some kind of logical explanation for this crazy marriage.”

  Luther glanced at Kate, but she’d turned her back to him again and held herself stiffly.

  Swift regret rippled through him. His muscles tensed with a sudden need to go to her, pull her in his arms, and tell her he hadn’t meant anything he’d said.

  He didn’t want to act like a donkey every time he was around her, but he couldn’t help it. Somehow whenever it came to Katharina, his heart and his body reacted before he could rationalize his behavior.

  Jonas gave him a furrowed glare, one that branded him a coward. Luther could face an inquisition comprised of the holiest men in the land, and he could accept the possibility of a slow and torturous death at the stake. But he was too scared to face love.

  Barbara kissed Katharina’s cheek. Then she opened the door and swung it wide. A cheer rose from the crowd that was waiting outside the Black Cloister.

  Katharina’s heart tapped an anxious beat as she gazed over the swell of townspeople and wedding guests, most smiling, others curious, all straining to see her. Had the entirety of Saxony come to witness the Kirchgang?

  Barbara fidgeted with the garland of roses that crowned Katharina’s head, untangling several ribbons wound through the flowers so that they streamed down through her loose, long hair. Then her friend nudged Katharina from behind, leaving her little choice but to move forward into the morning sunshine to meet the excited crowd that would escort her and Doctor Luther to the church.

  Doctor Luther stepped to her side. His dark cloak was brushed spotless, and his hair was trimmed and combed into submission underneath his beret. The fact that he’d clearly taken time with his grooming for this special day brought her a small measure of comfort after the tension of the past week.

  As he took in her appearance, his eyes warmed with appreciation. He leaned in and whispered so that only she could hear, “You look lovely, Katharina.”

  The words took her by surprise and sent a ripple of pleasure through her. “You happen to look rather nice yourself.”

  He grinned, which momentarily took the edge off the strain that had resided between them since he’d made his declaration in the kitchen regarding their marriage being one of convenience rather than love.

  She hadn’t been able to soothe the sting since she’d learned the real truth about why he was marrying her. Their marriage was just one more of his efforts to reform the church, to set an example for other monks who were still reluctant to take wives. She meant no more to him than one of his pamphlets or sermons.

  But perhaps for today they could call another truce? Before she could make her suggestion, several musicians started a merry tune with the whistle of their fifes and the tapping of their drums.

  “They’re calling for you to begin.” Doctor Luther gently steered her forward, leaving her little choice but to join the musicians and the group of young maidens bearing garlands of finely gilded wheat, and the young Cranach daughters, who carried branches of rosemary decorated with rainbows of silken ribbons. Together they led the procession down Collegienstrasse.

  Doctor Luther followed several paces behind with the men and guests of honor. They strolled along the street until they reached the portal of Saint Mary’s Church. There Doctor Luther tumbled forward against her amid the shoving and laughing of his friends.

  Pastor Bugenhagen stood in the arched entryway and lifted his hands to signal that he was ready to begin. The townspeople and guests grew silent. The pastor smiled. “Let us begin this union with prayer.”

  The warmth of sunshine spilled over Katharina’s bowed head, but she couldn’t focus on anything except Doctor Luther’s arm brushing against hers and the wild thumping of her heart. She would share the marriage bed with Doctor Luther again this night and every night thereafter.

  Her thoughts went back to their brief moment of intimacy in the kitchen before Jonas had interrupted them. Doctor Luther had been tender and passionate. Warmth spread its fingers through her stomach as it had every time she remembered his body pressed against hers. If there wasn’t to be love between them, at least there would be something.

  Pastor Bugenhagen cleared his throat. “Now for the exchange of your vows.”

  Doctor Luther shifted.

  “Martinus, do you desire Katharina as your wedded wife?”

  The muscles in his arm flexed against hers. For a long moment he didn’t say anything. A cloud drifted in front of the sun and covered her with its shadow. A cool breeze lifted the tendrils of her hair and skimmed over her back.

  “Martinus,” Pastor Bugenhagen hissed through his teeth.

  Surely Doctor Luther knew what was expected of him next. He was the one who’d written the marriage liturgy.

  She glanced at him, at the hard lines of his jaw, at the granite in his eyes. Apparently this final step in the marriage process was more difficult than he’d imagined. She wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze it and reassure him that everything would be all right. But would it?

  The whispers in the crowd behind them escalated.

  “Yes.” The word was forced. “I take Katharina as my wife.”

  Pastor Bugenhagen released a breath and wiped the moisture on his brow. Then he turned to her. “Katharina, do you desire Martinus as your wedded husband?”

  “Yes.” What else could she say? What other choice did she have at this point? She twisted his ring off her thumb and held it out to him.

  He looked at it but didn’t make a move to take it.

  “For you,” she said softly.

  His eyes widened and lit with a question.

  “From Master Cranach.”

  Barbara had given it to her earlier when she’d come to help her prepare for the wedding, informing her that Master Cranach had wanted to honor Doctor Luther with the gift.

  Doctor Luther took the ring and studied it. It didn’t have the same intricate engravings as the one Master Cranach had designed for her. But it was equally stunning. It was a double ring, each one passing through the other to cause them to remain permanently interlaced. A diamond was mounted on one and a ruby on the other next to their engraved initials. Both rings also contained the motto “What God doth join no man shall part.”

  Doctor Luther nodded his thanks at Master Cranach standing nearby and slipped the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. Traditionally the ring was worn on the right hand, but Barbara had already instructed Katharina that followers of the reforms wore their rings on their left hand as another sign of their rebellion against the ways of the Church of Rome. The fourth finger had the vein that carried blood to the heart, signifying undying love. She didn’t pretend that Doctor Luther had undying love for her, but she was surprised, nevertheless, at the longing that pierced the emptiness in her heart, the longing for real love.

  Pastor Bugenhagen’s gaze shifted between them nervously. “Time to move inside for the blessing at the altar. Shall we proceed?”

  She followed the pastor inside. Once at the altar she knelt next to Doctor Luther. The coolness of the nave soothed her, as did the gentle flickering of the candlelight. Except for a few close friends, they were alone. Pastor Bugenhagen recited a lengthy blessing and then ended with a prayer. Without the usual traditions of the Church of Rome, the service was short. Doctor Luther had done away with ancient customs: the sharing of Mass, the nuptial veiling, and the distribution of Saint John’s wine, the love drink.

  After they finished, Pastor Bugenhagen led them back to the portal of the church. When they stepped outside, the crowd cheered, and the musicians started their song.

  “You’d better take hold of my arm”—Doctor Luther held out his elbow—“or we may get separated.”

  The townspeople pushed in around them with wide grins, and well wishes were showered on them. H
ands reached out, and bodies jostled against Katharina. She slipped her hand into the crook of Doctor Luther’s arm and allowed him to lead her through the maze. He spoke kind words to the people and returned greetings as they paraded down the street toward the Black Cloister.

  The guests of honor followed in their prescribed order of importance. And in that brief walk, as she saw the admiration for Doctor Luther shining in the eyes of the townspeople, Katharina was surprised by her own growing esteem for him. Even more, she was unprepared for the honor they showed her: the kind words, the genuine smiles, the warm congratulations.

  When they reached the garden gate of the cloister yard, the townspeople turned away and only the guests followed them to the inner yard. She and Barbara, with the help of the servants, had removed the tables and benches from the cloister refectory and had assembled them in the courtyard for the wedding feast.

  Now the servants brought out platters laden with venison and hare, cheeses and breads, fresh strawberries and wild blackberries, boiled cabbage and beets. Barbara had orchestrated a feast fit for royalty.

  They sat at the head table with the guests of honor, which included Doctor Luther’s parents. Although she and Doctor Luther drank from the same cup and ate off the same plate, as tradition required, they were in separate worlds, she making conversation with the women and he with the men.

  When the banquet finally ended, they followed the musicians to the town hall. She relished her dance of honor with Doctor Luther, the nearness of his presence, the touch of his hands, even though he avoided looking into her eyes. Then they sat next to each other and watched the slow marches that allowed for the introduction of all the prominent guests.

  After the dances the guests gave their wedding presents. Even though the gifts were obligatory, joy shone in their faces as they gave. She realized they wanted to bless Doctor Luther in return for the countless ways he’d given to so many of them.

  He received the gifts gratefully but was more interested in the people presenting them than the gifts themselves. Even the sizable cash donation from the new elector through his representative didn’t elicit more than a nod before Doctor Luther changed the conversation. She smiled graciously at the representative to make up for Doctor Luther’s lack of enthusiasm, knowing they would need the outpouring of generosity to help them in their poverty.

  Finally, after the guests had presented their gifts, the Wittenberg city council added a last token in the form of twenty Gulden and a barrel of beer.

  When the formalities were finished, Doctor Luther joined a circle of his closest friends and sipped from a tall tankard. The men’s laughter rang against the walls of the town hall and drowned out the chatter of the women, who sat around Katharina. She found herself leaning forward, waiting for Doctor Luther’s boisterous voice to rise above the others. And whenever she stole a glance at him and saw the smooth, carefree lines of his face, her heart beat faster. What would it be like to share a pleasant conversation with Doctor Luther—one with laughter, one in which his face was free of all worries?

  “I’d like to speak a word about my son.” Hans Luther had risen from his bench and was holding up his mug. He was shorter and stockier than Luther, but they shared the same strong carriage and broad shoulders. She’d also noticed that Hans Luther’s dark eyes swirled with innumerable emotions in much the same way his son’s did. The noise tapered to silence, and everyone’s attention was fixed upon Hans—except Doctor Luther’s. Instead he stared at his tankard, wariness creasing his forehead.

  Hans Luther cleared his throat. His cheeks and wide nose were flushed a purplish red, and the heat of the room had left wet rings on the armpits of his shirt sleeves. There was an almost imperceptible tremble in his mug before he thrust it higher. “I never thought I’d live to see this glorious day,” he started, “the day my son would finally take a wife.”

  A soft ripple of laughter followed Han’s declaration, but Doctor Luther sat stiffly and stoically, as though bracing himself for his father’s next words.

  Hans glanced around the crowded room, the open doors and windows allowing in the evening sunlight but little breeze to cool the stuffiness. His attention alighted on her for only a moment before returning to Luther. He seemed to be waiting for Luther to look at him but then continued anyway. “This son of mine has always had a mind of his own. He’s always tested the limits of my patience, even as a boy.”

  Doctor Luther’s head drooped as his father spoke. Although he’d never spoken to her of his relationship with his father, she knew in that instant that he felt as cast off as she did. Perhaps he hadn’t been rejected in a physical sense, as she had been by her family, but he’d obviously felt the sting of rejection, and her heart ached for him.

  Hans stared at his son’s bent head. Sadness flickered across his features for just an instant before he seemed to push the gloomy thoughts aside. “I may not have seen eye to eye with my son on many issues over the years,” Hans said, his voice loud in the strange silence of the hall. “But I want him to know…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I want my son to know that in spite of our differences, I’m proud of the man he’s become.”

  At his father’s words Doctor Luther’s head snapped up. His tumultuous dark gaze met his father’s. Something seemed to pass between the two—a father giving a blessing to a son who’d likely craved it his whole life.

  Hans cleared his throat again and looked at his mug for a long moment before finishing in a voice tight with emotion. “My son, I wish you many happy days with your new bride.”

  Doctor Luther’s Adam’s apple strained in a swallow before he then nodded at his father. Doctor Luther didn’t speak, but gratitude radiated from his eyes.

  Katharina’s chest expanded with a swell of happiness that he could experience a measure of reconciliation with his father, even if only for this moment.

  After Doctor Luther’s friends rose and joined in the congratulations, he finally made his way to her. “Time to go.” His voice held a note of embarrassment, especially in the midst of the rib poking and ribald remarks of his companions. As she rose and followed him from the hall, they bade their guests farewell. She felt the scrutiny of a hundred pairs of eyes, and she knew what every single person there was thinking—that Doctor Luther was taking her home to bed. She was glad for the June warmth that could explain her heated cheeks.

  When they exited onto the quiet street, only Doctor Luther’s closest friends accompanied them. They had no need of the bawdy parade to the marriage bed. Doctor Luther and his followers had discouraged the rowdy revelry that traditionally went along with the bedding rite.

  The evening air smelled sweet and clean after the hot, dank town hall. The low sun reflected against the clear blue of the sky, with threads of purple and pink beginning to lead the procession of the coming night. Katharina took a deep breath, then she pointed her face into the summer breeze and let it caress her cheeks.

  They walked side by side, the crunch of their footsteps filling the space between them. The chatter of Doctor Luther’s friends went before them and prevented them from having to make small talk. When they came within sight of the Black Cloister, Doctor Luther spoke. “Merchant Koppe has finally arrived.” He nodded to the wagon parked in front of the gate.

  Katharina stopped and stared at the covered wagon bed. Her heart picked up speed as her mind raced back to the long, cramped ride that had brought her to Wittenberg.

  “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Doctor Luther asked softly.

  She nodded and tried to push them aside. It was too hard to think of the decision she’d made that night so long ago, the decision that had altered her life in a way she’d never foreseen. “Regretfully he’s too late for the festivities.”

  “I expected him yesterday,” Doctor Luther said, as he opened the front door and nodded his farewells to his companions.

  As they ducked into the parlor, the room was empty except for one person—a frail nun hunched over and sitting on t
he wall bench. She didn’t move; it was almost as if she hadn’t heard them enter.

  Katharina raised a brow at Doctor Luther.

  “Is Koppe smuggling out more nuns?”

  He nudged her. “You’d better go see.”

  With hesitant steps she approached the nun. The woman’s veil hung askew and hid her face. “Sister?”

  The woman didn’t budge.

  Katharina looked back at Doctor Luther. He cocked his head at the woman. “Who is it?”

  She shrugged, then shifted her skirt and lowered herself until she was on her knees. “Sister?”

  The nun still didn’t respond. “My name is Katharina, and I’m here to help you.” She waited. Was the woman deaf? Slowly Katharina pushed aside the veil. The woman made no move to stop her.

  As the material slid from the nun’s face, Katharina’s pulse stopped. Then a gasp slipped from her lips. “Aunt Lena?” The old woman looked at her with wide, blank eyes. Not even a sliver of recognition was visible within the depths.

  Katharina didn’t care. With a sob she threw her arms around her aunt and pulled her into an embrace. Aunt Lena’s body fell against her like a limp rag doll.

  Katharina hugged her tighter and pressed her face into the woman’s shoulder, this dear woman who’d loved and protected her more than she’d ever realized at the time. “Oh sweet, sweet Aunt Lena,” she murmured into the woman’s veil. “How I’ve missed you.”

  An ache deep inside pushed upward, demanding release. For a long moment she could do nothing but rock back and forth and squeeze the woman. The rounded pommel of her aunt’s dagger poked into Katharina’s ribs—an all-too-painful reminder of the fear that still tortured the woman.

  Who had brought Aunt Lena? Had Merchant Koppe delivered her?

  She pulled back enough to see that Doctor Luther still stood in the same spot. His expression had softened with tenderness.

  “You did this?”

  He nodded. “I’m just sorry Merchant Koppe didn’t make it in time.”