Luther and Katharina (28 page)

Luther wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. His stomach had started gurgling, and he knew all too well what that meant. It wouldn't be long before his gut would clinch with the grip of pain he dreaded, doubling him over, squeezing everything out of him until his very life seemed to drain away.

“Tell me again what you've written.” Luther leaned his cheek against the cool wall of the narrow cell he called his study. In the overcast spring day, the chill in the air soothed his overheated skin.

Jonas held the ink quill above the paper. “Your title: Admonition to Peace: A Reply to the Twelve Articles of the Peasants in Swabia.”

Luther closed his eyes and fought back a groan. He was tired of dealing with peasants and princes alike. They were like two naughty children who wouldn't stop fighting no matter how many times he rebuked them.

“You said: ‘We have no one on earth to thank for this mischievous rebellion, except you princes and lords,' ” Jonas read. “In your temporal government, you do nothing but flay and rob your subjects, in order that you may lead a life of splendor and pride, until the poor common people can bear it no longer. The sword is at your throats, but you think yourselves so firm in the saddle that no one can unhorse you.”

“And you do not think my words too harsh?”

Jonas sat back in the desk chair, which squeaked under his weight. “Of course they're harsh. But they're necessary.”

“If only the princes would set aside their devilish pride and consider the peasants' demands.” Luther rubbed his thumbs into his eyes to ward off the pounding. “Who can blame the peasants for wanting village lands and commons returned to the ownership of the village or for wanting labor services reduced to a tolerable level?”

“The Twelve Articles are too radical, and you know it,” Jonas countered. “The feudal lords in Upper Swabia depend on serfdom. They'll never tolerate its abolition.”

The knot of pain tightened in Luther's gut, and he bent over, trying not to cry out.

“Go on,” Luther said through clenched teeth. “Read the rest.”

Jonas began reading. They'd spent most of the day drafting the document, and it was long overdue. The spring thaw had awakened the dormant fury of the peasants. Every day new reports reached Wittenberg of their rampages through the south, entire villages rebelling, Imperial cities forced to submit to the roving bands of peasants.

The Twelve Articles had listed the peasant demands. Luther couldn't deny their justification. The peasants asked for nothing more than common decency. They wanted to break the chains of oppression not only from the nobility but also from the pope. They were spreading Luther's reforms throughout the countryside.

Now they wanted him to declare his support for their cause. More than anything he longed to denounce the princes and stand together with the peasants for freedom from tyranny. His father's peasant roots reached deep into his being. If not for the providence of God, he might have lived a peasant's life himself.

Luther tried to straighten and listen to Jonas, but the pain in his stomach doubled him over again. “Ach!”

Jonas fell silent.

“The devil take the peasants and princes,” Luther roared. He couldn't side with the peasants; he would risk alienating the protection of the princes and jeopardize all the work he'd already accomplished. His friends made sure he didn't forget it.

Of course the peasants were wrong for using force to amend the situation, and he planned to let them know it. But if he had to choose sides…

Bile began to rise at the back of his throat.

He covered his mouth, gave Jonas a nod to excuse himself, then turned from the study. He stumbled down the flights of stairs, sped through the tower door into the courtyard, and then fell to his knees.

Heaves racked his body. His muscles tightened until he couldn't move. Blackness swirled through his head. He was getting too old for such stress day after day. It would surely kill him before his enemies did.

He wasn't sure how much time had elapsed before Wolfgang found him in a miserable heap on the ground and pulled him up. The servant wiped his face and gave him a hot drink. Then after his legs stopped shaking, Luther shuffled back up the stairwell to his study. When he reached the top dormer hallway, the sound of voices stopped him.

“Since Doctor Luther isn't available, you may tell him of my refusal when he returns.”

Katharina had come. The thumping in his chest was so loud it seemed to reverberate in the barren passageway. It had been long weeks since he'd seen her other than just in passing at the Stadtkirche, where he could only admire her from afar in the comely garments of bright color she wore. The soft curls of her golden hair now hung well past her shoulders. It had been even longer since he'd spoken with her. Although there were times he'd longed to cross the nave and merely have a word with her, he'd always allowed his friends to steer him away, knowing the rumors would only escalate if he was seen talking with her.

He glanced down at his tunic, at the stain of his vomit. The bitter odor lingered around him. He ran his fingers over the unshaven scruff on his face and then through his hair. He was certain he looked worse than he smelled. What would Katharina think of him if she saw him in his condition? Of course, she'd seen him at his worst before, but perhaps that was part of the problem. She'd had so few opportunities to see him at his best.

He took a step back. Before making his presence known, he'd change his garments. Quickly he slipped into his dormer room adjacent to his study. He pulled the door behind him and reached for the habit he'd discarded months ago.

Her voice penetrated through the thin wall. He didn't need to listen to know why she'd come. She'd heard the news about Dr. Glatz, the news Pastor Bugenhagen had brought him—that Dr. Glatz had consented to marry the last Marienthron nun.

Glatz, the old miser.

“I shall not marry the man,” he heard her say. “I absolutely oppose the match.” He smiled and retraced his steps to the door so that he could hear better, stalling in his plan to change his garment. Hadn't he warned Pastor Bugenhagen that Kate was a hissing Katzen, that she wasn't suited for Dr. Glatz?

“You don't have a choice.” Jonas's voice was calm and unemotional, and Luther was relieved his friend was dealing with Katharina instead of him. Jonas wouldn't let her goad him to the brink of murder.

“I most certainly do have a choice. If I'd wanted to remain under the yoke of oppression, I would have stayed at the convent. I didn't earn my freedom only to give away control of my life again.”

Luther wished he could see her face. Her blue eyes would be flashing by now.

“I suppose Dr. Glatz is not good enough for you?” Jonas asked.

“You must dissuade Doctor Luther from the arrangement.”

“Dr. Glatz is a doctor, professor, and pastor. He's wealthy and prominent. Surely these are the things you want.” Luther's body tensed in anticipation of her answer.

“He may be endowed with the proper qualifications,” she replied, “but I don't like him. Not in the least.”

Luther released a shaky breath. He couldn't deny that he was relieved Katharina was rejecting Dr. Glatz.

“You'll tell Doctor Luther that his arrangements are unacceptable.”

“As I told you once before, you're too proud, Katharina von Bora.” Jonas's chair squeaked, and Luther could picture him leaning back, arms crossed behind his head, a scowl on his brow. “You couldn't find a man to please you unless he was the emperor himself.”

“That's absolutely false.”

“Then who? Who could ever possibly please you?”

She was silent for a long moment.

Luther leaned closer to the door and accidentally bumped it, making it rattle. He steadied it with trembling fingers.

“I haven't had contact with many men,” she finally said. “But surely we could find someone better than Dr. Glatz. Even you, though you are disagreeable, are preferable to Dr. Glatz.”

Jonas snorted.

“At least you have a heart and care about people,” she said, “though you often try to hide behind your sarcasm.”

His friend was silent for a long moment before speaking loudly. “What about Doctor Luther? Is he preferable too?”

Luther's pulse crawled to a stop.

“Even Doctor Luther would be better than Dr. Glatz.”

Even?
Was he that close to the bottom of her list of acceptable matches?

“Then you would consider marrying Doctor Luther?”

She didn't say anything.

Suddenly he couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He needed to hear her answer, and at the same time he wanted to bury his head.

“Doctor Luther is one of the most esteemed men in the Holy Roman Empire,” Jonas said. “Surely you wouldn't reject him.”

“Doctor Luther has made it quite clear he never intends to marry.”

“Very well.
If
he decided to take a wife, would you marry him?”

Luther leaned forward, his body tight. Again he bumped the door. “Ach,” he whispered harshly. What was he doing? Why did he care about her answer? He knew he ought to march out of there, go down the stairs, and walk outside without a backward glance.

But he couldn't. She had a spell over him he didn't understand and couldn't break.

“If,”
Jonas said again. “Hypothetically.”

“
If
Doctor Luther ever decided to marry, and
if
he ever asked me, then how could I say no?”

“Then you would marry him?”

“Yes, I guess I would.”

Luther's knees wobbled, and he braced himself against the wall.

“But he won't ever marry,” she said in a rush. “So let's not concern ourselves with such matters.”

“You'll marry him if he asks?”

“Yes. I said yes once, and you've no need to ask again.”

“I'm just making sure we're clear about your agreement.” Jonas's voice rose a decibel.

Luther's heart had started beating again at twice its normal speed.

“If you promise,” Jonas said, “then I'll make sure Martinus cancels the arrangement with Dr. Glatz.”

“You could sway him?”

“He listens to everything I say—eventually.”

Luther grinned wryly, knowing the truth of his friend's statement.

“Exactly what am I to promise?” Katharina asked.

“
If
Dr. Luther ever asks you to marry him, you will agree to the proposal.”

“Then I give you my word.”

She didn't linger. Her soft steps passed by him in the hallway. Part of him wanted to chase after her, grab her, and ask if she really meant what she'd said. But the other part of him was too scared.

He didn't move until he was sure she had reached the bottom of the stairwell and beyond. Still he hesitated.

“You can come out now,” Jonas called. “She's gone.”

Luther opened the door and glanced up and down the hallway before sliding out of the room and crossing to his study.

Jonas had pushed away from the desk and propped his feet upon it. With arms crossed behind his head, he narrowed his eyes.

Luther grinned at him. “You knew I was in there all along, didn't you?”

“You're a scared old goat.”

Luther held up his stained tunic. “I smell like vomit. I couldn't let her see me like this.”

“You're a she dog with her tail between her legs.” Jonas's gaze didn't waver. “What the devil are you doing, trying to coax and force the good Kate to marry that stingy old Glatz? I thought we'd given up on the idea weeks ago.”

“Since when has she become
good Kate
?” Luther asked, his amusement rising.

“I like her well enough,” Jonas replied. “I just haven't liked the way she's spurned you. The fact is, she doesn't desire Dr. Glatz, nor will she ever consider him for a husband. Cancel the arrangements.”

“If she doesn't like the old man, she may have to wait a good while for another match.” Luther would gladly cancel the arrangements with Dr. Glatz, but he couldn't let Jonas think he was too eager. “Who would want to have her, then?”

“I know very well who will have her.” Jonas's lips curved into a wicked, teasing grin.

Luther leaned back against the wall, unable to deny Jonas, unable to deny his feelings any longer. He liked Katharina too much. Time and distance had never been able to extinguish his thoughts and desires for her.

Heat sliced through his middle with the suddenness of a swift blade. Although he'd tried to fight against the new feelings she'd awakened in him, the battle had grown harder. She'd brought to life the deep, God-given longings for companionship and love he'd denied all the many years he'd lived as a monk. Now that his desires were alive, he had to war against his flesh, his thoughts, even his dreams in an attempt to keep them pure and blameless before the Lord. Some days he felt as if he fought a losing battle.

“What will you tell Pastor Bugenhagen?” Jonas asked. “You need a plan, or that old rooster will cook himself with worry.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Marry Kate yourself.”

Jonas's words ignited the heat in his gut again. “I can't get married, and you know it.”

“I don't believe your excuses anymore.”

“I'm not a sexless log or stone, but every day I expect the punishment and the death of a heretic.”

“You've been saying that for the past two years.” Jonas shifted his feet on the desk. “You're still alive.”

“Barely.” He looked at the stain on his tunic. “Besides, she doesn't really want me. I know she said she'd marry me if I asked her, but she doesn't expect me to ask. That's why she agreed to your deal.”

“I've seen her reaction to your presence. She has more affection for you than either of you realizes.”