Luther and Katharina (33 page)

Instead of making an utter fool of himself, he'd isolated himself. And now he was beginning to feel like he was back at Wartburg Castle in exile. Truthfully, this time he didn't mind the exile. He'd been working on the translation of the Old Testament into common German so he could finally complete the entire Bible.

At least in his closet room he didn't have to face criticism from all fronts. The peasants hated him because they thought he'd turned against them and had allowed the princes to slaughter them. The princes hated him because of his latest harsh words, rebuking them for their ruthless treatment of the peasants during their battles. He'd heard recent rumors that they were thinking of handing him over to the pope and enforcing the Edict of Worms once and for all.

As usual, Duke George hated him and wanted him dead, but he was still too busy fighting the peasants to concern himself with other matters. The peasant rebellion was the only thing stopping the duke from riding into Electoral Saxony and attempting to forcibly oust their leader, Duke John. Luther's friends were doing all they could to ingratiate themselves with Duke John. As Saxony's new elector, he had the power to hand Luther over to Rome if he so chose. Melanchthon had gone to Torgau to negotiate with the leader, but Luther figured it was a wasted trip. The reforms had failed.

Everyone despised him. They wouldn't listen to anything he had to say anymore. And now some of his friends, including Melanchthon, were upset that he'd gotten married. He might as well hand himself over to the pope.

“Ach!” He pushed away from his desk and stood. The rumbling in his stomach told him he was due for a break. He couldn't avoid Katharina forever.

As he descended the tower stairway, the overpowering scent of lime assaulted him. The servants had applied great amounts of lime to whitewash the walls. They weren't finished yet, but he could see the progress they'd made in a week.

No one had cleaned or repaired the cloister since he'd returned from Wartburg, when he'd found the place empty and the brothers married. It was overdue. And yet, as long as it was suitable for the wedding banquet they would host, what more did they need? The date for their public wedding ceremony was only a week away. He'd already written letters to his parents, inviting them to Wittenberg. At the urging of Jonas, he'd invited many of his friends as well.

He asked himself again, as he had a hundred times since the betrothal ceremony, why he had done it. Why had he gone forward with the betrothal when Katharina clearly had been hesitant to marry him?

Melanchthon's warning at the betrothal dinner always lingered at the front of his mind. Luther had known that if he took a wife, he'd be putting her in danger. But the thought of something happening to Katharina paralyzed him with fear. He didn't want to admit that his own selfishness and lusts had driven him and that now he'd quite possibly put Katharina in the worst danger of her life.

With a growing sense of dismay, he walked past the servants working in the hallway and headed toward the kitchen. He didn't know if Wolfgang would have a meal ready, but he'd fasted long enough.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he was surprised to find the delivery door leading to the side alley open and two strange men filling the doorframe and staring openly at Katharina as she examined the contents of several crates on the floor. Their faces were dirty, their eyes narrow, and something about them caused Luther's heart to gallop. What if one of his enemies had sent them to his doorstep? What if they planned to kidnap her? It had happened before and could very easily happen again.

“What are you men doing here?” he bellowed.

Katharina jumped, and the strangers took a step back, clearly not expecting to see him.

Luther barreled across the room, past the center worktable that was piled high with cheeses and vegetables of all sorts, apparently in preparation for the wedding feast. “Get out!” He didn't care that he looked like a stampeding bull.

Katharina's eyes widened, and she stepped aside.

“If you want to do business here at the Black Cloister, you'll do it with my manservant, not my wife.” He swung the door shut, letting it slam in the faces of the strangers with a reverberation that rattled the kettles hanging from hooks in the ceiling beam.

“Doctor Luther!” Katharina finally said with a gasp. “That was completely unnecessary.”

He let the bar on the door fall into place with a thud, fear blazing through his blood. “It was absolutely necessary.”

“I didn't have the chance to pay them.”

“You shouldn't have been in here alone with them in the first place.”

“They were selling me grain.”

“Let Wolfgang buy the supplies from now on.”

She huffed. “I'll do no such thing. He won't have the slightest idea what I need—”

“I don't care!” he roared.

She pressed herself against the wall and eyed him with both caution and irritation. “If I'm to manage this home, I shall do the buying and selling.”

He moved in front of her, close enough that the hem of his cloak brushed against her skirt. “I'm your husband, and you will obey me in this matter.”

She lifted her dainty chin and pert nose. Her glorious summer-blue eyes flashed with anger. “You're not my husband. Yet.” Her words were hard and challenging.

With the outer door closed, blocking the daylight, the dimness of the kitchen cloaked them. The faint clink of a chisel and the distant chatter told him they were completely alone in the privacy of the kitchen. He was alone with Katharina. And his body reacted with a heated longing so intense that he braced an arm on one side of her to keep from crushing her to himself. He couldn't take his eyes from hers. He didn't care if she saw how much he wanted her.

He heard a soft intake of breath, which told him she wasn't immune to his presence.

Drawing courage from her reaction, he leaned down and placed his mouth next to her ear. “You're mine.”

Her breathing grew choppy.

His gaze lingered over the span of her neck near his hand. It beckoned him, and he was helpless to do anything but lower his lips to the silkiness below her ear. He took a deep breath of her sweet, spicy scent and leaned against her.

She trembled. Instead of repelling him, her fingers slipped up the arms of his cloak, and she clung to him.

Her reaction made him want to groan. He brushed his lips against the softness of her skin. She was his. God had given him his desires. They were natural and good. Hadn't he preached that very message to others for years?

He shifted so that his nose brushed hers and his mouth hovered above hers, mingling their ragged breaths.

“I'm just worried about you,” he whispered, grazing his lips against her cheek. “I don't want anyone to hurt you.”

She nodded and chased after his lips. “Then I'll make sure Wolfgang or Brother Gabriel is with me from now on.”

He pressed the full length of his body against her, not sure how he could wait another week to be with her. “Kate…” He laid a kiss on the silky hair near her temple.

“Take it to the bedroom, you old randy dog.” Jonas's voice, laced with wry humor, jolted him away from Katharina.

Luther scowled in the direction of the hallway, where Jonas stood behind Brother Gabriel, peering over the old brother's tonsured head with a wicked grin.

“I'm sorry, Doctor Luther,” Brother Gabriel whispered. He ducked his head but not before Luther saw the mortification filling the old monk's face. “I didn't know you were with Sister Katharina.”

Katharina had slipped around Luther and had quickly turned her back on the newcomers to hide her blush of embarrassment.

“Go away,” Luther growled at Jonas. “Don't you have better things to do than spy on me?”

“I've been given the joyful task of helping you draft your rebuttal,” Jonas said dryly.

“What rebuttal?”

“Every bishop and archbishop between here and Rome has accused you of finally succumbing to your lust.” He nodded to Katharina, now bent over one of the crates near the alley door. “And even though they're right, I've been given the task of helping you write a letter to explain otherwise.”

Luther rubbed his temples. The pressure in his head and behind his eyes began to increase. He'd long known that if he took a wife, his enemies would accuse him of giving in to his lusts. They'd said from the start that his desire to get married had driven his reforms. Even the King of England, Henry VIII, had written against Luther, claiming that his uncontrollable manly urges had prompted his desire to change the church.

Now they were gloating. They thought he'd proven them right. The lawyer Schurff had summarized the position of his enemies well. They believed that if he got married, he'd make all the world and the devil himself burst with laughter and would destroy the work he'd begun.

“Let my enemies laugh at me.” Luther took a deep breath to try to relieve the storm brewing inside his head. “Let them think my marriage will hurt our cause and further my demise. They'll soon see otherwise.” At least he prayed it was so.

Jonas snorted. “I don't know how much lower you could sink when you alone are being held responsible for the thousands of headless peasant bodies that litter the roadways.”

Luther didn't want to think about the massacre or the trip through Thuringia his friends wanted him to take. They reasoned he could begin to repair relations with the multitudes of peasants and help restore order. But he'd told them he wouldn't travel until after the wedding.

Truthfully, he didn't know if he'd ever want to leave Katharina again, not when he longed for her more than the breath of life.

Brother Gabriel slowly backed out of the room and disappeared. Luther wished Jonas would follow. But his friend leaned lazily against the doorpost as if he planned to stay a while.

“The entire world is waiting with bated breath for the real reason Martin Luther is getting married,” Jonas continued. “And now we must give them the answers they want.”

“They'll have to wait.”

“It should be an easy answer,” Jonas said, glancing at Katharina's bent back. “You'll tell them you've fallen in love. It's as simple as that.”

The sounds of Kate digging through the crate stopped.

A peal of embarrassment resounded through Luther as loud as the bells in the Stadtkirche. “It's not about love,” he quickly protested. From the corner of his eye, Luther saw Kate suddenly swivel and fasten her intense gaze on him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her.

“If not for love,” Jonas said in exasperation, “then what's your marriage about?”

“I'm making a statement.”

“What kind of statement?”

“To Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz and others like him who've been hesitant about taking wives. If I get married, then they'll follow my example.”

Jonas crossed his arms. “That's never motivated you before.”

Luther sensed Katharina's stillness as if she too waited for his response.

“And I'm doing it to please my father so I won't have to listen to him nag me about it every time I see him.”

“Since when do you care about pleasing Hans?”

Luther shrugged.

“You know you haven't cared since the day you threw away your lawyer's robes and donned the monk's habit.”

“He wants an heir.”

“So what.”

Luther met Jonas's glare with one of his own. “So what. What do you want me to say?”

“Tell the truth. Tell everyone the real reason you're marrying Katharina.”

Katharina's gaze was unwavering.

He refused to look at her and instead frowned at Jonas.

“Aren't you finally willing to admit you've fallen in love?” Jonas asked.

“Absolutely not!” The words fell from his mouth in a roar. “We haven't married for love. Katharina is too proud for love.”

Luther turned to see Katharina stiffen. He caught a glimpse of dismay in her expression before a flash of defiance erased it. “I most certainly am not too proud.”

“You're only marrying me because I'm your last option,” he stated, daring her to defy him.

“And you're only marrying me out of obligation.” Her eyes flashed again, drawing a new battle line between them.

Jonas rolled his eyes. “The problem, Martinus, old man, is that you don't want to admit to anything.”

“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.

B
arbara 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. Hands 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.”