Luther and Katharina by Jody Hedlund Read Free Book Online Page A

dusty.
    “As you can see, we have finally arrived. By no small miracle, mind you.” Koppe approached Luther and pumped his hand. The merchant’s jerkin was stylishly slashed to reveal the leather doublet underneath. Bright lining bulged out of the splits in his plunder pants. His ostentatious attire provided the only color in the room.
    Luther rapidly counted each head and swallowed his astonishment. “Are there nine?”
    “We started with twelve. But three, including my own niece, I’ve already delivered to the safety of their families, who are willing to take them.”
    Luther nodded. He would write letters and pray that more of the fathers would heed his advice to take back their daughters. For what would he do with nine runaway nuns? Two or three he could help. But
nine
? How would he find homes and husbands for all of them?
    One young girl swayed, clearly tired or injured, and a petite nun next to her slid her arm around the girl’s waist, bracing her. The petite nun murmured a word of encouragement before turning startling blue eyes wide with expectation upon him.
    Compassion stirred deep inside. He would do all he could to help them. He was responsible for their predicament. He’d been the one to encourage them to leave. Had he not instructed all priests, monks, and nuns to forsake their vows? They’d only done what he’d preached.
    The church had forced them to deny the God-created desires and dreams woven into the very fabric of their bodies. Luther had come to the conclusion—contrary to the teaching of the church that praised a monastic life—that God had not made many for singleness. The nature and functions of their bodies testified to the naturalness of marriage, as did Scripture itself.
    “I cannot deny I’m relieved it’s over,” said the merchant, mopping his brow and giving off a sour odor, a testimony to the amount he’d recently perspired. “There was more than one occasion when I feared I would not get my first taste of pork since before Lent.”
    “I commend you, Koppe.” Luther turned to his friend. “You’ve done a new work that will be remembered by the country and the people.”
    “Now, Doctor Luther, we both know if word of my involvement in this escapade spreads, this could be very bad for my business.”
    “Certainly some will scream and consider it a great detriment, but others who are on God’s side will praise it as being of great benefit.”
    “Let’s hope our wise Elector Frederick will see it as a benefit.”
    Luther shrugged. Their ruler was never predictable or easy to understand. So far he’d tolerated the rebellion, mainly because Luther had brought notoriety to his Wittenberg University—not to mention more students and thus more money. If the elector handed Luther over to the emperor and the pope, the elector’s dreams of having a great university would come to naught. Duke George’s rival Leipzig University would be superior.
    “We’ll leave the consequences of our crimes in God’s hands, Koppe.” Luther clamped a hand on the man’s thick shoulder. “In the meantime the least I can do is offer you and your companions a meal.”
    “We’ve traveled hard all day and would be grateful.”
    Luther grinned. “I can
offer.
But you must do the providing.”
    Koppe’s brows shot up, and he rubbed a hand over his beard.
    “We have nothing,” Luther admitted, “except for the new provisions you have brought us.”
    “What happened to the stores I gave you last time?”
    “He gives to any poor soul who comes to the door,” Wolfgang grumbled. “And now apparently he’s planning to shelter them as well.”
    “If Koppe has dared to risk his life for these women who have been wronged,” Luther said, “then I can do no less myself, especially if Koppe will bless us with the provisions we need.”
    Luther waited calmly in the silence that followed. How long would it take for Koppe to give in this time? His friend was generous, although perhaps not as