Luther and Katharina Read Online Free Page A

declining the invitation to share the meal.
    Melanchthon was content to sit back and let Luther do all the fighting and take the fame and the food. His friend’s kind eyes begrudged him nothing.
    Luther wrapped his cold hands around his mug. He couldn’t deny he relished the fight that Melanchthon was all too willing to abdicate.
    “The cloistered life is one of privilege for our daughters,” another wealthy burgher said. “Where else will our daughters learn to sing the psalms, read and write, and speak Latin?”
    “They’re mostly learning that the church will use them to fulfill the lusts of the priests who oversee their souls.” Luther’s remark brought guffaws as well as loud protests. But he’d seen firsthand enough abuse to know the men protested in vain. They blinded themselves in order to soothe their guilt—guilt for subjecting their daughters to the whim of every priestly overseer while they freed themselves from financial obligation.
    He took a long swig of his beer and then spoke over his comrades again. “Everyone knows the abbeys have become nothing more than common brothels. You would do well to risk your goods and your life to get your daughters out of such places.”
    “Then we’re back to our same problem,” said Johann Ledener, vicar of the Church of Saint George, who’d preached the Easter message. “What shall we do with the monks and nuns who wish to leave the cloistered life? The monks have no skills. The nuns have no marriageable prospects.”
    “As I said, there are no easy solutions.” Luther picked up his knife and stabbed it into his herring. “But I will say this: let the monks learn a trade and let the nuns marry whom they will.”
    One of the barons slammed his hand on the table, rattling tankards. Several other men roared oaths.
    Luther lifted the piece of fish and twirled it. He knew what he was proposing was radical. The unbreakable boundaries between classes had been in place for centuries. But just as he’d questioned so many other practices, perhaps it was time to question this one as well. “What’s wrong with arranging a marriage for your daughter outside your class? If you can’t afford a dowry that will bring a noble match, then you must consider other godly men even if they are humbler in status.”
    Melanchthon nudged him and nodded in the direction of the door.
    Luther followed his friend’s gaze to the broad shoulders of his father, who was making his way through the crowd. His stomach cinched as tight as the cincture he wore over his tunic, and his knife slipped from his fingers, the piece of fish untouched. He slid the plate into the hands of one of the young merchants sitting near him. “Eat it. It’s yours.”
    He pushed himself off the bench and stood, trying not to hang his head like an errant boy in need of the rod.
    “
Ach,
so here is my son.” The voice of his father carried above the clamor as he elbowed his way past those standing around the table. “I should’ve known he’d eat at the inn instead of going home to break fast with his family.”
    “Good day, Father.”
    “You didn’t say good-bye to your mother.” His father peered up at him, his brows puckered together above his long nose and his lips pressed into a tight line. His face was washed and free of the soot of the mines, as were his hose and cloak. At such an early hour, however, there was a haggardness in his expression that made his jowls droop.
    Born the son of a peasant, Hans Luther had labored hard over the years to better his position in the community. His marriage into the burgher middle class and a relative’s money had afforded him the opportunity to invest in the copper mines. With the endless hours and sweat of his back, his father had eventually leased mines and smelting furnaces. For a time the mines had made him a wealthy man. That had helped pay for Luther’s education to become a lawyer, the education he’d thrown away when he’d entered the