Killing Martin Luther

By Dan Weatherington

Killing Martin Luther
Twelve hundred years before, the Roman Empire was in danger and disarray. The power that had once ruled the world was in decline and was threatened by enemies both from within and without. While hoards of hostile tribes were gathering in the north, Rome’s Generals battled amongst themselves in the south. The treasury was depleted. Without money, the Senate was powerless.
It fell upon Emperor Constantine to find solutions. The conquest of a thousand years was no longer an option. Faced with this dilemma, Emperor Constantine took advantage of a situation. A large portion of the empire had adopted a new religion from the eastern provinces. It was unlike the religions practiced by most Romans with its myriad of inconsequential gods. Though offerings and sacrifices were made to these gods, it was little more than a matter of respect and custom. The new religion had only one god and laid claim to men’s eternal souls, something heretofore unheard of. Though Emperor Constantine had no interest in the religion, he found one portion of its doings quite appealing. This new eastern religion promised nothing in this life but everything in the afterlife. Great riches, rewards and joy in the afterlife was assured to those who accepted the religion and helped it spread with their goods and their money.
The new religion offered numerous incentives for Emperor Constantine and for Rome. In little more than two hundred years this religion had laid claim to a full third of the inhabitants of the empire. On its own, it was building a substantial treasury. Even though thousands of these people, now known as Christians, had been killed by Roman Emperors for their beliefs, the sect continued to grow. This seemingly impossible adherence to something which offered nothing in this life and everything in the afterlife fascinated the Emperor. In addition to the much needed money, the Christian’s devotion to each other offered something Rome needed desperately, unity. The religion’s hold on man’s eternal soul and man’s willingness to give his worldly possessions for a place in eternity fascinated the Emperor. In 313, Constantine began his scheme. He issued the Edict of Milan ending persecution of the Christians throughout the empire. This action made him extremely popular and many of the bishops were more than willing to go along with his requests which were few, simple, and well reimbursed.
On the surface, the arrangement appeared quite simple. Emperor Constantine would declare Christianity the official religion of the empire and protect the Christians and their leaders. Thousands had died seeking these rights and thousands of others had only dreamed of them. In consideration for this, Constantine and future emperors would be able to appoint new leaders, all friendly to the church. The bishops saw it as recognition of their god and their leaders by the world’s greatest power, which, in reality, it was. Contributions and money, gifts and tributes received would be turned over to the church treasury which would become the treasury of Rome. From this, the priests and all of the leadership of the church would be paid. In addition, new church construction throughout the empire would be supported. The bishops were ecstatic.
Within a few decades, the elite of Rome changed from the Senators and Tribunes and Centurions, to the priests, the bishops and the Pope.
For twelve hundred years, the plot to save Rome thrived. The people believed that God watched them drop their offerings into the plate and that the fate of their eternal souls depended upon how much money they gave to the church.
This would continue until a simple man from Germany nailed his Ninety-Five Theses on the door of Wittenberg church. Killing Martin Luther follows two priests assigned to rid the church of Luther and end the damage he created. It follows them across the Alps and through the Catacombs of Rome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan Weatherington
• Release date: Jul 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465745415

Dan Weatherington

Dan Weatherington was born in Raleigh, North Carolina, the only son of Harry Rodman and Mary Weatherington. Much of his childhood was spent at his aunt's home on the Pamlico River, the influence of which is obvious in his novel Brandywine Bay. And, influences of which are shown in the novel The Seventh Gift of God. Dan attended grammar school in Raleigh and high school at Carlisle Military School in Bamberg, South Carolina. His college years were spread between The Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina, the University of South Carolina and North Carolina State University in Raleigh. He and Judy married in August 1969 and remain married today. She worked to allow him to complete school and together they have two children, Wendy and Leslie. At age 31, Dan was elected to join the Masons. By the time he was forty, he had found a niche in Masonic research and writing. Most of his work has been of a Masonic nature and has been published in Masonic publications throughout the United States and Canada. He is Dean Emeritus of Wilkerson College, North Carolina's College of Freemasonry, has been the Chair of the Committee on Masonic Education of the Grand Lodge of North Carolina for several years and writes quarterly columns for the Philalethes, a publication of an international Masonic research society. In addition, he publishes the Lodge Night Program, a quarterly educational booklet distributed to almost four hundred Masonic lodges across North Carolina. The novel Recognizing Prince Hall will hopefully be a tribute to the gallant men who have done much to erase racism in North Carolina Masonry and their efforts to accomplish this task. His novel Blemished Harvest documents his career in the Mortgage Banking industry and how he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 1986. While many would have given up after such a diagnosis, Dan and Judy still continue to be active in their community and own and operate businesses in their hometown.

Book preview

KILLING MARTIN LUTHER

BY

DAN WEATHERINGTON

A Personal Message from the Author:

I love to write books and I love to hear from my readers. If you enjoy this book or any of my other books, it would mean so much to me if you would click on http://www.danweatherington.com

to send me a short email, introduce yourself and say hello. I will always respond to you and value your thoughts.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, or to actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

This book is for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away.

Copyright © 2012 Dan Weatherington. Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book, or any parts thereof, in any form. The contents of this book may not be downloaded, reproduced, transmitted or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author.

Visit the author website at

http://www.danweatherington.com

BOOKS

The Thrill Seekers

The Thrill Seekers II – Mattox Is Missing

Killing Martin Luther

Killing Osama Bin Laden

Blemished Harvest

Brandywine Bay

Recognizing Prince Hall

The Seventh Gift of God

Willie

Loan Man

The Vampire Vasquez

The Priest and The Parson

KILLING MARTIN LUTHER

By

Dan Weatherington

Chapter 1

In the spring of 1518, a horseman thundered across the bridge into Mainz slowing only to ask directions to the Archbishop’s home. A merchant closing his shop shouted beside the Cathedral and pointed toward a steeple that still glowed in the setting sun. The traveler followed the glow past shops and houses to a church and a home at the base of the spire. It was dark when he knocked on the door and was greeted by Father Jean-Paul who led him into the foyer and instructed him to wait.

The priest entered a room where Archbishop Albert sat eating his evening meal. The playing of unseen musicians seemed to complement the frescoes that covered the walls and the heavy oak furniture that filled the room. Father Jean-Paul stood silently and the Archbishop gave him no notice. It was as it should be. Alone, Jean-Paul’s superior would treat him with respect and kindness. In the presence of others, even musicians two rooms away, Jean-Paul did not exist.

When the Archbishop had completed his meal he looked in the young priest’s direction.

Excellency, a messenger to see you, said Jean-Paul.

What does he want? asked the Archbishop.

He did not say.

Who sent the message?

Neither did he tell me that, answered Jean-Paul, but he holds a parchment in his hand.

Very well, send him in.

A large man wearing the cloak of a priest entered the room and respectfully bowed his head. Do I have the honor of addressing His Excellency, Albert, Archbishop of Mainz? he asked.

Is this not his house? asked the Archbishop. Are these not his rooms?

I am told so, said the priest.

Have you some idea in your brief time here that I surround myself with liars?

No, Your Excellency, but I am told that the message I carry can be read by no one but the Archbishop of Mainz himself and I am to verify...

The Archbishop waved the priest to be silent. You have done your job, Father. Now what is the message?

The priest stepped toward the Archbishop and handed him the document. The Archbishop took it and walked to the fireplace. When he noticed the messenger had not left he asked, Is there something else, Father?

I am to wait for your reply, Excellency.

The Archbishop sighed and looked at the message in his hand. It bore the seal of the Vatican. At least they still use parchment, thought the Archbishop. The rest of the world seems to be drawn toward paper. Paper has no quality. Important messages should always be on parchment. He broke the seal and unfolded the pages. As he read its contents he moved about the room. When he finished the letter, he looked at the messenger. I have been summoned to Rome, he said. Is that your understanding, Father?

I was not told, Your Excellency.

That is what the letter says. I am to come to Rome to meet with Cardinal Cajetan, whoever the hell Cardinal Cajetan is. Who is he, Father?

Cardinal Cajetan is the Holy Father’s Legate, his representative.

A powerful man, said the Archbishop.

Yes, Your Excellency.

So, at this Cardinal’s bidding, this Cardinal Cajetan, I am supposed to leave my comfortable home and crawl across half of Europe, just to have a talk, a chat.

The priest said nothing.

I suppose the bidding of this Cardinal Cajetan has the blessing of the Holy Father.

The priest’s expression and a soft nod let the Archbishop know it did.

You came from Rome, Father? then the Archbishop shook the message. Of course you did. I hold the message right here. How long did it take?

I left the fifteenth of February, Excellency.

And today is March twentieth. Thirty five days."

A trip now will not take as long, Excellency, the winter snows will soon be gone.

You came across the Alps?

The priest nodded.

So, I’m going to share the experience with Hannibal. We will have both entered Rome from the north. Except his was to conquer, mine will be at the bidding of Cardinal Cajetan.

The Archbishop looked into the fireplace and tossed the message onto the flames. As it began to crackle, he turned toward the messenger. Very well, Father, inform your Cardinal Cajetan I will do as he asks. I will leave for Rome on the first of April. Yes, you may tell him that.

The priest nodded and began to leave the room. Before he got to the door the Archbishop called to him. Father, he said, have you any idea what this Cardinal Cajetan wants of me?

I have no idea, Your Excellency.

Of course not, said the Archbishop.

The messenger left the room and Father Jean-Paul returned. We are going to Rome, Father. We are going to travel half-way across the continent so I can sit down with some Cardinal and chat. And some chat it will be. He will be babbling in that silly Italian they call a language and I will be speaking in German. I will not understand a damn word he has to say and he will not understand me. And you know what he wants to talk about, Father?

I imagine that most of their conversation will be in Latin, Excellency. I believe they have adopted that as their official language.

Greek, Latin, it still will not be German, said the Archbishop. And I notice how skillfully you avoided my question.

The priest said nothing.

Bless you, Jean-Paul, the gentleman that you are. You would not speak unkindly of anyone. You would not even say an unkind word of that damned heretic, Luther, may his soul rot in Hell. That’s why I am to crawl across those mountains like a dog begging for a crust of bread, Luther. Too often I have wondered that if I were to pay some good Christian to slit Luther’s throat, would it be the good Christian who would burn in Hell or would it be me? Or Father, is it even a sin to kill a heretic? The Inquisitors have done it for centuries with the blessing of the church. Is it the Inquisitor who passes the sentence, or the wretch who lights the fire who dines at Satan’s table? The only reason Luther has not met some unfortunate demise is that I have yet to discover the answer. If I must spend eternity in Hell so be it, but it certainly will not be for the likes of a heretic."

Father Jean-Paul looked sadly at the Archbishop. He was too well aware of the upheaval Luther was creating. Little else was discussed in the market. In October, Luther had nailed a list of his grievances on the door of Castle Church at Wittenberg. In what was now being called his Ninety-Five Theses, the priest Luther had challenged not only the authority of Pope Leo, but of Holy Mother Church itself. He had sent the Archbishop a copy of the theses which the Archbishop had forwarded to Rome hoping that by the time Rome reacted the matter would be resolved. It was not. If anything, it was growing.

Yet, the Archbishop could not pretend to be without blame. He had received permission from Pope Leo to sell indulgences to pay for his position as Archbishop. It was these indulgences that Luther attacked. For a matter of a few ducats a sinner could lessen his punishment in the hereafter. The arrangement was simple. One half of the money collected for indulgences went to the Archbishop; one half went to Pope Leo. Pope Leo’s half was supposedly for repairs to St. Peter’s basilica. The very indulgences Luther was condemning originated at the hand, and want, of Archbishop Albert.

Make the preparations needed for the journey, Father. We will leave on the first of the month, ten days. In that time, if you will help me relearn my Latin.

Father Jean-Paul nodded.

Only ten days remain of civilization, said the Archbishop out loud. If I am blessed, when I return Luther will have found his grave.

Chapter 2

As was the custom, those traveling long distances gathered in caravans to protect themselves from highwaymen and bandits. Though the clergy, especially a high church officer such as the Archbishop if Mainz, did garner the respect of many who might otherwise set upon him for the riches he would carry, those same riches would draw an even less reputable lot who feared no damnation of their eternal souls. Father Jean-Paul either hired or volunteered the necessary people for the journey.

The selection of those for the journey was made even more difficult because of the Archbishop’s constant verbal condemnation of Luther. Luther was not some unknown parish priest from a foreign land. He was a German and a theologian at the University who often said Mass at local churches and the things he said were proving to be very popular. Luther said that the indulgences the Archbishop was selling were not as the people were being told. Those who sold indulgences said they decreased the buyer’s time of eternal punishment for their sins. A person could, in effect, buy their way out of Hell. And, the amount of money Albert had raised was well known. The Archbishop had borrowed 21,000 gold ducats to pay for his elevation. The amount was significant enough that the Vatican had sent Friar John Tetzel to oversee the sale of indulgences and make certain Pope Leo received his half. While Luther was assailing the indulgences as a meaningless waste of money, Tetzel was touting that as soon as a coin in the coffer rings, the soul from purgatory springs.

Jean-Paul was careful to select fellow travelers who were either not familiar with the situation or simply did not care. A month would be a long time, but any altercations with the Archbishop caused by some well-meaning individual due to his over-use of wine or his support of Luther would make the trip seem even longer.

Though things appeared to be progressing, Jean-Paul still had no one to lead the caravan. He needed a man with experience in such a journey and knowledge of the route. Jean-Paul asked the advice of one of the merchants.

By far, said the man, the best is Bernhardt. He has traveled the route many times and . . .

The man stopped what he was saying. No, you don’t need Bernhardt. Let me think. There are several others, now Braun may be a good. . .

What is wrong with Bernhardt? asked Jean-Paul. You said he was the best, but you stopped. What about Bernhardt?

The man looked around. I was right, Father. Bernhardt is the best. He is the best, as I said, by far. But, there is a problem. The man became silent.

A problem? What kind of a problem? asked the priest. Is he not trustworthy?

Trustworthy? replied the merchant. I would trust him with my life.

Then, sir, what is the problem. Is it drinking? Is it. . .

Father, I don’t know how to say this, but the man doesn’t like priests.

Why? Has a priest offended him? Has he some grievance with the church?

I have no idea, Father, but he is a gruff mountain man. He swears like a sailor. I believe you would be happier with someone else.

Is this man definitely the best one to lead our journey?

Yes, Father, he is doubtless the best.

Fine, please arrange for him to lead us.

As you wish, Father, but. . .

My son, he will not be the first I have met who isn’t, shall we say, fond of priests. Often times, I am not too fond of priests either.

The man smiled sheepishly and nodded, but hoped he hadn’t made a mistake,

Bernhardt, as he was called, had a full, bushy, beard. Wore wool and animal skins, feared no man and was more than willing to impress the fact on anyone with doubts. To add to his complement, Bernhardt brought with him two other men willing to fight for their employer. While the possibility of the Archbishop finding Bernhardt less than desirable did exist, the man had established a reputation of leading many such adventures safely to their destination without incident. Despite his credentials, Jean-Paul resolved himself that, from the start, it would be necessary to keep Bernhardt apart from the Archbishop.

Within hours of the time Bernhardt was named to lead the expedition, things began to happen. From the start, matters of food, horses and other necessaries were handled by the tradesmen and merchants of the town who looked upon the occasion as a windfall blessing from God. But when Bernhardt received word he would lead the caravan, a small city of travelers formed outside the cathedral carry animals in cages, goats and pigs and every form of fruit and vegetable imaginable.

Bernhardt was a master at his craft. From the balcony of the Archbishop’s residence, Jean-Paul watched as Bernhardt selected and placed each participant. The caravan was much larger than most due to the Archbishop’s reluctance to do without his ‘necessaries’. The Archbishop’s demands often seemed excessive and unnecessary to Jean-Paul, but when he questioned an item he was informed that the Archbishop was paying for the extras and he expected them. In its own way, it was a reminder that it was not Jean-Paul’s place to question.

On rare occasion, Archbishop Albert would join Jean-Paul on the balcony and watch the caravan’s growth. Bernhardt’s bellowing could be heard throughout the area and Albert would ask the source of the disturbance, a question Jean-Paul would always avoid.

On the day of the departure, the Archbishop was told of the horse that had been provided him and immediately ordered his carriage be brought from the livery.

Archbishops, especially the Archbishop of Mainz, do not ride horses like some common lout, he shouted for all to hear.

Bernhardt heard the outburst and rode to the front of the caravan. He grabbed the reigns of the Archbishop’s horse.

Excellency, he shouted back, Archbishops may not ride horses, but if they do not, then Archbishops do not cross the Alps. I am sure, had the people of the mountains known of your importance, they would have been more than delighted to create a road through those mountains for your comfort, but since they obviously did not, you have two choices. You may ride this horse like a common lout, or keep your glorious ass in Mainz.

The Archbishop’s eyes widened. Sir, I am the representative of God. You will not speak to me in such a manner.

Beg pardon, Excellency, but unless God is planning on carrying your rather large carcass across those mountains, you will ride this horse.

Father Jean-Paul, screamed the Archbishop as he crawled into his carriage.

Am I to be led to Rome by the Devil himself? asked the Archbishop as Jean-Paul slid into the carriage. That man will not be acceptable. You will dismiss that wooly beast immediately.

Excellency, I grant you the man is obnoxious, he is detestable, but he is also the best available for your needs.

The Archbishop placed his head in his hands. "Every moment I grow