Reformation (24 page)

Tonwen found himself
seated at the center of a long rectangular table.  Joining him at this table facing the main gathering hall were six bishops, three sitting on either side.  The cavernous hall was filled wall to wall with several hundred onlookers on the main floor and surrounding balcony.  The clergy elite sat wearing all the regalia of their position and contrasted against Tonwen’s plain brown monastic robe.

The clear mismatch of social and political standing would cause most men to shrink from their responsibility, but this was Tonwen’s moment.  Once again he had the privilege to be an advocate for the faith his friend Jesus gave his life for all those years ago in Jerusalem.

Despite his lower standing, Tonwen was designated by Archbishop Leonhard von Keutschach to lead the heresy case against Tomal.  Tonwen expected the Archbishop himself to lead the proceedings, but the man’s paranoia would not allow him to leave the safety of his fortress in Salzburg and travel to the tiny town of Worms resting idly along the shores of the Rhine River.  So it fell to Tonwen.

Typically the assembly of estates still considered part of the Holy Roman Empire was not well attended, but this year was another matter.  This year the Diet drew great interest as the technically secular meeting now served as a de facto trial of Martin Luther and his Ninety-Five Theses against the church practice of selling indulgences.  Both supporters and detractors traveled from all over the land to witness the outcome.

As Tonwen told Archbishop Leonhard would be the case, once granted safe conduct to and from a neutral location, Tomal came out of hiding and agreed to stand under examination of his challenge to papal authority.

Tonwen banged the heavy gavel in his hand three times to render all side conversations
in the large chamber silent.  “Bring in the accused.”

The words were rewarded by the heavy chamber door swinging open allow
ing Tomal and two armed guards escorting him to enter.  The brisk cadence of footfalls echoed around the silent room until Tomal finally took his seat in the middle of the chamber at a small table facing Tonwen and the six bishops.

The two
former crewmates of the Lazarus exchanged fiery glares that electrified the air between them.  Both men were determined to stand tall and argue the righteousness of their cause to the bitter end.  Tonwen was determined to win the staring contest, but was pulled away by his duties as lead inquisitor before either man proved the victor.

“Martin Luther,” Tonwen began.  “You have been summoned before this assembly to defend your writings entitled
The Ninety-Five Theses on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences
against examination for heresy.”

Tonwen slid back his chair, causing a teeth wiggling screech, and rose to his feet.  He deliberately paced around to the front of the judiciary table, picked up a thin leather bound book and dropped it with a clap onto the
small table in front of Tomal.  “Is this book an accurate portrayal of your writing?”

Tomal took a few minutes to
calmly thumb through the pages and eventually placed the book back down on the table and continued looking Tonwen dead in the eyes.  “Yes it is.”

“Do you stand by the contents?” Tonwen insisted.

“I am the author, but I require time to reexamine the work in order to answer your question,” Tomal deflected.

Tonwen snatched the book up in a blur and shook it profusely in Tomal’s face. 
“Nonsense.  You admittedly authored the words months ago.  In fact, you held confidence enough in their content to publish and distribute them to all of Europe.  One does not write such inflammatory nonsense unless you are either possessed by the devil, touched by lunacy, or stand behind your allegations with certainty.  Which is the case, Martin Luther?”

Tomal casually reached
underneath his plain black robe to produce a copy of the Holy Bible.  He placed it on the table and rested his right hand upon it.  “Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Scriptures, or by clear reason, I am bound by the Scriptures I have quoted and my conscience is captive to the word of God. I do not trust either in the Pope or in council’s interpretation of these words, since it is well known that they have often erred and contradicted themselves to suit the given situation.”

“In these writings you claim the sale of indulgences by the Vatican to its faithful is amoral and unjustified,” Tonwen accused with a slight
ly calmer tone.  “Where in the Bible do you pretend to draw this conclusion?”

“The
Bible teaches us that salvation or redemption is a gift of God’s grace,” Tomal said as though he were a guest lecturer at a university.  “This one and firm rock, which we call the doctrine of justification, is the chief article of the whole Christian faith.”

“Through my studies I have come to understand justification as entirely the work of God.
This of course goes against the current teachings of the Catholic Church that the righteous acts of believers are performed in
cooperation
with God.  It is my comprehension that Christians receive such righteousness entirely from outside themselves; that righteousness not only comes from Christ, but actually
is
the righteousness of Christ imputed to Christians through faith.”

“So you claim that faith alone makes someone just and therefore fulfills the law?” Tonwen interrupted.

“It is not I, but the
Bible in Romans 1:17 that states the just person lives by faith,” Tomal answered.  “Faith is that which brings the Holy Spirit through the merits of Christ.  Faith is a gift from God.  Since forgiveness is God’s alone to grant, those who claimed that indulgences absolve buyers from all punishments and granted them salvation are in error.”

“One verse?”
Tonwen objected and then snatched the Bible out from under Tomal’s hand.  “One verse out of this entire text is the basis for your position?  Martin Luther, there is not one heresy which has torn at the bosom of the church, which has not derived its origin from the various interpretations of the Scripture. The Bible itself is the arsenal whence each innovator has drawn his deceptive arguments.”

“
Our theology states that faith alone, whether fiduciary or dogmatic, cannot justify man,” Tonwen went on.  “Justification rather depends only on such faith as is active in charity and good works. The benefits of good works could be obtained by donating money to the church.”

Tomal stared back at Tonwen with vacant wonder and shook his head slowly from side to side. 
“Errors in my past long ago caused me to seek the introspective healing of monastic life.  I devoted myself to long hours of fasting, prayer, pilgrimage and confession.  If anyone could have gained heaven through good and holy activities, then I would indeed have been among them.  Yet all I came away with from that time of self-reflection was that true repentance does not involve self-inflicted penances and punishments, but rather a change of heart.  Now here I sit accused of heresy by the ones I so desperately sought to serve and redeem my soul before.  It would seem my good works have not bought me much in the church’s eyes.”

“Martin Luther
, I must warn you.  I and the rest of this panel see no biblical support for your assertions.  If you recant, then you can work to rebuild your standing with God and possibly still see salvation in the next life.  If you do not, then I fear your soul will be lost to the devil forever,” Tonwen stated more as a threat than a plea.

“I cannot and will not recant anything, since it is neither safe nor
right to go against one’s conscience,” Tomal answered.  “I am a firm believer in Christ and that faith alone is my salvation.  So here I sit, I can do no other.”

Tonwen paused long enough to look back at the panel of bishops.  An affirmative nod from
each gave him leave to declare, “It is the determination of this panel that the teachings of Martin Luther are a product of the devil.  His literature and teachings are hereby banned and his immediate arrest is ordered.”

An explosion of cheers and protests rang out from the audience.  The most adamant objections came from a block of spectators seated immediately behind Tomal.  The repeated shouts that he was granted safe passage to and from the Diet were impossible to miss or ignore. 

Tonwen raised his arms to quiet the chamber.  Gradually the shouts and shoving among the audience gave way to silence, allowing Tonwen to be heard.  He then turned to face Tomal once more.  “You have been granted safe conduct away from this city.  That promise will be honored, but know this.  The moment you leave these borders you will be alone in the world.  You are branded a notorious heretic, and the act of anyone giving you food or shelter will be considered an act of heresy as well.”

“Furthermore,” Tonwen shouted while raising his head to be heard over the growing anger of
those intent on Tomal’s immediate arrest.  “This council’s decree allows anyone to kill this servant of evil without legal or spiritual consequence.”

Tonwen looked back toward Tomal to ga
uge his reaction, but found himself staring at the back of Tomal’s robes as he left the chamber with his faithful followers in tow.

Tomal stormed away
from the main gathering hall of Heylshof Garden castle with such pace that his black robes flowed in the wind behind him like a cape.  Feeling his supporters fall in line behind him to join his exit caused Tomal to picture himself as an ocean wave gaining speed and power as it approached the shore.

Like a tidal wave overtaking a coastal village
, his rebellious movement spilled out into the immaculately manicured gardens behind the castle.  The grounds featured a large circular fountain in the center.  From there cobblestone paths radiated out among bright floral arrangements and chest high bushes trimmed with hard edges.  The beautiful vista extended all the way to the waters of the Rhine River, which was Tomal’s destination.

Exiting the assembly through the main courtyard following the predetermined judgment of Tonwen’s show trial was out of the question.  Any number of zealots and madmen intent on doing him harm lurked immediately outside the castle walls.  To avoid their sinister designs
, Tomal arranged to leave via a more private route.

Tomal wo
uld have liked nothing more than to stop and smell the roses in the garden grounds, but time was short.  He moved with purpose past the central fountain and followed a series of arching bridges and paved paths until he finally reached the river’s edge.  There, waiting at the dock, rested a long boat with four sets of rowing oars manned on either side.

When Tomal’s footfalls transitioned from claps against stone to creaks on the wooden dock
, a well-dressed man stepped off the boat to greet him.  Tomal met the man with a warm embrace.

“Prince Fredrick
, it is wonderful to see you again, but you should not be here,” Tomal cautioned.  “It was far safer for you to support my teachings from the shadows.  Seeing you here now, providing my vessel for escape puts you in as much danger as me.”

“An act of conscience rarely leads one down a safe path,” the prince replied.  “As you feared, all the roads leading away from Worms are blocked with the Pope’s henchmen looking to arrest or kill you.”

The prince then hastily broke the embrace and ushered Tomal into the boat.  As the vessel cast off down the river Prince Fredrick shouted from the docks.  “We shall see each other again soon.”

Somehow Tomal had his doubts.  While the longbo
at sped away from the dock, he watched his couple hundred supporters get overrun by an angry mob of thousands.  Shouts disparaging Tomal and his satanic upbringing carried down the river long after the source passed from view around a bend.

Tomal put his mind at ease by listening to the rhythmic pattern of splash and swoosh the o
ars made in the water.  No one made a sound as the miles passed in silence until they reached a cluster of five horsemen holding a sixth steed in waiting.

A dark brown coat and hood was thrown over Tomal when he stepped off the boat onto dry land.  It was not much, but anything to help disguise his identity while out in public following the council ruling was useful.

While Tomal climbed aboard his horse the man holding the reins gave a status report, “It didn’t take long for word to reach the roadblocks that you escaped using the river.  Search parties are perhaps ten minutes behind us right now.”

“Then we have no time to waste,” Tomal declare
d as he spurred his mount north toward Hamburg and the heart of support for his reformation movement against the Catholic Church.  He turned in his saddle and yelled back to the boat crew.  “Continue down river for another five miles and then make like you sent me toward the south.  May God be with you on your voyage.”

“God
speed,” he heard multiple men shout back.  As if the word speed were his cue, Tomal prompted his horse to a full run up and over the nearest hill.  He managed to hold the hastened pace on through to the next rise to make sure plenty of undulating ground lay between him and his pursuers to make sure he remained out of sight.

Eventually Tomal slowed the pace to a brisk
trot and allowed the leader of his honor guard to catch up.

“A
ny word on the prince or our supporters at the dock?” Tomal asked.  “They were overrun almost immediately by the Catholics.”

“I am afraid not,” the man replied.

Tomal shook his head with frustration and regret.  “Why did he come with the boat?  Why didn’t he just meet me in Hamburg like we planned?”

“The prince believed his public show of support for our cause would serve as an example to bring more supporters out of the shadows.”

Tomal was mad enough to scream and give his position away to anyone in a five mile radius, but instead, he just turned his head toward the west and watched the sun drop below the horizon.  Another hour of travel saw the shadows grow long across the dirt road they traveled and a foreboding darkness settled in.

“Should we pull off to the side and make camp?” the leader asked.

“I am exhausted,” Tomal admitted, “but I don’t suppose our pursuers will do us any favors and stop as well.  I think we need to continue on through the night and then find shelter and rest during the day.”

“I was afraid you would say that,” the man groaned.  “That will limit the distance we are able to travel per day
, but I guess it’s all we can do.”

Not long before darkness completely claimed the wooded path
, the group of six horsemen came upon a four wheeled cart overturned across the road with a lone driver struggling to set it right. 

The sight instantly
put Tomal on edge.  The sound of metal swords being drawn by his guards let him know he was not alone in his concern.  He kept a close eye out, but as they neared the toppled cart Tomal saw no signs of anyone else nearby.

“I think
we can spare a few minutes to perform our Christian duty and help this man,” Tomal said.  The others must have agreed because four of them dismounted to lend the man a hand getting under way again.

“Oh how kind of you to assist,” the man shouted with great delight in a voice that was entirely too loud by Tomal’s judgment.  Whi
le the men worked in cooperation to set the cart back on all four wheels, his sense of impending danger only grew more pronounced as the stranded man looked at Tomal far too often to not be a sign of danger.  A moment later his suspicions were confirmed.

Four horsemen carrying torches came charging down the road from beyond the overturned cart.  Tomal and his lone mounted escort wheeled about to flee in the other direction
, but were horrified to see another group of six riders barreling toward them from the opposite direction.

Left with no other choice
, Tomal turned his mount perpendicular to the road and took off down the hillside with ten dark riders in close pursuit.  The uneven ground was nearly impossible to navigate in the dark.  Tomal realized he was far more likely to get thrown from his horse and break his neck than get away, but he had to try.  Capture meant certain death and an end to his rebellious movement against an entity he was certain was controlled by the Alpha.

Tomal led his horse over bushes, under trees, and through overflowing streams in his effort to get away.  His guard was able to stay with him for a few minutes, but Tomal soon found himself alone in his flight.

He spotted a tall hedge just in time to prompt the horse to leap over the barrier.  On the other side the downward sloping hill took a sharp drop which caused his horse to lose its footing.  The animal’s hind legs slipped under it, and the animal slid on its backside until finally reaching a flat which allowed it to stand up once more.

Tomal spurred his mount to move on, but the hobbled gate let him know something on the hind legs was either cut or broken.  Rather than nurse a lame horse along, Tomal jumped down and attempted to flee on foot.

He managed to scramble a hundred yards further down the hillside, but soon found himself encircled by his pursuers.  Every direction he attempted to go found another horseman holding a lit torch searching for him.  His ring of freedom grew ever smaller until his only refuge was an attempt to silently climb the nearest tree.

He managed to reach the third branch, about ten feet off the ground, when four horsemen gathered beneath his position and illuminated his hiding spot with their torches.

“Martin Luther, you are many things, but a skilled rider or a squirrel you are not,” a familiar voice declared.  “Hiding up a tree does not become a man of your repute.  Climb down; your destiny waits.”

Tomal released the breath he had been holding and then lowered himself down from the branch and let go to drop the remaining two feet to the ground.  He rose to his full height and looked
up at the speaking rider who pulled back his hood.  As the man’s face moved into the orange glow of his torch, the smiling face of Prince Fredrick appeared.

“Come,” the prince said with an awaiting hand extended to help Tomal up onto the back of his horse.  “If I let you keep riding on your own tonight all this ef
fort will be for nothing.”

“What happened to the original plan?” Tomal asked as he slid in behind the saddle to sit upon the horse’s rump.  “Why did you stage an attack rather than just ride up and tell us?”

“Your arguments at the Imperial Diet won over more supporters than even I expected,” the Prince announced.  “Enough so that I can shelter you in my own castle at Wartburg rather than retreating all the way to Hamburg.  I made it look like a clan of highwaymen took you because I have absolute faith in my men and their loyalty, but had questions about those escorting you.”

“You nearly scared the life out of me in the process.  Wartburg is certainly a shorter ride, but are you
sure this will not bring about your downfall?” Tomal asked of his benefactor.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Prince Fredrick said and then led the group of riders off into the night.

The morning light greeted Tomal in a very sleep deprived state as the group of riders passed under the protective walls of Prince Fredrick’s castle. He cringed a bit at the sound of heavy doors locking behind them.  He calmly looked around the castle grounds to get acquainted with
his new surroundings.  He was virtually certain he would be seeing a lot of these walls over the next few years as travel for him outside would not be possible for some time.

The prince
proceeded to escort him up to a private bedchamber with a stone floor and weathered timbers for walls and ceiling.  The rather Spartan room featured a simple bed in one corner, a ceramic stove for warmth in another, along with a desk and chair with plenty of paper for further writing.  Resting alongside the blank pages was a copy of The Bible.

The prince must have read the gloom in Tomal’s face.  He reached out to give him a reassuring pat on the back.  “I know it is not much, but it beats being burned at the stake.”

“With high walls and locked gates, it still feels like a prison.  A comfortable and roomy prison to be sure,” Tomal immediately added to try and temper any offense given.  “What am I to do now locked away from the people who need to hear me?”

The prince picked up
the Bible and thumbed through a few pages and then set it back down.  “It is tragic that such an important book is only written in a dead language that the clergy alone understand, or so they say.  It rather limits both the common and educated man to take the word of priests and their interpretations instead of drawing their own conclusions.”

“Yes, it certainly is a convenient tool to focus the power of the Church into the hands of the few,” Tomal acknowledged.

“Perhaps a person with a talent for linguistics will one day translate the Latin Bible into a common language for all to read and draw inspiration from,” the prince added.

Tomal’s mood suddenly brightened to fill the confined space with a radiant glow.  “Tell me, Fredrick, do you also have a printing press within these walls?”

**********

Hastel
loy reached a lull in his storytelling allowing Dr. Holmes to steal a glance toward his brother.  It was like looking at a stranger.  Where a bright smile and a lighthearted soul usually shined through, Mark now displayed a passive anger and aggression that the victim of a crime might show towards their attacker in a court of law. 

Hastelloy was on trial
; Mark sat as the judge, and with pistol in hand, apparently the executioner as well.  Jeffrey saw his brother’s eyes moving his way so he abruptly turned his attention to the notepad in his lap.

“
Okay, so Tomal was the one who translated the Bible for the masses,” Dr. Holmes exclaimed while thumbing back through some notes he took in a prior session.  It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for.  “Yes, here it is.  Back in Egypt you brought up Tomal’s remarkable talent for breaking down and quickly learning new languages.  You attribute it to languages being very formulaic and logical just like mathematics, physics and other engineering disciplines in which Tomal excels.  Of course he would be the first to translate the Bible into a common language.”

Hastelloy
acknowledged the statement with a sly grin and slight bow of his head.  “It was a task not just anyone could do you know.  It is a nearly impossible task to force the poetry, rhythm, and meaning of the words from one language into another.”