But first, you and I must come to an agreement. I'm sure you've heard the rumors about me. Many know I was not always an advocate of the Reformation. My early writings were steeped in the theology of the Catholics, and I would often refer to God as having a body and a soul." "Those early writings were also steeped in heresy." The pope glared down at Luther. "You have put the Catholic Church through an unbearable trial. Our Savior was nailed to a cross of wood, a piece of which was then used to create this ring." He lifted his hand, displaying it to Luther. "You continue to use this ring for satanic purposes. You speak of a kingdom of your own and do not believe in the authority of the Holy Father." Luther leaned over and picked up the broken ring. His smile was genuine. "Your Holiness, this is truly a marvelous piece of craftsmanship. I can't imagine anyone not being impressed." "Your sarcasm is not helping the situation. I have read what you wrote about a kingdom of your own. Your words have disturbed the congregation, the archbishops, and me." "Forgive my insensitivity, Your Holiness. I meant no disrespect. When I wrote that, I was young, and you had the great wisdom of the ancients before me. If I offended you, I offer you my most sincere apologies." "Don't worry, Martin. I realize that you are not yet ready to believe in Christ." "I am as ready as I'll ever be, Your Holiness." "How can I tell if you have truly turned to God?" "I am willing to suffer in my heart. That is what most of the reformers are doing." "I don't see any evidence of this in your writings. Why don't you tell me what your beliefs are? What has led you to make these changes in your theology?" Luther wiped his brow. "I would rather not. It is a long and sad story, and one that I hope will never happen again." The pope shook his head. "I will not relent on this. I need to know that you have truly repented, Martin." Luther felt as though his body was collapsing. He would have to admit to his most intimate sins, things he'd never shared with another living soul. "I made a vow to myself that I would never do so." "You seem very reluctant to answer. If I am able to make a difference in your life, you must do as I command. Otherwise, you must be punished." Luther's hands were shaking. He was beginning to understand why some people refused to talk to the Inquisition. "I want to be punished, Your Holiness. I've put the Church through a great deal, but nothing like what I deserve." The pope stood, a look of anger on his face. "Then it is time you are taught a lesson. Martin, you are coming with me." ## Rome Luther did not know if he was hallucinating. He'd just been hauled into a cell and told he was a heretic, but the room was lit by torches. No, there was a lamp on a stand. He still wasn't sure if the visions he was seeing were from God or if this was a nightmare. He sat on a chair, his back to the wall, clutching his Bible. He didn't know what to expect next. He'd seen a man beaten to death by the Inquisition and another beheaded. Both had been guilty of heresy. Luther wanted to tell them he would confess to anything, anything at all, if only they'd give him an audience. He wasn't sure the Pope could hear his cries. One thing was for certain, God was working through him, despite all his doubts. God was working through him. He wondered what had happened to Matthäus. The boy couldn't possibly be as old as Luther thought, and yet he had known these things about Christ. Maybe the boy was still alive, and this was just a vision. A single door opened, and he knew who was coming. So much for a vision. "Brother Martin, you are being brought up on charges for the heresies you have written." He had trouble focusing. This was almost too much. He prayed that God would give him the strength to die honorably. "In Christ, you are a heretic. You have denied the Holy Father and his power to declare who is a Christian and who is not." "No, no, no, no." He wanted to say the words out loud, to talk, but his throat was bone dry. "You are to be burned." The room disappeared, and Luther saw nothing but fire. He felt no heat, but he did feel a sharp pain in his hands, as though he were being held over a candle flame. He felt a scream in his throat, but it was trapped inside. The pain and the voices and the visions made it difficult to think. He could hear himself screaming, and still he couldn't make a sound. He kept hearing the church bells. He woke to an older man and woman staring down at him. The room was not lit by flames, nor was the sky. He was lying in a bed, and his hand hurt like he'd stuck it in a fire. He struggled to pull his hand away. The woman took his hand in hers. "It's fine, it's fine," she said. He tried to rise, and the woman grabbed his shoulders to prevent him from moving. "Why are you holding me down?" He was fighting to keep the image of the previous night's vision in his head. If God would just remove this from his head, he would become a good man, a man who worshipped him. "We didn't want you to hurt yourself. You'll be in pain for a while. Can you tell me what happened?" "Oh, I was having a vision, wasn't I? Maybe you can enlighten me. I've never had a vision before." "A vision. Is that what you call it?" "I was sitting with the pope." "And how did he look to you?" Luther swallowed. "He was a very tall man." The woman shook her head. "You'll have to be more specific." "He had light brown hair and a long, pointed beard. He was wearing a silk robe with lace on it. He had on a ring that was made out of what I'm assuming were pieces of the wood of the cross used to kill Jesus." "But you said you were sitting with him." "Yes, and we were talking about God." The woman released a sigh, but did not look surprised. "There were these voices telling me to do things." "That was no vision, that was a nightmare, I believe." Luther laughed. "You see? I was having a nightmare. I woke up screaming." "What did you see?" "Fire, and a large man holding me over a very hot flame." "I need to ask you something." "You need to ask me what?" "How do you know you were still dreaming?" Luther lay his head back on the pillow. He was still having visions, but they were getting shorter, and the dreams had begun. He knew now what a nightmare was, and it was something he was no longer having. It had been a long, painful night of suffering and questions he'd struggled to understand. At times the visions seemed as real as real could be, but they weren't dreams. He knew that now. They were dreams. A terrible nightmare. "The voices said something about God." "Not everything the voices said is true." "How would you know?" "I've spent a lifetime learning what is true, and what is not." Luther's eyes shifted around the room. There was a window in the corner and a dark blanket covering his legs. It was day. He was no longer in the convent cell. He was in a bed. "You've told your dreams to a man of God. You didn't think the Pope might be shocked? You are living in the time of the Inquisition." Luther nodded. "I suppose he would have been angry." "He would be concerned about you." Luther leaned his head back on the pillow. "I'll try not to disappoint him. Do you know what he was thinking when he was speaking with me? I believe he was explaining that my views on the Holy Trinity had been tainted by the Catholic Church." "And did you explain to him what you believe about the Trinity?" "I'm afraid I did not. It was difficult enough confessing to my own failings, let alone telling others why they weren't following God's way." The woman smiled. "You must have given him something to consider." Luther turned to look at her. "I told him I would not be returning to my cell. I suppose he's a little less anxious to burn me at the stake now. I do not want to die." "There will be