Luther and Katharina (35 page)

Katharina listened to Doctor Luther argue with Melanchthon while she pressed the poultice against Karlstadt's filthy forehead. She had cleaned and sewn the gash, and now the warm paste of comfrey and calendula wrapped in clean linen would ease the pain.

She couldn't help but overhearing the sharp exchange Doctor Luther was having with Melanchthon and his other advisors. They were all urging him to travel to Torgau to meet with the new elector.

She didn't understand the situation but had heard enough to know that if he didn't go, Duke George would likely convince Elector John to join with the other princes in suppressing Doctor Luther and the reforms once and for all. Without Elector Frederick there to provide a shield from the attacks, perhaps the arrows would finally reach their target.

Katharina watched Doctor Luther's dark eyes flash with anger, and compassion stirred within her. Ever since she'd met him, the princes had wavered in their support of him and the many changes he'd wrought in the Church of Rome. She couldn't imagine living with such inner turmoil and uncertainty—never knowing which day would be his last.

“Then apparently I have no choice.” His irritated voice carried through the small room. “I must fall prostrate before Elector John and kiss the ground he walks on, or he will reinstitute the old faith.”

No one said anything.

Finally Melanchthon spoke. “You must go. And you must also write another letter, one that will placate the princes.”

“After they've butchered the masses, I'll do no such thing—”

“You must.” There was a strange challenge in Melanchthon's words, as though he was asking his friend to prove him wrong, to prove that he would still be loyal to the cause even though he'd taken a wife.

“I refuse to leave until the morning,” Doctor Luther said, but without conviction.

“It's nearly morning. We need to leave now.”

Luther let out a noisy sigh. Then he turned toward her. Candlelight showed the frustration on his face.

Was he disappointed that their night together had been interrupted? Her heart fluttered with the thought that he wanted to be with her enough to fight with his friends.

He started across the room in her direction. She glanced down to the tattered rags Karlstadt claimed for clothes, trying to hide the strange passions Doctor Luther's merest glance stirred within her.

Karlstadt had long since fallen asleep. After weeks of running and hiding and avoiding marauding bands of peasants, somehow he'd finally made his way to Doctor Luther for help. He'd promised Doctor Luther that he was a changed man, that he would never again write, preach, or teach. On his knees and with tears wetting his cheeks, he'd begged Doctor Luther to appeal to the elector to spare his life and let him return to Saxony to live in peace.

Doctor Luther stood above her, silent and unmoving for a long moment. “I regret that I must go,” he finally whispered. “All my friends are convinced that if I'm to save our cause, then I must leave for Torgau at once.”

She lifted her face. “I shall never try to stop you from doing what God's called you to.”

He lifted his fingers and made a slow, tender trail around her face. Her insides flipped with a sharp need for him.

“I want you to stay away from Karlstadt,” he said, with a glance of disdain toward the sickbed. “I've instructed Brother Gabriel and Wolfgang to move him to the barn.”

“I shall need to tend his wound.”

“Only with their assistance. I don't trust him. He's lived too long as my enemy. I fear that he may offer the hand of friendship but stab me once my back is turned.”

“Then I shall use caution.”

He brushed his thumb across the high ridge of her cheek. “I don't know how long I'll be gone. But while I'm away, use the wedding money to purchase whatever you need.”

Katharina leaned into his touch and nodded. Suddenly she had a vision of her future, of the kind of life she would lead, forever saying good-bye to the man she had married and wondering if it would be the last time she would see him alive.

A hard lump settled into her chest. She'd known Doctor Luther traveled extensively to preach and spread his new teachings. He'd always done so. But she hadn't expected her reaction, hadn't expected she'd care so much that he was leaving or that his life would be in jeopardy with each leg of the journey.

“Good-bye, Kate.” His words were soft, and his eyes filled with regret.

“Good-bye, Martin.” Regret whispered through her too. She'd anticipated their night together, and now she would have to wait for his return—if he returned.

He shot a glance at his friends, then leaned down and bent his face toward hers.

She felt the warmth of his breath as his lips brushed against hers for an intensely sweet moment.

Then he was gone.

K
atharina didn't know what was wrong with her. The empty place in her heart pained her as it never had before. No matter how hard she tried to busy herself with other tasks, her thoughts came back to Doctor Luther, to memories of his touch, his kiss, the look in his eyes when he'd said good-bye.

With each day he was gone, her longing to see him and be near him swelled until she felt that she might make herself sick with the pain of it. Work was the only distraction from her heartache. She cared for Aunt Lena, attended to Karlstadt's wound, and busied herself bringing order back to the monastery. She finished cleaning the rooms and spent the majority of her time extending the garden.

Several other preachers arrived at the cloister gate, seeking help from Doctor Luther. She allowed them to stay with Karlstadt in the barn. When they offered to work for their stay, she began to think of all the opportunities she had to make the Black Cloister function to her advantage.

She knew Doctor Luther's financial situation was bleak. He had nothing in the way of worldly wealth or even a steady income. As she walked through the empty but freshly cleaned rooms of the dormitory, she realized if she housed and fed university students, monks, and refugee preachers, she could possibly earn money.

Katharina discussed her plans with Barbara Cranach. Finally with Barbara's guidance she hired two servants. She used a majority of their wedding money to buy provisions, bedding, fabric, grain, malt, wood, pots, and all the other supplies she would need to provide for boarders.

Of course Wolfgang protested her initiative and grumbled each time she asked for his help. But Brother Gabriel was more willing, and she turned to him often for assistance, especially since the new boarders were men.

At Barbara's suggestion she decided to use the second floor of the cloister as the main living space for Doctor Luther and herself. She converted one of the smaller rooms into a bedroom and had one of the pastors build them a bed.

While she worked, thoughts of Doctor Luther lingered in her mind. She had hoped for a letter, for news of his well-being, but the days passed with nothing.

Her worry mounted when word reached Wittenberg that Duke George had beheaded two men merely for having Luther's pamphlets in their houses. It seemed now that the duke was done fighting the peasants, he planned to continue the bloodshed but this time in an aggressive war to suppress Doctor Luther and his followers. At night Katharina shivered on the new bed, thinking about the never-ending danger her husband faced.

When the day of Saint Mary Magdalene came and passed, and he'd been gone for nearly three weeks, Katharina started to fear that she would never see him again. Her heart jumped with anticipation every time she heard the clomp of horse hoofs on the street outside the cloister. Her eyes would dart to the gate whenever anyone entered. But disappointment became a constant companion as each day passed without his return.

It wasn't until one afternoon toward the end of July that she looked up from the garden and saw Doctor Luther striding toward her. She took in the sight of him—his strong, purposeful step, his wide shoulders, his dark, passionate eyes. And suddenly she knew what was happening to her.

She was falling in love.

Her breath stuck on the edge of a sob. Relief weakened her knees so that even though she wanted to run to him, she could only kneel in the freshly weeded soil and watch him approach.

He was safe—for at least one more day.

The late afternoon sunshine had already plastered her bodice to her back, but a fresh warmth breezed over her skin. She tilted up her wide-brimmed straw hat and smiled at him.

He was darkly handsome, his face chiseled and strong. He came directly toward her, but he didn't return her smile.

Everything inside her wanted to jump up and throw her arms around him and tell him never to go away again. But when he stopped in front of her and towered above her, something in the tight lines of his face made her heartbeat falter. The brown of his eyes flashed with a spark of anger.

Her smile wavered.

He glanced over at Brother Gabriel weeding the rows of beans. “I need to speak with Katharina. Privately.”

Brother Gabriel nodded, stood, and brushed the dirt from his gnarled hands.

“You may finish tying the grapevines,” Katharina said to him.

He bowed slightly, then shuffled toward the end of the garden where she had recently pruned the vines. They had been neglected for years and were in need of cultivation before they would ever be productive.

Doctor Luther's gaze followed Brother Gabriel. Once the old monk reached the vines, Doctor Luther turned his attention back to her.

She smiled at him again. “Welcome home. I've missed you.”

“Exactly what do you think you're doing?” His voice was a terse, low growl, and his eyes narrowed on her.

Her heart pattered to a stop. No warm greeting. No platitudes about how much he'd missed her too. He had nothing to offer but his censure. “I'm not sure what you're referring to.”

“I think you know.”

Her smile faded in the scorching heat of his glare. Was he angry at her already?

She studied his face, the gauntness of his cheeks, the crevices in his forehead, and the dark circles under his eyes. The trip had taken its toll on him. “You're tired.” She pushed herself off the ground and straightened. “Let me fix you a soothing drink and prepare you something to eat.”

He planted his feet and folded his arms across his chest. “I lost my appetite once I stepped into my home and heard what you've been doing during my absence.”

Her mind began to whirl. What had Wolfgang told him? Every day she'd labored from before first light until well after dark. How could Doctor Luther find any fault in the things she'd accomplished while he'd been gone? “I thought you'd find satisfaction in all my hard work to make the cloister livable and sustainable.”

“Quite the opposite. I'm very disappointed.”

His words were like a bucket of cold water on a hearth fire. “I don't understand—”

“Yes, you do.” He took a step nearer, close enough that she could detect the lingering scent of horseflesh on his clothes. “I'm still not good enough for you, am I? And the cloister isn't good enough either.”

“Martin,” she pleaded. She reached for his arm.

He leaned away from her touch.

Sudden tears stung her eyes, and she pulled back.

“Too bad you don't have a wealthy husband who can give you a house full of servants and land and fancy clothes and all the things a noblewoman wants.”

“Why would you say such a thing—”

“You've turned my home into a business!” he roared. “Apparently you're not satisfied with what I provide. So now you're charging people to stay here.”

“I'm simply trying to find a way to have a steady income.”

“Why? Because you're not satisfied with the kind of life I can provide you?”

“No…” Was she dissatisfied? She looked around at the bigger garden, the pruned trees, and at Brother Gabriel working quietly with his back to them, clearly trying to ignore their argument. Why had she worked so hard over the past weeks? Was she trying to make more of her life here than possible?

“The fact is, Kate, you've never thought I was good enough for you.” Through the flashes of anger in his eyes, she glimpsed a deeper hurt. “You're still trying to be a noblewoman.”

She wanted to deny his words, but she didn't know if she could. “I thought I was helping.”

“You?
Helping?
” He snorted. “You used the wedding money to hire servants. How is that
helping
?”

“I've worked every bit as hard as the servants.”

“Sure.” He started to stride away. “You worked hard spending the wedding money.”

“That's not true.” Certainly he could appreciate her efforts to fix and clean up the cloister. “If you look around, you'll see how much progress I've made since you've been gone.”

He reached the edge of the garden, then halted. “I've never made anyone pay to stay at the Black Cloister. Never.”

“But it will help bring us an income—”

“When you were homeless, did I ask you for anything?”

“No.”

His gaze burned into her. “I've opened the doors of the monastery to everyone—runaway nuns and monks, friends, and now even Karlstadt, one of my enemies.”

He was right. He'd provided a refuge for her and countless others. And he'd done so out of the goodness of his heart, even though it had put him in greater danger and poverty.

“I've never charged anyone for staying here in the past, and I'm not planning to start now.”

She shook her head in mounting frustration. “But we need some way to provide for the upkeep of the buildings and to buy provisions—”

“God will provide. He put fingers on our hands for the money to slide through them so He can give us more. Whatever a person gives away, God will reimburse.”

“But surely God's not opposed to us finding a way to earn money.”

His glare narrowed. “If anyone comes to the Black Cloister for help, we give it freely.” He turned to go.

“If we had an income, just think of how many more people we could help.”

“No.” He walked away. “My answer is no. Don't ask me again.”

Katharina watched him until he turned past the raised herb beds and disappeared behind a wall of tall ferns.

She let out a long breath and blew at a loose strand of hair dangling in her face. “That didn't go well.”

Down the path Brother Gabriel kept his focus trained on the vines in front of him, and his face was impassive, as usual. Nevertheless, Katharina couldn't keep from feeling humiliated that the old monk had witnessed her disastrous reunion with her husband.

Katharina kicked the trowel she'd left in the dirt. She'd only thought to make their lives better. She'd wanted to please him with her improvements, to make him proud of her initiatives to earn money. Instead, all she had done was anger him. Again.

What was wrong with her?

She'd missed him, had longed for him, had dreamed of seeing him again. And now she'd pushed him further away when the only place she wanted to be was in his arms. Was she simply destined to face rejection?

Her throat tightened with the pain of a lifetime of being discarded by the people she'd loved. She wasn't sure how she could bear one more rejection, especially by the man she'd grown to love.