Luther and Katharina (23 page)

“Hush now.” The abbess's whisper was sharp.

Katharina cast one last glance at Greta and wanted to weep at the injustice of the girl's life all those years at Marienthron and what it had now become.

“You couldn't have protected her even if you'd tried.” The abbess spoke matter-of-factly and slowed down only when they reached the stairway that led away from the dormitory. “Your own safety was purchased with a high price. You need only ask your Aunt Lena.”

Katharina shuddered to think of what lengths her aunt may have gone to in order to protect her over the years, what sacrifices she had made to keep her safe from Abbot Baltazar. She owed Aunt Lena her life.

A scream like that of a swine in the slaughterhouse came from the misericord and echoed down the hallway.

Katharina's skin prickled. But the abbess pressed her down the winding stairway. When they reached the bottom, the woman shoved her toward the garden, deserted at the late hour. “Hurry now.”

Katharina stumbled and almost fell.

“Use the back gate.”

At that moment Katharina understood the depth of sacrifice the abbess was making for her. Katharina started forward but then glanced at her aunt one last time. She was surprised at the stark guilt in the woman's severe face.

Although the abbess had never shown her any love or kindness, Katharina realized that now, when it mattered most, her aunt had put aside her jealousy of her sister and was setting Katharina free—free to have the kind of life that she'd envied.

“Go.” The command was harsh.

Katharina nodded. Then without further hesitation, she turned and ran.

T
he light of the candle fell across Katharina's back, revealing the welts and bloody slashes in the otherwise pure and creamy skin. Even from across the room, Luther could see every mark, and his own skin burned as though feeling the beating too. Fresh rage rampaged through him, and his fingers clenched into a fist with the unfamiliar urge to slam his hand against something or someone.

“How is she?” he whispered.

Sister Magdalene gave a start from where she knelt beside Katharina. Her eyes widened. “Doctor Luther?”

Katharina faced the wall, but he still heard her soft gasp and whisper. “Cover me, Sister Magdalene. Immediately.”

Sister Magdalene groped for the blanket already half covering Katharina and draped it gingerly over the rest of her back.

As Luther crossed the short distance to the pallet, Magdalene moved away. The scent of onion and an assortment of strong spices told him she had recently applied poultices to Katharina's wounds.

As he lowered himself, Katharina shifted her head to face him. Her hair cascaded over her flushed cheeks and down her bare neck. The flicker of candlelight danced on the copper tints that mingled with the silky blond. He'd never seen it down and loose. It was beautiful, and he was strangely relieved that it hadn't been sheared.

She peered at him from beneath the thin veil of her hair, her blue eyes luminous.

A strong force clutched his gut and twisted it. He'd told himself a thousand times he was through with any desire for Katharina von Bora. He was absolutely finished. But now that he was by her side, the pull was too strong. He couldn't deny that something about her drew him irresistibly. He wasn't sure what it was. All he knew was that he had to be with her and make sure she was all right.

He lifted his fingers and brushed at the soft strands.

She sucked in a breath.

He shouldn't. But the silkiness beckoned to him like gold to a treasure seeker. He twisted a long piece against his thumb, marveling at God's handiwork in a woman. These past years when his friends had started marrying, he'd tried to convince himself that he didn't need a woman. He'd tried to cut off any longings before they'd had the chance to begin. But now he couldn't imagine why he'd tried so hard to resist his natural urges, not with Katharina lying before him so exquisite and womanly.

The light in her eyes warmed his insides. Was she happy to see him?

“How are you?” he asked.

“I'm alive.”

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Magdalene's poultices are a godsend.”

He let go of her hair and trailed his fingers down her cheek, finally letting himself exhale the breath of relief that he hadn't been able to expel in the weeks since she'd been taken.

From behind him Sister Magdalene gave a slight cough.

Luther pulled his hand away and frowned at the woman. Couldn't he have a moment alone with Katharina?

“I didn't think you'd come,” Katharina whispered.

“I've been in Torgau this past month, pleading with the elector for your release.” Elector Frederick, as usual, hadn't wanted to involve himself in the case. With the conclusion of another Diet of Nuremberg, the pressure on Elector Frederick had escalated too high. A new pope, Clement VII, and his nuncio had demanded the elector begin at once fulfilling the Edict of Worms—rounding up the followers of the reforms and putting them to the sword.

Luther was still a hunted man, wanted dead or alive. But this time at least the German princes had taken a stand for him. They were angry that the new pope had ignored their list of one hundred grievances, the
Centum Gravamina.
In fact, the new pope had not just ignored their grievances; he'd scoffed at them and said that such a paper could never have emanated from the princes, that it only could have originated from someone who hated the court of Rome.

Luther no longer thought the princes would hand him over to the pope. God was bringing more of them to his side. But the pope's nuncio had stirred up the church's persecution of those who dared to defy him. If the nuncio couldn't get the princes to squash the reforms, then he would incite his faithful bishops and religious dignitaries to fulfill the edict.

Officials like Bishop Petrus were on a holy mission to cleanse the church. He'd vehemently opposed Luther's efforts to get Katharina released and had made Luther's life a nightmare over the past weeks.

“Word of your escape reached me only two days ago,” he said bending closer. “I thought you'd be safe with Sister Magdalene here in Grimma. But now we've reason to believe your life is in jeopardy again.”

The light in her eyes faded and was replaced by fear.

“That's why I'm here.” He wouldn't tell her he'd been frantic to get to her and had barely slept since he'd received the news. “I've come to take you away before it's too late. We must leave as soon as possible, before dawn.”

“She's in no condition to travel,” Sister Magdalene said quietly.

“Tell me the trouble.” Katharina looked at him without wavering, although a haunted fear lingered in her expression.

He'd traveled all night, telling himself he'd do the same for any other nun in trouble. But the fact was, he'd panicked when he'd heard the news. After weeks of not knowing Katharina's condition inside Marienthron, he didn't want to lose her to the convent again.

“Bishop Petrus is accusing you of murdering Abbot Baltazar. He's asking for your arrest.”

“No one will believe him. How could they?”

Luther had heard enough about the hideous condition of Abbot Baltazar's body when it had been discovered to know that Katharina couldn't have inflicted such torture upon the man. “We both agree you couldn't possibly have had the strength or the fortitude to murder Baltazar in the way he was. But without any other suspects, they're concluding you murdered him.”

She shook her head. The movement shifted the blanket, revealing the curve of her shoulder.

He started to raise his fingers to the spot of flesh but then folded his hands together and looked away from the tempting stretch of skin. “Are you willing to identify the true murderer?”

“I can't.” Her face said everything. She knew who had killed Abbot Baltazar, but she would never divulge it. She probably owed that person her life.

“I had a feeling you wouldn't tell anything. That's why we're leaving. Now.”

“But Aunt Lena.” Katharina strained to see past him to the opposite side of the bedroom, where Aunt Lena lay asleep on her pallet. “I can't leave her.”

“She'll be safe here. The officials won't interfere with Sister Magdalene, not as the sister of one of their own important leaders.” Doctor Johann von Staupitz, Magdalene's older brother, had been one of the most important figures in Luther's life during his early monastery days. Even though they weren't close anymore, Luther still thought of him as his spiritual father. Staupitz had been the first to distribute copies of the Bible to the monks of his monastery. The reading of Scriptures was usually strictly controlled and rationed, but Staupitz had encouraged them to study their Bibles. And Luther had obeyed him with more zeal than anyone else.

“Aunt Lena will be safe here with Sister Magdalene. Besides, she's lost her faculties. They won't seek her return to the abbey.”

Katharina's eyes glossed with tears as she gazed at the thin, slumped form of her aunt. “She protected me all those years in ways I never dreamed of. I cannot abandon her.”

Something in Katharina's expression ignited a flame in him. “What did that devil Baltazar do to you?”

She closed her eyes and shuddered.

“What did he do? Tell me. Did he violate you?” His entire body burned with a rage so intense he was certain that if Baltazar had been in the room, he would have plunged his knife into him.

Katharina opened her eyes. The despair in them tore at his rationality. He reached for her hand and pressed it between his.

“No. Not me,” she whispered. “But how many others?”

He knew far too many others had suffered, but he couldn't hold back the surge of relief that it hadn't been Katharina this time.

“We need to go, Martinus.” Jonas's irritated call came from the other room. “We can't afford to ride out of Grimma in broad daylight.”

“Are you ready?” Luther didn't know how he could leave her if she refused to come.

She hesitated, then sighed in resignation. “Very well.”

He pushed himself up to his feet. “Sister Magdalene, will you help Katharina get ready with all haste?”

Sister Magdalene hesitated, her expression one of disapproval, before she finally nodded.

As Luther closed the bedroom door, Jonas pursed his lips. “You're pathetic.” He stood in front of the low, crackling fire on the hearth, drinking a mug of ale.

Luther crossed his arms. “I brought you along this time instead of Melanchthon so I wouldn't have anyone nagging me about Katharina.”

Jonas snorted. “You told me we were only coming here to rescue her from danger.”

“And we are.”

Jonas's thick eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “You're an old fool. She doesn't want someone like you, and she never will. You're only torturing yourself to think she'll ever have you.”

Luther glared back. Why did Jonas have to be right about everything? Couldn't he ever be wrong?

“Get her back to Wittenberg,” Jonas groused. “Find her a noble husband. Then forget about her.”

Luther shook his head but then grabbed the wall as dizziness swept over him. If he wasn't suffering from one thing, it was another—dizziness, constipation, stomach cramps, melancholy. He
was
an old fool.

“Ach.” Before leaving Torgau he'd resolved to rescue Katharina, but to consider her nothing more than a sister in the Lord. However, every time he got near her, all his willpower melted away like ice in a spring thaw.

“If you've finally changed your mind about wanting a wife,” Jonas said, his hard, aristocratic expression finally softening, “you'll have to set your sights on someone else.”

Luther stomped across the room and grabbed his cloak from the bench where he'd discarded it in his haste to see Katharina. “I haven't changed my mind. I don't want a wife.”

Jonas just shook his head.

Luther slung his cloak over his shoulders and refused to look at his friend again for fear of what Jonas might see in his eyes. Silently he resolved that after they returned to Wittenberg, the first thing he'd write was a letter to that rogue Jerome, insisting he follow through on his promise to marry Katharina. If Jerome was the man she wanted, then he'd do his best to make sure that's who she got.

And after she was married, perhaps he'd finally have peace of mind. Then he could get back to the work God had given him without thoughts of Katharina distracting him.