Luther and Katharina (16 page)

But what of the rumors? What if his eagerness to bed her had more to do with winning a bet than consummating their secret marriage?

She allowed herself an inward groan at her predicament before giving him a compromise. “I shall think about it tonight, Jerome.”

He grinned.

“But only if you promise that whatever I decide, you'll marry me the very first day you return to Wittenberg.”

“That, my dear, I can promise.”

F
orgive me my sins, O Lord. Forgive me my sins.

Katharina unrolled the crinkled paper, her only possession of any value.

O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins.
Maybe if she prayed through the Act of Contrition often enough
and
did penance, God would truly forgive her for what she was about to do.

She smoothed the paper on her lap and fingered the fading ink. And if He didn't forgive her, she could always rely on her indulgence for help. Her mother's hands had trembled when she'd given it to her. Her voice had been a mere whisper when she'd instructed her to keep it with her always so that someday they could see each other in heaven. If she was making the wrong choice—if she was sinning by consummating her relationship with Jerome—then surely the indulgence would keep her from condemnation.

Hurried footsteps clunked on the balcony outside the room in the servants' quarters that Margaret shared with her sister, Eva. Katharina rolled the indulgence and stuffed it into her pouch.

“Katharina?” Margaret swung open the door, flooding the narrow room with light. It revealed the sparseness and the lack of worldly possessions that plagued them in their current working situations.

Katharina arose from the straw pallet and tucked her pouch back into hiding beneath her underbodice.

“Eva said that you were here, that you needed to see me.” Margaret's breath came in short bursts. “What ails you?”

“Close the door.”

Margaret pushed it shut, snuffing out the sunshine and casting a cloak over the room. Because of Margaret's height, her plain skirt, a castoff from one of the townswomen, barely touched her ankles. But in the weeks she had lived and worked at the Cranachs', she'd begun to fill out so that her features were softer.

“I need you to come with me.” Katharina straightened her own castoff skirt. “I'm to gather firewood this morn and am in need of a companion.”

Margaret's breathing grew suddenly silent.

“We must make haste,” Katharina said.

“But we did this work only yesterday morn.”

Katharina picked up a large woven basket next to her and slipped her arms through the straps so it hung down her back.

“And, besides, I'm in the middle of making beds.” Margaret held up a bed staff, the club used for smoothing the heavy linen sheets.

Katharina put a finger to her lips. “I shall not be collecting wood.”

Margaret's eyes widened.

“I shall be meeting Jerome.”

“Oh, Katharina.” Dismay weighted her friend's words.

“He sent me a message that I'm to find the grove of quince on the south of the Elbe. I'm to meet him there when the bells ring for Terce.”

Margaret's brow furrowed, and she shook her head.

Even though her friend's hesitancy mirrored her own, she refused to acknowledge it. “You must come with me.”

“Do you realize what tomorrow is?”

At her friend's abrupt question, Katharina's thoughts tumbled like barrels in a wagon bed. “I don't care what day tomorrow is.”

“But, Katharina, tomorrow's the feast day of the Visitation.”

“What does it matter?” She spoke more irritably than she'd intended, and she blamed it on the fact that she'd tossed and turned on her pallet most of the night. Now her head ached. “Let's be on our way.”

Margaret put out a hand to stop her. “Don't you remember the rumors? the bets?”

Katharina kneaded circles in her temple. Yes, she did remember the rumors. But after thinking about all her options, she'd come to the conclusion she must do as Jerome wanted. It was the only way to guarantee the future she wanted. If he won a bet by bedding her by the day of the Visitation, what difference would it make?

“He's promised to marry me when he returns to Wittenberg.”

“Then why not wait?”

Katharina rubbed her eyes trying to ward off a faint headache. “I don't want to lose him, Margaret.”

Margaret's eyes softened.

“He's exactly what I've wanted. He can give me everything I've desired and never had.” At least that's what she'd tried to convince herself of all night. She kept telling herself that even if he had his faults, even if he was flirtatious and slightly insincere at times, underneath he was a good man. She couldn't expect to find a man who was perfect in every way. Jerome would have to do, especially in light of the fact she hadn't had many other options.

Margaret's long fingers found hers and squeezed. “I don't have a good feeling about this, but I'll come with you if that's what you want.”

Katharina hesitated. The alarms began ringing in her head again. She'd tried silencing them, had thought they were done sounding. “We must go.” If she couldn't quiet the warnings, she would ignore them. She stepped to the door. “He'll be waiting.”

She followed as Margaret led the way out of the domestic quarters on the third story and down the stairway to the sprawling courtyard of the residence, a square, grassy area that had several fruit trees and a small vegetable garden and was surrounded on all four sides by workshops and living quarters. They wound their way unnoticed through the bustle of servants and apprentices, playing children, and clucking hens. Katharina had come to realize that the Cranach household was the largest private dwelling in Wittenberg and that it resembled a small village. With studios for painting and engraving, as well as the apothecary shop and printing press, the place was always teeming.

“Stop.” Margaret flattened herself against the brick wall and pushed Katharina back with her.

“What is it—”

“Shh.” Margaret put a finger to her lips. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes alight. She leaned forward and inclined her ear toward the open doorway in front of her. “Doctor Luther's here.”

Katharina quieted her clamoring thoughts and listened.

“The publication of Scripture must in no way be fettered.” Luther's strong voice was easy to distinguish.

“Chieregati's edict from the Diet asks that the printers and vendors of your books be punished.” This voice belonged to Master Cranach. “If the princes carry out his request, the first place they'll come is here. Everyone knows I print whatever you bring me.”

“You do it because you know it's God's work. And I'm sure you don't mind that in the process I'm making you a rich man.”

Margaret leaned into Katharina and whispered. “Doctor Luther won't take honorariums on the sale of his books. He lets Master Cranach have all the profits.”

Katharina raised a brow and thought of the poverty of the Black Cloister, of the financial want Doctor Luther had experienced when they'd arrived in Wittenberg. Surely he would benefit from taking something, even if only a pittance.

Doctor Luther's voice grew louder in his passion. “We're following the edict prohibiting the printing and vending of all materials that have not been inspected and approved by judges. But we cannot compromise the publication of Scripture. This is our only exception to the mandates.”

Master Cranach's hearty laughter rolled through the doorway. “Ah, Martinus, I can always count on you to cheer my spirits.”

“All right.” Doctor Luther's voice hinted at humor. “I suppose printing Scripture isn't the only exception.”

Master Cranach's laughter rang out again.

Margaret tilted toward Katharina with another whispered explanation. “They say the princes have commanded Doctor Luther to refrain from preaching. But he's been away from Wittenberg preaching everywhere.”

If she was perfectly honest, Katharina had to admit she had noticed Doctor Luther's absence from the Stadtkirche during the services. She'd seen little of him since the night he'd rescued her from Abbot Baltazar's men but had lived with an unsettled ache in her chest, wondering if her choice that night had hurt him.

Margaret sighed. “I wish he wasn't gone so much and I could see him more often.”

Katharina's heart swelled with compassion for her dear friend and her lack of suitors. Already Eva had the attention of one of the young medical students working in Master Cranach's apothecary. But Margaret still had no prospects and kept her heart set on Doctor Luther. If only men didn't put so much stock in things like a dowry and age and outward appearances. If only they could see Margaret's heart, what a good, kind woman she was.

Katharina stepped away from the wall, determination stiffening her spine. She must ensure Margaret's marriage to Doctor Luther before leaving Wittenberg as Jerome's bride.

“You won't see him if you cower outside the door.” She tugged her friend forward and then gave her a shove that sent her tripping into the printing shop.

Katharina heard Margaret's startled gasp and then her stammering apology.

Ave Maria.
The woman lacked all art in alluring a man. Not that she was so skilled herself, but at least she had already captured the attention of a suitor. It was becoming more apparent that Margaret would never attract Doctor Luther if left on her own.

Katharina pressed her lips together and stepped into the shop. The metallic scent of ink on wet paper filled the large room.

The two journeymen manning the press glanced her way. One was rolling ink with a long-handled ball onto the frame filled with type. The other had a dampened piece of paper and held it ready to spread over the frame. An apprentice stood by to aid them. The rest of the shop was strung with lines of drying paper, which hung above the heads of the bookbinder and typesetter at their benches.

“I'm sure Doctor Luther was just about to inquire how his runaway nuns are faring, Margaret.” She touched Margaret's elbow to warn her against retreating. Katharina's attention leaped from Master Cranach slouched over a type tray to Doctor Luther towering above him.

For a second Doctor Luther's gaze met hers. There was a flash of something powerful in his rich brown eyes—something that barreled into her and made her catch her breath. But before she could make sense of the emotion, his eyes narrowed. “I've no need to ask about you, Katharina. The sordid news of you and your lover spreads through Wittenberg daily.”

She stiffened. What did Doctor Luther know about her relationship with Jerome? Certainly not the truth. She glanced around the workshop and glowered at the others, who had stopped their work to watch her. They ducked their heads and resumed their tasks. Master Cranach, on the other hand, was peering quizzically back and forth between her and Doctor Luther. She'd learned in her previous visits with Margaret that Master Cranach was kind. He was a man with a quick smile behind his long, forked beard and a man who indulged in hearty laughter that shook his full belly.

Doctor Luther stood with arms crossed, clearly waiting for her to answer his challenge.

She returned his stare, unwilling to let him shake her confidence.

“Perhaps Baumgartner will have more news to share today,” he said in a low voice. “What do you think, my dear Katharina?”

Her body froze. Did Doctor Luther know of her plans to meet Jerome? Her heart thudded with the thought that perhaps her impending secret marriage to Jerome was not so secret after all.

“Jerome has promised to marry me.”

Luther raised his brow. “He promised?”

“He's promised to marry me when he returns to Wittenberg.”

Surprise flitted through his eyes, followed by anger. “Then I congratulate you, Katharina. It appears that you've accomplished the job of finding yourself a wealthy and noble husband, just as you've desired. I pray that the two of you will be drunk on your happiness together.”

“As a matter of fact, we'll be ecstatic to be together.”

“Good.”

“Yes. It is good.”

Master Cranach let loose a roar of laughter that reverberated in the spacious room. “Go on, go on. The two of you are better entertainment than a hanging.”