Luther and Katharina (37 page)

A
beating on the door awakened Katharina from a fitful sleep. She sat up in bed and pulled the sheet around her body.

The pounding echoed through the bedchamber again and rattled the door.

“Who is it?” she demanded.

“It is I, Wolfgang. You must come quickly. Doctor Luther needs your help.”

Katharina's heart clattered to the bottom of her chest. “Tell me what happened.”

“He's almost dead.”

“Dead?” The chill of the night crawled over her skin and made her shiver. She threw back the cover and slid her feet over the edge of the bed.

“I found him outside hardly breathing.”

Katharina reached for her bodice and skirt. She shoved her arms into the garments and tried to her make her shaking fingers work quickly at tightening the front laces.

“Tell me his symptoms.”

Wolfgang listed them as she pulled on her skirt. Her mind went to work preparing a list of the herbs she would need. “The physician is already here, but Doctor Luther isn't responding…”

“You should have come for me first,” she said as she opened the door.

Wolfgang's bushy black brows pressed together. “He was angry with you. So I thought—”

“If you want to serve your master best”—she brushed past him—“then you have to learn to trust me more.”

“I'm realizing that.” He scurried after her. “I'm sorry for not coming to get you right away.”

Katharina pushed down her irritation. Wolfgang was only trying to protect Doctor Luther, but when would he learn she was no more the enemy than he or Brother Gabriel?

She pressed her lips together to keep from berating the manservant further. They raced through the dark monastery hallways, the light from Wolfgang's candle casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. With each hurried step she tried to convince herself that Wolfgang was overreacting, as he was prone to do, and that Doctor Luther would be just fine. And yet she couldn't ignore the feeling of foreboding.

When they reached the infirmary, she elbowed her way through the guests and friends who hovered near him. Fresh irritation swept through her. Why had no one notified her sooner? Did they not realize how much she cared about him and would want to be with him?

She lifted her chin and ignored the eyes turned on her. She and Doctor Luther might not have a love match, but she had every right to be here, more so than they did. For too long they'd had Doctor Luther to themselves, and now they needed to give her the place she deserved in his life.

At the sight of his face, gaunt and pale, she swallowed hard to push down a burst of panic. His breaths came in shallow, short gasps through blue-tinged lips, and his eyes were glazed and unseeing. The long slits on his arm oozed blood, and the physician had filled a bowl already.

“No more bloodletting.” She reached for a towel and wrapped it around Doctor Luther's arm to stanch the blood flow.

“We don't know what ails him.” The young physician moved away, the worry on his face only adding to her own.

She prodded Doctor Luther's stomach, and he moaned at the touch. Her fingers found the pulse in his wrist. It was sluggish beneath her fingers.

Wolfgang hadn't exaggerated. Doctor Luther
was
dying.

For a moment panic paralyzed her so that all she could do was stare into his eyes. The light within them was fading. “Herr Doctor? Can you hear me?” she asked, kneeling beside him.

He didn't respond.

She reached for one of his hands. It was limp within hers. The clammy coldness of his skin made an icy trail to her heart. Somewhere, at some point, she'd fallen in love with this impossible man. Would she lose him before she had the chance to try to make things right between them?

She smoothed a hand over his forehead, attempting to brush away the deep grooves that pain had etched there. She moved her hand to the bristly scruff that covered his cheek and jaw. Usually her touch had the power to calm him, to pull him from the abyss. But this time he didn't move, didn't even seem to recognize her. She wanted to cry out, to shake him, to keep him from slipping away. But fear choked her and cut off all but the whispered “Ave Maria.”

“What can we do to help you?” Melanchthon spoke softly at her side. His face was devoid of disapproval for the first time since the betrothal. Instead, his expression spoke of humility. It wasn't an apology, but it seemed to be his acquiescence to her permanent place now in Doctor Luther's life.

And Doctor Luther's life was at stake. If she wanted to help save him, she would need to draw upon all her resources, all the knowledge she'd gained during her years at Marienthron, all the experience she'd accumulated.

Her fingers trembled as she combed a stray strand off his pale forehead. Could she save his life?

“Do whatever you must, but please don't let him die,” Melanchthon whispered hoarsely, his deep-set eyes brimming with tears.

“Then pray,” she said in return. She would do all she could, but ultimately only God could save him now.

Katharina used every concoction she'd memorized, the treasured medicinal recipes that monks had copied and passed on for centuries.

At the end of the first day, Doctor Luther was still breathing. She sat by his side all night and spooned as much medicine into him as she could and pressed warm cloths against his abdomen. His friends also took turns staying with him and praying. They encouraged her to take time away from her doctoring to rest, but she wouldn't leave him.

By the second day, the blue rim around his lips had faded, and he rested easier. On the morning of the third day, he finally awoke. He was too weak to move or to speak, but for the first time since Wolfgang had knocked on her door, her heartbeat steadied its rhythm. His thrumming, warm pulse beneath her cold fingers made her want to cry with weariness and relief.

The devil would not get Doctor Luther yet, not while she was on duty.

Doctor Luther's eyelids fluttered open, his gaze rested on her for only a moment, and then he closed his eyes again.

“Kate,” he mumbled.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I'm here.” Was God giving her another chance at love? Suddenly she knew with certainty that she didn't want to think about life without him. She'd been prideful to believe they weren't suitable for each other. He was
more
than a suitable match. He challenged her and made her think deeply. He was interesting to be with, talkative, stimulating. He was blunt but never dull. He was wise but never puffed up with his own importance. She connected with him on so many levels—physically, emotionally, intellectually—in a way she never had with Jerome. She'd never felt the same passion or depth of emotion with Jerome. In fact, if she was completely honest, she had to admit she'd wanted to use Jerome just as he'd wanted to use her. She'd thought he could give her the perfect life with his titles, prestige, and wealth.

But none of that mattered anymore. Not in the face of losing this man before her. What mattered was loving him, being with him, and perhaps one day having a family together.

Wasn't that what she'd missed all those years away from her family? Wasn't that why she'd clung so tightly to her mother's gift? Because she'd longed for the deep emotional connection that only relationships could bring? She'd had a glimmer of that kind of loving relationship with Doctor Luther, and she didn't want to lose it, not before they really had the chance to work through the issues that stood between them and held them apart.

If only she could find a way to show Doctor Luther that she truly valued him, that his life was more important than where they lived or what they had or the name she owned.

He fell back asleep, and this time she could see he was resting peacefully. Only then did she allow herself to leave his side and finally sleep for the first time in days.

When she awoke, the shadows of the room alerted her to the passing of time. She was anxious to return to Doctor Luther but went to Aunt Lena's cell first. Brother Gabriel had assured her that he'd taken care of Aunt Lena during the past days, but Katharina couldn't bear to neglect her aunt any longer.

She doubted Aunt Lena had noticed her absence and lack of attention, but Katharina knew she must continue to care for her. Katharina led Aunt Lena to the winding steps and down to the first-floor refectory. She settled her at one of the tables, then pressed a kiss against her wimple. Her heart ached at the sight of the old woman slumped over with her clothes hanging loosely on her frail body, her bony fingers folded in her lap, her eyes staring unseeingly at the table.

Over the few weeks since Aunt Lena had arrived, Katharina had lost hope that the woman would ever escape the world of oblivion into which she'd fled. She'd tried to pull her aunt out, tried to engage her, but the only time she'd gotten a response was when she attempted to take away Aunt Lena's dagger during a bath. Aunt Lena had grown so agitated by not having it at her side that Katharina had finally relented and given it back. All she could do was resign herself to keeping her aunt secure, especially from those who might try to label her a witch.

Katharina started toward the kitchen to find leftovers from the evening meal for Aunt Lena, but a commotion in the infirmary drew her across the hallway.

“I'm ready to get up,” Doctor Luther said hoarsely. “And nobody can stop me.”

She stepped into the dank room that reeked of onion poultice and saw him struggle to sit up while Jonas and Brother Gabriel worked to hold him down on the narrow bed. “Doctor Luther, you're ill and must stay in bed,” she said as she crossed the room toward him, her relief mounting with each step. His fight had returned, and that meant he would survive.

“Ach, and here comes my lord and master, Kate, ordering me around like she usually does.” He glared at her with eyes that were black against his pale face.

She couldn't keep from smiling. “You may not get out of bed, but you may sit up for a short while.”