Luther and Katharina (38 page)

He grumbled under his breath but fell back against the straw mattress. He closed his eyes, and weariness flitted across his face.

“We shall prop you up.” She nodded to Brother Gabriel to help her lift him. “And then perhaps you'll be able to eat something.”

“It's about time,” he muttered. “I've survived another attack of the devil only to die of starvation.”

She bent near him and slipped her arms under his back to help pull him to a sitting position. His cheek hovered close to her mouth, and she suddenly had an intense longing to brush her lips against the unshaven roughness.

He turned and met her gaze head-on.

Her breath caught in her chest. She was close enough to see the dark inner circles of his eyes widen. Was it with desire?

He lifted his hand and pressed his palm against her cheek. “Be still and let me look at you,” he croaked. “You're a much better sight than Justus.”

Jonas guffawed. “She's a much better sight than you too, you cantankerous bear. And I do believe your wife is the only one who has the power to tame you.”

“She has no power over me,” Doctor Luther said, but weakly, even as his gaze feasted on her face.

She wanted to bend down and kiss him full on the lips, to reassure herself that he was living and breathing. But Brother Gabriel's hovering presence and the censure in his old eyes stopped her.

“I think you're the one with power over me, Herr Doctor,” she said, knowing it to be truer than he realized.

“I have no power over you, my lord and master,” he said, his voice taking on an edge. “You'll do what you want. You've made that quite clear.” Was he referring to the changes she'd wrought in the monastery while he'd been away? Surely he could see some good in them. If she must relinquish her grip on her old way of life, certainly he could do likewise so they could find a compromise in a life that would suit them both.

“I'm a strong-willed woman,” she admitted, “and God is teaching me to let go of my pride. But perhaps you'll have to learn to accept me as I am. And I shall need to do the same with you.”

“Don't you think you're asking for the impossible, Kate?” He leaned back into his mattress, dropped his hand away from hers, and closed his eyes. “After all, weren't you the one who once uttered the wise words ‘An uncommon match only breeds discontent and gives birth to unhappiness'?”

She recoiled at his statement even though the words had once been hers. She wasn't sure if she believed them anymore. She wanted to think she'd changed enough, grown humbler, so that their match was no longer entirely uncommon. Of course she still had remnants of pride to battle and probably would all her life. But perhaps her pride would always be too great for him; perhaps he would always view their marriage with discontentment whether she did or not. Perhaps she would always remind him of the noble class he despised, the princes he needed but loathed.

“Brother Gabriel,” Doctor Luther said, “my mouth is parched for your Obstwasser.”

Brother Gabriel started toward the door.

Katharina rose and stopped him with the touch of her hand. “I shall fetch it.”

The old monk started to shake his head.

She pushed down the ache in her chest and held up a hand to stop him. “I've need of a brisk walk and fresh air.”

Brother Gabriel hesitated. “You won't know where to find it—”

“I know exactly where you keep it.” Katharina hurried from the room before he could protest further. The ache rose to her throat and made her want to cry with frustration.

She made her way outside and strode across the cloister yard, past the stable and the storage barn toward the brewery. When she reached the door, she stopped and leaned her head against the grainy wood. Was her marriage with Doctor Luther doomed to failure?

She blinked back tears and then pushed open the rickety door of the brewery. The darkness of the shack beckoned her. She released several deep breaths of pain. “Ave Maria. Ave Maria.” Which was worse, living an empty noble life without love, or loving passionately but being denied love in return? Without a doubt she knew it would have pained her less to continue a loveless life at Marienthron, for her unrequited love for Doctor Luther was tearing out her very heart.

She wanted to sink to her knees, bury her face in her hands, and sob. Instead, she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. She'd never given in to self-pity and wouldn't start now. She took a shuddering breath, then skimmed the sandy grit of the clay jars on the shelf. Her fingers found the tall one in which Brother Gabriel stored the Obstwasser.

It was lighter than usual. She shook it, and from the sloshing she guessed it contained enough for one mug. She couldn't fault Brother Gabriel for not keeping up with the demands of the brewery. He'd stayed as busy as she had the past days, tending to Doctor Luther's needs.

She stepped out of the brewery into the fading evening. With a deep breath she began to slowly retrace her steps to the infirmary. Somehow she must gather the courage to keep going. And maybe one day she would finally win Doctor Luther's love.

Perhaps if she learned to brew the sweet Obstwasser herself, a special Obstwasser just for him. She lifted the jug and pried off the lid. Then she lowered her nose to the opening and took a whiff. An odor like that of a dead mouse filled her nostrils, not the fruity tang she'd expected. She sloshed the jug again and stared at it. This was most certainly not Obstwasser. What was it? She took another sniff of the contents, and the bitterness filled her mouth and throat and made her gag. The jug slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. Some of the murky liquid splashed out and formed a dark stain on the grass.

She reached down and dipped her fingertip in it. Cautiously she touched the drop to her tongue. It was wine, but it had the bitter taste of hemlock and possibly henbane. She spit several times to get the bitter residue out of her mouth, then she rubbed her mouth against her sleeve to rid her body of any traces of the herbs.

If she didn't know better, she'd suspect that the drink was a poisonous potion. Such a concoction mixed with belladonna or cowbane was a poison commonly used by witches and assassins. An average dose could cause convulsions, vomiting, and sometimes paralysis and loss of speech. It would close the lungs and make breathing difficult. A large enough drink would lead to death.

Why would Brother Gabriel have such a deadly concoction sitting on the shelf in the brewery? She corked the lid and secured it tightly. She'd need to admonish him to be more careful. With determined footsteps she crossed the courtyard. In fact, she would encourage him to do away with the poison altogether. What if someone discovered it in the brewery and decided to use it for evil intentions?

As she stepped through the door, she gasped as a sudden thought struck her. What if someone had already used it to poison Doctor Luther? His symptoms—the trembling, vomiting, and difficulty breathing—were the very symptoms one would expect of a poisoning.

Who would do such a thing?

Her mind spun with the possibilities and landed on a suspect without hesitation. It had to be their guest Karlstadt. After the past few years of being enemies with Doctor Luther, why would he now seek friendship—unless he wanted to get close to Doctor Luther and kill him?

Katharina raced down the hallway. She had to share the news with the others, and they would have to send Karlstadt away before he made any more attempts on Doctor Luther's life.

“Look what I discovered.” She burst into the infirmary and held up the clay jug. On a stool next to Doctor Luther, Jonas started. And behind the worktable, with pestle and mortar in hand, Brother Gabriel froze and his eyes widened.

“It's about time,” Luther growled. “Pour me a tankard.”

“You don't want to drink any of this,” she said. “It's poison.”

The room grew so quiet that the only sound Katharina heard was her heavy breathing.

“I found it in the brewery, and I'm quite certain this is what made Doctor Luther sick.”

Doctor Luther's face blanched. “Someone is trying to poison me?”

“Someone is intending to kill you.”

A sudden somberness drew the lines of his face together into a frown.

“And I believe I know who the assassin is,” Katharina said.

“Who?”

A sharp prick against her spine made her yelp. Before she could turn to discover the cause, someone wrenched one of her arms behind her and yanked upward. The movement forced her to her knees with a dizzying cry of pain.

“Don't try anything, or I'll slit her throat,” Brother Gabriel said.

T
he cold edge of metal now pressed against the vein in her neck, paralyzing her. She couldn't breathe or blink or even begin to process what was happening.

“Let her go.” Doctor Luther's voice was calm, but his face had turned as ashen as a corpse. He struggled to the edge of the bed. At the same time Jonas jumped to his feet, the stool clattering to the floor. With a scowl he started across the room toward her.

The blade sliced into her skin. Burning heat took the place of the cold metal, and she screamed at the sharpness of the pain.

Jonas froze midstride.

“Stop!” Doctor Luther's voice was hoarse. “Don't hurt her.”

“If anyone moves again”—Brother Gabriel's voice was as soft as always—“I'll kill her.”

Kill her? A warm trail of blood slid down her neck and pooled at her collar. How could Brother Gabriel say such a thing? Sweet, quiet Brother Gabriel, who'd been her friend these many months she'd been in Wittenberg.

“Why are you doing this?” Doctor Luther pleaded. “What reason could you possibly have for hurting Katharina?”

Brother Gabriel yanked her arm again, and she couldn't keep from crying out again.

“Gabriel, let her go!” Doctor Luther lunged to his feet unsteadily.

“Stay where you are, or she dies.” Brother Gabriel lifted the knife and repositioned it higher so that it forced her chin up and exposed her neck.

Dizziness swept through Katharina.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee
…Her desperate plea suddenly felt hollow. How could the Virgin Mother have the power to save her? What assistance could any of the saints offer her now?

Brother Gabriel twisted her arm and pulled her to her feet and toward the door. She didn't resist for fear she would again feel the bite of the knife against her skin.

“So you're the one who poisoned me,” Doctor Luther said, watching them with panic flashing across his taut features. “Who are you working for? Duke George?”

Brother Gabriel's silence was all the answer they needed.

“If he hired you to kill me, then why wait until now? Why didn't you try earlier?”

“I only agreed to spy.”

“Ach, so now I finally know who's been alerting my enemies to my whereabouts and the routes I travel.” Doctor Luther swayed on his feet and would have fallen if Jonas hadn't grabbed him and held him steady. “What's happened to turn the spy into a murderer?”

If Doctor Luther thought to stall Brother Gabriel, the tactic wasn't working. He continued backing to the door with his unrelenting grip on her.

“You're not a murderer, Brother Gabriel,” Doctor Luther said, his voice gentling. “Please put the knife away.”

Brother Gabriel's old hand was frigid against her arm, but he didn't falter. “The Duke has promised me my own parish as a reward for my service to God and the pope.”

“You could have given me a lethal dose of the poison if you'd really wanted me dead.” Doctor Luther spoke as though reasoning with a child. “But you're not a killer, are you? You couldn't go through with murdering me, and you won't kill Katharina now either.”

Brother Gabriel didn't respond except to pull her into the hall. He started toward the parlor, but at the sight of several guests headed their way, he rapidly backed into the open door of the refectory. His grip was so tight she felt sure her arm would be dislocated.

He kicked the door closed and dropped the bar to latch it in place.

Her blood pulsed hard. What did he intend to do with her now? “Brother Gabriel, please. I don't understand what I've done to anger you.” Her voice shook. “I thought we were friends.”

He directed her toward the chair in front of the lectern. “Sit.”

She lowered herself, and only then did he release her arm.

“I don't wish to hurt you, Sister Katharina.” He took off the cincture at the waist of his tunic. His eyes remained calm and steady, even slightly apologetic, but he exuded a strength that belied his stooped shoulders and slight frame.

“And I think deep down you don't wish to harm Doctor Luther either, do you?”

He didn't acknowledge her.

“We don't have to let this go any further. You don't have to let the duke bribe you into something you know in your heart is wrong—”

“Be silent,” he said. He jerked her hands around the back of the chair. The motion was so swift and painful that it cut the words from her lips with a gasp. How ironic that he was requiring her to be silent while she sat in the seat assigned to the monk appointed to read from the Gospels or necrology of the saints while the rest of the monks ate in silence.

Katharina's gaze landed on the figure of Aunt Lena sitting on one of the long trestle benches across the room. The old woman stared at the table in front of her, exactly as Katharina had left her. Katharina quickly shifted her attention, hoping Brother Gabriel wouldn't notice her aunt, but his attention had already shifted to the old nun. He stared at her for a moment as though trying to decide what to do with her. Katharina was relieved when he resumed wrapping and binding her wrists, apparently deciding not to disturb Aunt Lena.

He tightened the belt until it twisted into her skin. She wouldn't be able to loosen its hold without a utensil. But the long room was bare. The plank tables were smooth and clean, just as she'd left them earlier that day. Not a plate or goblet or knife in sight.

Brother Gabriel had left her no chance of escape.
Lord, have mercy.
Her heart cried to God this time.

“Brother Gabriel.” Doctor Luther's voice came from outside the door. “It's me you want, not Katharina. Release her and take me in her stead.”

Brother Gabriel started closing and locking the shutters on the windows.

Unlike most of the other reformed monks, he had continued to wear his monk's habit and tonsure. He'd also faithfully continued to follow the divine prayer schedule. She'd simply thought him too old and set in his ways. But what if he hadn't wanted to change? What if he stood opposed to Doctor Luther's reforms?

A shudder started up her spine.

“Please.” Doctor Luther's voice had a desperate ring. “I know this isn't how you had it planned. You never expected to be caught with the poison. But if you let Katharina go, then this whole incident doesn't have to go any further.”

Brother Gabriel walked over to the door and made sure the bar was securely in place. Then finally he stood back and tucked his hands into his flowing sleeves. He stared at the door, hesitating as though he was figuring out what to do next.

“If you release her,” Doctor Luther pleaded, “I'll allow you to take me to the duke yourself. Then
you
won't have to kill me. The duke will relish doing the deed himself.”

“Are you crazy?” came Jonas's angry rebuke. “Of course you're not letting that old snake take you to the duke.”

“Jonas is right!” Katharina shouted. She wouldn't let Doctor Luther hand himself over to Brother Gabriel and the duke. If he did so, it would be his death sentence.

“It's the only way,” Doctor Luther called back.

“We'll break down the door and attack him,” Jonas retorted.

“If you do, I'll kill her,” Brother Gabriel warned in a tone that was much too serious.

“I'm turning myself over to him.” Luther's voice strained against his tight throat.

Jonas grabbed his tunic sleeve. “No. Not yet. I'm sure we'll think of something else.”

Luther swayed with dizziness and reached for the hallway wall to keep himself from falling. He could think of nothing but the blade pressed against Katharina's slender neck and the crimson slash in her beautiful skin. He didn't know if Brother Gabriel would follow through with his threat to kill her, but he wasn't taking any chances.

“I need to get Katharina out of there.” His legs trembled under the weight of his body. His muscles were as weak as herring soup during Lent. He tried to take another step forward, but he buckled and fell to his knees.

Despair rose up like choking bile. This was no time for weakness, but his illness had left his body a mere shell, empty of strength. “Jonas, help me up. I have to get her.”

Jonas knelt beside him, and Wolfgang hovered over him. Some of the monastery's guests had also gathered in the hallway. Surely all of them together could overpower one frail old monk. But with his threat lingering in the air, how could they do so without putting Katharina's life in more danger?

“What do I need to do, Brother Gabriel?” Luther rested his forehead against the door. The cool wood soothed his burning skin. “Just tell me how I can save Katharina.”

“Wait,” Jonas whispered. “One of the men has gone for help. Don't do anything rash—”

Luther held up his hand to silence his friend as Brother Gabriel spoke through the door. “You need to get a horse and a wagon ready at the front gate.”

“We can do that.” Luther nodded at one of the men, who spun away to do his bidding.

“Then I'll bring Katharina to the wagon,” Brother Gabriel continued. “I want you to be waiting for me in the back of the wagon with your hands and feet tied tightly.”

“Very well.”

“I will release Katharina once we're on our way.”

Jonas scowled darkly and shook his head.

“Until that point, if anyone tries to stop me or come near me, I'll slice off Katharina's fingers, one at a time.” The monk's voice was as quiet and calm as if they were having a conversation about buying hops instead of bargaining over her life. Luther fought off a wave of dizzying weakness. He didn't want to lose Katharina. In fact, the thought of Brother Gabriel harming her any further made his stomach churn with the strength of an attacking band of peasants.

“What should we do?” Luther asked. “We can't just sit here.”

“We need to hold him off until more men arrive,” Jonas whispered.