by Jody Hedlund
“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.
Katharina 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 though
t 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.
Katharina sprinkled more lavender water on the sheets she’d turned down. Then she dried her fingers in her hair.
Maybe he would like the scent of lavender in her hair too.
She checked the candle on the ledge. The puddle of melting tallow had grown steadily since she’d arrived in their new bedroom. She listened for his footsteps. Had he forgotten and gone to his old his cell?
After dinner she’d told him about moving their living quarters to the second story. He hadn’t appeared happy with the news, but he’d nodded his acknowledgment before he resumed his discussions with their visitors.
With a sigh she lowered herself to the edge of the box bed and smoothed a hand across her undertunic. Her gaze sought the safety of her discarded skirt and bodice draped over the chest at the end of the bed. Perhaps she’d been too bold to presume he would come to her when he was clearly displeased with her management of their home.
Her heartbeat wavered but only for a moment. She must hold out hope that he would not let a petty disagreement stand between them. Surely he remembered their wedding night with as much longing as she did. Surely he would want to come to her and continue what they had begun.
She leaned over and reached for the pouch draped across her clothes. She pried open the string and pulled out the rolled paper her mother had given her. It was wrinkled and smudged and the red wax seal all but gone. But it was still her greatest treasure. If everything else failed—if she failed–she would always have her mother’s gift to rely on.
The door creaked.
She sucked in a breath and jumped up.
Doctor Luther stepped in and closed the door behind him. He leaned back, his face hidden by the shadows of the room. For a long moment she could feel his eyes burning into her.
The air was suddenly charged. A shiver of delight whispered through her body, and she hugged her arms across her chest.
Finally he stepped away from the door and crossed toward the bed. He studied the barren room, only slightly bigger than the other cells. It was just as plain except for the bouquet of lavender she’d placed in a crock on the bedside table.
He fingered the end of the box frame and the freshly filled straw mattress. “I suppose you required one of the guests to build the bed as payment?”
“Pastor Bremer offered.”
“And I suppose you thought that my simple cell wasn’t good enough, that you needed a bigger, fancier room?”
So he was still angry. She watched the muscles in his jaw work up and down. What could she do to win his favor again? Dare she approach him and hold him? Would her touch work to bridge their differences? Then would he realize how much she’d grown to care for him?
“As a matter of fact”—she took a step toward him—“I wanted to move here so we could have a little more privacy.”
Her fingers moved to his arm. She skimmed upward.
His muscles tensed, but he didn’t pull away.
“I thought about you while you were gone,” she whispered.
He drew in a sharp breath. And then he leaned into her and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her against his chest.
The rapid thump of his heartbeat resounded in her ear, and she hoped it meant that he wanted to be with her as much as she did him. “I’m sorry for my harshness earlier,” he whispered. “I was a donkey, as usual. All I dreamed about every minute I was away from you was doing this…”
Lowering his mouth to hers, he took her with a passion that left her breathless with desire. His lips crushed hers, demanding and devouring until they were both panting with need.
Finally he broke away, pulling her more fully against his body, his heavy breaths sizzling in her ear. “God is my witness, I’ve been miserable without you—”
He suddenly stiffened and peered over her shoulder at the bed.
Slowly, almost ominously, he released her and reached for the rolled parchment she’d left on the bed. “What’s this?”
Katharina’s pulse raced at double speed as his fingers closed around the paper she’d carelessly discarded when he’d entered the room.
“It’s nothing.” She tried to pull it from his grasp.
His grip tightened, and he backed away from her. “Tell me, Kate. What is it?” His voice was low.
“Please return it this instant.” She lunged for it.
He held it up high out of her reach. His eyes flashed with accusation. “Why in the name of all the saints do you have an indulgence?”
“How do you know it’s an indulgence?” She tugged on his arm, needing to get the paper away from him before he had the chance to look at it more closely.
“I know an indulgence when I see one.” He yanked away from her. “Am I to be mocked in my own home by my wife?” His voice pounded her. “I have defied the pope and put my life in danger every day because of my stand against indulgences. And you—you dare to bring one into my home?”
Her legs trembled as she bumped against the bed. His
anger was like a physical force slamming against her, pushing her away from him. “My mother gave it to me before she died, when I was just a little girl.”
“I don’t care who gave it to you! I’ve fought against every adversity to eradicate indulgences. You know I hate them. Everyone knows. And yet you’ve harbored this idol anyway.” He waved the paper with such disgust that it could have been the very devil himself.
She stared at the sheet, her last link to her mother, to her family, to her nobility.
“Tell me, Kate.” His tone sagged with disappointment. “Do you really think this indulgence has the power to help you in any way?”
She hesitated. Did it? She didn’t know anymore. Her title and her nobility hadn’t helped her. Perhaps the indulgence was just as worthless.
“You don’t need to say anything.” He started across the room to the window. “I already know your answer.”
Before she could move to stop him, he held the paper toward the flickering flame of the candle.
“No!” she cried. “I know you don’t like them, but I’ve already given up so much for you—my status, my safety, my title. Must you demand this of me too?”
Flames burst to life at the edge of the sheet. Her heart stopped, and she could only watch it burn as a deep sense of loss seeped through her. The fire spread, its ravenous appetite consuming every word until it touched Doctor Luther’s fingers. Only then did he let the flaming remnant flutter to the floor. Once it reached the ground, he stomped on it until only ashes littered the floor. Then he turned and stared at her with sadness. “Maybe it’s time for you to stop holding on to your pride and your past.”
She tried to take a breath, to say something, anything, but she couldn’t. The scent of burned paper chastised her.
He crossed the room and yanked open the door but then stopped. “Don’t ever bring another indulgence into my house.” With a flap of his robe, he walked out and closed the door behind him.
She stared at the door and dragged in a slow, painful breath. Tears sprang to her eyes.
His anger and disappointment lingered in the air just as thick as the smoke.