Luther and Katharina Read Online Free Page B

monastery.
    But the mining industry had fallen on hard times in recent years. Now the output of the smelters wasn’t enough for his father to pay his debts. Hans had grown more disgruntled. And Luther’s visits to Mansfeld had become even less pleasant and filled him with more guilt for all the ways he’d failed his father. Though his father had long ago grudgingly accepted his life being devoted to the church, first as a monk and then as a professor of theology in Wittenberg, Luther had never been able to shake the feeling that he’d let his father down. Just this past weekend during his visit with his parents and extended family, he’d felt his father’s censure, though he doubted his father realized he’d given it.
    “Join us, Hans,” said the vicar, making room on the bench next to him. “And tell us your opinion on the matter of monks and nuns leaving their convents.”
    For several long moments the conversation buzzed again, and Luther had no choice but to resume his spot at the table, even though his head had begun to pound. He respected his father too much to abandon him, but such conversations usually left him keenly aware of his shortcomings all over again.
    “Other monks are getting married. But my son, will he?” Hans Luther said, smacking his lips after a long drink of his beer. “If only he knew the pleasures he is missing.”
    The men laughed.
    Blood rushed to Luther’s face. “I’m too busy.”
    “My son’s always too busy. Too busy to give his old father an heir to pass on the family name.”
    “Should a man condemned to death take a wife?” Luther strained to keep his tone respectful. “Once I’m captured, my enemies will burn me at the stake. Why would I want to leave behind a widow and children? The devil only knows what kind of torture my enemies would devise for my family.”
    At Luther’s words his father’s face blanched. Hans took a sip from his tankard, his Adam’s apple protruding as he struggled to swallow the drink.
    Guilt ripped through Luther, and he bowed his head. He knew his father loved him and only wanted the best for him. But it seemed as though their relationship was forever to be one of disappointment and hurt.
    At the clatter of a tankard and a strangled cry, Luther’s head jerked up in time to see the young merchant to whom he’d given his meal fall backward off the bench. The crowd parted to make room for him on the ground as he convulsed, his lips white and his face turning blue from lack of air.
    “Get the physician,” someone called.
    A man kneeling next to the merchant reached for the piece of fish discarded among the rushes. He sniffed it, tasted it with the tip of his tongue, then flung it back to the floor. “It’s poisoned.”
    The pounding in Luther’s head came to an abrupt halt. Silence held him captive as he stared at the lolling gray tongue and bulging eyes of the merchant, each ragged breath possibly his last.
    Luther’s hands began to shake, and he tucked them into his cuffs. “God have mercy.” He looked at the mass of flushed faces, searching each one. The devil was there somewhere.
    “Poison?” His father’s voice boomed over the clamor. “Why on God’s green earth would anyone want to poison Herr Muller?”
    A small drum began tapping in Luther’s head again, growing louder, beating against his temples until he wanted to groan with the pressure. Death stalked him everywhere he rode, in every town he visited, at every corner he turned. His enemies never ceased plotting his demise.
    But this time death had come too close…
    It had been only one bite away.

I n the faint light of dawn, Katharina examined the unfamiliar landscape, the newly plowed fields, the peasant huts in the distance. It had been years since she’d viewed the world surrounding the convent.
    Now she could see that Marienthron was situated in a lush valley, protected by hills on one side and dense forest on the other. She knew the abbey owned most of the land