CHAPTER XI.

THE FAITHFUL ECKART.

"Where may Hans be staying? I hope he has not repented of his purpose!"

"Never fear, Eberhard, for it was he whose rage was fiercest against the last scoundrelly act of the heretic! Landlord, fill my cup!"

"And mine," cried a third voice.

When the landlord had brought the wine, a young nobleman clattered into the room, much excited, and was received by his friends with a noisy welcome.

They were in an inn near Wurtzen, that bore the sign of "the blue pike." A dim torch sputtered in the close, low room, and threw flickering lights upon the faces of the four men. Everything in the room was unclean; the landlord himself, with his dirt-stained jacket and grimy face, seemed a sworn foe to soap and water. It was doubtless long since he had entertained such noble guests, who seemed ill at ease in the filthy den.

They were four young squires from the neighborhood, Hans von Soldau, Eberhard von Kriebitsch, Wolf von Steinbach, and Joachim von Spergau, who had appointed this secret meeting at the "blue pike."

"It is well that you come, Hans," cried one of them to the belated conspirator, while the landlord received an unmistakable hint to betake himself elsewhere.

"Do not be angry, friends, that I come thus late," croaked Hans von Soldau in a hoarse voice, as he seated himself. "I desired to make some further inquiries; for a rumor came to my ears, that fortune was favoring our design, and would shortly provide a convenient opportunity for our revenge."

"What is it?" exclaimed the others, starting from their seats.

Hans lifted both hands. "Be quiet, and hear me. I first went to the priest and made confession of my purpose, that I might be able with greater courage and confidence to put my hand to the work. The reverend father gave me his blessing, and promised me an abundant reward in Heaven. Yet he disapproves of open violence, lest we kindle a fresh fire, more dangerous than the peasants' war. We must act secretly, that none may know what has become of the heretic." He rose, and in a louder tone continued: "Friends, brothers! We are in the same position and must therefore hold together. Each one of us has seen his patrimony lessened by the unwelcome return of a sister. Was it for this we urged our parents to place them in convents, that this infamous monk should open the doors for their escape? Woe be to you, Luther! At Nimptschen you succeeded, but it was to your own undoing that you stretched forth your ruthless hand toward Freiberg."

In a fierce rage, Wolf von Steinbach struck upon the table and roared: "I am poorer by ten thousand florins! Luther, it is you whom I shall pay for it!"

"I would gladly forego the beggarly inheritance," growled Eberhard von Kriebitsch, with an angry frown, "but I refuse to harbor that dragon, my step-sister, with whom I have quarreled since the days of my childhood!"

"Calm yourselves," urged Joachim von Spergau, "and let us learn what is the opportunity which fortune throws into our way."

Hans von Soldau drew his fingers through his flowing red beard, and related: "The Elector's court chaplain and private secretary, Spalatin, intends to be married on the 19th of November, and has invited Luther to his wedding. About two hours ago, I accidentally met the messenger bearing Luther's answer to Altenburg. Tell me, friends, does not everything shape itself to our advantage. Ha, Luther, your last bread will soon be baked!"

A deep silence followed his words. Hans stared fiercely at the conspirators, and exclaimed: "Cowards! does your heart fail you! Then I shall venture alone."

Joachim von Spergau, the most cautious of the band, replied in an injured tone: "Do not question our honor, Hans! It is not cowardise, if we hesitate for a moment, before we consent to a deed of blood."

"It may possibly be accomplished without bloodshed," explained Hans, in a milder tone. "My confessor knows a place where the heretic need not die, and yet will be dead to the world. If it should become necessary to dispatch him, you must now solemnly declare, whether you will lend a hand. If you shrink from the sight of blood, then go your way, and I alone will have the glory of ridding the world of this pestilent fellow. If you are minded to stand by me, lift up your hands, and swear."

It evidently cost the others a violent effort, to bind themselves by an oath to a probable murder; for this idea had not been entertained from the beginning. But the reproachful scorn, which flashed from Hans' eyes, drove them to a hasty resolve, and they took the oath.

After the young squires had arranged the details of the attack, they paid their reckoning, and mounting their horses, disappeared in the darkness.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Why are you so sad, dear Kate?" Luther asked his wife one day; "have you any trouble of body or mind, that you are hiding from me?"

Katharine sighed. "A heavy weight lies upon my heart, and I know not what it means. There are forebodings, which one cannot explain, and yet they will not be driven away."

"And what is your foreboding?" asked Luther with a smile.

"I fear that some great misfortune is awaiting us."

Luther lifted his finger warningly: "You see ghosts where none exist. Do you not know, that such seeing is harmful--troubling our own heart, and also displeasing the Lord God? We should fear no evil, when God's angels are watching over us. Methinks your trouble is nothing more than the added burden of caring for the three noble nuns, who have sought refuge with us. Do not let this fret you, nor grudge to the poor fugitives the shelter of our house, until the anger of their people is appeased."

"You do me injustice, dear Doctor," interrupted Katharine. "I received them willingly, much rather than the five monks from Thuringia, to whom, besides food and drink, you gave cloth for new jackets, and who afterwards broke into our house as thieves. No, dear Doctor, our nuns from Freiberg are most dear to me, and I will gladly share with them what I have,--and moreover the Elector yesterday sent a fresh load of corn, malt and wood. Yet their presence does cause me some uneasiness, especially that of the duchess Ursala von Munsterberg--who, being the niece of Duke George, your enemy, may indeed bring danger to our house."

"Be quiet, dear Kate," said Luther, "and commit yourself into the Lord's hands. What we are doing toward these unhappy women is a good deed, and well-pleasing to God, who will not permit us to come to harm for their sakes. If, nevertheless, we should suffer for this, remember that it is written: 'Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you and persecute you, for my sake.'"

Kate was silent, and tried to banish her troublesome thoughts, but her heart still refused to be silenced.

On the following morning, after the morning prayer, when the guests and servants had left the room, Katharine came to her husband with a serious face. "Dearest Doctor,--I have learned the cause of my fear. The Lord revealed it to me last night in dream. What is your opinion of dreams?"

Luther replied: "The Scripture teaches us, that God has at various times made use of dreams, to reveal to men His thoughts, and to show them the things of the future, either for their instruction or warning. What was your dream?"

"I saw you," answered Kate, "journeying in an open wagon to Altenburg, whither you were going to attend the wedding of your friend Spalatin. On the road, four men in armor sprang from an ambush, dragged you from the wagon, and struck at your head with their swords, that the blood gushed forth. Ursula von Münsterberg, the nun, stood by and tore her hair. When I awoke, I was glad to find it but a dream. But when I slept again, behold, the dream returned, and showed me the same picture. Then I perceived that it was no delusion, but a warning from God, not to go upon this journey. Dear Doctor, I beg of you, for Christ's sake, stay at home--for if you go, I shall be consumed with fear for your safety."

She clung to her husband's arm and looked at him with eyes full of piteous entreaty. Although her dreaming was little to his taste, yet he was moved by her distress. With a glance of tender love, he said gently: "I am sorry for my friend Spalatin, who will be unwilling to forego my presence on the great day; but I should be still more sorry for you, dear wife, if you were troubling yourself here at home, while I made merry in Altenburg. I will write to Spalatin, not to expect me."

Followed by a grateful look from Katharine, Luther went to his study, and wrote his letter, which ran thus:

"My Spalatin! Gladly would I come to your wedding and rejoice with you and yours, were it not that an obstacle has arisen in the way, which I am unable to remove--namely, the tears of my Kate, who imagines that you ask of me nothing less, than to imperil my life. Her loving heart, warned by a two-fold dream, foresees danger to me, as though murderers were lying in wait for me on the road. It does not seem altogether improbable, it having come to my knowledge, that the recent escape of the nuns from the convent at Freiberg, has greatly incensed the nobles in Duke George's land. Although I know that I am everywhere in the hands of the Almighty, and that not a hair of my head can suffer harm, unless it be His will, yet my heart is moved to pity for my poor Kate, who would grieve herself half to death in my absence. You will therefore not be offended, if I am unable to be present at your marriage, upon which I invoke God's richest blessing and peace.

MARTIN LUTHER."

"_Wittenberg, on St. Martin's Day,_ _November 11th 1525._"

The messenger who was to carry the letter to Altenburg, received from Katharine an additional fee, and a flask of Frankish wine for his refreshment on the way. When she saw him disappear through the court yard gate, she breathed a deep sigh of relief, and a fervent, upturned glance bore her thanksgiving to the throne of God.

Scarcely a fortnight had passed, when Luther received from Spalatin the following letter:

"My dear Brother Martin:--Although I greatly regretted your absence on the day of my marriage, since your society is more precious to me than any other, yet now I rejoice, seeing that God's hand has interposed to preserve you from a great danger. It has been discovered, that four noblemen were lying in ambush, intending to make an end of you--since, in freeing their sisters from the convent, you have caused them temporal loss, inasmuch as it is now necessary to make provision for the maidens. One of them especially, Hans von Soldau, is a fierce, lawless fellow, from whom any evil deed may be expected. Thank your dear Kate, dear friend, for under God's guidance she has proved your faithful Eckart.

"God's grace be with you! SPALATIN."

Deeply moved, Luther laid down the letter, and sought his wife, who was busy in the kitchen. To her surprise, he folded her in his arms, and kissing her on both cheeks, said tenderly: "My faithful Eckart."