Читать книгу Katharine von Bora: Dr. Martin Luther's Wife - Armin Stein - Страница 5

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In a corner house on the market place of Torgau, the merchant Leonhard Koppe, sat at the window of his comfortable room. He was a man past fifty, with a shrewd, kindly face. His head rested on his hand, and his eyes wandered vaguely in the distance. From time to time he moved uneasily in his chair, and passed his hand across his forehead. He seemed to be pondering some weighty matter. His wife, Susanna, had questioned him repeatedly as to his ill humor; but either he answered her curtly, or not at all; until she went away, highly displeased.

Suddenly the merchant rapped at the window, and beckoned eagerly to some one below. A few moments later, a thin, elderly man entered the room. It was the chandler, Master Wolfgang Tommitzsch, whom Leonhard cordially welcomed.

"It was a lucky moment for me, my good neighbor, when you passed my house. You are a man of wise counsel, of which I am sorely in need; therefore I beckoned you to come up to me."

"Say on," replied Master Wolfgang, without moving a muscle of his face.

Leonhard loosened his doublet, and prepared to tell his trouble. "Yesterday I returned from Wittenberg, whither I had gone on a matter of business. I also heard our dear Dr. Luther preach in the church of St. Mary's—his words still ring in my ears. Afterwards I met Luther, as he was returning from the church. He suddenly caught me by the sleeve, and said: 'Ah, is it you, my dear Koppe? My thoughts were with you this very moment—and here I see you actually before me, as though you had dropped from heaven. This, it seems to me, is of God's ordering, and is a sign to me, that you are the man to carry out the business which weighs upon my mind. You are acquainted in the convent of Nimptschen?' When I told him that I supplied the order with cloth and wax, he continued: 'Listen to me. In the convent are nine noble maidens who are weary of their nunnery, but do not know how to obtain their liberty. In their need, after they had in vain petitioned their kinsfolk, they turned to me for help—which I would gladly give, but that my arm is too short to reach from Wittenberg to Nimptschen. Neither could I go thither myself and liberate the poor captives, either secretly or by force. Therefore I have need of a man who will lend me his arm, and I ask you, Master Koppe, to do it, for the love of God. You know the road, and have a clear head to devise ways and means, and a good Christian heart that can pity the misery of others. Will you undertake this matter?' And I said yes,—for who can resist the magic of Luther's wonderful lightning eyes, and the pleading of his voice? I was proud indeed that he stood and talked with me thus publicly—the great man, who fears neither pope nor devil.

"But when he had gone, I felt hot and cold, for I perceived that I had built a tower without reckoning the cost. I pondered the matter on my homeward journey, and here I still sit and torment myself. The closer I look at it, the more ticklish it appears. How shall I disclose my plan to the nuns, without arousing the suspicions of the abbess? Notwithstanding her seventy years, she has the eyes of a lynx, and the scent of a fox. Even if I should succeed in approaching them unperceived, how will it be possible to get them away? If it were one, or even two, it might be done—but a whole wagon full! And when they are safely out of the convent, we must still pass through the territory of Duke George; and that is a dangerous journey, inasmuch as the Duke hates Luther more than he hates the Devil himself. Dear friend, what say you?"

Tommitzsch half closed his eyes and nodded reflectively. After a moment's thought, he looked up and said: "The distress of these nuns touches my heart. Only lately I witnessed the joy of my sister's child, who escaped from the convent at Wurzen. Such may be the joy of a person who rises from his grave; and methinks it is a good work, and well pleasing to God, to help a human being from death to life. I pity the nuns at Nimptschen, although they are strangers to me; and if Dr. Martin desires it, how can we hesitate? Therefore, neighbor, make the venture, and I will give you my help."

"For which you have my hearty thanks," cried the merchant, wringing his friend's hand. "If you devise the plan, it will surely succeed."

The chandler answered calmly: "It is a good work—and God will aid us. When do you carry the next load of goods to the convent?"

"The order may come at any hour, for Easter is near at hand," replied Master Leonhard. "What do you mean?"

Tommitzsch returned: "It must be an easy matter to deliver a letter secretly to one of the nuns."

The merchant listened attentively, and after a little more conversation, the chandler left the house.

On the following morning, a heavy, canvas-covered wagon rumbled along the road from Torgau to Grimma, and, on the evening of the same day, halted at the gates of the convent Marienthron at Nimptschen, about the time when the nuns were walking in the garden, after their evening meal.

Such an arrival from the busy world was an important event amid the monotony of convent life, especially when it was Master Leonhard Koppe from Torgau—the pleasant, talkative man, who brought an abundance of news, and related such merry tales. For strange to say, these brides of heaven greatly relished an earthly jest.

As usual, he was soon surrounded by the nuns, and amid much cheerful talk unpacked his wares. But his eyes seemed to be seeking some one; he was absent-minded, and failed to answer their questions. When at last Magdalene von Staupitz, coming in from the garden, approached the group, he grew taciturn, and gave them to understand he was not in the mood for conversation.

As Magdalene came nearer, a quick glance from the merchant's eyes met hers. She turned away, to hide the flush which rose to her face; and, returning to the garden, concealed herself behind an alder-bush near the entrance, from whence she could overlook the court.

After the nuns had dispersed, she again drew near, and sought to find in the merchant's face an explanation of his look. Hidden from the convent by his great wagon, he hastily gave her a letter, saying: "Read it. At the appointed time I shall be at hand."

He then climbed into the wagon, to prepare himself a resting place for the night, and the nun disappeared among the shadows.

* * * * * * * * * *

"What ails you, Sister Magdalene?" questioned the abbess, later in the evening. "Are you ill? Your face is pale, and the rosary trembles in your hands."

Magdalene cast down her eyes, and answered softly: "I feel as though a fever were shaking me. My prayers wearied me, and my head is dull and confused."

"Then see to it that some tea is made for you," said the abbess.

Obediently, the nun left the presence of the dreaded superior, hastily swallowed the nauseous drink, and sought her cell to escape the torture of further questioning. She found Katharine von Bora awaiting her.

"Tell me, sister," exclaimed Katharine, "what has happened? My heart beats with fear, but I dared not ask you in the presence of the others."

With a sigh of relief, Magdalene bolted her door, then sank trembling into Katharine's arms. "Katharine, dear Katharine, the day dawns,—the day of freedom! Luther—Luther—O thou prophet of the Most High, thou deliverer of the German people, thou wilt prove our good angel also!"

Katharine shivered within Magdalene's encircling arms.

"Do not speak in riddles, sister," she cried. "Relieve me from this suspense."

Magdalene drew a slip of paper from her bosom. "See here; the answer to our petition to Dr. Martin. Leonhard Koppe, the merchant, gave it to me secretly. It is difficult to decipher, for Master Koppe's hand is not skilled in writing. Listen to what he says: 'Dr. Martin greets the nine Sisters, and through me, Leonhard Koppe, the merchant of Torgau, will restore them to liberty. Therefore, hold yourselves in readiness. In the night before Easter, on the fourth of April, at the hour of ten, I will be under Katharine von Bora's window, from whence escape is easiest. Do what is needful to keep the secret, and may the Almighty have mercy on you!'"

Katharine would have cried out for joy, but Magdalene's hand sealed her lips. "Restrain yourself, sister. If God is preparing a path of escape for us, our own imprudence must not throw obstacles in the way. Consider,—our salvation or ruin lies in our own hands. Woe be to us, if we betray ourselves and our deliverers."

"What did you say?" interrupted Katharine, excitedly. "In the night before Easter? God pity us! Is not that, of all times, the most unsuitable?"

"You mean because of the vigil?" asked Magdalene, reflecting. Then after another glance at the letter, her eyes beamed afresh. "No,—that very night will be the most favorable to our plans. The vigil begins at midnight, and on that evening we retire earlier than usual to get a few hours of sleep. Here I read, that the merchant from Torgau will wait for us at the hour of ten. Is not that wisely planned? Oh, my spirit rises with new courage, kindled by hope, and my last doubts are silenced."

Overcome by her feelings, Magdalene fell upon her knees, and from the depths of her heart came her thanksgiving: "Thou Lord of my life, Thou God of my salvation, I thank Thee, that Thou hast guided a heart to accomplish our deliverance. I put my trust in Thee, Who wilt surely finish the work Thou hast begun, for Thy Name's sake. Amen."