"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."