CHAPTER XIX

SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS

William Tyndale was so weak and ill when Engel had carried him as far as the cavern, and set him down there, that they wondered whether they had brought him from the dungeon only to see him die. Kneeling at his side, the forester watched him seriously, and then it struck him that what Tyndale wanted was food.

"Stay here, Herman, and you, Roye, and keep watch, while I go to my hut for food," he said, looking up at the others, who were gazing down at the over-wrought prisoner.

Herman was alert in an instant.

"'Tis a long way, Otto, and the shortest time before you could return would be more than an hour and a half," he protested; but Engel responded almost impatiently:

"I know that. But if I stay here he will die; and how to get him hence unless he can put a foot forward for his own helping, which is not possible, I do not know."

"Let me go back into the castle and look for some food!" Herman exclaimed.

The forester was aghast at the proposal.

"Then we shall have two dead men on our hands, or at all events one helpless, like this poor one," pointing to Tyndale, "and a dead one, which will be yourself," he cried.

"I think not," said Herman sturdily, looking to his belt to see that he had a weapon handy. "I will go cautiously, and I know my way about by this time. There was some food on the tables in the banqueting-hall--a meal, doubtless for the retainers, all ready, but the men had not come to it because of that summons to the river."

The forester demurred. The proposed errand was too full of danger for his assent to be given with readinesss.

"I mean to go," said Herman, in such a tone of quiet determination that the other felt that it would be useless to attempt to hinder him.

"Very well, then. I admire your boldness, but I think it next door to madness!" exclaimed Engel. "Take the lantern with you."

"No, I won't do that. I can grope my way along the passage, and when I am once on the other side of that door I shall be safer without a light. While I am away, why not see whether it is possible to break away those fetters from Master Tyndale's limbs? Stay here, Roye, and help Engel in doing what can be done for the dear man's comfort."

"That's easily done," said the forester, smiling, and he brought out a file which he had hidden away somewhere. "Sprenkel told me it was just possible that Master Tyndale would be fettered, since it was Schouts' custom to put all his prisoners into irons. That's why I came prepared. Go on your errand quickly, and God speed you. I will start on these irons at once."

While Herman was groping his way along the passage the forester worked hard to relieve Tyndale of that incubus which made free movement an impossibility. But his mind was on the younger man's danger, and he thrilled at the almost certain consequences.

"He must not do that mad thing," he muttered, rising from his knees and tossing the file on the floor.

"He must not, my friend," said Tyndale weakly, rousing himself from his stupor.

Engel did not pause, but hurried along the passage with the lantern in his hand, leaving the others in darkness. He overtook Herman as he was smoothing his hand over the stone door to find the knob which would open it.

"What's wrong?" Herman asked anxiously. "Is Master Tyndale dead?"

"No. But he has spoken, and he thinks with me that you must not attempt this mad thing."

"I shall attempt it, none the less, Otto. There's food to be had, and I mean to get it. The good man's life is worth the risk. The world has need of him."

Herman fingered his dagger while he spoke, and felt its point to know how keen it was, and Engel, seeing the gleam in the other's eyes and the determined look in his face as the light of the lantern played on it, knew that it was vain to endeavour to turn him from his purpose.

"Go softly, then," he whispered, while he, too, felt about for the hidden spring. "Ha! it is here. I'll hide the light first, before we open the door."

He turned and saw a niche in the rock where the lantern light would be completely shaded, if anyone chanced to be in the passage. Then, with his hand again on the spring, he thrust the door away, barely, while the two men peered through the slit.

The passage was dark and silent. There was no sound save the distant shouts of men who were calling to each other in connection with the night's piracy.

"Slip through and look the other way," the ranger whispered, and Herman, venturing, stood in the corridor.

"Go back and file away at those fetters," he whispered back.

"Roye is there, and as I came away, although I was leaving them in darkness, he was beginning to work at them for dear life," the answer came.

A moment later Herman was alone, and the door was drawn into its place, as it had been before, when the search for the dungeon was being made. The passage was dark. The page was somewhere in that part of the castle still. He must have thought he had been dreaming about the streak of light across the floor, for now he was whistling lustily, and breaking off for an occasional snatch of song. The increasing faintness of these sounds assured Herman that the boy was going farther and farther away, somewhere in that part where the steps led down to the now empty dungeon.

Going forward to the banqueting-hall, taking every step in stealth, alert for any sound, and ever on the watch for any token of approaching danger, Herman came to the place where he thought the door of the great chamber should be. He paused when he saw a narrow line of light on the floor of the passage, and, going nearer to know what it meant, he found that the light was streaming through a slit in the doorway of the place where he had seen the food.

When his hand touched the door, he paused to listen, to glance both ways along the corridor; but there was nothing to indicate that anyone was moving about. Growing confident, he pushed the door a little wider open and peeped in. The chamber was empty, and it was all as he had seen it before. Food lay on the tables set there, either for supper or in readiness for the early morning meal. It seemed to Herman that all he had to do was to step in quickly, take a wine flagon from one of the tables, a dish of bread, and one of the roasted fowls.

It was a bold thing to do, but so was everything he had been doing in this night's enterprise. He thought of William Tyndale's need, and knew that, unless he did something such as this, his escape would hardly be possible, seeing that he was so weak.

Opening the door widely, that his movements might be unhampered, he walked to the table, going so rapidly that his feet, with all his attempt at stealth, fell with what seemed to him sharp, loud taps upon the tessellated floor. He was within a yard of the spot where he could lay his hand on the things he wanted, when his heart leapt at what he saw. The door at the other end of the banqueting-hall opened, and someone entered. In a moment Herman pulled his cap low over his eyes, throwing a shadow on his face.

The man who stepped in was Cochlaeus, and as he stood just within the doorway, and the light fell on him, Herman saw that his face was a frowning one, as though he took offence at the treatment that was meted out to a man of his quality and importance among Churchmen--that he should be set aside to await the lord of the castle's leisure while he busied himself with piracy.

Herman's hand stole to his dagger, in readiness to use it, if need arose. The impulse came to turn at once and walk away, hoping that Cochlaeus would not see and recognise him. Before he came to a decision, the Deacon looked up and saw that someone was in the hall.

"Hi, varlet!" he cried peremptorily. "Come and wait on me! This lord of yours has no respect for those who come to see him, for he must needs go on with his godless pursuits, while I am wasting my time, and faint with hunger."

The words came angrily, but so far it was plain that Cochlaeus had not recognised Herman. He was intensely relieved. Could he not play a bolder game?

"Sit, sir, at my lord's table, and let me wait on you," he answered, in a simulated voice. "But I must carry this away first, lest there be trouble at my slackness."

He went forward to a table, and easily, recklessly, indeed, he caught up a great dish of varied meats when he had placed a fowl there, and heaped bread on it. With this and a heavy flagon full of wine, he turned his back on Cochlaeus, and walked to the door by which he had entered.

"Be quick, fellow!" cried the other, who by this time had seated himself at the cross table where Schouts always sat. "I told you I was starving. Canst not serve me first and see to that later?"

The man's voice rang down the hall impatiently.

"I dare not! 'Tis more than one's life is worth in this castle," Herman called back with assumed ease; but his heart was beating tumultuously. With a swift look up the banqueting-chamber to see that none had been watching him besides the heretic hunter, and then with glances as keen each way in the corridor, Herman went at a run, regardless of his sounding steps.

"Here," came the ranger's whisper, as the door opened wide, and Herman, with an ejaculation of thankfulness, stepped through the doorway. He heard the thud of the heavy stone coming into its place, and the click of the latch before he turned.

"Safe again, and God be praised!" exclaimed the forester, reaching for the lantern and looking at the load which Herman carried. "And successful, too!" he cried, a ring of satisfaction in his voice.

"There's plenty for us all," said Herman quietly, now realising the strain this bold venture had placed on him. "Lead the way, Otto, and let us get back to Master Tyndale."

He felt that for a little while, at all events, he did not want to speak. His mind was not so much on the danger he had faced as on that man who was the instigator of all this trouble, and he marvelled at his escape from recognition since more than once he had confronted Cochlaeus in the city, and had been compelled to do business with him. Each step in that short walk towards William Tyndale served to restore his confidence, and as Engel went before him silently, holding the lantern low down, so that the light fell on the path showing him where to tread, he was becoming his old self again.

"Wert seen at all?" asked the ranger presently, wondering at Herman's silence.

"Yes, and by Cochlaeus."

"What! By Cochlaeus?" the other cried, gasping out the words, and turning round so unexpectedly that the dish Herman was carrying was barely saved, and some of the wine in the full flagon was spilt on the path. "Did he know thee?" he exclaimed, staring at Herman and lifting the lantern to see his face.

The question amused Herman, and he chuckled.

"He came into the banqueting-hall while I was there. The fellow had a scowl on his face----"

"I never saw him without one," Engel ejaculated.

"Ha! But it was a more than usually savage one this time, for he was hungry. But go on. Think of Master Tyndale's need. I can tell it as we move forward."

The forester led the way again, and Herman, having given him the flagon to carry, went on with his story.

"His dignity had been offended because Schouts had gone to his pirate work, instead of pursuing that bargain concerning Master Tyndale. He took me for one of the varlets, and bade me serve him with food."

Herman stopped and laughed aloud, and the ranger, turning, saw his face and laughed with him.

"Didst take him any?" he asked.

"Nay, he's there, waiting for me," Herman cried, moving forward.

They laughed until the place rang, for there was no need for restraint since no one inside the castle could overhear them. Tyndale, who had been sitting in helplessness while Roye was filing at the irons in the dark, and feeling his work with his fingers, heard the sounds of laughter, and it was cheering to him.

"There is good news, Roye!" he exclaimed. "They have met with no mishap, for which I thank God, or they would not have come back in such high spirits. And I would be glad to have food, for I feel faint."

He spoke weakly, but when he saw Herman and his companion, coming back with the lantern, which the forester held aloof, he saw their faces and the dish in Herman's hands.

"You seem merry," he said, but already better for the assurance that some of the danger had passed.

"We are!" exclaimed Herman, stepping forward quickly. At Tyndale's side he dropped on his knees and set the food on the floor. He wondered when he saw that already Roye had taken the irons from his hands and had begun with the rings about Tyndale's feet.

"Drink some of this wine first," said Herman, and by this time the forester had gone to Tyndale's other side and had him in his arms, holding him up while the younger man put the flagon to the sick one's lips. He drank a little, and then with care they fed him, and to give him confidence, as well as to fall in with his wishes, they ate with him, for Herman had brought enough and to spare.

When they had eaten, and Tyndale seemed already so much better, they faced the difficulties of the present and the immediate future. Tyndale had been brought out of the dungeon, but what should the next step be? It would soon be known that he had escaped, and the forest would be searched through and through, not only by Cochlaeus and the City Guard, but by the robber lord who had lost a prize that was worth to him at least a thousand golden crowns.

"If I take you to my place, Master Tyndale, they may go there, and they would not fail to find you, and then!"

The forester shrugged his shoulders and thought of the end of this man for whom they had dared so much, to say nothing of their own penalty for aiding him.

"What can be done?" asked Tyndale quietly. "It seems to me that I am compelled to take the risks."

The future appeared very black as they talked over a dozen plans, every one of which had a spot in it of weakness and the certainty of a disastrous ending. But presently the forester, who had done as he was wont to do when in perplexity, came back to the little group after having walked to and fro, wrapped in thought.

"What say you if I leave you here with the others to bear you company, while I go about my business as though nothing had happened? I might even play my part and help the people at the castle--ay! and that rascal, Cochlaeus--in their search for you. But I warrant you 'twill be a vain one. I'd be very diligent for the Churchman."

The cavern rang with the forester's laughter, and he laughed till the tears came, and his body ached when he thought of the chase he would lead them if they suffered him to share in the search.

"I'll bring you food in plenty from time to time, and meanwhile I can think things out and see how we can contrive to get you away. Art willing, Master Tyndale?" he asked, becoming serious.

"I am willing," came the answer; "but I am loth to keep these with me cooped up in the darkness----"

"You shall have light in plenty," the forester interrupted.

"But Herman--think what it means to him, with Margaret Byrckmann waiting for him and wondering what has become of him."

"I'll send her word," said Engel seriously.

"Had I but paper and ink, I could have gone on with my work," said Tyndale. "I should have been using up my hours, and this task would be so much nearer to completion. Roye could have written while I dictated."

"So he shall. I know a priest who is a man of letters, and I can tell him some story which will induce him to give me both pen and paper," said the forester, disposing of that difficulty.

"As for me," said Herman, longing though he was to go back to Margaret, if only to see her for an hour, but feeling that, so far as duty went, it was here, by Tyndale's side--"as for me, I shall stay and keep watch if Otto Engel will only set you going on your work, Master Tyndale!" he exclaimed earnestly.

Engel went just before day-dawn, but he came in the middle of the afternoon with a basket. It contained food, for which they were grateful, but Tyndale's eyes gleamed at the sight of a bundle of paper, some ink, and a store of quills.

"Thank God!" he ejaculated. "Ay, and my dear friend, thank you as well, from the bottom of my heart. There need be no hurry now, for with light and these I am as well off here as in a palace. What care I for comfort if my hand is not stayed in my God-given task?"

His eyes gleamed with pleasure as he turned over the sheets and drew out the books from his wallet. But he thought of Herman.

"My son, since I am safe here, you may steal away at night, and you know your way by that secret entrance to your home; and after that it will be easy to pass through the streets to where the girl you love dwells with her father."

Herman took his outstretched hand in his.

"I'll think about it," he answered softly, the love-light in his eyes. "I should like to go, but my duty is here, and she knows I am with you."

"Is there any news of the castle?" Herman asked a moment later, turning to Engel, who was trimming the lantern.

"News?" exclaimed the forester. "I should think there was. Schouts came to terms with Cochlaeus when he had cleared out the ship and sent her away empty, and then, so Sprenkel told me, they went to the dungeon so that the pious Churchman might see his prisoner. I'd have given something to see them going down those slippery steps, and would have hoped for a fall for both of them. But I would have given a week's wages to have seen their faces when they stepped into that horrible dungeon and found that the prisoner was gone!

"Sprenkel was with them, and he told me that Cochlaeus stamped about on the filthy floor, beside himself with rage. He swung round presently and faced Schouts like a madman, then shook his fist at him, and declared that he had been playing with him. And as for Schouts, who thought of the thousand crowns he had lost, when they seemed so certain, his anger blazed out at the Churchman's insults, and, lifting his great fist, he would have struck him down but for a remnant of superstition still lingering in his godless heart.

"'But for the fact that you are a priest, I would have you chained where that Englishman lay!' he cried.

"He caught the lamp from Sprenkel's hand, and went to the wall where the iron ring had been torn away. He was almost speechless with astonishment, and the more so because he had marked, when he ordered Tyndale to be carried to the dungeon, how frail he was.

"Sprenkel told me that Cochlaeus raged and stormed, and vowed every curse on Schouts and his retainers that the Church could heap upon them, until, in his anger, Schouts gripped him at the back of his neck, hurried the Churchman up the steps and along the corridors, then to the gate, which the warden opened in amazement at his call. There, without a word, he hurled him from him, and Cochlaeus, staggering half-way across the drawbridge, fell in a helpless heap, while the portcullis fell, and the gate closed with a clang."

The forester's face seemed aglow with delight, as he stood with folded arms and his back against the cavern wall.

"I've something more to tell you," he said, after a pause. "I was walking through the forest soon after I left you here, and, hearing the sounds of voices, the stamp of horses' hoofs, and the jingle of harness and steel, I moved about as I usually do when I am out on duty.

"'Hi, fellow!' someone cried, and, turning, I saw Cochlaeus and the City Guard. The Churchman, now on horseback, and greatly ruffled, demanded my name.

"'I'm Otto Engel, your reverence,' I answered, 'and I am ranger of the forest.'

"'In the pay of that robber lord in the castle?' he asked me.

"'Nay; I do not work for him, but for a master whom I love.'

"'Hast seen anyone in the forest--an Englishman--that heretic fellow whom they call William Tyndale? He was a prisoner in the castle, but has got away, and must be hiding somewhere.'

"'When was that?' I asked, as simply as I knew how, and with such an air of surprise that he never thought to ask me again if I had seen the man.

"'Any time during the night,' the answer came, and at once he made an offer which set my blood dancing. 'See, ranger, if thou canst find him for us, that limb of Satan, there are a hundred golden crowns for you, and the blessing of the Church.'

"I put on my face a look of greed, or what I thought was one, with such an offer.

"'Wilt come with me and I will show you places where a man might think to hide,' I said. 'But if I fail to find him I get nothing, and I lose the hundred crowns.'

"'Nay. Thou shalt have ten, but it will be my joy if I have to pay thee the full hundred,' Cochlaeus cried.

"They followed me, the whole of the City Guard and Cochlaeus--the Churchman eager, the other horsemen in ill-humour, for they were hungry after a long night's fast, and worn out with their long waiting at the castle gate, for the coming of the Deacon. How he had come out I had not heard then, for it was later when I met Sprenkel.

"We searched everywhere, in places likely and unlikely, once in the lair of a bear who made her onslaught on us, and had to be dealt with by cold steel, and once again I sent them down an alley in the forest where a couple of wolves leapt out, and there were snarls and snaps, and then unearthly yells, as the wild creatures fell before the deadly sword thrusts.

"'We'll go to the city!' cried Cochlaeus, who rode swiftly back to where I was awaiting them, with my hunting-knife in readiness in case any of those yelping, slouching beasts should get away and turn on me. 'Here are the ten crowns I promised,' he added, handing me the golden pieces with a trembling hand. 'But see, fellow, I spoke of a hundred crowns. Find me this William Tyndale and I will give you a hundred and fifty; but he must be alive, so that we may deal with him for his heresy and his pestilential work.'

"I took the gold, and watched them ride away. Some of the horsemen were wiping the blood from their swords, and most of them were sitting in their saddles in discontent, and gazing after the Churchman with a contempt one rarely has the chance of seeing. I stood looking after them till they had gone out of sight, when someone slapped me on the shoulder. Whoever it was, he had come on me unawares, and I swung round to find myself face to face with Sprenkel. I told him what I knew, and then I heard of what had passed in the castle. But here are the crowns, Master Tyndale, and shall I tell thee what I think it best to do with them?"

Tyndale looked at him curiously.

"I cannot say."

"I thought that you should have them, and use them for the work you have in hand. They would go some little distance towards printing that Word of God, and it would be safe to do so, since it would be but spoiling the Egyptians."

Tyndale hesitated; but at last, when the forester protested that he would not touch the money, he put out his hand, took the coins, and dropped them in his wallet.

"'Twas not God's money when you had it," he said simply, "but I will take it as His money now, and use it for the glory of God."

* * * * * * *

Far on into the night, while Tyndale was telling of his hopes, a night-bird's cry came, and the eyes of those who were in the cavern turned towards the tree which formed the entrance to their hiding-place.

"I believe that's Engel," said Herman, springing to his feet, but at the same time fingering the dagger at his belt, alert for any danger. Before many moments had passed the ranger came in, shaking his dress into place as he stepped forward quickly.

"Come at once!" he exclaimed, before he reached them. "And take up your master's wallet, Roye. I have a boat down by the river which will carry you across to the other bank. I know of a hiding-place in the forest where I cannot think that rascal of a Cochlaeus can ever find you, Master Tyndale, and when it is safe to do so, later on, we may get you to the place you want to reach."

There was a strange look on the man's face as he drew out of his bosom a heavy purse.

"If this be not God's way, I wot not what to call it!" he exclaimed, his voice tremulous with deep feeling. "I have heard my mother tell how, when the Israelites went up out of Egypt to go to the Land of Promise--I think she called it that--they spoiled the Egyptians, and got much from them for their desert journey. What shall we say of this, Master Tyndale? Your enemies have sought to hinder your work, and worse, they mean to kill you if they can. Yet I watched that man Cochlaeus, who was resting at the foot of one of the trees, and he was fingering a purse and took out the ten crowns which I brought here. I thought no more about it, but when I passed that way to make things ready for your escape, Master Tyndale, my foot kicked against something, and it was that same purse. Here it is! It must have dropped from his bosom while he rose to mount into his saddle. 'Tis God's gift. I'm sure of it! Twill pay the charges for a comfortable journey, and leave much over for your future wants."

The forester opened the purse, which was very heavy, and there was the gleam of gold. It was money in abundance, and Tyndale, taking it from Engel's hands, went on his knees.