CHAPTER XXI

THE MILL IN THE FOREST

When Tyndale and his companions stood on the river bank, after having quitted the cavern, there was no sign of any boat such as the forester had spoken of.

"I've come wide of the mark," said Engel, after looking up and down the stream as if to get his bearings. "Yes; but I see now. We must go a bit to the left and then we shall find Brunow, who said he would wait until we came."

The others started when they saw a black form rise as if coming out of the water.

"Who goes there?" came a quiet but manly toned challenge.

"Otto Engel. Is anybody about?" the forester asked.

"Not that I can see. The pirate lord up yonder has found enough booty to last two or three nights, and there is not so much as a sentinel at the landing-stage. Still, don't linger. I'd like to get away. One never knows who may be about. Which is the Englishman?"

"I am," said Tyndale, going closer to the boatman, and before long he was seated in the flat-bottomed boat, and, the others having stepped into it, the forester was helping to pull to the other bank.

"Now 'tis easy going, please God," said Engel, when they stepped out on the meadow and the boatman made his craft fast.

"I'd not be too sure of it!" he exclaimed, "and it were best to be alert when such an one as Cochlaeus is on the quest for anybody tainted with heresy."

The boatman stood in his boat and looked about him, and they could barely see his movements in the darkness.

"It's well that there was no moon while we were crossing, but I think she's coming. If you hurry over the meadow you may reach the forest yonder before she comes away from those clouds which look like breaking up. And we are not likely presently to have a very dark night."

"We'll go at once," said Engel, and, bidding Tyndale take his arm since it would help him, and telling Roye to carry the wallet, he bade the boatman "good-night," and moved across the meadow.

They had barely entered the forest when the moon swept out into a sky where broken clouds began to drift, and the meadow they had crossed, as likewise the river, and again beyond it the forest where the castle stood, were in the full flood of silver light, only obscured for a few moments as a cloud veiled the moon. They paused to watch the scene, and then they exclaimed almost with one voice:

"Only just in time!"

Out of the forest they had quitted some horsemen rode into the open, close by where they had stepped into the boat. Steel glanced at every movement, and so plainly did everything come into view that they saw one of the horsemen looking around from beneath the hand which shaded his eyes.

"The City Guard!" cried Herman.

"And Cochlaeus, so I think!" exclaimed the forester, who was bending forward, watching every movement. "But what is that?"

Three or four great flat-bottomed boats were floating down the stream, and the horseman who was scanning the landscape beckoned to the men who were in them. What was said it was impossible to tell, but what followed thrilled them with a deadly fear.

"I didn't expect anything like that," muttered the forester, after watching keenly. "Do you see what they are doing? They must have seen or heard us, for they mean to come to this side of the river. See! the boats are drawn up at the bank, which slopes in such a way that the horses can be got into them!"

Tyndale and his companions seemed rooted to the spot. They knew that it was dangerous to linger, yet they found it impossible to get away until they saw in which direction the horsemen would travel when once they touched the other bank.

The great boats, filled with horses and men, came slowly over the water, watched by the unseen fugitives, who were fascinated with their movements.

"Shall we not do well to be moving?" said Tyndale presently, when the first boat ran up to the bank and the riders, leaping out, began to land their horses.

"Best to wait now, I think," said the forester quietly. "If we watch the direction they take we can go in another, and so avoid them."

"Very well," Tyndale responded, and they waited in such silence that every night sound in the forest could be heard--the roar of some prowling beast breaking the silence, and the weird and startling cry of a night bird. But even that went by unnoticed in the anxiety of those minutes of watching.

The last horse came on the bank, and before long, while the boats drifted back again into the current, the horsemen mounted into their saddles, and, gathering up their reins, waited for the next command. It came, for before long every horse was on the move, and steel helmets and steel trappings glanced in the moonlight as the cavalcade moved onward.

"They are moving away from us, thank God!" exclaimed the forester in a tone of intense relief. "They think, if they are after us, and they must be! that we should make for the beaten pathway, and they mean to take it themselves. This way, then!"

The forester took Tyndale's hand, and pulled it through his arm.

"Lean hard on me, Master Tyndale. God willing, we shall give Cochlaeus and his men the slip. I think I know this forest better than any of them, and I can take you by paths they have never seen. So I say, 'Thank God for the moonlight.' Now, art ready?"

The forest was a dangerous place to travel by night, when the wild creatures, the bears, the wolves, the boars, and wild dogs, were out for food. But they would scarcely face four men, each with some weapon, and moving in a compact little body, and alert for every sound and chance encounter. But even then, since this was a matter of life and death, there could be no thought of hesitation.

The last of the horsemen entered the broad forest path when Engel began to move in the other direction, away from them, and away, as he knew, from the place to which he had meant to lead William Tyndale. They went on and on, not going too swiftly, lest they should tire too soon, and always listening for the sound of horses' hoofs and anything like the jingle of steel, in case Cochlaeus had changed his course. Engel led them into the dense shadows, among the bushes, where, when the foliage screened the moonlight, the darkness was blackness. More than once something rushed past them with a snarl or a yelp, and sometimes they heard the jaws of a wolf, or other creature, snap again and again. Once, as the forester led Tyndale away to the left, a wild boar sprang up at their feet, and the glint of the moon through the break in the forest showed them his flashing eyes and his foaming mouth as he sprang away among the undergrowth.

"We are safe, Master Tyndale, since you prayed before we started that God would have us in His keeping," said Engel quietly; and Tyndale's answer told him of his quiet assurance.

"I know it, Engel. We shall yet praise God for His protecting mercies."

They had travelled a good distance, and more than once they had had to rest because Tyndale felt the strain. Yet so far there was no sign of Cochlaeus and his soldiers. Neither had anything human crossed their path. But at last they came to the open country, and across the meadow was a great windmill, now standing still, with no light within to show that anyone was moving.

"'Tis my father's mill!" the forester exclaimed; "and we may safely awake him, since you are tired, Master Tyndale. Some food and a rest will do you good, for I am sure you can have but little strength left."

"But what of those men who are on our track?" said Tyndale anxiously.

"My father will set someone to keep watch, and the country is open, so that no soldiers can come on us unawares."

"But if they did?" Tyndale asked doubtfully.

"A word the moment they appeared anywhere out of the forest and we could get into the marshes, and no horsemen, unless they knew the way, could follow."

Tyndale assented, and gladly, for by this time he was almost exhausted. In a little while they had crossed the meadow and stood at the mill door.

"Who's there?" came the call from an upper window, when Engel had beaten loudly on the door.

"Otto, father, and some friends. Be quick, for we are in no small danger."

The head was drawn away from the window in an instant, and before long the miller was standing in the open doorway.

"Come in!" he exclaimed. "You're welcome since my son brings you here, although I do not know you!"

He had a candle in his hand, and he led the way into a kitchen, the forester staying to bar the door; but he was not long away.

"Father, this is that Englishman, William Tyndale, you may have heard of, whom Cochlaeus is after, meaning to burn him if he can lay hands on him."

"Ha! then thou'rt thrice welcome, Master Tyndale. I'd do aught to frustrate that Deacon of the Church of the Blessed Virgin. I shall never forget the inroad he and his made in our homes."

The man's voice trembled, and he brushed his great hand across his eyes.

"You want food?" he asked, mastering his emotion. "I'll get it;" and ere long the travellers were eating of the best he had to offer them.

"Lie down there, Master Tyndale, and you other men over there. I'll keep watch, and if any come this way I'll awake you in good time, and my son will take you to the marsh."

They slept in confidence with that assurance, but scarcely two hours had gone when the miller awoke them noisily.

"The horsemen have just come out of the forest, and they are crossing the meadow. Otto, take them away, and bide on the island there. 'Tis safe enough, if you're content to stay there till the danger is past."

By this time all were ready.

"My wallet!" exclaimed Tyndale anxiously, for even in this stress of pursuit it was too precious to be forgotten.

"I have it," Roye answered, and he threw it across his shoulder and stood waiting to be gone.

Going out of the mill by a back door, they saw the mere showing plainly in the moonlight. The sedges and reeds almost touched the wall, and Otto Engel hesitated, for he knew the danger. Even for him or his father, who knew the paths in the marsh, it was perilous; but by going cautiously he knew they could pass safely if the others would do exactly as he said. Otherwise it was death, and he told them so.

"If the soldiers should see us they could not overtake us, so be calm, and take your time. Look well to your footing, and we shall be safe."

He spoke with more confidence than he felt, for it was a long time since he had gone into the heart of the mere.

They moved on slowly, the forester telling them what to do from time to time, and they traversed the mere for fully fifty yards in safety, but hearing the sounds of galloping hoofs and jingling steel.

"We're safe now, unless they fire after us," said Engel, speaking thus to reassure them, and pausing for a moment to look behind. "Even if they see us you need have no fear, for they could not follow."

He was turning to move on again, when a cry escaped him involuntarily.

"They have seen us! But what of that?" he added. "They cannot follow."

"They are going to try!" exclaimed Herman, pointing to the horsemen who had come round to the back of the mill.

"We'll put as much distance between ourselves and them as possible," cried Engel, catching at Tyndale's hand. "Mark every word I say, and each one repeat it as he does it to the one behind, so that there will be no mistake."

They went on as swiftly as they dared along the winding path, sometimes hidden by the sedges, which in places rose high enough to shut off the view, while they could not see the horsemen, neither could they be seen until they stepped out again into a clearer space.

"Halt!" came the cry on the night air, and the voice belonged to Cochlaeus.

"On!" exclaimed Engel, moving forward; but a shot rang out, and then another, and yet a third, and they could hear the hissing as the balls flew past them.

"They have struck none of us, thank God!" said Tyndale, moving on again with Engel, after an involuntary pause.

The horsemen were in a group at the opening of the path, helpless and baffled, while the little company still moved on.

"We shall soon be safe," cried the forester. "Another hundred yards and we can be at ease."

"But they may follow," said Herman.

"They will be mad if they do," was the answer; but he had scarcely said as much when Engel's lips parted with wonder. "'Tis madness, surely. 'Tis death to some of them!"

He spoke because three of the soldiers had the audacity to try the path. One led the way on his horse, and another followed, with a third close on his heels. But the feet of the first horse slipped and threw his rider into the midst of the bog.

The scene which followed thrilled those who were watching with horror; not Tyndale and his companions only, but those who were grouped about Cochlaeus. The horse scrambled to his feet and reached the solid ground, but the soldier of the City Guard, throwing out his hands, implored the others to come to his aid. His voice travelled over the marsh, and they heard his hands beat on the slush in his frantic efforts to regain the meadow. It was only possible to watch in helplessness, and the marsh was swallowing him up. The soldier was ere long up to the armpits in the mire, but at last, with a heartrending cry, he disappeared, and the mud and water of the mere closed over him.

Tyndale and his companions watched in solemn silence; then, when Otto Engel spoke, they turned and followed him. They moved along the tortuous path, but halted behind a bank of rushes to see what was being done. They saw the horsemen turn away, and slowly ride out of sight, not even staying to speak to the miller.

The path ended at an open space of solid ground hemmed in by thick bushes and heavily foliaged willow trees, and to their amazement those who followed Engel's leading saw a strongly built timber hut, completely hidden from the view of any who were in the country on the fringe of the marsh.

"You are safe here, Master Tyndale," said the forester, as he flung the hut door open and bade his companions enter. "Neither Cochlaeus nor all the Familiars going can ever find you here. My father will feed you, and if you will, Master Tyndale, you may pursue your God-made task, working and resting when you please."