CHAPTER XXV

THE COMING OF THE FORESTER

"Heinrich, take Master and Mistress Byrckmann to their daughter, and wait till I return," said Herman, when he stood at the stable door with Margaret's father and mother. "I am going to tell my mother what we think of doing, unless your plan will let you come with me to my mother's house, where we can use that secret way."

"Nay, 'twill not do," said Heinrich hastily. "We might walk straight into the arms of those whom we want to avoid. No, my way is best."

He spoke so certainly that Herman had no doubt, since he had often proved the simple one's resourcefulness.

"You will wait for me?" he asked.

"I will. We cannot start for an hour or two," was the ready answer; and Herman turned away, and ran along the streets swiftly, not to lose time.

He found his mother waiting in great anxiety, wondering where he was and what had detained him so long, and he told her in the fewest words of the plan for flight.

While he was busy, putting on fresh clothing and making ready for his journey, a loud knock on the street door startled them both. Herman's mother answered the summons, and, opening the door, stared at a man who stood at the bottom step with the rain streaming from his clothes.

"Your business--what is it?" she asked, with what courage she could muster, for this stranger's appearance at such a juncture shook her nerve, and she imagined that he had come to spy out something.

"I want your son, if you be his mother!" the man exclaimed, loudly enough for any who might be passing; but he added in a whisper, "Tell him I am Otto Engel, and I have news for him."

"Come in," she answered carelessly, for the benefit of a man who was passing, and who, for aught she knew, might be a spy. She drew back to make room for the big man to enter the narrow passage.

Closing the door the moment he had gone past her, she led him to the room, and then called up the stairs warily, as though the walls had ears:

"My son, 'tis the forest ranger."

Herman had already heard the strong voice, and he was at the bottom step while his mother was speaking.

"What news?" he asked, when the two men had clasped hands warmly.

"All's well, Herman. The Englishman is still in the hut in the mere, and busy with Roye on that great task of his; but he is restless, and his appetite is whetted because Roye has got to know that the printed sheets that were on board the _Marburg_ are waiting in the hold of the ship that lies at the quay in Worms, and the captain wants to know what to do with them. I'll tell you more. They say that the powers that be have at last plucked up their courage, and declare that this scandal shall be ended, so that Schouts' castle is to be stormed, and the robber noble is to be hanged over his own gate."

"If they can get at him!" exclaimed Herman, with a laugh of incredulity.

"That's how things stand," said the forester, shrugging his shoulders.

"What has all this to do with me?" Herman asked after a pause.

"Everything. Raymart, whom my father allowed to stay in the house where Master Tyndale is staying, has been prowling about in the forest, and a bear has mauled him so badly that he is ill; so that he cannot take the good man on to Worms. And I do not know the way. That's why I'm here--to get you to go, since you know every inch when once I put you in the forest."

Herman's heart leapt. It seemed now that the way for William Tyndale was marked out; and was it not safety for Margaret also? Once in Worms, where the lord of the place was one who would have no Inquisitors prowling in his streets, and, Pope or none at all, would hang them with short shrift if he laid hands on them--was not that the place to which Margaret and her dear ones might go? And Martin Luther, please God, might marry him and her!

"Sit down, Otto, while I am putting some things together, and I will tell you something," Herman said, and in the bedroom, after the two men had tramped up the stairs, Otto listened to the story of the contemplated flight from the city.

"God's hand is in this," the forester said, when Herman had told him all. "If that simple lad will let me join you, I can get you all to a place where I can hire horses, and we will ride to my father's mill, and on to William Tyndale. Then we can make our other plans; but this is the pressing thing just now--to get that dear girl and her loved ones away from the city. Shall I come?"

Herman looked at the ranger's giant frame, and his heart leapt at the thought of his help.

"It will be splendid," he cried. "Shall we go to Heinrich's stable now? I am ready, if mother has some warm wrappings for Margaret."

"They are here, my son," the woman said, pointing to a heap of things on the couch downstairs when they were all standing in the room which seemed small with two such men in it. "I will wrap them in a bundle, and you must be gone."

She threw her arms about Herman's neck presently, kissed him passionately, and told him how she would spend the night in prayer for their good speeding.

"Wilt come to me some early day, Otto Engel, and tell me how they fared?" she asked, standing with her hand on the lock before she opened the street door.

"With all my heart," the forester answered, and then the two men went into the street, where, as they faced the sweeping rain and wind, they staggered and fought hard to keep their feet.