CHAPTER XXVI

THE PURCHASE OF THE VAULT

"Who is this?" Heinrich asked suspiciously, and pointing to Engel, who stepped into the stable after Herman, and stood near by, waiting for the door to be closed.

"'Tis the forester who showed us how William Tyndale could be brought away from the dungeon in Schouts' castle," Herman explained. "You remember what I told you of him?"

"I do, and since 'tis he, he is welcome for what he did. Let me look at him," Heinrich went on, as soon as he had driven the bolt into the door, and, taking up the lantern, he held it so that the light fell full on Engel's weather-beaten face.

"I can trust you," he said, after a full scrutiny. "But how late you are," he added half peevishly. "'Tis time we started. Hark!"

The great bell of the cathedral boomed out the hour of ten, and Heinrich counted the strokes half audibly before he moved.

"Stay where you are. I'll bring the others down, for 'twill be waste of time to go up the steps only to come down again," he said peremptorily, and he turned to mount the flight to bring the others to them.

"But wait," cried Herman, "Mistress Margaret must not go through the storm in all this rain and wind without something warm on; and here are things my mother sent for her."

Heinrich shrugged his shoulders impatiently. He knew how precious the moments were, and this meant delay.

"Give them to me, and hold this lantern!" he exclaimed. "I'll take them to her, and her mother and mine will make her fit to travel."

He caught up the bundle and moved two steps at a time, while Herman and Engel watched him amusedly.

"He must have his own way. Otherwise we may confuse him," said Herman, as the simple one entered the door at the top of the steps.

"'Tis Herman and the forester who helped to bring the Englishman out of the dungeon," they heard him say in quick, sharp tones. "And Herman's mother has sent these warm, dry clothes for Mistress Margaret. But she must be quick. The moments are precious. The cathedral bell has already struck ten, and what I have to do must be done before eleven, or we are lost."

Herman saw him drop on his knees and unfasten the bundle on the floor.

"Why, the wind may blow how it will, and the rain may come down in a flood, and you will be both warm and dry!" he exclaimed, changing his tone to ecstasy because of what he saw. "But be quick, for the love of God. I want you to have ample time, and cheat those creatures who are seeking for you."

He stood at the top of the steps, his foot tapping impatiently, and again and again, although the moments were but few, glancing into the room to see how Margaret was speeding in her preparations.

"At last!" he cried; and then, beckoning to them to come, he descended the steps, where again he waited for the others.

"Take this lantern, forester!" he exclaimed, having hurriedly lighted one which hung on a nail.

When the last one had come away from the steps, and all were expecting him to open the door, which rattled with the storm, he surprised them by dropping on his knees near by where Margaret was standing, holding Herman by the hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked, wondering why he did not open the stable door, and yet, like the others, perplexed that he should have these lights for the streets, and invite attention.

Heinrich's hands moved swiftly, and they watched him with breathless interest. His fingers were sliding along the edges of some of the stones, and he pulled them up one by one until he pointed to a flat stone about two feet square. His fingers were soon busy with this, and he raised the stone, leaning it back against the wall beneath the manger.

They looked into cold and forbidding blackness, and felt a chill air come up which made them shiver. Heinrich caught up his lantern, and held it far down in the dark opening, showing them some wooden steps which rested on a stone floor.

"We are going down there," he said decisively, putting one foot on the top step. "Mother," he said quietly, "when we are all gone, drop the stone down and make all tidy. I'll give you the sign when I come back. But perhaps I shall come along the streets. It all depends."

He was looking serious, but a smile came to his face, and with his free hand he threw a kiss to his mother, who was standing a little way back, listening, as if to know whether anyone approached the stable door, which was rattling violently with the wind.

Heinrich went down the steps swiftly, and stood on the floor below, waiting.

"Come quickly!" he cried, standing back from the steps to make room, but throwing a light on the steps for the others to know where to put their feet.

"I will go first. Come close after me, my dear," Herman said to Margaret, who turned and kissed the woman who had sheltered her.

Carefully placing her foot on the blackened step, she descended slowly, clinging timidly to the framework, but gathering courage as she went, until she stood at Herman's side, waiting for the others.

"Mother," said Heinrich, when the others were standing in a group about him, "shut up the hole at once. We will wait until 'tis done;" and the woman, going on her knees, looked down to bid them all God-speed, and a safe deliverance, before she dropped the stone into its place. They waited a little longer, and heard her replacing the smaller stones one by one, Heinrich counting each little thud.

"That's the last," he said contentedly. "Now we can start."

He led the way across the empty chamber to a door, bolted and barred; but Heinrich moved the bolts and bars, ready to open the door.

"If I say put out the light, do it instantly, or else cover it over with something. Your cloak, forester, is the very thing, and 'twill save the trouble of lighting again. And, mark this, whenever we come to any door, let me always go in first to see that all is clear, lest someone may be about. Forester, cover that light."

He hid his own lantern under the cloak he had flung over his shoulders, and the whole company stood in darkness, not knowing what Heinrich was doing, nor where he went. They heard no sound which would tell them that he had opened the door; but before long, and through the open doorway, they saw a light. Heinrich was there, waving the lantern, and a low call came to them to come.

The forester brought his lantern from beneath his cloak, and the little company moved forward in wonder. They found themselves in a great vault, full of stores such as would be brought into the city by the ships that came up or down the river. There were casks and boxes, coils of rope, chests of all shapes and sizes, anchors and chains for the shipping, barrels of biscuits and meat for sailors, a medley of things brought down for storage, to be carried away as the owner of the place had customers for them.

These were set down in such a way that there was no clear path towards the spot where Heinrich was standing, waiting for them. At times Engel was able to find a way, and threw the light of the lantern on the floor, but many a time they had to climb over the stores, stepping from one cask to another.

It was easy enough for the men, but for Margaret, even with her spirit, and for her mother, who was weakened by sickness, it was a task that made the others anxious. At last, however, they came to the spot where Heinrich was awaiting them with the greatest serenity.

"Do you know this place, Master Byrckmann?" he asked, as if, now that they were really on the move, he was enjoying the venture.

"I was never here," the printer answered, looking about the great cellar, and seeking to recognise it, if possible, with the aid of the two lanterns.

"Then I'll show you something," said Heinrich gleefully. "Read that;" and he pointed to a huge bale on which Byrckmann's name was printed in rough characters. "There's that, and that, and that," said Heinrich, in quick succession, "and they all have your name on it. Can you guess now where you are?"

"Is it in Bremner's warehouse?" the printer asked, in some amazement.

"That is the very thing," cried Heinrich; but he stopped and stared behind him, listening intently.

"Come after me. Oh, come quickly!" and he led the way, showing the others where he went by flashing his lantern in such a manner that they saw all that he did. "Now in here! quickly! and bend low. Crawl in among the bales," he whispered. "Bear away to the left, forester, and you will find a hiding-place among those planks. Then when I say it, cover up the lantern. Don't let a chink of light come through, or we may be lost."

The forester dropped on his hands and knees, and already Heinrich had covered his own light under his cloak. Squeezing his great form in between some heavy bales of cloth, Engel crawled along, while the others followed him, all save Herman, who remained with Heinrich to see what this threatening danger was.

"Art safely inside?" came Heinrich's whisper.

"Yes," was the answer. "Although 'tis a tight fit for so many," said Engel, with an assumption of ease he did not feel. Better, he thought, that they had taken the risk of the streets and gone to Herman's house to take that underground passage to the river. The same thought was in Herman's mind, but it was too late now. They were in God's hands, and they must abide by the issue of this venture, which might well mean life or death.

"A tight fit, didst say, forester?" Heinrich whispered. "I spent many a night there and found it large enough; but, hush! Cover the light. You are safe there, and only need patience."

Herman, watching with him, felt his heart almost freeze at what he saw. Away through the door which Herman had already opened, he could see a great chamber like this in which they were hiding, choked as this one was, with stores. But what he centred his attention on was a company of men, six of them in all, each carrying a lantern, and finding their way among the merchandise, and at the same time approaching this cellar in which Margaret and himself and the others were hiding.

He went sick with dread when the men came through the doorway, where they halted in a group.

"Is this the last?" asked one, and Herman not only knew the voice, but saw the face of the speaker as the lanterns threw their light on it.

It was Cochlaeus! The Captain of the City Guard was there, and a third was one whom Herman knew, Bremner, the owner of the great warehouses on the quay, and the wealthiest man in the city. The others were ecclesiastics whom Herman had seen, either in the streets, or taking part in the cathedral services.

"This is the last," said Bremner, standing apart for a moment, and staring about him with an air of proprietorship. "And as for strength, you have nothing stronger in the Holy House, and nothing better suited for your purpose, since you may make as many cells here as you please. And every outer wall is three feet thick in stone and cement. The very place for new quarters, which you seem anxious to add to the place you already have."

"'Tis true," said Cochlaeus. "But I like not your price," he added, as he moved in and out among the goods that were stored so thickly in the place. "'Tis two thousand golden crowns too much, and even at that lower price you make it far too dear."

He spoke petulantly.

"'Tis for our Mother Church, and you should bear that in mind!" he exclaimed, when he moved still nearer to where Herman and Heinrich were standing.

"I bear it in mind," Bremner's answer came. "I have again and again refused the price I asked you at the first, but because it is for the glory of God, I named this low figure."

"Two thousand crowns too much!" reiterated Cochlaeus. "You forget how many crowns we shall have to spend to make it fit for our purpose."

"Nay. But I do not want to sell," cried Bremner half impatiently, restraining himself because of his knowledge of the temper of this man with whom, by this unlucky chance, he was dealing. "I shall have to spend five thousand crowns more than you will give me to buy another storage place, so that I stand to lose a great deal."

"And you get the Church's blessing. Fall in with the price I name, and I will secure you favours rarely granted to any like yourself!" exclaimed Cochlaeus, stopping abruptly, not many feet away from where Herman and Heinrich were crouching, and in readiness to go into that hiding-place where the others were sheltering. He faced Bremner, and said peremptorily, "Your last word in this matter."

There was something almost menacing in the tone, and Herman saw Bremner's face. It became white with fear, and he saw, as well, how the man's hand trembled as his fingers rested on his lips. "The Church must have it," he said falteringly.

Cochlaeus answered back exultantly.

"'Tis noble of you, Bremner. I knew you would fall in with my wishes, and you shall not be a loser."

There was silence for a time, and then, anxious though Herman was, his fear was almost more than he could endure, because of the possible consequences to Margaret and those others near by in hiding. Cochlaeus broke the silence and pointed to the wall against which Herman's back was resting.

"I'll go yonder just to be assured that the walls are as firm as these others;" and because he could not pass on the floor, he stepped on some bales, and stepped from one to another, each step bringing him closer to the spot.

"Get inside," said Heinrich, whose teeth were chattering, and they had barely joined the others when Cochlaeus sprang from one of the bales to the floor, so close to Herman that, had he stretched out his hand, he could have gripped the Churchman by the ankles.

"Yes; they seem as good," said Cochlaeus; and then he paused to look around again.

"I would that there were time to look all round, but I must be gone. There are three at least who must be in our hands to-night, and be safely lodged in the dungeons of the Holy House. One is that Byrckmann whose bales of paper I have seen yonder. There is his wife, as well; and there is, besides, his daughter, who has contrived to escape from the Holy House, and must be even now in her father's house."

Bremner spoke quietly, and his voice was tremulous.

"I have known Byrckmann all my lifetime, and I believe him a faithful son of the Church," he ventured. "I can't believe him capable of heresy."

"A man may deceive his best friends," said Cochlaeus shortly. "At all events, he is to be waited on. I must go."

And, standing again on one of the bales, he moved away, as he had come, and before long the vault was in darkness again.