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."