Luther's peril was very great. The coils had been deliberately laid for him, and he had as deliberately placed his neck in the noose. Surely his accusers had been very patient—every opportunity had been given to him to recant.
Aleandro, the Papal Nuncio, argued that, in the face of such stubborn contumacy and insult to both Pope and Emperor, the Emperor would be justified in canceling his safe-conduct and arresting Luther then and there. His offense in refusing to retract was committed at Worms and his trial should be there—and there he should be executed.
The Elector Frederick was a stronger man far in personality than was the Emperor Charles. "The promise of safe-conduct must be kept," said Frederick, and there he rested, refusing to argue the merits of the case by a word, one way or the other.
Frederick held the life of Luther in his hand—a waver, a tremor—and the fagots would soon crackle: for the man who pleads guilty and refuses pardon there is short shrift.
Luther started back for Saxony. All went well until he reached the Black Forest within the bounds of the domain of Frederick; when behold, the carriages and little group of horsemen were surrounded by an armed force of silent and determined men. Luther made a stout defense and was handled not over-gently. He was taken from his closed carriage and placed upon a horse—his friends and guard were ordered to be gone.
The darkness of the forest swallowed Luther and his captors.
News soon reached Wittenberg, and the students mourned him as dead.
His enemies gloried in his disappearance, and everywhere told that he had been struck by the vengeance of God.
Luther was lodged in the Castle of Wartburg, and all communication with the outside world cut off.
The whole scheme was a diplomatic move on the part of the Elector. He expected a demand would be made for the arrest of the heretic. To anticipate this demand he arrested the man himself; and thus placed the matter in position to legally resist should the prisoner be demanded.