"I think he is the tempter!" said Master Lindstrom solemnly, his face very grim. "And therefore a liar and the father of lies! You may die, lad, to-day; perhaps you must. But forgotten you shall not be, while we live, or one of us lives, or one of the children who shall come after us. He is a liar!"
I got my hands, with a struggle, from the old man, and turning my back upon him, went and looked out of the window. The sun was rising. The tower of the great minster, seen row for the first time, rose in stately brightness above the red roofs and quaint gables and the rows of dormer windows. Down in the streets the grayness and chill yet lingered. But above was a very glory of light and warmth and color--the rising of the May sun. When I turned round I was myself again. The calm beauty of that sight had stolen into my soul. "Is it time?" I said cheerfully. For the crowd was gathering below, and there were voices and feet on the stairs.
"I think it is," Master Lindstrom answered. "We have obtained leave to go with you. You need fear no violence in the streets, for the man who was hurt is still alive and may recover. I have been with the magistrates this morning," he continued, "and found them better disposed to you; but the Sub-dean has joint jurisdiction with them, as the deputy of the Bishop of Arras, who is dean of the minster; and he is, for some reason, very bitter against you."
"The Bishop of Arras? Granville, do you mean?" I asked. I knew the name of the Emperor's shrewd and powerful minister, by whose advice the Netherlands were at this time ruled.
"The same. He, of course, is not here, but his deputy is. Were it not for him---- But there, it is no good talking of that!" the Dutchman said, breaking off and rubbing his head in his chagrin.
One of the guards who had spent the night with me brought me at this moment a bowl of broth with a piece of bread in it. I could not eat the bread, but I drank the broth and felt the better for it. Having in my pocket a little money with which the Duchess had furnished me, I put a silver piece in the bowl and handed it back to him. The man seemed astonished, and muttered something in German as he turned away.
"What did he say?" I asked the Dutchman.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," he answered.
"But what was it? It was something," I persisted, seeing him confused.
"He--well, he said he would have a mass said for you!" Lindstrom answered in despair. "It will do no harm."