But every day the danger seemed growing. Luther had the Imperial safe-conduct suffering him to return to Wittenberg unharmed. Excellent. But such a safe-conduct had the Bohemian heretic John Hus possessed, and the Council of Constance had burned him for all that. And Worms, every report bore, was swarming with Papalists,--politically minded courtiers ready to barter Luther’s life for Medici aid in Italy, fanatically minded Spaniards who detested all things German, and all the countless agents of Rome from legate down to valet, who were howling like wolves for blood. And last but not least was the cold, hard young Emperor, who saw in Luther mere insurrection against a time-honored authority it was his duty to defend. All these were against us. Often on the way I meditated “what ought I to urge Dr. Luther to do? Will not the safe-conduct be violated?” Then wild visions would come of a flight with my master to the Regenstein, of calling all the Harzland ritters to my side, and of a red raging war whereof only God could tell the end. Then I would look upon that peaceful, smiling man, sitting on the straw, and bartering innocent Latin saws with Amsdorf, and my wild visions would fade. At Weimar came tidings of an imperial edict ordering the burning of Luther’s books throughout Germany. The herald brought us the news while we were dining at an inn, and well I remember his searching interrogation. “_Now_, Herr Doctor, will you proceed?” “Yes,” answered Luther quietly, and in good color. “The man rides to his death,” whispered young Swaven. “Beyond a doubt the Emperor is prejudged against him.” “I feel it,” I rejoined, “but what are we to do?” He shrugged his shoulders. The horses were reharnessed. Luther was the first to clamber into the wagon. For a while I rode gloomily in the rear. Presently I heard Dr. Martin’s voice upraised, and I caught up with the wagon to get his words. He was repeating with much merriment the story of godless Peter Luders, a notable scholar of the past generation who lost his character in Italy, and once when very drunk had uttered heretical opinions. So at Basel they accused him of denying the three members of the Trinity, to which he had unblushingly answered, “Gladly will I confess _four_ if you will but leave me alone.” What could one say of such a man as our master? Whether God or fiend were guiding him, the matter was out of our hands. I put my horse at his speed, to race ahead to the next town and arrange for comfortable quarters and livery. CHAPTER XXVI WE ENTER WORMS