{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_2866/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_2866","id":"gutenberg_2866","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2866","summary":null,"tags":["Anne Boleyn, Queen, consort of Henry VIII, King of England, 1507-1536 -- Fiction","Biographical fiction","Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Great Britain -- History -- Henry VIII, 1509-1547 -- Fiction","Great Britain -- History -- Tudors, 1485-1603 -- Fiction","Historical Fiction","Historical fiction","Queens -- Great Britain -- Fiction","Windsor Castle -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Grant Macandrew\n\n\n\n\n\nWINDSOR CASTLE\n\nBy William H. Ainsworth\n\n\n     \u201cAbout, about!\n     Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out.\u201d\n\n     SHAKESPEARE, Merry Wives of Windsor\n\n\n\n     \u201cThere is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter,\n     Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest,\n     Doth all the winter time, at still midnight,\n     Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns;\n     And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,\n     And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain\n     In a most hideous and dreadful manner:\n     You have heard of such a spirit; and well you know,\n     The superstitious idle-headed eld\n     Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age,\n     This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth.\u201d--ibid\n\n\n\n\n\nWINDSOR CASTLE\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I. ANNE BOLEYN\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n     Of the Earl of Surrey's solitary Ramble in the Home Park--Of\n     the Vision beheld by him in the Haunted Dell--And of his\n     Meeting with Morgan Fenwolf, the Keeper, beneath Herne's\n     Oak.\n\n\nIn the twentieth year of the reign of the right high and puissant King\nHenry the Eighth, namely, in 1529, on the 21st of April, and on one\nof the loveliest evenings that ever fell on the loveliest district in\nEngland, a fair youth, having somewhat the appearance of a page, was\nleaning over the terrace wall on the north side of Windsor Castle, and\ngazing at the magnificent scene before him. On his right stretched the\nbroad green expanse forming the Home Park, studded with noble trees,\nchiefly consisting of ancient oaks, of which England had already learnt\nto be proud, thorns as old or older than the oaks, wide-spreading\nbeeches, tall elms, and hollies. The disposition of these trees was\npicturesque and beautiful in the extreme. Here, at the end of a sweeping\nvista, and in the midst of an open space covered with the greenest\nsward, stood a mighty broad-armed oak, beneath whose ample boughs,\nthough as yet almost destitute of foliage, while the sod beneath them\ncould scarcely boast a head of fern, couched a herd of deer. There lay\na thicket of thorns skirting a sand-bank, burrowed by rabbits, on this\nhand grew a dense and Druid-like grove, into whose intricacies the\nslanting sunbeams pierced; on that extended a long glade, formed by a\nnatural avenue of oaks, across which, at intervals, deer were passing.\nNor were human figures wanting to give life and interest to the scene.\nAdown the glade came two keepers of the forest, having each a couple of\nbuckhounds with them in leash, whose baying sounded cheerily amid the\nwoods. Nearer the castle, and bending their way towards it, marched a\nparty of falconers with their well-trained birds, whose skill they had\nbeen approving upon their fists, their jesses ringing as they moved\nalong, while nearer still, and almost at the foot of the terrace wall,\nwas a minstrel playing on a rebec, to which a keeper, in a dress of\nLincoln green, with a bow over his shoulder, a quiver of arrows at his\nback, and a comely damsel under his arm, was listening.\n\nOn the left, a view altogether different in character, though scarcely\nless beautiful, was offered to the gaze. It was formed by the town of\nWindsor, then not a third of its present size, but incomparably\nmore picturesque in appearance, consisting almost entirely of a long\nstraggling row of houses, chequered black and white, with tall gables,\nand projecting storeys skirting the west and south sides of the castle,\nby the silver windings of the river, traceable for miles, and reflecting\nthe glowing hues of the sky, by the venerable College of Eton,\nembowered in a grove of trees, and by a vast tract of well-wooded and\nwell-cultivated country beyond it, interspersed with villages, churches,\nold halls, monasteries, and abbeys.\n\nTaking out his tablets, the youth, after some reflection, traced a few\nlines upon them, and then, quitting the parapet, proceeded slowly, and\nwith a musing air, towards the north west angle of the terrace. He\ncould not be more than fifteen, perhaps not so much, but he was tall and\nwell-grown, with slight though remarkably well-proportioned limbs;\nand it might have been safely predicted that, when arrived at years of\nmaturity, he would possess great personal vigour. His countenance was\nfull of thought and intelligence, and he had a broad lofty brow,\nshaded by a profusion of light brown ringlets, a long, straight, and\nfinely-formed nose, a full, sensitive, and well-chiselled mouth, and\na pointed chin. His eyes were large, dark, and somewhat melancholy in\nexpression, and his complexion possessed that rich clear brown tint\nconstantly met with in Italy or Spain, though but seldom seen in\na native of our own colder clime. His dress was rich, but sombre,\nconsisting of a doublet of black satin, worked with threads of Venetian\ngold; hose of the same material, and similarly embroidered; a shirt\ncuriously wrought with black silk, and fastened at the collar with black\nenamelled clasps; a cloak of black velvet, passmented with gold, and\nlined with crimson satin; a flat black velvet cap, set with pearls and\ngoldsmith's work, and adorned with a short white plume; and black velvet\nbuskins. His arms were rapier and dagger, both having gilt and graven\nhandles, and sheaths of black velvet.\n\nAs he moved along, the sound of voices chanting vespers arose from Saint\nGeorge's Chapel; and while he paused to listen to the solemn strains,\na door, in that part of the castle used as the king's privy lodgings,\nopened, and a person advanced towards him. The new-comer had broad,\nbrown, martial-looking features, darkened still more by a thick\ncoal-black beard, clipped short in the fashion of the time, and a pair\nof enormous moustachios. He was accoutred in a habergeon, which gleamed\nfrom beneath the folds of a russet-coloured mantle, and wore a steel cap\nin lieu of a bonnet on his head, while a long sword dangled from beneath\nhis cloak. When within a few paces of the youth, whose back was towards\nhim, and who did not hear his approach, he announced himself by a loud\ncough, that proved the excellence of his lungs, and made the old walls\nring again, startling the jackdaws roosting in the battlements.\n\n\u201cWhat! composing a vesper hymn, my lord of Surrey?\u201d he cried with a\nlaugh, as the other hastily thrust the tablets, which he had hitherto\nheld in his hand, into his bosom. \u201cYou will rival Master Skelton, the\npoet laureate, and your friend Sir Thomas Wyat, too, ere long. But\nwill it please your lord-ship to quit for a moment the society of the\ncelestial Nine, and descend to earth, while I inform you that, acting\nas your representative, I have given all needful directions for his\nmajesty's reception to-morrow?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have not failed, I trust, to give orders to the groom of the\nchambers for the lodging of my fair cousin, Mistress Anne Boleyn,\nCaptain Bouchier?\u201d inquired the Earl of Surrey, with a significant\nsmile.\n\n\u201cAssuredly not, my lord!\u201d replied the other, smiling in his turn. \u201cShe\nwill be lodged as royally as if she were Queen of England. Indeed, the\nqueen's own apartments are assigned her.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is well,\u201d rejoined Surrey. \u201cAnd you have also provided for the\nreception of the Pope's legate, Cardinal Campeggio?\u201d\n\nBouchier bowed.\n\n\u201cAnd for Cardinal Wolsey?\u201d pursued the other.\n\nThe captain bowed again.\n\n\u201cTo save your lordship the necessity of asking any further questions,\u201d\n he said, \u201cI may state briefly that I have done all as if you had done it\nyourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe a little more particular, captain, I pray you,\u201d said Surrey.\n\n\u201cWillingly, my lord,\u201d replied Bouchier. \u201cIn your lord ship's name, then,\nas vice-chamberlain, in which character I presented myself, I summoned\ntogether the dean and canons of the College of St. George, the usher of\nthe black rod, the governor of the alms-knights, and the whole of the\nofficers of the household, and acquainted them, in a set speech-which, I\nflatter myself, was quite equal to any that your lordship, with all your\npoetical talents, could have delivered--that the king's highness, being\nat Hampton Court with the two cardinals, Wolsey and Campeggio, debating\nthe matter of divorce from his queen, Catherine of Arragon, proposes to\nhold the grand feast of the most noble order of the Garter at this his\ncastle of Windsor, on Saint George's Day--that is to say, the day after\nto-morrow--and that it is therefore his majesty's sovereign pleasure\nthat the Chapel of St. George, in the said castle, be set forth and\nadorned with its richest furniture; that the high altar be hung with\narras representing the patron saint of the order on horseback, and\ngarnished with the costliest images and ornaments in gold and silver;\nthat the pulpit be covered with crimson damask, inwrought with\nflowers-de-luces of gold, portcullises, and roses; that the royal stall\nbe canopied with a rich cloth of state, with a haut-pas beneath it of\na foot high; that the stalls of the knights companions be decked with\ncloth of tissue, with their scutcheons set at the back; and that all be\nready at the hour of tierce-hora tertia vespertina, as appointed by his\nmajesty's own statute--at which time the eve of the feast shall be held\nto commence.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake breath, captain,\u201d laughed the earl.\n\n\u201cI have no need,\u201d replied Bouchier. \u201cFurthermore, I delivered your\nlordship's warrant from the lord chamberlain to the usher of the black\nrod, to make ready and furnish Saint George's Hall, both for the supper\nto-morrow and the grand feast on the following day; and I enjoined the\ndean and canons of the college, the alms-knights, and all the other\nofficers of the order, to be in readiness for the occasion. And now,\nhaving fulfilled my devoir, or rather your lordship's, I am content to\nresign my post as vice-chamberlain, to resume my ordinary one, that of\nyour simple gentleman, and to attend you back to Hampton Court whenever\nit shall please you to set forth.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that will not be for an hour, at the least,\u201d replied the earl; \u201cfor\nI intend to take a solitary ramble in the Home Park.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat I to seek inspiration for a song--or to meditate upon the charms\nof the fair Geraldine, eh, my lord?\u201d rejoined Bouchier. \u201cBut I will not\nquestion you too shrewdly. Only let me caution you against going near\nHerne's Oak. It is said that the demon hunter walks at nightfall, and\nscares, if he does not injure, all those who cross his path. At curfew\ntoll I must quit the castle, and will then, with your attendants proceed\nto the Garter, in Thames Street, where I will await your arrival. If we\nreach Hampton Court by midnight, it will be time enough, and as the moon\nwill rise in an hour, we shall have a pleasant ride.\u201d\n\n\u201cCommend me to Bryan Bowntance, the worthy host of the Garter,\u201d said the\nearl; \u201cand bid him provide you with a bottle of his best sack in which\nto drink my health.\u201d\n\n\u201cFear me not,\u201d replied the other. \u201cAnd I pray your lordship not to\nneglect my caution respecting Herne the Hunter. In sober sooth, I have\nheard strange stories of his appearance of late, and should not care to\ngo near the tree after dark.\u201d\n\nThe earl laughed somewhat sceptically, and the captain reiterating his\ncaution, they separated--Bouchier returning the way he came, and Surrey\nproceeding towards a small drawbridge crossing the ditch on the eastern\nside of the castle, and forming a means of communication with the Little\nPark. He was challenged by a sentinel at the drawbridge, but on giving\nthe password he was allowed to cross it, and to pass through a gate on\nthe farther side opening upon the park.\n\nBrushing the soft and dewy turf with a footstep almost as light and\nbounding as that of a fawn, he speeded on for more than a quarter of a\nmile, when he reached a noble beech-tree standing at the end of a clump\nof timber. A number of rabbits were feeding beneath it, but at his\napproach they instantly plunged into their burrows.\n\nHere he halted to look at the castle. The sun had sunk behind it,\ndilating its massive keep to almost its present height and tinging the\nsummits of the whole line of ramparts and towers, since rebuilt and\nknown as the Brunswick Tower, the Chester Tower, the Clarence Tower, and\nthe Victoria Tower, with rosy lustre.\n\nFlinging himself at the foot of the beech-tree, the youthful earl\nindulged his poetical reveries for a short time, and then, rising,\nretraced his steps, and in a few minutes the whole of the south side of\nthe castle lay before him. The view comprehended the two fortifications\nrecently removed to make way for the York and Lancaster Towers, between\nwhich stood a gate approached by a drawbridge; the Earl Marshal's Tower,\nnow styled from the monarch in whose reign it was erected, Edward the\nThird's Tower; the black rod's lodgings; the Lieutenant's--now Henry the\nThird's Tower; the line of embattled walls, constituting the lodgings of\nthe alms-knights; the tower tenanted by the governor of that body, and\nstill allotted to the same officer; Henry the Eight's Gateway, and the\nChancellor of the Garter's Tower--the latter terminating the line\nof building. A few rosy beams tipped the pinnacles of Saint George's\nChapel, seen behind the towers above-mentioned, with fire; but, with\nthis exception, the whole of the mighty fabric looked cold and grey.\n\nAt this juncture the upper gate was opened, and Captain Bouchier and his\nattendants issued from it, and passed over the drawbridge. The curfew\nbell then tolled, the drawbridge was raised, the horsemen disappeared,\nand no sound reached the listener's ear except the measured tread of the\nsentinels on the ramparts, audible in the profound stillness.\n\nThe youthful earl made no attempt to join his followers, but having\ngazed on the ancient pile before him till its battlements and towers\ngrew dim in the twilight, he struck into a footpath leading across the\npark towards Datchet, and pursued it until it brought him near a dell\nfilled with thorns, hollies, and underwood, and overhung by mighty oaks,\ninto which he unhesitatingly plunged, and soon gained the deepest part\nof it. Here, owing to the thickness of the hollies and the projecting\narms of other large overhanging timber, added to the uncertain light\nabove, the gloom was almost impervious, and he could scarcely see a\nyard before him. Still, he pressed on unhesitatingly, and with a sort of\npleasurable sensation at the difficulties he was encountering. Suddenly,\nhowever, he was startled by a blue phosphoric light streaming through\nthe bushes on the left, and, looking up, he beheld at the foot of an\nenormous oak, whose giant roots protruded like twisted snakes from the\nbank, a wild spectral-looking object, possessing some slight resemblance\nto humanity, and habited, so far as it could be determined, in the skins\nof deer, strangely disposed about its gaunt and tawny-coloured limbs. On\nits head was seen a sort of helmet, formed of the skull of a stag, from\nwhich branched a large pair of antlers; from its left arm hung a heavy\nand rusty-looking chain, in the links of which burnt the phosphoric fire\nbefore mentioned; while on its right wrist was perched a large horned\nowl, with feathers erected, and red staring eyes.\n\nImpressed with the superstitious feelings common to the age, the young\nearl, fully believing he was in the presence of a supernatural being,\ncould scarcely, despite his courageous nature, which no ordinary matter\nwould have shaken, repress a cry. Crossing himself, he repeated, with\ngreat fervency, a prayer, against evil spirits, and as he uttered it the\nlight was extinguished, and the spectral figure vanished. The clanking\nof the chain was heard, succeeded by the hooting of the owl; then came a\nhorrible burst of laughter, then a fearful wail, and all was silent.\n\nUp to this moment the young earl had stood still, as if spell-bound; but\nbeing now convinced that the spirit had fled, he pressed forward, and,\nere many seconds, emerged from the brake. The full moon was rising as he\nissued forth, and illuminating the glades and vistas, and the calmness\nand beauty of all around seemed at total variance with the fearful\nvision he had just witnessed. Throwing a shuddering glance at the\nhaunted dell, he was about to hurry towards the castle, when a large,\nlightning-scathed, and solitary oak, standing a little distance from\nhim, attracted his attention.\n\nThis was the very tree connected with the wild legend of Herne the\nHunter, which Captain Bouchier had warned him not to approach, and he\nnow forcibly recalled the caution. Beneath it he perceived a figure,\nwhich he at first took for that of the spectral hunter; but his fears\nwere relieved by a shout from the person, who at the same moment\nappeared to catch sight of him.\n\nSatisfied that, in the present instance, he had to do with a being of\nthis world, Surrey ran towards the tree, and on approaching it\nperceived that the object of his alarm was a young man of very athletic\nproportions, and evidently, from his garb, a keeper of the forest.\n\nHe was habited in a jerkin of Lincoln green cloth, with the royal badge\nwoven in silver on the breast, and his head was protected by a flat\ngreen cloth cap, ornamented with a pheasant's tail. Under his right\narm he carried a crossbow; a long silver-tipped horn was slung in\nhis baldric; and he was armed with a short hanger, or wood-knife. His\nfeatures were harsh and prominent; and he had black beetling brows, a\nlarge coarse mouth, and dark eyes, lighted up with a very sinister and\nmalignant expression.\n\nHe was attended by a large savage-looking staghound, whom he addressed\nas Bawsey, and whose fierceness had to be restrained as Surrey\napproached.\n\n\u201cHave you seen anything?\u201d he demanded of the earl.\n\n\u201cI have seen Herne the Hunter himself, or the fiend in his likeness,\u201d\n replied Surrey.\n\nAnd he briefly related the vision he had beheld.\n\n\u201cAy, ay, you have seen the demon hunter, no doubt,\u201d replied the keeper\nat the close of the recital. \u201cI neither saw the light, nor heard the\nlaughter, nor the wailing cry you speak of; but Bawsey crouched at my\nfeet and whined, and I knew some evil thing was at hand. Heaven shield\nus!\u201d he exclaimed, as the hound crouched at his feet, and directed her\ngaze towards the oak, uttering a low ominous whine, \u201cshe is at the same\ntrick again.\u201d\n\nThe earl glanced in the same direction, and half expected to see the\nknotted trunk of the tree burst open and disclose the figure of the\nspectral hunter. But nothing was visible--at least, to him, though it\nwould seem from the shaking limbs, fixed eyes, and ghastly visage of the\nkeeper, that some appalling object was presented to his gaze.\n\n\u201cDo you not see him?\u201d cried the latter at length, in thrilling accents;\n\u201che is circling the tree, and blasting it. There! he passes us now--do\nyou not see him?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Surrey; \u201cbut do not let us tarry here longer.\u201d\n\nSo saying he laid his hand upon the keeper's arm. The touch seemed to\nrouse him to exertion: He uttered a fearful cry, and set off at a quick\npace along the park, followed by Bawsey, with her tail between her legs.\nThe earl kept up with him, and neither halted till they had left the\nwizard oak at a considerable distance behind them.\n\n\u201cAnd so you did not see him?\u201d said the keeper, in a tone of exhaustion,\nas he wiped the thick drops from his brow.\n\n\u201cI did not,\u201d replied Surrey.\n\n\u201cThat is passing strange,\u201d rejoined the other. \u201cI myself have seen him\nbefore, but never as he appeared to-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a keeper of the forest, I presume, friend?\u201d said Surrey. \u201cHow\nare you named?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am called Morgan Fenwolf,\u201d replied the keeper; \u201cand you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am the Earl of Surrey;' returned the young noble.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed Fenwolf, making a reverence, \u201cthe son to his grace of\nNorfolk?\u201d\n\nThe earl replied in the affirmative.\n\n\u201cWhy, then, you must be the young nobleman whom I used to see so often\nwith the king's son, the Duke of Richmond, three or four years ago,\nat the castle?\u201d rejoined Fenwolf \u201cYou are altogether grown out of my\nrecollection.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot unlikely,\u201d returned the earl. \u201cI have been at Oxford, and have only\njust completed my studies. This is the first time I have been at Windsor\nsince the period you mention.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have heard that the Duke of Richmond was at Oxford likewise,\u201d\n observed Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cWe were at Cardinal College together,\u201d replied Surrey. \u201cBut the duke's\nterm was completed before mine. He is my senior by three years.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose your lordship is returning to the castle?\u201d said Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Surrey. \u201cMy attendants are waiting for me at the Garter,\nand if you will accompany me thither, I will bestow a cup of good ale\nupon you to recruit you after the fright you have undergone.\u201d\n\nFenwolf signified his graceful acquiescence, and they walked on in\nsilence, for the earl could not help dwelling upon the vision he had\nwitnessed, and his companion appeared equally abstracted. In this sort\nthey descended the hill near Henry the Eighth's Gate, and entered Thames\nStreet.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n     Of Bryan Bowntance, the Host of the Garter--Of the Duke of\n     Shoreditch--Of the Bold Words uttered by Mark Fytton, the\n     Butcher, and how he was cast into the Vault of the Curfew\n     Tower.\n\n\nTurning off on the right, the earl and his companion continued to\ndescend the hill until they came in sight of the Garter--a snug little\nhostel, situated immediately beneath the Curfew Tower.\n\nBefore the porch were grouped the earl's attendants, most of whom\nhad dismounted, and were holding their steeds by the bridles. At\nthis juncture the door of the hostel opened, and a fat jolly-looking\npersonage, with a bald head and bushy grey beard, and clad in a brown\nserge doublet, and hose to match, issued forth, bearing a foaming jug of\nale and a horn cup. His appearance was welcomed by a joyful shout from\nthe attendants.\n\n\u201cCome, my masters!\u201d he cried, filling the horn, \u201chere is a cup of stout\nWindsor ale in which to drink the health of our jolly monarch, bluff\nKing Hal; and there's no harm, I trust, in calling him so.\u201d\n\n\u201cMarry, is there not, mine host;\u201d cried the foremost attendant. \u201cI spoke\nof him as such in his own hearing not long ago, and he laughed at me\nin right merry sort. I love the royal bully, and will drink his health\ngladly, and Mistress Anne Boleyn's to boot.\u201d\n\nAnd he emptied the horn.\n\n\u201cThey tell me Mistress Anne Boleyn is coming to Windsor with the king\nand the knights-companions to-morrow--is it so?\u201d asked the host, again\nfilling the horn, and handing it to another attendant.\n\nThe person addressed nodded, but he was too much engrossed by the horn\nto speak.\n\n\u201cThen there will be rare doings in the castle,\u201d chuckled the host; \u201cand\nmany a lusty pot will be drained at the Garter. Alack-a-day! how times\nare changed since I, Bryan Bowntance, first stepped into my father's\nshoes, and became host of the Garter. It was in 1501--twenty-eight years\nago--when King Henry the Seventh, of blessed memory, ruled the land, and\nwhen his elder son, Prince Arthur, was alive likewise. In that year the\nyoung prince espoused Catherine of Arragon, our present queen, and soon\nafterwards died; whereupon the old king, not liking--for he loved his\ntreasure better than his own flesh--to part with her dowry, gave her to\nhis second son, Henry, our gracious sovereign, whom God preserve! Folks\nsaid then the match wouldn't come to good; and now we find they spoke\nthe truth, for it is likely to end in a divorce.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so loud, mine host!\u201d cried the foremost attendant; \u201chere comes our\nyoung master, the Earl of Surrey.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I care not,\u201d replied the host bluffly. \u201cI've spoken no treason.\nI love my king; and if he wishes to have a divorce, I hope his holiness\nthe Pope will grant him one, that's all.\u201d\n\nAs he said this, a loud noise was heard within the hostel, and a man was\nsuddenly and so forcibly driven forth, that he almost knocked down Bryan\nBowntance, who was rushing in to see what was the matter. The person\nthus ejected, who was a powerfully-built young man, in a leathern\ndoublet, with his muscular arms bared to the shoulder, turned his rage\nupon the host, and seized him by the throat with a grip that threatened\nhim with strangulation. Indeed, but for the intervention of the earl's\nattendants, who rushed to his assistance, such might have been his fate.\nAs soon as he was liberated, Bryan cried in a voice of mingled rage and\nsurprise to his assailant, \u201cWhy, what's the matter, Mark Fytton?--are\nyou gone mad, or do you mistake me for a sheep or a bullock, that you\nattack me in this fashion? My strong ale must have got into your addle\npate with a vengeance.\n\n\u201cThe knave has been speaking treason of the king's highness,\u201d said the\ntall man, whose doublet and hose of the finest green cloth, as well as\nthe how and quiverful of arrows at his back, proclaimed him an\narcher--\u201cand therefore we turned him out!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you did well, Captain Barlow,\u201d cried the host.\n\n\u201cCall me rather the Duke of Shoreditch,\u201d rejoined the tall archer; \u201cfor\nsince his majesty conferred the title upon me, though it were but in\njest, when I won this silver bugle, I shall ever claim it. I am always\ndesignated by my neighbours in Shoreditch as his grace; and I require\nthe same attention at your hands. To-morrow I shall have my comrades,\nthe Marquises of Clerkenwell, Islington, Hogsden, Pancras, and\nPaddington, with me, and then you will see the gallant figure we shall\ncut.\u201d\n\n\u201cI crave your grace's pardon for my want of respect,\u201d replied the host.\n\u201cI am not ignorant of the distinction conferred upon you at the last\nmatch at the castle butts by the king. But to the matter in hand. What\ntreason hath Mark Fytton, the butcher, been talking?\u201d\n\n\u201cI care not to repeat his words, mine host,\u201d replied the duke; \u201cbut\nhe hath spoken in unbecoming terms of his highness and Mistress Anne\nBoleyn.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe means not what he says,\u201d rejoined the host. \u201cHe is a loyal subject\nof the king; but he is apt to get quarrelsome over his cups.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell said, honest Bryan,\u201d cried the duke; \u201cyou have one quality of a\ngood landlord--that of a peacemaker. Give the knave a cup of ale, and\nlet him wash down his foul words in a health to the king, wishing him a\nspeedy divorce and a new queen, and he shall then sit among us again.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not desire to sit with you, you self-dubbed duke,\u201d rejoined Mark;\n\u201cbut if you will doff your fine jerkin, and stand up with me on the\ngreen, I will give you cause to remember laying hands on me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell challenged, bold butcher!\u201d cried one of Surrey's attendants. \u201cYou\nshall be made a duke yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cOr a cardinal,\u201d cried Mark. \u201cI should not be the first of my brethren\nwho has met with such preferment.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe derides the Church in the person of Cardinal Wolsey!\u201d cried the\nduke. \u201cHe is a blasphemer as well as traitor.\u201d\n\n\u201cDrink the king's health in a full cup, Mark,\u201d interposed the host,\nanxious to set matters aright, \u201cand keep your mischievous tongue between\nyour teeth.\u201d\n\n\u201cBeshrew me if I drink the king's health, or that of his minion, Anne\nBoleyn!\u201d cried Mark boldly. \u201cBut I will tell you what I will drink.\nI will drink the health of King Henry's lawful consort, Catherine\nof Arragon; and I will add to it a wish that the Pope may forge her\nmarriage chains to her royal husband faster than ever.\u201d\n\n\u201cA foolish wish,\u201d cried Bryan. \u201cWhy, Mark, you are clean crazed!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the king who is crazed, not me!\u201d cried Mark. \u201cHe would sacrifice\nhis rightful consort to his unlawful passion; and you, base hirelings,\nsupport the tyrant in his wrongful conduct!\u201d\n\n\u201cSaints protect us!\u201d exclaimed Bryan. \u201cWhy, this is flat treason. Mark,\nI can no longer uphold you.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot if you do not desire to share his prison, mine host,\u201d cried the\nDuke of Shoreditch. \u201cYou have all heard him call the king a tyrant.\nSeize him, my masters!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them lay hands upon me if they dare!\u201d cried the butcher resolutely.\n\u201cI have felled an ox with a blow of my fist before this, and I promise\nyou I will show them no better treatment.\u201d\n\nAwed by Mark's determined manner, the bystanders kept aloof.\n\n\u201cI command you, in the king's name, to seize him!\u201d roared Shoreditch.\n\u201cIf he offers resistance he will assuredly be hanged.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one shall touch me!\u201d cried Mark fiercely.\n\n\u201cThat remains to be seen,\u201d said the foremost of the Earl of Surrey's\nattendants. \u201cYield, fellow!\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d replied Mark; \u201cand I warn you to keep off.\u201d\n\nThe attendant, however, advanced; but before he could lay hands on the\nbutcher he received a blow from his ox-like fist that sent him reeling\nbackwards for several paces, and finally stretched him at full length\nupon the ground. His companions drew their swords, and would have\ninstantly fallen upon the sturdy offender, if Morgan Fenwolf, who, with\nthe Earl of Surrey, was standing among the spectators, had not rushed\nforward, and, closing with Mark before the latter could strike a blow,\ngrappled with him, and held him fast till he was secured, and his arms\ntied behind him.\n\n\u201cAnd so it is you, Morgan Fenwolf, who have served me this ill turn,\neh?\u201d cried the butcher, regarding him fiercely. \u201cI now believe all I\nhave heard of you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat have you heard of him?\u201d asked Surrey, advancing.\n\n\u201cThat he has dealings with the fiend--with Herne the Hunter,\u201d replied\nMark. \u201cIf I am hanged for a traitor, he ought to be burnt for a wizard.\u201d\n\n\u201cHeed not what the villain says, my good fellow,\u201d said the Duke of\nShoreditch; \u201cyou have captured him bravely, and I will take care your\nconduct is duly reported to his majesty. To the castle with him! To\nthe castle! He will lodge to-night in the deepest dungeon of yon\nfortification,\u201d pointing to the Curfew Tower above them, \u201cthere to await\nthe king's judgment; and to-morrow night it will be well for him if he\nis not swinging from the gibbet near the bridge. Bring him along.\u201d\n\nAnd followed by Morgan Fenwolf and the others, with the prisoner, he\nstrode up the hill.\n\nLong before this Captain Bouchier had issued from the hostel and joined\nthe earl, and they walked together after the crowd. In a few minutes the\nDuke of Shoreditch reached Henry the Eighth's Gate, where he shouted to\na sentinel, and told him what had occurred. After some delay a wicket in\nthe gate was opened, and the chief persons of the party were allowed to\npass through it with the prisoner, who was assigned to the custody of a\ncouple of arquebusiers.\n\nBy this time an officer had arrived, and it was agreed, at the\nsuggestion of the Duke of Shoreditch, to take the offender to the Curfew\nTower. Accordingly they crossed the lower ward, and passing beneath an\narchway near the semicircular range of habitations allotted to the\npetty canons, traversed the space before the west end of Saint George's\nChapel, and descending a short flight of stone steps at the left, and\nthreading a narrow passage, presently arrived at the arched entrance in\nthe Curfew, whose hoary walls shone brightly in the moonlight.\n\nThey had to knock for some time against the stout oak door before any\nnotice was taken of the summons. At length an old man, who acted as\nbellringer, thrust his head out of one of the narrow pointed windows\nabove, and demanded their business. Satisfied with the reply, he\ndescended, and, opening the door, admitted them into a lofty chamber,\nthe roof of which was composed of stout planks, crossed by heavy oaken\nrafters, and supported by beams of the same material. On the left a\nsteep ladder-like flight of wooden steps led to an upper room, and from\na hole in the roof descended a bell-rope, which was fastened to one of\nthe beams, showing the use to which the chamber was put.\n\nSome further consultation was now held among the party as to the\npropriety of leaving the prisoner in this chamber under the guard of the\narquebusiers, but it was at last decided against doing so, and the old\nbellringer being called upon for the keys of the dungeon beneath, he\nspeedily produced them. They then went forth, and descending a flight of\nstone steps on the left, came to a low strong door, which they unlocked,\nand obtained admission to a large octangular chamber with a vaulted\nroof, and deep embrasures terminated by narrow loopholes. The light of\na lamp carried by the bellringer showed the dreary extent of the vault,\nand the enormous thickness of its walls.\n\n\u201cA night's solitary confinement in this place will be of infinite\nservice to our prisoner,\u201d said the Duke of Shoreditch, gazing around.\n\u201cI'll be sworn he is ready to bite off the foolish tongue that has\nbrought him to such a pass.\u201d\n\nThe butcher made no reply, but being released by the arquebusiers, sat\ndown upon a bench that constituted the sole furniture of the vault.\n\n\u201cShall I leave him the lamp?\u201d asked the bellringer; \u201che may beguile the\ntime by reading the names of former prisoners scratched on the walls and\nin the embrasures.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; he shall not even have that miserable satisfaction,\u201d returned the\nDuke of Shoreditch. \u201cHe shall be left in the darkness to his own bad and\nbitter thoughts.\u201d\n\nWith this the party withdrew, and the door was fastened upon the\nprisoner. An arquebusier was stationed at the foot of the steps; and\nthe Earl of Surrey and Captain Bouchier having fully satisfied their\ncuriosity, shaped their course towards the castle gate. On their way\nthither the earl looked about for Morgan Fenwolf, but could nowhere\ndiscern him. He then passed through the wicket with Bouchier, and\nproceeding to the Garter, they mounted their steeds, and galloped off\ntowards Datchet, and thence to Staines and Hampton Court.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n     Of the Grand Procession to Windsor Castle--Of the Meeting of\n     King Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn at the Lower Gate-Of\n     their Entrance into the Castle--And how the Butcher was\n     Hanged from the Curfew Tower.\n\n\nA joyous day was it for Windsor and great were the preparations made by\nits loyal inhabitants for a suitable reception to their sovereign. At\nan early hour the town was thronged with strangers from the neighbouring\nvillages, and later on crowds began to arrive from London, some having\ncome along the highway on horseback, and others having rowed in various\ncraft up the river. All were clad in holiday attire, and the streets\npresented an appearance of unwonted bustle and gaiety. The Maypole\nin Bachelors' Acre was hung with flowers. Several booths, with flags\nfloating above them, were erected in the same place, where ale, mead,\nand hypocras, together with cold pasties, hams, capons, and large joints\nof beef and mutton, might be obtained. Mummers and minstrels were in\nattendance, and every kind of diversion was going forward. Here was one\nparty wrestling; there another, casting the bar; on this side a set\nof rustics were dancing a merry round with a bevy of buxom Berkshire\nlasses; on that stood a fourth group, listening to a youth playing on\nthe recorders. At one end of the Acre large fires were lighted, before\nwhich two whole oxen were roasting, provided in honour of the occasion\nby the mayor and burgesses of the town; at the other, butts were set\nagainst which the Duke of Shoreditch and his companions, the five\nmarquises, were practising. The duke himself shot admirably, and never\nfailed to hit the bulls-eye; but the great feat of the day was performed\nby Morgan Fenwolf, who thrice split the duke's shafts as they stuck in\nthe mark.\n\n\u201cWell done!\u201d cried the duke, as he witnessed the achievement; \u201cwhy, you\nshoot as bravely as Herne the Hunter. Old wives tell us he used to split\nthe arrows of his comrades in that fashion.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe must have learnt the trick from Herne himself in the forest,\u201d cried\none of the bystanders.\n\nMorgan Fenwolf looked fiercely round in search of the speaker, but\ncould not discern him. He, however, shot no more, and refusing a cup of\nhypocras offered him by Shoreditch, disappeared among the crowd.\n\nSoon after this the booths were emptied, the bar thrown down, the\nMaypole and the butts deserted, and the whole of Bachelors' Acre cleared\nof its occupants--except those who were compelled to attend to the\nmighty spits turning before the fires--by the loud discharge of ordnance\nfrom the castle gates, accompanied by the ringing of bells, announcing\nthat the mayor and burgesses of Windsor, together with the officers of\nthe Order of the Garter, were setting forth to Datchet Bridge to meet\nthe royal procession.\n\nThose who most promptly obeyed this summons beheld the lower castle\ngate, built by the then reigning monarch, open, while from it issued\nfour trumpeters clad in emblazoned coats, with silken bandrols depending\nfrom their horns, blowing loud fanfares. They were followed by twelve\nhenchmen, walking four abreast, arrayed in scarlet tunics, with the\nroyal cypher H.R. worked in gold on the breast, and carrying gilt\npoleaxes over their shoulders. Next came a company of archers, equipped\nin helm and brigandine, and armed with long pikes, glittering, as did\ntheir steel accoutrements, in the bright sunshine. They were succeeded\nby the bailiffs and burgesses of the town, riding three abreast, and\nenveloped in gowns of scarlet cloth; after which rode the mayor of\nWindsor in a gown of crimson velvet, and attended by two footmen, in\nwhite and red damask, carrying white wands. The mayor was followed by a\ncompany of the town guard, with partisans over the shoulders. Then\ncame the sheriff of the county and his attendants. Next followed the\ntwenty-six alms-knights (for such was their number), walking two and\ntwo, and wearing red mantles, with a scutcheon of Saint George on the\nshoulder, but without the garter surrounding it. Then came the thirteen\npetty canons, in murrey-coloured gowns, with the arms of Saint George\nwrought in a roundel on the shoulder; then the twelve canons, similarly\nattired; and lastly the dean of the college, in his cope.\n\nA slight pause ensued, and the chief officers of the Garter made their\nappearance. First walked the Black Rod, clothed in a russet-coloured\nmantle, faced with alternate panes of blue and red, emblazoned with\nflower-de-luces of gold and crowned lions. He carried a small black rod,\nthe ensign of his office, surmounted with the lion of England in silver.\nAfter the Black Rod came the Garter, habited in a gown of crimson satin,\npaned and emblazoned like that of the officer who preceded him, hearing\na white crown with a sceptre upon it, and having a gilt crown in lieu\nof a cap upon his head. The Garter was followed by the register, a\ngrave personage, in a black gown, with a surplice over it, covered by a\nmantelet of furs. Then came the chancellor of the Order, in his robe of\nmurrey-coloured velvet lined with sarcenet, with a badge on the shoulder\nconsisting of a gold rose, enclosed in a garter wrought with pearls of\ndamask gold. Lastly came the Bishop of Winchester, the prelate of the\nOrder, wearing his mitre, and habited in a robe of crimson velvet\nlined with white taffeta, faced with blue, and embroidered on the right\nshoulder with a scutcheon of Saint George, encompassed with the Garter,\nand adorned with cordons of blue silk mingled with gold.\n\nBrought up by a rear guard of halberdiers, the procession moved slowly\nalong Thames Street, the houses of which, as well as those in Peascod\nStreet, were all more or less decorated--the humbler sort being covered\nwith branches of trees, intermingled with garlands of flowers, while the\nbetter description was hung with pieces of tapestry, carpets, and\nrich stuffs. Nor should it pass unnoticed that the loyalty of Bryan\nBowntance, the host of the Garter, had exhibited itself in an arch\nthrown across the road opposite his house, adorned with various\ncoloured ribbons and flowers, in the midst of which was a large shield,\nexhibiting the letters, b. and h. (in mystic allusion to Henry and Anne\nBoleyn) intermingled and surrounded by love-knots.\n\nTurning off on the left into the lower road, skirting the north of the\ncastle, and following the course of the river to Datchet, by which\nit was understood the royal cavalcade would make its approach, the\nprocession arrived at an open space by the side of the river, where it\ncame to a halt, and the dean, chancellor, and prelate, together with\nother officers of the Garter, embarked in a barge moored to the bank,\nwhich was towed slowly down the stream in the direction of Datchet\nBridge--a band of minstrels stationed within it playing all the time.\n\nMeanwhile the rest of the cavalcade, having again set for ward, pursued\ntheir course along the banks of the river, proceeding at a foot's pace,\nand accompanied by crowds of spectators, cheering them as they moved\nalong. The day was bright and beautiful, and nothing was wanting to\nenhance the beauty of the spectacle. On the left flowed the silver\nThames, crowded with craft, filled with richly-dressed personages of\nboth sexes, amid which floated the pompous barge appropriated to the\nofficers of the Garter, which was hung with banners and streamers, and\ndecorated at the sides with targets, emblazoned with the arms of\nSt. George. On the greensward edging the stream marched a brilliant\ncavalcade, and on the right lay the old woods of the Home Park, with\nlong vistas opening through them, giving exquisite peeps of the towers\nand battlements of the castle.\n\nHalf an hour brought the cavalcade to Datchet Bridge, at the foot of\nwhich a pavilion was erected for the accommodation of the mayor and\nburgesses. And here, having dismounted, they awaited the king's arrival.\n\nShortly after this a cloud of dust on the Staines Road seemed to\nannounce the approach of the royal party, and all rushed forth and held\nthemselves in readiness to meet it. But the dust appeared to have been\nraised by a company of horsemen, headed by Captain Bouchier, who rode up\nthe next moment. Courteously saluting the mayor, Bouchier informed him\nthat Mistress Anne Boleyn was close behind, and that it was the king's\npleasure that she should be attended in all state to the lower gate of\nthe castle, there to await his coming, as he himself intended to enter\nit with her. The mayor replied that the sovereign's behests should be\nimplicitly obeyed, and he thereupon stationed himself at the farther\nside of the bridge in expectation of Anne Boleyn's arrival.\n\nPresently the sound of trumpets smote his ear, and a numerous and\nsplendid retinue was seen advancing, consisting of nobles, knights,\nesquires, and gentlemen, ranged according to their degrees, and all\nsumptuously apparelled in cloths of gold and silver, and velvets of\nvarious colours, richly embroidered. Besides these, there were pages\nand other attendants in the liveries of their masters, together with\nsergeants of the guard and henchmen in their full accoutrements.\nAmong the nobles were the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk--the king being\ndesirous of honouring as much as possible her whom he had resolved to\nmake his queen. The former was clothed in tissue, embroidered with roses\nof gold, with a baldric across his body of massive gold, and was mounted\non a charger likewise trapped in gold; and the latter wore a mantle of\ncloth of silver, pounced in the form of letters, and lined with blue\nvelvet, while his horse was trapped hardwise in harness embroidered with\nbullion gold curiously wrought. Both also wore the collar of the Order\nof the Garter. Near them rode Sir Thomas Boleyn, who, conscious of the\ndignity to which his daughter was to be advanced, comported himself with\nalmost intolerable haughtiness.\n\nImmediately behind Sir Thomas Boleyn came a sumptuous litter covered\nwith cloth of gold, drawn by four white palfreys caparisoned in white\ndamask down to the ground, and each having a page in white and blue\nsatin at its head. Over the litter was borne a canopy of cloth of gold\nsupported by four gilt staves, and ornamented at the corners with silver\nbells, ringing forth sweet music as it moved along. Each staff was borne\nby a knight, of whom sixteen were in attendance to relieve one another\nwhen fatigued.\n\nIn this litter sat Anne Boleyn. She wore a surcoat of white tissue,\nand a mantle of the same material lined with ermine. Her gown, which,\nhowever, was now concealed by the surcoat, was of cloth of gold tissue,\nraised with pearls of silver damask, with a stomacher of purple gold\nsimilarly raised, and large open sleeves lined with chequered tissue.\nAround her neck she wore a chain of orient pearls, from which depended\na diamond cross. A black velvet cap, richly embroidered with pearls and\nother precious stones, and ornamented with a small white plume, covered\nher head; and her small feet were hidden in blue velvet brodequins,\ndecorated with diamond stars.\n\nAnne Boleyn's features were exquisitely formed, and though not regular,\nfar more charming than if they had been so. Her nose was slightly\naquiline, but not enough so to detract from its beauty, and had a little\nretrousse; point that completed its attraction. The rest of her features\nwere delicately chiselled: the chin being beautifully rounded, the brow\nsmooth and white as snow, while the rose could not vie with the bloom of\nher cheek. Her neck--alas! that the fell hand of the executioner should\never touch it--was long and slender, her eyes large and blue, and of\nirresistible witchery--sometimes scorching the beholder like a sunbeam,\nanon melting him with soul-subduing softness.\n\nOf her accomplishments other opportunities will be found to speak; but\nit may be mentioned that she was skilled on many instruments, danced and\nsang divinely, and had rare powers of conversation and wit. If to these\nshe had not added the dangerous desire to please, and the wish to hold\nother hearts than the royal one she had enslaved, in thraldom, all\nmight, perhaps, have been well. But, alas like many other beautiful\nwomen, she had a strong tendency to coquetry. How severely she suffered\nfor it, it is the purpose of this history to relate. An excellent\ndescription of her has been given by a contemporary writer, the Comte de\nChateaubriand, who, while somewhat disparaging her personal attractions,\nspeaks in rapturous terms of her accomplishments: \u201cAnne,\u201d writes\nthe Comte, \u201cavait un esprit si deslie qui c'estoit a qui l'ouiroit\ndesgoiser; et ci venoitelle a poetiser, telle qu' Orpheus, elle eust\nfaict les ours et rochers attentifs: puis saltoit, balloit, et dancoit\ntoutes dances Anglaises ou Estranges, et en imagina nombre qui ont garde\nson nom ou celluy du galant pour qui les feit: puis scavoit tous les\njeux, qu'elle jouoit avec non plus d'heur que d'habilite puis chantoit\ncomme syrene, s'accompagnant de luth; harpoit mieueix que le roy David,\net manioit fort gentilment fleuste et rebec; puis s'accoustroit de tant\net si merveilleuses facons, que ses inventions, faisoient d'elle le\nparangon de toutes des dames les plus sucrees de la court; mais nulle\nn'avoit sa grace, laquelle, au dire d'un ancien, passe venuste'.\u201d Such\nwas the opinion of one who knew her well during her residence at the\nFrench court, when in attendance on Mary of England, consort of Louis\nXII., and afterwards Duchess of Suffolk.\n\nAt this moment Anne's eyes were fixed with some tenderness upon one of\nthe supporters of her canopy on the right--a very handsome young man,\nattired in a doublet and hose of black tylsent, paned and cut, and\nwhose tall, well-proportioned figure was seen to the greatest advantage,\ninasmuch as he had divested himself of his mantle, for his better\nconvenience in walking.\n\n\u201cI fear me you will fatigue yourself, Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d said Anne\nBoleyn, in tones of musical sweetness, which made the heart beat and the\ncolour mount to the cheeks of him she addressed. \u201cYou had better allow\nSir Thomas Arundel or Sir John Hulstone to relieve you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can feel no fatigue when near you, madam,\u201d replied Wyat, in a low\ntone.\n\nA slight blush overspread Anne's features, and she raised her\nembroidered kerchief to her lips.\n\n\u201cIf I had that kerchief I would wear it at the next lists, and defy all\ncomers,\u201d said Wyat.\n\n\u201cYou shall have it, then,\u201d rejoined Anne. \u201cI love all chivalrous\nexploits, and will do my best to encourage them.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake heed, Sir Thomas,\u201d said Sir Francis Weston, the knight who held\nthe staff on the other side, \u201cor we shall have the canopy down. Let Sir\nThomas Arundel relieve you.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d rejoined Wyat, recovering himself; \u201cI will not rest till we come\nto the bridge.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are in no haste to possess the kerchief,\u201d said Anne petulantly.\n\n\u201cThere you wrong me, madam!\u201d cried Sir Thomas eagerly.\n\n\u201cWhat ho, good fellows!\u201d he shouted to the attendants at the palfreys'\nheads, \u201cyour lady desires you to stop.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I desire them to go on--I, Will Sommers, jester to the high and\nmighty King Harry the Eighth!\u201d cried a voice of mock authority behind\nthe knight. \u201cWhat if Sir Thomas Wyat has undertaken to carry the canopy\nfarther than any of his companions, is that a reason he should be\nrelieved? Of a surety not--go on, I say!\u201d\n\nThe person who thus spoke then stepped forward, and threw a glance so\nfull of significance at Anne Boleyn that she did not care to dispute the\norder, but, on the contrary, laughingly acquiesced in it.\n\nWill Sommers--the king's jester, as he described himself--was a small\nmiddle-aged personage, with a physiognomy in which good nature and\nmalice, folly and shrewdness, were so oddly blended, that it was\ndifficult to say which predominated. His look was cunning and sarcastic,\nbut it was tempered by great drollery and oddity of manner, and he\nlaughed so heartily at his own jests and jibes, that it was scarcely\npossible to help joining him. His attire consisted of a long loose gown\nof spotted crimson silk, with the royal cipher woven in front in gold;\nhose of blue cloth, guarded with red and black cloth; and red cordovan\nbuskins. A sash tied round his waist served him instead of a girdle, and\nhe wore a trencher-shaped velvet cap on his head, with a white tufted\nfeather in it. In his hand he carried a small horn. He was generally\nattended by a monkey, habited in a crimson doublet and hood, which sat\nupon his shoulder, and played very diverting tricks, but the animal was\nnot with him on the present occasion.\n\nWill Sommers was a great favourite with the king, and ventured upon\nfamiliarities which no one else dared to use with him. The favour in\nwhich he stood with his royal master procured him admittance to his\npresence at all hours and at all seasons, and his influence, though\nseldom exerted, was very great. He was especially serviceable in turning\naside the edge of the king's displeasure, and more frequently exerted\nhimself to allay the storm than to raise it. His principal hostility was\ndirected against Wolsey, whose arrogance and grasping practices were the\nconstant subjects of his railing. It was seldom, such was his privileged\ncharacter, and the protection he enjoyed from the sovereign, that any of\nthe courtiers resented his remarks; but Sir Thomas Wyat's feelings being\nnow deeply interested, he turned sharply round, and said, \u201cHow now, thou\nmeddling varlet, what business hast thou to interfere?\u201d\n\n\u201cI interfere to prove my authority, gossip Wyat,\u201d replied Sommers,\n\u201cand to show that, varlet as I am, I am as powerful as Mistress Anne\nBoleyn--nay, that I am yet more powerful, because I am obeyed, while she\nis not.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere I at liberty,\u201d said Sir Thomas angrily, \u201cI would make thee repent\nthine insolence.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut thou art not at liberty, good gossip,\u201d replied the jester,\nscreaming with laughter; \u201cthou art tied like a slave to the oar, and\ncannot free thyself from it--ha! ha!\u201d Having enjoyed the knight's\ndiscomposure for a few seconds, he advanced towards him, and whispered\nin his ear, \u201cDon't mistake me, gossip. I have done thee good service in\npreventing thee from taking that kerchief. Hadst thou received it in the\npresence of these witnesses, thou wouldst have been lodged in the\nRound Tower of Windsor Castle to-morrow, instead of feasting with the\nknights-companions in Saint George's Hall.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe thou art right, gossip,\u201d said Wyat in the same tone.\n\n\u201cRest assured I am,\u201d replied Sommers; \u201cand I further more counsel thee to\ndecline this dangerous gift altogether, and to think no more of the fair\nprofferer, or if thou must think of her, let it be as of one beyond thy\nreach. Cross not the lion's path; take a friendly hint from the jackal.\u201d\n\nAnd without waiting for a reply, he darted away, and mingled with the\ncavalcade in the rear.\n\nImmediately behind Anne Boleyn's litter rode a company of henchmen of\nthe royal household, armed with gilt partisans. Next succeeded a\nchariot covered with red cloth of gold, and drawn by four horses\nrichly caparisoned, containing the old Duchess of Norfolk and the old\nMarchioness of Dorset. Then came the king's natural son, the Duke of\nRichmond--a young man formed on the same large scale, and distinguished\nby the same haughty port, and the same bluff manner, as his royal\nsire. The duke's mother was the Lady Talboys, esteemed one of the\nmost beautiful women of the age, and who had for a long time held\nthe capricious monarch captive. Henry was warmly attached to his son,\nshowered favours without number upon him, and might have done yet more\nif fate had not snatched him away at an early age.\n\nThough scarcely eighteen, the Duke of Richmond looked more than\ntwenty, and his lips and chin were clothed with a well-grown though\nclosely-clipped beard. He was magnificently habited in a doublet of\ncloth of gold of bawdekin, the placard and sleeves of which were wrought\nwith flat gold, and fastened with aiglets. A girdle of crimson velvet,\nenriched with precious stones, encircled his waist, and sustained a\nponiard and a Toledo sword, damascened with gold. Over all he wore a\nloose robe, or housse, of scarlet mohair, trimmed with minever, and was\nfurther decorated with the collar of the Order of the Garter. His\ncap was of white velvet, ornamented with emeralds, and from the side\ndepended a small azure plume. He rode a magnificent black charger,\ntrapped in housings of cloth of gold, powdered with ermine.\n\nBy the duke's side rode the Earl of Surrey attired--as upon the previous\nday, and mounted on a fiery Arabian, trapped in crimson velvet fringed\nwith Venetian gold. Both nobles were attended by their esquires in their\nliveries.\n\nBehind them came a chariot covered with cloth of silver, and drawn,\nlike the first, by four horses in rich housings, containing two very\nbeautiful damsels, one of whom attracted so much of the attention of\nthe youthful nobles, that it was with difficulty they could preserve due\norder of march. The young dame in question was about seventeen; her face\nwas oval in form, with features of the utmost delicacy and regularity.\nHer complexion was fair and pale, and contrasted strikingly with her\njetty brows and magnificent black eyes, of oriental size, tenderness,\nand lustre. Her dark and luxuriant tresses were confined by a cap of\nblack velvet faced with white satin, and ornamented with pearls. Her\ngown was of white satin worked with gold, and had long open pendent\nsleeves, while from her slender and marble neck hung a cordeliere--a\nspecies of necklace imitated from the cord worn by Franciscan friars,\nand formed of crimson silk twisted with threads of Venetian gold..\n\nThis fair creature was the Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald, daughter of Gerald\nFitzgerald, ninth Earl of Kildare, who claimed descent from the Geraldi\nfamily of Florence; but she was generally known by the appellation of\nthe Fair Geraldine--a title bestowed upon her, on account of her beauty,\nby the king, and by which she still lives, and will continue to live, as\nlong as poetry endures, in the deathless and enchanting strains of her\nlover, the Earl of Surrey. At the instance of her mother, Lady Kildare,\nthe Fair Geraldine was brought up with the Princess Mary, afterwards\nQueen of England; but she had been lately assigned by the royal order as\none of the attendants--a post equivalent to that of maid of honour--to\nAnne Boleyn.\n\nHer companion was the Lady Mary Howard, the sister of the Earl of\nSurrey, a nymph about her own age, and possessed of great personal\nattractions, having nobly-formed features, radiant blue eyes, light\ntresses, and a complexion of dazzling clearness. Lady Mary Howard\nnourished a passion for the Duke of Richmond, whom she saw with secret\nchagrin captivated by the superior charms of the Fair Geraldine. Her\nuneasiness, however, was in some degree abated by the knowledge, which\nas confidante of the latter she had obtained, that her brother was\nmaster of her heart. Lady Mary was dressed in blue velvet, cut and lined\nwith cloth of gold, and wore a headgear of white velvet, ornamented with\npearls.\n\nJust as the cavalcade came in sight of Datchet Bridge, the Duke of\nRichmond turned his horse's head, and rode up to the side of the chariot\non which the Fair Geraldine was sitting.\n\n\u201cI am come to tell you of a marvellous adventure that befell Surrey in\nthe Home Park at Windsor last night,\u201d he said. \u201cHe declares he has seen\nthe demon hunter, Herne.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen pray let the Earl of Surrey relate the adventure to us himself,\u201d\n replied the Fair Geraldine. \u201cNo one can tell a story so well as the hero\nof it.\u201d\n\nThe duke signed to the youthful earl, who was glancing rather wistfully\nat them, and he immediately joined them, while Richmond passed over to\nthe Lady Mary Howard. Surrey then proceeded to relate what had happened\nto him in the park, and the fair Geraldine listened to his recital with\nbreathless interest.\n\n\u201cHeaven shield us from evil spirits!\u201d she exclaimed, crossing herself.\n\u201cBut what is the history of this wicked hunter, my lord? and why did he\nincur such a dreadful doom?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know nothing more than that he was a keeper in the forest, who,\nhaving committed some heinous crime, hanged himself from a branch of the\noak beneath which I found the keeper, Morgan Fenwolf, and which still\nbears his name,\u201d replied the earl. \u201cFor this unrighteous act he cannot\nobtain rest, but is condemned to wander through the forest at midnight,\nwhere he wreaks his vengeance in blasting the trees.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe legend I have heard differs from yours,\u201d observed the Duke of\nRichmond: \u201cit runs that the spirit by which the forest is haunted is a\nwood-demon, who assumes the shape of the ghostly hunter, and seeks to\ntempt or terrify the keepers to sell their souls to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour grace's legend is the better of the two,\u201d said Lady Mary Howard,\n\u201cor rather, I should say, the more probable. I trust the evil spirit did\nnot make you any such offer, brother of Surrey?\u201d\n\nThe earl gravely shook his head.\n\n\u201cIf I were to meet him, and he offered me my heart's dearest wish, I\nfear he would prevail with me,\u201d observed the duke, glancing tenderly at\nthe Fair Geraldine.\n\n\u201cTush!--the subject is too serious for jesting, Richmond,\u201d said Surrey\nalmost sternly.\n\n\u201cHis grace, as is usual in compacts with the fiend, might have reason to\nrue his bargain,\u201d observed Lady Mary Howard peevishly.\n\n\u201cIf the Earl of Surrey were my brother,\u201d remarked the Fair Geraldine\nto the Lady Mary, \u201cI would interdict him from roaming in the park after\nnightfall.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is very wilful,\u201d said Lady Mary, smiling, \u201cand holds my commands but\nlightly.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet the Fair Geraldine lay hers upon me, and she shall not have to\nreproach me with disobedience,\u201d rejoined the earl.\n\n\u201cI must interpose to prevent their utterance,\u201d cried Richmond, with a\nsomewhat jealous look at his friend, \u201cfor I have determined to know more\nof this mystery, and shall require the earl's assistance to unravel it.\nI think I remember Morgan Fenwolf, the keeper, and will send for him to\nthe castle, and question him. But in any case, I and Surrey will visit\nHerne's Oak to-night.\u201d\n\nThe remonstrances of both ladies were interrupted by the sudden\nappearance of Will Sommers.\n\n\u201cWhat ho! my lords--to your places! to your places!\u201d cried the jester,\nin a shrill angry voice. \u201cSee ye not we are close upon Datchet Bridge?\nYe can converse with these fair dames at a more fitting season; but it\nis the king's pleasure that the cavalcade should make a goodly show. To\nyour places, I say!\u201d\n\nLaughing at the jester's peremptory injunction, the two young nobles\nnevertheless obeyed it, and, bending almost to the saddle-bow to the\nladies, resumed their posts.\n\nThe concourse assembled on Datchet Bridge welcomed Anne Boleyn's arrival\nwith loud acclamations, while joyous strains proceeded from sackbut and\npsaltery, and echoing blasts from the trumpets. Caps were flung into\nthe air, and a piece of ordnance was fired from the barge, which was\npresently afterwards answered by the castle guns. Having paid his\nhomage to Anne Boleyn, the mayor rejoined the company of bailiffs and\nburgesses, and the whole cavalcade crossed the bridge, winding their\nway slowly along the banks of the river, the barge, with the minstrels\nplaying in it, accompanying them the while. In this way they reached\nWindsor; and as Anne Boleyn gazed up at the lordly castle above which\nthe royal standard now floated, proud and aspiring thoughts swelled her\nheart, and she longed for the hour when she should approach it as its\nmistress. Just then her eye chanced on Sir Thomas Wyat, who was riding\nbehind her amongst the knights, and she felt, though it might cost her a\nstruggle, that love would yield to ambition.\n\nLeaving the barge and its occupants to await the king's arrival, the\ncavalcade ascended Thames Street, and were welcomed everywhere with\nacclamations and rejoicing. Bryan Bowntance, who had stationed himself\non the right of the arch in front of his house, attempted to address\nAnne Boleyn, but could not bring forth a word. His failure, how ever,\nwas more successful than his speech might have been, inasmuch as it\nexcited abundance of merriment.\n\nArrived at the area in front of the lower gateway, Anne Boleyn's litter\nwas drawn up in the midst of it, and the whole of the cavalcade\ngrouping around her, presented a magnificent sight to the archers and\narquebusiers stationed on the towers and walls.\n\nJust at this moment a signal gun was heard from Datchet Bridge,\nannouncing that the king had reached it, and the Dukes of Suffolk,\nNorfolk, and Richmond, together with the Earl of Surrey, Sir Thomas\nWyat, and a few of their gentle men, rode back to meet him. They had\nscarcely, however, reached the foot of the hill when the royal party\nappeared in view, for the king with his characteristic impatience, on\ndrawing near the castle, had urged his attendants quickly forward.\n\nFirst came half a dozen trumpeters, with silken bandrols fluttering in\nthe breeze, blowing loud flourishes. Then a party of halberdiers, whose\nleaders had pennons streaming from the tops of their tall pikes. Next\ncame two gentlemen ushers bareheaded, but mounted and richly habited,\nbelonging to the Cardinal of York, who cried out as they pressed\nforward, \u201cOn before, my masters, on before!--make way for my lord's\ngrace.\u201d\n\nThen came a sergeant-of-arms bearing a great mace of silver, and two\ngentlemen carrying each a pillar of silver. Next rode a gentleman\ncarrying the cardinal's hat, and after him came Wolsey himself, mounted\non a mule trapped in crimson velvet, with a saddle covered with the same\nstuff, and gilt stirrups. His large person was arrayed in robes of\nthe finest crimson satin engrained, and a silk cap of the same colour\ncontrasted by its brightness with the pale purple tint of his sullen,\nmorose, and bloated features. The cardinal took no notice of the clamour\naround him, but now and then, when an expression of dislike was uttered\nagainst him, for he had already begun to be unpopular with the people,\nhe would raise his eyes and direct a withering glance at the hardy\nspeaker. But these expressions were few, for, though tottering, Wolsey\nwas yet too formidable to be insulted with impunity. On either side of\nhim were two mounted attend ants, each caring a gilt poleaxe, who, if he\nhad given the word, would have instantly chastised the insolence of\nthe bystanders, while behind him rode his two cross-bearers upon homes\ntrapped in scarlet.\n\nWolsey's princely retinue was followed by a litter of crimson velvet, in\nwhich lay the pope's legate, Cardinal Campeggio, whose infirmities\nwere so great that he could not move without assistance. Campeggio was\nlikewise attended by a numerous train.\n\nAfter a long line of lords, knights, and esquires, came Henry the\nEighth. He was apparelled in a robe of crimson velvet furred with\nermines, and wore a doublet of raised gold, the placard of which was\nembroidered with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, large pearls, and other\nprecious stones. About his neck was a baldric of balas rubies, and over\nhis robe he wore the collar of the Order of the Garter. His horse, a\ncharger of the largest size, and well able to sustain his vast weight,\nwas trapped in crimson velvet, purfled with ermines. His knights and\nesquires were clothed in purple velvet, and his henchmen in scarlet\ntunics of the same make as those worn by the warders of the Tower at the\npresent day.\n\nHenry was in his thirty-eighth year, and though somewhat overgrown and\nheavy, had lost none of his activity, and but little of the grace of his\nnoble proportions. His size and breadth of limb were well displayed in\nhis magnificent habiliment. His countenance was handsome and manly, with\na certain broad burly look, thoroughly English in its character, which\nwon him much admiration from his subjects; and though it might be\nobjected that the eyes were too small, and the mouth somewhat too\ndiminutive, it could not be denied that the general expression of the\nface was kingly in the extreme. A prince of a more \u201croyal presence\u201d\n than Henry the Eighth was never seen, and though he had many and grave\nfaults, want of dignity was not amongst the number.\n\nHenry entered Windsor amid the acclamations of the spectators, the\nfanfares of trumpeters, and the roar of ordnance from the castle walls.\n\nMeanwhile, Anne Boleyn, having descended from her litter, which passed\nthrough the gate into the lower ward, stood with her ladies beneath the\ncanopy awaiting his arrival.\n\nA wide clear space was preserved before her, into which, however, Wolsey\npenetrated, and, dismounting, placed himself so that he could witness\nthe meeting between her and the king. Behind him stood the jester, Will\nSommers, who was equally curious with himself. The litter of Cardinal\nCampeggio passed through the gateway and proceeded to the lodgings\nreserved for his eminence.\n\nScarcely had Wolsey taken up his station than Henry rode up, and,\nalighting, consigned his horse to a page, and, followed by the Duke\nof Richmond and the Earl of Surrey, advanced towards Anne Boleyn, who\nimmediately stepped forward to meet him.\n\n\u201cFair mistress,\u201d he said, taking her hand, and regarding her with a look\nof passionate devotion, \u201cI welcome you to this my castle of Windsor,\nand trust soon to make you as absolute mistress of it as I am lord and\nmaster.\u201d\n\nAnne Boleyn blushed, and cast down her eyes, and Sir Thomas Wyat, who\nstood at some little distance with his hand upon his saddle, regarding\nher, felt that any hopes he might have entertained were utterly\nannihilated.\n\n\u201cHeard you that, my lord cardinal?\u201d said Will Sommers to Wolsey. \u201cShe\nwill soon be mistress here. As she comes in, you go out--mind that!\u201d\n\nThe cardinal made no answer further than was conveyed by the deepened\ncolour of his cheeks.\n\nAmid continued fanfares and acclamations, Harry then led Anne Boleyn\nthrough the gateway, followed by the ladies in waiting, who were joined\nby Richmond and Surrey. The prelate, chancellor, register, black rod,\nand other officers of the Garter, together with the whole of the\nroyal retinue who had dismounted, came after them. A vast concourse\nof spectators, extending almost as far as the Lieutenant's Tower, was\ncollected in front of the alms-knights' houses; but a wide space had\nbeen kept clear by the henchmen for the passage of the sovereign and his\ntrain, and along this Henry proceeded with Anne Boleyn, in the direction\nof the upper ward. Just as he reached the Norman Tower, and passed the\nentrance to the keep, the Duke of Shoreditch, who was standing beneath\nthe gateway, advanced towards him and prostrated himself on one knee.\n\n\u201cMay it please your majesty,\u201d said Shoreditch, \u201cI last night arrested\na butcher of Windsor for uttering words highly disrespectful of your\nhighness, and of the fair and virtuous lady by your side.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! God's death!\u201d exclaimed the king. \u201cWhere is the traitor? Bring him\nbefore us.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is here,\u201d replied Shoreditch.\n\nAnd immediately Mark Fytton was brought forward by a couple of\nhalberdiers. He still preserved his undaunted demeanour, and gazed\nsternly at the king.\n\n\u201cSo, fellow, thou hast dared to speak disrespectfully of us--ha!\u201d cried\nHenry.\n\n\u201cI have spoken the truth,\u201d replied the butcher fearlessly. \u201cI have said\nyou were about to divorce your lawful consort, Catherine of Arragon, and\nto take the minion, Anne Boleyn, who stands beside you, to your bed. And\nI added, it was a wrongful act.\u201d\n\n\u201cFoul befall thy lying tongue for saying so!\u201d replied Henry furiously.\n\u201cI have a mind to pluck it from thy throat, and cast it to the dogs.\nWhat ho! guards, take this caitiff to the summit of the highest tower of\nthe castle--the Curfew Tower--and hang him from it, so that all my loyal\nsubjects in Windsor may see how traitors are served.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour highness has judged him justly,\u201d said Anne Boleyn. \u201cYou say so\nnow, Mistress Anne Boleyn,\u201d rejoined the butcher; \u201cbut you yourself\nshall one day stand in as much peril of your life as I do, and shall\nplead as vainly as I should, were I to plead at all, which I will never\ndo to this inexorable tyrant. You will then remember my end.\u201d\n\n\u201cAway with him!\u201d cried Henry. \u201cI myself will go to the Garter Tower to\nsee it done. Farewell for a short while, sweetheart. I will read these\npartisans of Catherine a terrible lesson.\u201d\n\nAs the butcher was hurried off to the Curfew Tower, the king proceeded\nwith his attendants to the Garter Tower, and ascended to its summit.\n\nIn less than ten minutes a stout pole, like the mast of a ship, was\nthrust through the battlements of the Curfew Tower, on the side looking\ntowards the town. To this pole a rope, of some dozen feet in length,\nand having a noose at one end, was firmly secured. The butcher was then\nbrought forth, bound hand and foot, and the noose was thrown over his\nneck.\n\nWhile this was passing, the wretched man descried a person looking at\nhim from a window in a wooden structure projecting from the side of the\ntower.\n\n\u201cWhat, are you there, Morgan Fenwolf?\u201d he cried. \u201cRemember what passed\nbetween us in the dungeon last night, and be warned! You will not meet\nyour end as firmly as I meet mine?\u201d\n\n\u201cMake thy shrift quickly, fellow, if thou hast aught to say,\u201d interposed\none of the halberdiers.\n\n\u201cI have no shrift to make,\u201d rejoined the butcher. \u201cI have already\nsettled my account with Heaven. God preserve Queen Catherine!\u201d\n\nAs he uttered these words, he was thrust off from the battlements by\nthe halberdiers, and his body swung into the abyss amid the hootings and\nexecrations of the spectators below.\n\nHaving glutted his eyes with the horrible sight, Henry descended from\nthe tower, and returned to Anne Boleyn.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n     How King Henry the Eighth held a Chapter of the Garter--How\n     he attended Vespers and Matins in Saint George's Chapel--And\n     how he feasted with the Knights--Companions in Saint\n     George's Hall.\n\n\nFrom a balcony overlooking the upper ward, Anne Boleyn beheld the\nking's approach on his return from the Garter Tower, and waving her hand\nsmilingly to him, she withdrew into the presence-chamber. Hastening to\nher, Henry found her surrounded by her ladies of honour, by the chief\nof the nobles and knights who had composed her train from Hampton Court,\nand by the Cardinals Wolsey and Campeggio; and having exchanged a few\nwords with her, he took her hand, and led her to the upper part of the\nchamber, where two chairs of state were set beneath a canopy of crimson\nvelvet embroidered with the royal arms, and placed her in the seat\nhitherto allotted to Catherine of Arragon. A smile of triumph irradiated\nAnne's lovely countenance at this mark of distinction, nor was her\nsatisfaction diminished as Henry turned to address the assemblage.\n\n\u201cMy lords,\u201d he said, \u201cye are right well aware of the scruples of\nconscience I entertain in regard to my marriage with my brother's widow,\nCatherine of Arragon. The more I weigh the matter, the more convinced am\nI of its unlawfulness; and were it possible to blind myself to my sinful\ncondition, the preachers, who openly rebuke me from the pulpit, would\ntake care to remind me of it. Misunderstand me not, my lords. I have no\nground of complaint against the queen. Far otherwise. She is a lady\nof most excellent character--full of devotion, loyalty, nobility, and\ngentleness. And if I could divest myself of my misgivings, so far from\nseeking to put her from me, I should cherish her with the greatest\ntenderness. Ye may marvel that I have delayed the divorce thus long. But\nit is only of late that my eyes have been opened; and the step was hard\nto take. Old affections clung to me--old chains restrained me--nor could\nI, without compunction, separate myself from one who has ever been to me\na virtuous and devoted consort.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou hast undergone a martyrdom, gossip,\u201d observed Will Sommers, who\nhad posted himself at the foot of the canopy, near the king, \u201cand shalt\nhenceforth be denominated Saint Henry.\u201d\n\nThe gravity of the hearers might have been discomposed by this remark,\nbut for the stern looks of the king.\n\n\u201cYe may make a jest of my scruples, my lords,\u201d he continued, \u201cand think\nI hold them lightly; but my treatise on the subject, which has cost\nme much labour and meditation, will avouch to the contrary. What would\nbefall this realm if my marriage were called in question after my\ndecease? The same trouble and confusion would ensue that followed on the\ndeath of my noble grandfather, King Edward the Fourth. To prevent such\nmischance I have resolved, most reluctantly, to put away my present\nqueen, and to take another consort, by whom I trust to raise up a worthy\nsuccessor and inheritor of my kingdom.\u201d\n\nA murmur of applause followed this speech, and the two cardinals\nexchanged significant glances, which were not unobserved by the king.\n\n\u201cI doubt not ye will all approve the choice I shall make,\u201d he pursued,\nlooking fiercely at Wolsey, and taking Anne Boleyn's hand, who arose\nas he turned to her. \u201cAnd now, fair mistress,\u201d he added to her, \u201cas an\nearnest of the regard I have for you, and of the honours I intend you,\nI hereby create you Marchioness of Pembroke, and bestow upon you a\nthousand marks a year in land, and another thousand to be paid out of my\ntreasury to support your dignity.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty is too generous,\u201d replied Anne, bending the knee, and\nkissing his hand.\n\n\u201cNot a whit, sweetheart--not a whit,\u201d replied Henry, tenderly raising\nher; \u201cthis is but a slight mark of my goodwill. Sir Thomas Boleyn,\u201d he\nadded to her father, \u201chenceforth your style and title will be that of\nViscount Rochford, and your patent will be made out at the same time as\nthat of your daughter, the Marchioness of Pembroke. I also elect you a\nknight-companion of the most honourable Order of the Garter, and your\ninvestiture and installation will take place to-day.\u201d\n\nHaving received the thanks and homage of the newly-created noble, Henry\ndescended from the canopy, and passed into an inner room with the Lady\nAnne, where a collation was prepared for them. Their slight meal over,\nAnne took up her lute, and playing a lively prelude, sang two or\nthree French songs with so much skill and grace, that Henry, who was\npassionately fond of music, was quite enraptured. Two delightful hours\nhaving passed by, almost imperceptibly, an usher approached the king,\nand whispering a few words to him, he reluctantly withdrew, and Anne\nretired with her ladies to an inner apartment.\n\nOn reaching his closet, the king's attendants proceeded to array him in\na surcoat of crimson velvet, powdered with garters embroidered in silk\nand gold, with the motto--boni soft qui mal y pense--wrought within\nthem. Over the surcoat was thrown a mantle of blue velvet with a\nmagnificent train, lined with white damask, and having on the left\nshoulder a large garter, wrought in pearls and Venice twists, containing\nthe motto, and encircling the arms of Saint George--argent, a cross\ngules. The royal habiliments were completed by a hood of the same stuff\nas the surcoat, decorated like it with small embroidered garters, and\nlined with white satin. From the king's neck was suspended the collar\nof the Great George, composed of pieces of gold, fashioned like garters,\nthe ground of which was enamelled, and the letters gold.\n\nWhile Henry was thus arrayed, the knights-companions, robed in their\nmantles, hoods, and collars, entered the closet, and waiting till he\nwas ready, marched before him into the presence-chamber, where were\nassembled the two provincial kings-at-arms, Clarenceux and Norroy, the\nheralds, and pursuivants, wearing their coats-of-arms, together with the\nband of pensioners, carrying gilt poleaxes, and drawn up in two lines.\nAt the king's approach, one of the gentlemen-ushers who carried the\nsword of state, with the point resting upon the ground, delivered it\nto the Duke of Richmond,--the latter having been appointed to bear it\nbefore the king during all the proceedings of the feast. Meanwhile, the\nknights-companions having drawn up on either side of the canopy, Henry\nadvanced with a slow and stately step towards it, his train borne by\nthe Earl of Surrey, Sir Thomas Wyat, and other nobles and knights. As he\nascended the canopy, and faced the assemblage, the Duke of Richmond\nand the chief officers of the Order drew up a little on his right. The\nknights-companions then made their salutation to him, which he returned\nby removing his jewelled cap with infinite grace and dignity, and\nas soon as he was again covered they put on their caps, and ranging\nthemselves in order, set forward to Saint George's Chapel.\n\nQuitting the royal lodgings, and passing through the gateway of the\nNorman Tower, the procession wound its way along the base of the Round\nTower, the battlements of which bristled with spearmen, as did the walls\non the right, and the summit of the Winchester Tower, and crossing the\nmiddle ward, skirted the tomb-house, then newly erected by Wolsey, and\nthreading a narrow passage between it and Saint George's Chapel, entered\nthe north-east door of the latter structure.\n\nDividing, on their entrance into the chapel, into two lines, the\nattendants of the knights-companions flanked either side of the north\naisle; while between them walked the alms-knights, the verger, the\nprebends of the college, and the officers-of-arms, who proceeded as far\nas the west door of the choir, where they stopped. A slight pause then\nensued, after which the king, the knights-companions, and the chief\nofficers of the Order, entered the chapter-house--a chamber situated at\nthe north-east corner of the chapel--leaving the Duke of Richmond, the\nsword-bearer, Lard Rochford, the knight-elect, the train-bearers, and\npensioners outside. The door of the chapter-house being closed by\nthe black-rod, the king proceeded to the upper end of the\nvestments-board--as the table was designated--where a chair, cushions,\nand cloth of state were provided for him; the knights-companions, whose\nstalls in the choir were on the same side as his own, seating themselves\non his right, and those whose posts were on the prince's side taking\ntheir places on the left. The prelate and the chancellor stood at the\nupper end of the table; the Garter and register at the foot; while the\ndoor was kept by the black-rod.\n\nAs soon as the king and the knights were seated, intimation was given by\nan usher to the black-rod that the newly elected knight, Lord Rochford,\nwas without. The intelligence being communicated to the king, he ordered\nthe Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk to bring him into his presence.\nThe injunction was obeyed, and the knight-elect presently made\nhis appearance, the Garter marching before him to the king. Bowing\nreverently to the sovereign, Rochford, in a brief speech, expressed his\ngratitude for the signal honour conferred upon him, and at its close\nset his left foot upon a gilt stool, placed for him by the Garter, who\npronounced the following admonition:--\u201cMy good lord, the loving company\nof the Order of the Garter have received you as their brother and\nfellow. In token whereof, they give you this garter, which God grant you\nmay receive and wear from henceforth to His praise and glory, and to the\nexaltation and honour of the noble Order and yourself.\u201d\n\nMeanwhile the garter was girded on the leg of the newly-elected knight,\nand buckled by the Duke of Suffolk. This done, he knelt before the king,\nwho hung a gold chain, with the image of Saint George attached to\nit, about his neck, while another admonition was pronounced by\nthe chancellor. Rochford then arose, bowed to the monarch, to the\nknights-companions, who returned his salutations, and the investiture\nwas complete.\n\nOther affairs of the chapter were next discussed. Certain officers\nnominated since the last meeting, were sworn; letters from absent\nknights-companions, praying to be excused from attendance, were\nread--and their pleas, except in the instance of Sir Thomas Cheney,\nallowed. After reading the excuse of the latter, Henry uttered an angry\noath, declaring he would deprive him of his vote in the chapter-house,\nbanish him from his stall, and mulct him a hundred marks, to be paid\nat Saint George's altar, when Will Sommers, who was permitted to be\npresent, whispered in his ear that the offender was kept away by the\ndevices of Wolsey, because he was known to be friendly to the divorce,\nand to the interests of the lady Anne.\n\n\u201cAha! by Saint Mary, is it so?\u201d exclaimed Henry, knitting his brows.\n\u201cThis shall be looked into. I have hanged a butcher just now. Let the\nbutcher's son take warning by his fate. He has bearded me long enough.\nSee that Sir Thomas Cheney be sent for with all despatch. I will hear\nthe truth from his own lips.\u201d\n\nHe then arose, and quitting the chapter-house, proceeded with the\nknights-companions to the choir--the roof and walls of the sacred\nstructure resounding with the solemn notes of the organ as they\ntraversed the aisle. The first to enter the choir were the alms-knights,\nwho passed through the door in a body, and making low obeisances\ntoward the altar and the royal stall, divided into two lines. They\nwere succeeded by the prebends of the College, who, making similar\nobeisances, stationed themselves in front of the benches before the\nstalls of the knights-companions. Next followed the pursuivants,\nheralds, and provincial kings-of-arms, making like reverences,\nand ranging themselves with the alms-knights. Then came the\nknights-companions, who performed double reverences like the others, and\ntook their stations under their stalls; then came the black-rod, Garter,\nand register, who having gone through the same ceremony as the others,\nproceeded to their form, which was placed on the south side of the choir\nbefore the sovereign's stall; then came the chancellor and prelate,\nwhose form was likewise placed before the royal stall, but nearer to it\nthan that allotted to the other officers; and, lastly, Henry himself,\nwith the sword borne before him by the Duke of Richmond, who as he\napproached the steps of his stall bowed reverently towards the altar,\nand made another obeisance before seating himself.\n\nMeanwhile the Duke of Richmond posted himself in front of the royal\nstall, the Earl of Oxford, as lord chamberlain, taking his station on\nthe king's right, and the Earl of Surrey, as vice-chamberlain, on the\nleft. As these arrangements were made, the two cardinals arrived, and\nproceeded to the altar.\n\nMass was then said, and nothing could be more striking than the\nappearance of the chapel during its performance. The glorious choir with\nits groined and pendent roof, its walls adorned with the richest stuffs,\nits exquisitely carved stalls, above which hung the banners of the\nknights-companions, together with their helmets, crests, and swords, its\nsumptuously--decorated altar, glittering with costly vessels, its pulpit\nhung with crimson damask interwoven with gold, the magnificent and\nvaried dresses of the assemblage--all these constituted a picture of\nsurpassing splendour.\n\nVespers over, the king and his train departed with the same ceremonies\nand in the same order as had been observed on their entrance to the\nchoir.\n\nOn returning to the royal lodgings, Henry proceeded to his closet, where\nhaving divested himself of his mantle, he went in search of the Lady\nAnne. He found her walking with her dames on the stately terrace at the\nnorth of the castle, and the attendants retiring as he joined her, he\nwas left at full liberty for amorous converse. After pacing the terrace\nfor some time, he adjourned with Anne to her own apartments, where he\nremained till summoned to supper with the knights-companions in Saint\nGeorge's Hall.\n\nThe next morning betimes, it being the day of the Patron Saint of the\nOrder of the Garter, a numerous cavalcade assembled in the upper ward of\nthe castle, to conduct the king to hear matins in Saint George's Chapel.\nIn order to render the sight as imposing as possible, Henry had arranged\nthat the procession should take place on horseback, and the whole of the\nretinue were accordingly mounted. The large quadrangle was filled with\nsteeds and their attendants, and the castle walls resounded with the\nfanfares of trumpets and the beating of kettledrums. The most attractive\nfeature of the procession in the eyes of the beholders was the Lady\nAnne, who, mounted on a snow-white palfrey richly trapped, rode on the\nright of the king. She was dressed in a rich gown of raised cloth of\ngold; and had a coronet of black velvet, decorated with orient pearls,\non her head. Never had she looked so lovely as on this occasion, and the\nking's passion increased as he gazed upon her. Henry himself was more\nsumptuously attired than on the preceding day. He wore a robe of purple\nvelvet, made somewhat like a frock, embroidered with flat damask gold,\nand small lace intermixed. His doublet was very curiously embroidered,\nthe sleeves and breast being lined with cloth of gold, and fastened with\ngreat buttons of diamonds and rubies. His sword and girdle were adorned\nwith magnificent emeralds, and his bonnet glistened with precious\nstones. His charger was trapped in cloth of gold, traversed\nlattice-wise, square, embroidered with gold damask, pearled on every\nside, and having buckles and pendants of fine gold. By his side ran\nten footmen, richly attired in velvet and goldsmith's work. They were\nfollowed by the pages of honour, mounted on great horses, trapped in\ncrimson velvet embroidered with new devices and knots of gold.\n\nIn this state Henry and his favourite proceeded to the great\nwestern door of Saint George's Chapel. Here twelve gentlemen of the\nprivy-chamber attended with a canopy of cloth of gold, which they bore\nover the king's bead, and that of the Lady Anne, as she walked beside\nhim to the entrance of the choir, where they separated--he proceeding\nto his stall, and she to a closet at the north-east corner of the choir\nover the altar, while her ladies repaired to one adjoining it.\n\nMatins then commenced, and at the appointed part of the service the dean\nof the college took a silver box, containing the heart of Saint George,\nbestowed upon King Henry the Fifth by the Emperor Sigismund, and after\nincense had been shed upon it by one of the canons, presented it to the\nking and the knights-companions to kiss.\n\nAfter the offertory, a carpet was spread on the steps before the altar,\nthe alms-knights, pursuivants, and heralds stationing themselves on\neither side of it. The Garter then descended from his seat, and waving\nhis rod, the knights-companions descended likewise, but remained before\ntheir stalls. The black-rod next descended, and proceeding towards the\naltar, a groom of the wardrobe brought him a small carpet of cloth of\ngold, and a cushion of the same stuff, which were placed on the larger\ncarpet, the cushion being set on the head of the steps. Taking a large\ngilt bason to receive the offerings, the prelate stationed himself with\none of the prebends in the midst of the altar. The king then rose from\nhis stall, and making a reverence as before, proceeded to the altar,\nattended by the Garter, register, and chancellor, together with the\nDuke of Richmond bearing the sword; and having reached the upper step,\nprostrated himself on the cushion, while the black-rod bending the knee\ndelivered a chain of gold, intended afterwards to be redeemed, to the\nDuke of Suffolk, who was appointed to make the royal offering, and who\nplaced it in the bason held by the prelate. This ceremony over, the king\ngot up, and with similar reverences returned to his stall. Then the two\nprovincial kings, Clarenceux and Norroy, proceeded along the choir, and\nmaking due reverences to the altar and the sovereign, bowed to the two\nsenior knights; who thereupon advanced towards the altar, and kneeling\ndown, made their offering. The other imitated their example, coming\nforward according to their seniority.\n\nThe service ended, the officers and knights-companions quitted the\nchapel in the same order they had entered it, the king being received\nunder the canopy at the door of the choir, and passing through the\nwest entrance of the chapel, where he waited for the Lady Anne. On\nher arrival they both mounted their steeds, and rode up to the royal\nlodgings amid flourishes of trumpets and acclamations. Dismounting\nat the great gate, Henry proceeded to the presence-chamber, where the\nknights-companions had assembled, and having received their salutations,\nretired to his closet. Here he remained in deep consultation with the\nDuke of Suffolk for some hours, when it having been announced to him\nthat the first course of the banquet was served, he came forth,\nand proceeded to the presence-chamber, where he greeted the\nknights-companions, who were there assembled, and who immediately\nput themselves in order of procession. After this, the alms-knights,\nprebends, and officers-of-arms passed on through the guard-chamber into\nSaint George's Hall. They were followed by the knights-companions, who\ndrew up in double file, the seniors taking the uppermost place; and\nthrough these lines the king passed, his train borne up as before, until\nreaching the table set apart for him beneath a canopy, he turned\nround and received the knights' reverences. The Earl of Oxford, as\nvice-chamberlain, then brought him a ewer containing water, the Earl of\nSurrey a bason, and Lord Rochford a napkin. Henry having performed his\nablutions, grace was said by the prelate, after which the king seated\nhimself beneath the canopy in an ancient chair with a curiously carved\nback representing the exploit of Saint George, which had once belonged\nto the founder, King Edward the Third, and called up the two cardinals,\nwho by this time had entered the hall, and who remained standing beside\nhim, one on either hand, during the repast.\n\nAs soon as the king was seated, the knights-companions put on their\ncaps, and retired to the table prepared for them on the right side of\nthe hall, where they seated themselves according to their degree--the\nDuke of Richmond occupying the first place, the Duke of Suffolk the\nsecond, and the Duke of Norfolk the third. On the opposite side of the\nhall was a long beaufet covered with flasks of wine, meats, and dishes,\nfor the service of the knights' table. Before this stood the attendants,\nnear whom were drawn up two lines of pensioners bearing the second\ncourse on great gilt dishes, and headed by the sewer. In front of the\nsewer were the treasurer and comptroller of the household, each bearing\na white wand; next them stood the officers-of-arms in two lines, headed\nby the Garter. The bottom of the hall was thronged with yeomen of the\nguard, halberdiers, and henchmen. In a gallery at the lower end were\nstationed a band of minstrels, and near them sat the Lady Anne and her\ndames to view the proceedings.\n\nThe appearance of the hall during the banquet was magnificent, the upper\npart being hung with arras representing the legend of Saint\nGeorge, placed there by Henry the Sixth, and the walls behind the\nknights-companions adorned with other tapestries and rich stuffs.\nThe tables groaned with the weight of dishes, some of which may be\nenumerated for the benefit of modern gastronomers. There were Georges on\nhorseback, chickens in brewis, cygnets, capons of high grease, carpes of\nvenison, herons, calvered salmon, custards planted with garters, tarts\nclosed with arms, godwits, peafowl, halibut engrailed, porpoise in\narmour, pickled mullets, perch in foyle, venison pasties, hypocras\njelly, and mainemy royal.\n\nBefore the second course was served, the Garter, followed by Clarenceux\nand Norroy, together with the heralds and pursuivants, advanced towards\nthe sovereign's canopy, and cried thrice in a loud voice, \u201cLargesse!\u201d\n\nUpon this, all the knights-companions arose and took off their caps. The\nGarter then proceeded to proclaim the king's titles in Latin and French,\nand lastly in English, as follows:--\u201cOf the most high, most excellent,\nand most mighty monarch, Henry the Eighth, by the grace of God King of\nEngland, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of\nthe most noble Order of the Garter.\u201d\n\nThis proclamation made, the treasurer of the household put ten golden\nmarks into the Garter's cap, who making a reverence to the sovereign,\nretired from the hall with his followers.\n\n\u201cCome, my lord legate,\u201d said Henry, when this ceremony was at an end,\n\u201cwe will drink to my future queen. What ho! wine!\u201d he added to the Earl\nof Surrey, who officiated as cup-bearer.\n\n\u201cYour highness is not yet divorced from your present consort,\u201d replied\nCampeggio. \u201cIf it please you, I should prefer drinking the health of\nCatherine of Arragon.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, as your eminence pleases,\u201d replied the king, taking the goblet\nfrom the hand of Surrey; \u201cI shall not constrain you.\u201d\n\nAnd looking towards the gallery, he fixed his eyes on the Lady Anne and\ndrained the cup to the last drop.\n\n\u201cWould it were poison,\u201d muttered Sir Thomas Wyat, who stood behind the\nEarl of Surrey, and witnessed what was passing.\n\n\u201cGive not thy treasonable thoughts vent, gossip,\u201d said Will Sommers,\nwho formed one of the group near the royal table, \u201cor it may chance that\nsome one less friendly disposed towards thee than myself may overhear\nthem. I tell thee, the Lady Anne is lost to thee for ever. Think'st thou\naught of womankind would hesitate between a simple knight and a king? My\nlord duke,\u201d he added sharply to Richmond, who was looking round at him,\n\u201cyou would rather be in yonder gallery than here.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy so, knave?\u201d asked the duke.\n\n\u201cBecause the Fair Geraldine is there,\u201d replied the jester. \u201cAnd yet your\ngrace is not the person she would most desire to have with her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhom would she prefer?\u201d inquired the duke angrily.\n\nThe jester nodded at Surrey, and laughed maliciously.\n\n\u201cYou heard the health given by the king just now, my lord,\u201d observed the\nDuke of Suffolk to his neighbour the Duke of Norfolk; \u201cit was a shrewd\nhint to the lord legate which way his judgment should decline. Your\nniece will assuredly be Queen of England.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not note what was said, my lord,\u201d replied Norfolk; \u201cI pray you\nrepeat it to me.\u201d\n\nSuffolk complied, and they continued in close debate until the\ntermination of the banquet, when the king, having saluted the company,\nreturned to the presence-chamber.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\n     Of the Ghostly Chase beheld by the Earl of Surrey and the\n     Duke of Richmond in Windsor Forest.\n\n\nOn that same night, and just as the castle clock was on the stroke of\ntwelve, the Earl of Surrey and the Duke of Richmond issued from the\nupper gate, and took their way towards Herne's Oak. The moon was shining\nbrightly, and its beams silvered the foliage of the noble trees with\nwhich the park was studded. The youthful friends soon reached the\nblasted tree; but nothing was to be seen near it, and all looked so\ntranquil, so free from malignant influence, that the Duke of Richmond\ncould not help laughing at his companion, telling him that the supposed\nvision must have been the offspring of his over-excited fancy. Angry at\nbeing thus doubted, the earl walked off, and plunged into the haunted\ndell. The duke followed, but though they paused for some time beneath\nthe gnarled oak-tree, the spirit did not appear.\n\n\u201cAnd thus ends the adventure of Herne the Hunter!\u201d laughed the duke,\nas they emerged from the brake. \u201cBy my halidom, Surrey, I am grievously\ndisappointed. You must have mistaken some large stag, caught by its\nantlers in the branches of the oak-tree, for the demon.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have told you precisely what occurred,\u201d replied Surrey angrily. \u201cHa!\nthere he is--look! look!\u201d\n\nAnd he pointed to a weird figure, mounted on a steed as weird-looking as\nitself, galloping through the trees with extraordinary swiftness, at a\nlittle distance from them. This ghostly rider wore the antlered helmet\ndescribed by Surrey, and seemed to be habited in a garb of deer-skins.\nBefore him flew a large owl, and a couple of great black dogs ran beside\nhim. Staring in speechless wonder at the sight, the two youths watched\nthe mysterious being scour a glade brightly illumined by the moon,\nuntil, reaching the pales marking the confines of the Home Park, he\nleaped them and disappeared.\n\n\u201cWhat think you of that?\u201d cried Surrey, as soon as he had recovered from\nhis surprise, glancing triumphantly at the duke. \u201cWas that the offspring\nof my fancy?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was a marvellous sight, truly!\u201d exclaimed Richmond. \u201cWould we had\nour steeds to follow him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe can follow him on foot,\u201d replied the earl--\u201che is evidently gone\ninto the forest.\u201d\n\nAnd they set off at a quick pace in the direction taken by the ghostly\nrider. Clambering the park pales, they crossed the road leading to\nOld Windsor, and entered that part of the forest which, in more recent\ntimes, has been enclosed and allotted to the grounds of Frogmore.\nTracking a long vista, they came to a thick dell, overgrown with\nlarge oaks, at the bottom of which lay a small pool. Fleeter than his\ncompanion, and therefore somewhat in advance of him, the Earl of Surrey,\nas he approached this dell, perceived the spectral huntsman and his dogs\nstanding at the edge of the water. The earl instantly shouted to him,\nand the horseman turning his head, shook his hand menacingly, while the\nhounds glared fiercely at the intruder, and displayed their fangs, but\ndid not bark. As Surrey, however, despite this caution, continued to\nadvance, the huntsman took a strangely shaped horn that hung by his\nside, and placing it to his lips, flames and thick smoke presently\nissued from it, and before the vapour had cleared off, he and his dogs\nhad disappeared.. The witnesses of this marvellous spectacle crossed\nthemselves reverently, and descended to the brink of the pool; but the\nnumerous footprints of deer, that came there to drink, prevented them\nfrom distinguishing any marks of the steed of the ghostly hunter.\n\n\u201cShall we return, Surrey?\u201d asked the duke.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied the earl. \u201cI am persuaded we shall see the mysterious\nhuntsman again. You can return, if you think proper. I will go on.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, I will not leave you,\u201d rejoined Richmond.\n\nAnd they set off again at the same quick pace as before. Mounting a hill\ncovered with noble beeches and elms, a magnificent view of the castle\nburst upon them, towering over the groves they had tracked, and looking\nalmost like the work of enchantment. Charmed with the view, the young\nmen continued to contemplate it for some time. They then struck off on\nthe right, and ascended still higher, until they came to a beautiful\ngrove of beeches cresting the hill where the equestrian statue of George\nthe Third is now placed. Skirting this grove, they disturbed a herd of\ndeer, which started up, and darted into the valley below.\n\nAt the foot of two fine beech-trees lay another small pool, and Surrey\nalmost expected to see the spectral huntsman beside it.\n\nFrom this spot they could discern the whole of the valley beyond, and\nthey scanned it in the hope of perceiving the object of their search.\nThough not comparable to the view on the nearer side, the prospect was\nnevertheless exceedingly beautiful. Long vistas and glades stretched out\nbefore them, while in the far distance might be seen glittering in the\nmoonbeams the lake or mere which in later days has received the name of\nVirginia Water.\n\nWhile they were gazing at this scene, a figure habited like a keeper of\nthe forest suddenly emerged from the trees at the lower end of one of\nthe glades. Persuaded that this person had some mysterious connection\nwith the ghostly huntsman, the earl determined to follow him, and\nhastily mentioning his suspicions and design to Richmond, he hurried\ndown the hill. But before he accomplished the descent, the keeper was\ngone.\n\nAt length, however, on looking about, they perceived him mounting the\nrising ground on the left, and immediately started after him, taking\ncare to keep out of sight. The policy of this course was soon apparent.\nSupposing himself no longer pursued, the keeper relaxed his pace, and\nthe others got nearer to him.\n\nIn this way both parties went on, the keeper still hurrying forward,\nevery now and then turning his head to see whether any one was on his\ntrack, until he came to a road cut through the trees that brought him to\nthe edge of a descent leading to the lake. Just at this moment a\ncloud passed over the moon, burying all in comparative obscurity.\nThe watchers, however, could perceive the keeper approach an ancient\nbeech-tree of enormous growth, and strike it thrice with the short\nhunting-spear which he held in his grasp.\n\nThe signal remaining unanswered, he quitted the tree, and shaped his\ncourse along the side of a hill on the right. Keeping under the\nshelter of the thicket on the top of the same hill, Surrey and Richmond\nfollowed, and saw him direct his steps towards another beech-tree of\nalmost double the girth of that he had just visited. Arrived at this\nmighty tree, he struck it with his spear, while a large owl, seated on\na leafless branch, began to hoot; a bat circled the tree; and two large\nsnakes, glistening in the moonlight, glided from its roots. As the tree\nwas stricken for the third time, the same weird figure that the watchers\nhad seen ride along the Home Park burst from its riften trunk, and\naddressed its summoner in tones apparently menacing and imperious, but\nwhose import was lost upon the listeners. The curiosity of the beholders\nwas roused to the highest pitch, but an undefinable awe prevented them\nfrom rushing forward.\n\nSuddenly the demon hunter waved a pike with which he was armed, and\nuttered a peculiar cry, resembling the hooting of an owl. At this sound,\nand as if by magic, a couple of steeds, accompanied by the two hounds,\nstarted from the brake. In an instant the demon huntsman vaulted upon\nthe hack of the horse nearest to him, and the keeper almost as quickly\nmounted the other. The pair then galloped off through the glen, the owl\nflying before them, and the hounds coursing by their side.\n\nThe two friends gazed at each other, for some time, in speechless\nwonder. Taking heart, they then descended to the haunted tree, but could\nperceive no traces of the strange being by whom it had been recently\ntenanted. After a while they retraced their course towards the castle,\nhoping they might once more encounter the wild huntsman. Nor were they\ndisappointed. As they crossed a glen, a noble stag darted by. Close at\nits heels came the two black hounds, and after them the riders hurrying\nforward at a furious pace, their steeds appearing to breathe forth flame\nand smoke.\n\nIn an instant the huntsmen and hounds were gone, and the trampling of\nthe horses died away in the distance. Soon afterwards a low sound, like\nthe winding of a horn, broke upon the ear, and the listeners had no\ndoubt that the buck was brought down. They hurried in the direction\nof the sound, but though the view was wholly unobstructed for a\nconsiderable distance, they could see nothing either of horsemen,\nhounds, or deer.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\n     How the Fair Geraldine bestowed a Relic upon her Lover--How\n     Surrey and Richmond rode in the Forest at Midnight--And\n     where they found the Body of Mark Fytton, the Butcher.\n\n\nSurrey and Richmond agreed to say nothing for the present of their\nmysterious adventure in the forest; but their haggard looks, as they\npresented themselves to the Lady Anne Boleyn in the reception-chamber on\nthe following morning, proclaimed that something had happened, and they\nhad to undergo much questioning from the Fair Geraldine and the Lady\nMary Howard.\n\n\u201cI never saw you so out of spirits, my lord,\u201d remarked the Fair\nGeraldine to Surrey; \u201cyou must have spent the whole night in study--or\nwhat is more probable, you have again seen Herne the Hunter. Confess\nnow, you have been in the forest.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will confess anything you please,\u201d replied Surrey evasively.\n\n\u201cAnd what have you seen?--a stranger vision than the first?\u201d rejoined\nthe Fair Geraldine.\n\n\u201cSince your ladyship answers for me, there is no need for explanation on\nmy part,\u201d rejoined Surrey, with a faint laugh. \u201cAnd know you not, that\nthose who encounter super natural beings are generally bound to profound\nsecrecy?\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch, I hope, is not your case, Henry?\u201d cried the Lady Mary Howard, in\nalarm;--\u201cnor yours, my lord?\u201d she added to the Duke of Richmond.\n\n\u201cI am bound equally with Surrey,\u201d returned the duke mysteriously\n\n\u201cYou pique my curiosity, my lords,\u201d said the Fair Geraldine; \u201cand since\nthere is no other way of gratifying it, if the Lady Mary Howard will\naccompany me, we will ourselves venture into the forest, and try whether\nwe cannot have a meeting with this wild huntsman. Shall we go to-night?\n\n\u201cNot for worlds,\u201d replied the Lady Mary, shuddering; \u201cwere I to see\nHerne, I should die of fright.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour alarm is groundless,\u201d observed Richmond gallantly. \u201cThe presence\nof two beings, fair and pure as yourself and the Lady Elizabeth\nFitzgerald, would scare away aught of evil.\u201d\n\nThe Lady Mary thanked him with a beaming smile, but the Fair Geraldine\ncould not suppress a slight laugh.\n\n\u201cYour grace is highly flattering,\u201d she said. \u201cBut, with all faith\nin beauty and purity, I should place most reliance in a relic I\npossess--the virtue of which has often been approved against evil\nspirits. It was given by a monk--who had been sorely tempted by a demon,\nand who owed his deliverance to it--to my ancestor, Luigi Geraldi of\nFlorence; and from him it descended to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould I had an opportunity of proving its efficacy!\u201d exclaimed the Earl\nof Surrey.\n\n\u201cYou shall prove it, if you choose,\u201d rejoined the Fair Geraldine. \u201cI\nwill give you the relic on condition that you never part with it to\nfriend or foe.\u201d\n\nAnd detaching a small cross of gold, suspended by a chain from her neck,\nshe presented it to the Earl of Surrey.\n\n\u201cThis cross encloses the relic,\u201d she continued; \u201cwear it, and may it\nprotect you from all ill!\u201d\n\nSurrey's pale cheek glowed as he took the gift. \u201cI will never past\nwith it but with life,\u201d he cried, pressing the cross to his lips, and\nafterwards placing it next his heart.\n\n\u201cI would have given half my dukedom to be so favoured,\u201d said Richmond\nmoodily.\n\nAnd quitting the little group, he walked towards the Lady Anne. \u201cHenry,\u201d\n said the Lady Mary, taking her brother aside, \u201cyou will lose your\nfriend.\u201d\n\n\u201cI care not,\u201d replied Surrey.\n\n\u201cBut you may incur his enmity,\u201d pursued the Lady Mary. \u201cI saw the glance\nhe threw at you just now, and it was exactly like the king's terrible\nlook when offended.\u201d\n\n\u201cAgain I say I care not,\u201d replied Surrey. \u201cArmed with this relic, I defy\nall hostility.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will avail little against Richmond's rivalry and opposition,\u201d\n rejoined his sister.\n\n\u201cWe shall see,\u201d retorted Surrey. \u201cWere the king himself my rival, I\nwould not resign my pretensions to the Fair Geraldine.\u201d\n\n\u201cBravely resolved, my lord,\u201d said Sir Thomas Wyat, who, having overheard\nthe exclamation, advanced towards him. \u201cHeaven grant you may never be\nplaced in such jeopardy!\u201d\n\n\u201cI say amen to that prayer, Sir Thomas,\u201d rejoined Surrey \u201cI would not\nprove disloyal, and yet under such circumstances--\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat would you do?\u201d interrupted Wyat.\n\n\u201cMy brother is but a hasty boy, and has not learned discretion, Sir\nThomas,\u201d interposed the Lady Mary, trying by a significant glance to\nimpose silence on the earl.\n\n\u201cYoung as he is, he loves well and truly,\u201d remarked Wyat, in a sombre\ntone.\n\n\u201cWhat is all this?\u201d inquired the Fair Geraldine, who had been gazing\nthrough the casement into the court below.\n\n\u201cI was merely expressing a wish that Surrey may never have a monarch for\na rival, fair lady,\u201d replied Wyat.\n\n\u201cIt matters little who may be his rival,\u201d rejoined Geraldine, \u201cprovided\nshe he loves be constant.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight, lady, right,\u201d said Wyat, with great bitterness. At this moment\nWill Sommers approached them. \u201cI come to bid you to the Lady Anne's\npresence, Sir Thomas, and you to the king's, my lord of Surrey,\u201d said\nthe jester. \u201cI noticed what has just taken place,\u201d he remarked to the\nlatter, as they proceeded towards the royal canopy, beneath which Henry\nand the Lady Anne Boleyn were seated; \u201cbut Richmond will not relinquish\nher tamely, for all that.\u201d\n\nAnne Boleyn had summoned Sir Thomas Wyat, in order to gratify her vanity\nby showing him the unbounded influence she possessed over his royal\nrival; and the half-suppressed agony displayed by the unfortunate lover\nat the exhibition afforded her a pleasure such as only the most refined\ncoquette can feel.\n\nSurrey was sent for by the king to receive instructions, in his quality\nof vice-chamberlain, respecting a tilting-match and hunting-party to be\nheld on successive days--the one in the upper quadrangle of the castle,\nthe other in the forest.\n\nAnxious, now that he was somewhat calmer, to avoid a rupture with\nRichmond, Surrey, as soon as he had received the king's instructions,\ndrew near the duke; and the latter, who had likewise reasoned himself\nout of his resentment, was speedily appeased, and they became, to all\nappearance, as good friends as ever.\n\nSoon afterwards the Lady Anne and her dames retired, and the court\nbreaking up, the two young nobles strolled forth to the stately terrace\nat the north of the castle, where, while gazing at the glorious view it\ncommanded, they talked over the mysterious event of the previous night.\n\n\u201cI cannot help suspecting that the keeper we beheld with the demon\nhunter was Morgan Fenwolf,\u201d remarked the earl. \u201cSuppose we make inquiry\nwhether he was at home last night. We can readily find out his dwelling\nfrom Bryan Bowntance, the host of the Garter.\u201d\n\nRichmond acquiesced in the proposal, and they accordingly proceeded\nto the cloisters of Saint George's Chapel, and threading some tortuous\npassages contrived among the canons' houses, passed through a small\nporch, guarded by a sentinel, and opening upon a precipitous and\nsomewhat dangerous flight of steps, hewn out of the rock and leading to\nthe town.\n\nNone except the more important members of the royal household were\nallowed to use this means of exit from the castle, but, of course, the\nprivilege extended to Richmond and Surrey. Here in later times, and when\nthe castle was not so strictly guarded, a more convenient approach\nwas built, and designated, from the number of its stairs, \u201cThe Hundred\nSteps.\u201d\n\nHaving accomplished the descent in safety, and given the password to the\nsentinel at the foot of the steps, the two young nobles emerged into the\nstreet, and the first object they beheld was the body of the miserable\nbutcher swinging from the summit of the Curfew Tower, where it was left\nby order of the king.\n\nAverting their gaze from this ghastly spectacle, they took their way up\nThames Street, and soon reached the Garter. Honest Bryan was seated on a\nbench before the dwelling, with a flagon of his own ale beside him,\nand rising as he saw the others approach, he made them a profound\nsalutation.\n\nUpon leaning what they sought, he told them that Morgan Fenwolf dwelt\nin a small cottage by the river-side not far from the bridge, and if\nit pleased them, he would guide them to it himself--an offer which they\ngladly accepted.\n\n\u201cDo you know anything of this Fenwolf?\u201d asked Surrey, as they proceeded\non their way.\n\n\u201cNothing particular,\u201d replied Bryan, with some hesitation. \u201cThere are\nsome strange reports about him, but I don't believe 'em.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat reports are they, friend?\u201d asked the Duke of Richmond.\n\n\u201cWhy, your grace, one ought to be cautious what one says, for fear of\nbringing an innocent man into trouble,\u201d returned the host. \u201cBut if the\ntruth must be spoken, people do say that Morgan Fenwolf is in league\nwith the devil--or with Herne the Hunter, which is the same thing.\u201d\n\nRichmond exchanged a look with his friend.\n\n\u201cFolks say strange sights have been seen in the forest of late,\u201d pursued\nBryan--\u201cand it may be so. But I myself have seen nothing--but then, to\nbe sure, I never go there. The keepers used to talk of Herne the\nHunter when I was a lad, but I believe it was only a tale to frighten\ndeer-stealers; and I fancy it's much the same thing now.\u201d\n\nNeither Surrey nor Richmond made any remark, and they presently reached\nthe keeper's dwelling.\n\nIt was a small wooden tenement standing, as the host had stated, on the\nbank of the river, about a bow-shot from the bridge. The door was opened\nby Bryan, and the party entered without further ceremony. They found\nno one within except an old woman, with harsh, wrinkled features, and a\nglance as ill-omened as that of a witch, whom Bryan Bowntance told them\nwas Fenwolf's mother. This old crone regarded the intruders uneasily.\n\n\u201cWhere is your son, dame?\u201d demanded the duke.\n\n\u201cOn his walk in the forest,\u201d replied the old crone bluntly.\n\n\u201cWhat time did he go forth?\u201d inquired Surrey.\n\n\u201cAn hour before daybreak, as is his custom,\u201d returned the woman, in the\nsame short tone as before.\n\n\u201cYou are sure he slept at home last night, dame?\u201d said Surrey.\n\n\u201cAs sure as I am that the question is asked me,\u201d she replied. \u201cI can\nshow you the very bed on which he slept, if you desire to see it. He\nretired soon after sunset--slept soundly, as he always sleeps--and arose\nas I have told you. I lighted a fire, and made him some hot pottage\nmyself.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf she speaks the truth, you must be mistaken,\u201d observed Richmond in a\nwhisper to his friend.\n\n\u201cI do not believe her,\u201d replied Surrey, in the same tone. \u201cShow us his\nchamber, dame.\u201d\n\nThe old crone sullenly complied, and, throwing open a side door,\ndisclosed an inner apartment, in which there was a small bed. There\nwas nothing noticeable in the room except a couple of fishing-nets, a\nhunting-spear, and an old cross-bow. A small open casement looked upon\nthe river, whose clear sparkling waters flowed immediately beneath it.\n\nSurrey approached the window, and obtained a fine view of the Brocas\nmeads on the one hand, and the embowered college of Eton on the other.\nHis attention, however, was diverted by a fierce barking without, and\nthe next moment, in spite of the vociferations of the old woman, a large\nblack staghound, which Surrey recognised as Fenwolf's dog, Bawsey, burst\nthrough the door, and rushed furiously towards him. Surrey drew his\ndagger to defend himself from the hound's attack, but the precaution\nwas needless. Bawsey's fierceness changed suddenly to the most abject\nsubmission, and with a terrified howl, she retreated from the room with'\nher tail between her legs. Even the old woman uttered a cry of surprise.\n\n\u201cLord help us!\u201d exclaimed Bryan; \u201cwas ever the like o' that seen? Your\nlordship must have a strange mastery over dogs. That hound,\u201d he added,\nin a whisper, \u201cis said to be a familiar spirit.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe virtue of the relic is approved,\u201d observed Surrey to Richmond, in\nan undertone.\n\n\u201cIt would seem so,\u201d replied the duke.\n\nThe old woman now thought proper to assume a more respectful demeanour\ntowards her visitors, and inquired whether her son should attend upon\nthem on his return from the forest, but they said it was unnecessary.\n\n\u201cThe king is about to have a grand hunting-party the day after\nto-morrow,\u201d observed Surrey, \u201cand we wished to give your son some\ninstructions respecting it. They can, however, be delivered to another\nkeeper.\u201d\n\nAnd they departed with Bryan, and returned to the castle. At midnight\nthey again issued forth. Their steeds awaited them near the upper gate,\nand, mounting, they galloped across the greensward in the direction of\nHerne's Oak. Discerning no trace of the ghostly huntsman, they shaped\ntheir course towards the forest.\n\nUrging their steeds to their utmost speed, and skirting the long avenue,\nthey did not draw the rein till they reached the eminence beyond it;\nhaving climbed which, they dashed down the farther side at the same\nswift pace as before. The ride greatly excited them, but they saw\nnothing of the wild huntsman; nor did any sound salute their ears except\nthe tramp of their own horses, or the occasional darting forth of a\nstartled deer.\n\nLess than a quarter of an hour brought them to the haunted beech-tree;\nbut all was as silent and solitary here as at the blasted oak. In vain\nSurrey smote the tree. No answer was returned to the summons; and,\nfinding all efforts to evoke the demon fruitless, they quitted the\nspot, and, turning their horses' heads to the right, slowly ascended the\nhill-side.\n\nBefore they had gained the brow of the hill the faint blast of a horn\nsaluted their ears, apparently proceeding from the valley near the\nlake. They instantly stopped and looked in that direction, but could\nsee nothing. Presently, however, the blast was repeated more loudly than\nbefore, and, guided by the sound, they discerned the spectral huntsman\nriding beneath the trees at some quarter of a mile's distance.\n\nStriking spurs into their steeds, they instantly gave him chase; but\nthough he lured them on through thicket and over glade--now climbing\na hill, now plunging into a valley, until their steeds began to show\nsymptoms of exhaustion--they got no nearer to him; and at length, as\nthey drew near the Home Park, to which he had gradually led them, he\ndisappeared from view.\n\n\u201cI will take my station near the blasted oak,\u201d said Surrey, galloping\ntowards it: \u201cthe demon is sure to revisit his favourite tree before\ncock-crowing.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d cried the Earl of Surrey, pointing to a strange and\nghastly-looking object depending from the tree. \u201cSome one has hanged\nhimself! It may be the caitiff, Morgan Fenwolf.\u201d\n\nWith one accord they dashed forward, and as they drew nearer the tree,\nthey perceived that the object that had attracted their attention was\nthe body of Mark Fytton, the butcher, which they had so recently seen\nswinging from the summit of the Curfew Tower. It was now suspended from\nan arm of the wizard oak.\n\nA small scroll was stuck upon the breast of the corpse, and, taking it\noff, Surrey read these words, traced in uncouth characters--\u201cMark Fytton\nis now one of the band of Herne the Hunter.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my fay, this passes all comprehension,\u201d said Richmond, after a few\nmoments' silence. \u201cThis castle and forest seem under the sway of the\npowers of darkness. Let us return. I have had enough of adventure for\nto-night.\u201d\n\nAnd he rode towards the castle, followed more slowly by the earl.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\n     How the Earl of Surrey and the Fair Geraldine plighted their\n     troth in the Cloisters of Saint George's Chapel.\n\n\nBarriers were erected on the following day in the upper ward of the\ncastle, and the Lady Anne and her dames assembled in the balcony in\nfront of the royal lodgings, which was decorated with arras, costly\ncarpets, and rich stuffs, to view the spectacle.\n\nPerfect in all manly accomplishments, Henry splintered several lances\nwith his brother-in-law, the Duke of Suffolk, who formed an admirable\nmatch for him in point of weight and strength; and at last, though he\ndid not succeed in unhorsing the duke, he struck off his helmet, the\nclasp of which, it was whispered, was left designedly unfastened; and\nbeing thereupon declared the victor, he received the prize--a scarf\nembroidered by her own hands--from the fair Anne herself.\n\nHe then retired from the lists, leaving them free for the younger\nknights to run a course at the ring. The first to enter the arena was\nSir Thomas Wyat; and as he was known to be a skilful jouster, it was\nexpected he would come off triumphantly. But a glance from the royal\nbalcony rendered his arm unsteady, and he missed the mark.\n\nNext came the Duke of Richmond, superbly accoutred. Laughing at Wyat's\nill success, he bowed to the Fair Geraldine, and taking a lance from his\nesquire, placed it in the rest, and rode gallantly forward. But he was\nequally unsuccessful, and retired, looking deeply chagrined.\n\nThe third knight who presented himself was Surrey. Mounted on his\nfavourite black Arabian--a steed which, though of fiery temper, obeyed\nhis slightest movement--his light symmetrical figure was seen to the\ngreatest advantage in his close-fitting habiliments of silk and velvet.\nWithout venturing a look at the royal balcony, the earl couched his\nlance, and bounding forward, bore away the ring on its point.\n\nAmid the plaudits of the spectators, he then careered around the arena,\nand approaching the royal balcony, raised his lance, and proffered the\nring to the Fair Geraldine, who blushingly received it. Henry, though by\nno means pleased with Surrey's success, earned as it was at the expense\nof his son, complimented him upon his skill, and Anne Boleyn joined\nwarmly in his praises.\n\nThe lists were then closed, and the royal party retired to partake of\nrefreshments; after which they proceeded to the butts erected in the\nbroad mead at the north of the castle, where the Duke of Shoreditch and\nhis companions shot a well-contested match with the long-bow.\n\nDuring these sports, Surrey placed himself as near as he could to the\nFair Geraldine, and though but few opportunities occurred of exchanging\na syllable with her, his looks spoke a sufficiently intelligible\nlanguage. At last, just as they were about to return to the palace, he\nbreathed in an imploring tone in her ear--\n\n\u201cYou will attend vespers at Saint George's Chapel this evening. Return\nthrough the cloisters. Grant me a moment's interview alone there.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot promise,\u201d replied the Fair Geraldine. And she followed in the\ntrain of the Lady Anne.\n\nThe earl's request had not been unheard. As the royal train proceeded\ntowards the castle, Will Sommers contrived to approach the Duke of\nRichmond, and said to him, in a jeering tone \u201cYou ran but indifferently\nat the ring to-day, gossip. The galliard Surrey rode better, and carried\noff the prize.\u201d\n\n\u201cPest on thee, scurril knave--be silent!\u201d cried Richmond angrily;\n\u201cfailure is bad enough without thy taunts.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you had only missed the ring, gossip, I should have thought nothing\nof it,\u201d pursued Will Sommers; \u201cbut you lost a golden opportunity of\ningratiating yourself with your lady-love. All your hopes are now at an\nend. A word in your ear--the Fair Geraldine will meet Surrey alone this\nevening.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou liest, knave!\u201d cried the duke fiercely.\n\n\u201cYour grace will find the contrary, if you will be at Wolsey's\ntomb-house at vesper-time,\u201d replied the jester.\n\n\u201cI will be there,\u201d replied the duke; \u201cbut if I am brought on a bootless\nerrand, not even my royal father shall save thee from chastisement.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will bear any chastisement your grace may choose to inflict upon\nme, if I prove not the truth of my assertion,\u201d replied Sommers. And he\ndropped into the rear of the train.\n\nThe two friends, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other during\nthe rest of the day--Surrey feeling he could not unburden his heart to\nRichmond, and Richmond brooding jealously over the intelligence he had\nreceived from the jester.\n\nAt the appointed hour the duke proceeded to the lower ward, and\nstationed himself near Wolsey's tomb-house. Just as he arrived there,\nthe vesper hymn arose from the adjoining fane, and its solemn strains\nsomewhat soothed his troubled spirit. But they died away; and as the\njester came not, Richmond grew impatient, and began to fear he had been\nduped by his informant. At length the service concluded, and, losing all\npatience, he was about to depart, when the jester peered round the lower\nangle of the tomb-house, and beckoned to him. Obeying the summons,\nthe duke followed his conductor down the arched passage leading to the\ncloisters.\n\n\u201cTread softly, gossip, or you will alarm them,\u201d said Sommers, in a low\ntone.\n\nThey turned the corner of the cloisters; and there, near the entrance of\nthe chapel, stood the youthful pair--the Fair Geraldine half reclining\nupon the earl's breast, while his arm encircled her slender waist.\n\n\u201cThere!\u201d whispered the jester, chuckling maliciously, \u201cthere! did I speak\nfalsely--eh, gossip?\u201d\n\nRichmond laid his hand upon his sword.\n\n\u201cHist!\u201d said the jester; \u201chear what the Fair Geraldine has to say.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe must meet no more thus, Surrey,\u201d she murmured:\n\n\u201cI feel I was wrong in granting the interview, but I could not help it.\nIf, when a few more years have flown over your head, your heart remains\nunchanged.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will never change!\u201d interrupted Surrey. \u201cI here solemnly pledge my\ntroth to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I return the pledge,\u201d replied the Fair Geraldine earnestly. \u201cI vow\nto be yours, and yours only.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould that Richmond could hear your vow!\u201d said Surrey; \u201cit would\nextinguish his hopes.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has heard it!\u201d cried the duke, advancing. \u201cBut his hopes are not yet\nextinguished.\u201d\n\nThe Fair Geraldine uttered a slight scream, and disengaged herself from\nthe earl.\n\n\u201cRichmond, you have acted unworthily in thus playing the spy,\u201d said\nSurrey angrily.\n\n\u201cNone but a spy can surprise interviews like these,\u201d rejoined Richmond\nbitterly. \u201cThe Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald had better have kept her\nchamber, than come here to plight her troth with a boy, who will change\nhis mind before his beard is grown.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour grace shall find the boy man enough to avenge an insult,\u201d rejoined\nSurrey sternly.\n\n\u201cI am glad to hear it,\u201d returned the duke. \u201cLady Elizabeth Fitzgerald, I\nmust pray you to return to your lodgings. The king's jester will attend\nyou. This way, my lord.\u201d\n\nToo much exasperated to hesitate, Surrey followed the duke down the\npassage, and the next moment the clashing of swords was heard. The Fair\nGeraldine screamed loudly, and Will Sommers began to think the jest had\nbeen carried too far.\n\n\u201cWhat is to be done?\u201d he cried. \u201cIf the king hears of this quarrel, he\nwill assuredly place the Earl of Surrey in arrest. I now repent having\nbrought the duke here.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou acted most maliciously,\u201d cried the Fair Geraldine; \u201cbut fly, and\nprevent further mischief.\u201d\n\nThus urged, the jester ran towards the lower ward, and finding an\nofficer of the guard and a couple of halberdiers near the entrance\nof St. George's Chapel, told them what was taking place, and they\nimmediately hastened with him to the scene of the conflict.\n\n\u201cMy lords!\u201d cried the officer to the combatants, \u201cI command you to lay\ndown your weapons.\u201d\n\nBut finding no respect paid to his injunctions, he rushed between them,\nand with the aid of the halberdiers, forcibly separated them.\n\n\u201cMy lord of Surrey,\u201d said the officer, \u201cyou are my prisoner. I demand\nyour sword.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn what plea, sir?\u201d rejoined the other.\n\n\u201cYou have drawn it against the king's son--and the act is treason,\u201d\n replied the officer. \u201cI shall take you to the guard house until the\nking's pleasure is known.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I provoked the earl to the conflict,\u201d said Richmond: \u201cI was the\naggressor.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour grace will represent the matter as you see fit to your royal\nfather,\u201d rejoined the officer. \u201cI shall fulfil my duty. My lord, to the\nguard-house!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will procure your instant liberation, Surrey,\u201d said Richmond.\n\nThe earl was then led away, and conveyed to a chamber in the lower part\nof Henry the Eighth's gate, now used as a place of military punishment,\nand denominated the \u201cblack hole.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\n     Of Tristram Lyndwood, the old Forester, and his Grand-\n     daughter Mabel--Of the Peril in which the Lady Anne Boleyn\n     was placed during the chase--And by whom she was rescued.\n\n\nIn consequence of the announcement that a grand hunting party would be\nheld in the forest, all the verderers, rangers, and keepers assembled at\nan early hour on the fourth day after the king's arrival at Windsor in\nan open space on the west side of the great avenue, where a wooden stand\nwas erected, canopied over with green boughs and festooned with garlands\nof flowers, for the accommodation of the Lady Anne Boleyn and her dames,\nwho, it was understood, would be present at the chase.\n\nAt a little distance from the stand an extensive covert was fenced round\nwith stout poles, to which nets were attached so as to form a haye or\npreserve, where the game intended for the royal sport was confined;\nand though many of the animals thus brought together were of hostile\nnatures, they were all so terrified, and seemingly so conscious of the\ndanger impending over them, that they did not molest each other.\nThe foxes and martins, of which there were abundance, slunk into the\nbrushwood with the hares and rabbits, but left their prey untouched. The\nharts made violent efforts to break forth, and, entangling their horns\nin the nets, were with difficulty extricated and driven back; while the\ntimid does, not daring to follow them, stood warily watching the result\nof the struggle.\n\nAmongst the antlered captives was a fine buck, which, having been once\nbefore hunted by the king, was styled a \u201chart royal,\u201d and this noble\nanimal would certainly have effected his escape if he had not been\nattacked and driven back by Morgan Fenwolf, who throughout the morning's\nproceedings displayed great energy and skill. The compliments bestowed\non Fenwolf for his address by the chief verderer excited the jealousy\nof some of his comrades, and more than one asserted that he had been\nassisted in his task by some evil being, and that Bawsey herself was no\nbetter than a familiar spirit in the form of a hound.\n\nMorgan Fenwolf scouted these remarks; and he was supported by some\nothers among the keepers, who declared that it required no supernatural\naid to accomplish what he had done--that he was nothing more than a good\nhuntsman, who could ride fast and boldly--that he was skilled in all the\nexercises of the chase, and possessed a stanch and well-trained hound.\n\nThe party then sat down to breakfast beneath the trees, and the talk\nfell upon Herne the Hunter, and his frequent appearance of late in the\nforest (for most of the keepers had heard of or encountered the spectral\nhuntsman); and while they were discussing this topic, and a plentiful\nallowance of cold meat, bread, ale, and mead at the same time, two\npersons were seen approaching along a vista on the right, who specially\nattracted their attention and caused Morgan Fenwolf to drop the\nhunting-knife with which he was carving his viands, and start to his\nfeet.\n\nThe new-comers were an old man and a comely young damsel. The former,\nthough nearer seventy than sixty, was still hale and athletic, with\nfresh complexion, somewhat tanned by the sun, and a keen grey eye,\nwhich had lost nothing of its fire. He was habited in a stout leathern\ndoublet, hose of the same material, and boots rudely fashioned out of\nuntanned ox-hide, and drawn above the knee. In his girdle was thrust a\nlarge hunting-knife; a horn with a silver mouthpiece depended from his\nshoulder, and he wore a long bow and a quiver full of arrows at his\nback. A flat bonnet, made of fox-skin and ornamented with a raven's\nwing, covered his hair, which was as white as silver.\n\nBut it was not upon this old forester, for such his attire proclaimed\nhim, that the attention of the beholders, and of Morgan Fenwolf in\nespecial, was fixed, but upon his companion. Amongst the many lovely and\nhigh-born dames who had so recently graced the procession to the castle\nwere few, if any, comparable to this lowly damsel. Her dress--probably\nowing to the pride felt in her by her old relative was somewhat superior\nto her station. A tightly-laced green kirtle displayed to perfection her\nslight but exquisitely-formed figure A gown of orange-coloured cloth,\nsufficiently short to display her small ankles, and a pair of green\nbuskins, embroidered with silver, together with a collar of the whitest\nand finest linen, though shamed by the neck it concealed, and fastened\nby a small clasp, completed her attire. Her girdle was embroidered with\nsilver, and her sleeves were fastened by aiglets of the same metal.\n\n\u201cHow proud old Tristram Lyndwood seems of his granddaughter,\u201d remarked\none of the keepers.\n\n\u201cAnd with reason,\u201d replied another. \u201cMabel Lyndwood is the comeliest\nlass in Berkshire.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, marry is she,\u201d rejoined the first speaker; \u201cand, to my thinking,\nshe is a fairer and sweeter flower than any that blooms in yon stately\ncastle--the flower that finds so much favour in the eyes of our royal\nHal not excepted.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave a care, Gabriel Lapp,\u201d observed another keeper. \u201cRecollect that\nMark Fytton, the butcher, was hanged for speaking slightingly of the\nLady Anne Boleyn; and you may share his fate if you disparage her\nbeauty.\u201d\n\n\u201cNa I meant not to disparage the Lady Anne,\u201d replied Gabriel. \u201cHal\nmay marry her when he will, and divorce her as soon afterwards as he\npleases, for aught I care. If he marries fifty wives, I shall like him\nall the better. The more the merrier, say I. But if he sets eyes on Mab\nLyndwood it may somewhat unsettle his love for the Lady Anne.\u201d\n\n\u201cTush, Gabriel!\u201d said Morgan Fenwolf, darting an angry look at him.\n\u201cWhat business have you to insinuate that the king would heed other than\nthe lady of his love?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are jealous, Morgan Fenwolf,\u201d rejoined Gabriel, with a malignant\ngrin. \u201cWe all know you are in love with Mabel yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd we all know, likewise, that Mabel will have nothing to say to you!\u201d\n cried another keeper, while the others laughed in chorus. \u201cCome and sit\ndown beside us, Morgan, and finish your breakfast.\u201d\n\nBut the keeper turned moodily away, and hied towards Tristram Lyndwood\nand his granddaughter. The old forester shook him cordially by the hand,\nand after questioning him as to what had taken place, and hearing how\nhe had managed to drive the hart royal into the haye, clapped him on the\nshoulder and said, \u201cThou art a brave huntsman, Morgan. I wish Mab could\nonly think as well of thee as I do.\u201d\n\nTo this speech Mabel not only paid no attention, but looked studiously\nanother way.\n\n\u201cI am glad your grandfather has brought you out to see the chase to-day,\nMabel,\u201d observed Morgan Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cI dame not to see the chase, but the king,\u201d she replied, somewhat\npetulantly.\n\n\u201cIt is not every fair maid who would confess so much,\u201d observed Fenwolf,\nfrowning.\n\n\u201cThen I am franker than some of my sex,\u201d replied Mabel. \u201cBut who is the\nstrange man looking at us from behind that tree, grandfather!\n\n\u201cI see no one,\u201d replied the old forester.\n\n\u201cNeither do I,\u201d added Morgan Fenwolf, with a shudder. \u201cYou are wilfully\nblind,\u201d rejoined Mabel. \u201cBut see, the person I mentioned stalks forth.\nNow, perhaps, he is visible to you both.\u201d\n\nAnd as she spoke, a tall wild-looking figure, armed with a\nhunting-spear, emerged from the trees and advanced towards them. The\ngarb of the newcomer somewhat resembled that of a forester; but his\narms and lower limbs were destitute of covering, and appeared singularly\nmuscular, while his skin was swarthy as that of a gipsy. His jet-black\nhair hung in elf-locks over his savage-looking features.\n\nIn another moment he was beside them, and fixed his dark piercing eyes\non Mabel in such a manner as to compel her to avert her gaze.\n\n\u201cWhat brings you here this morning, Tristram Lyndwood?\u201d he demanded, in\na hoarse imperious tone.\n\n\u201cThe same motive that brought you, Valentine Hagthorne,\u201d replied the old\nforester--\u201cto see the royal chase.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis, I suppose, is your granddaughter?\u201d pursued Hagthorne.\n\n\u201cAy,\u201d replied Tristram bluntly.\n\n\u201cStrange I should never have seen her before,\u201d rejoined the other. \u201cShe\nis very fair. Be ruled by me, friend Tristram--take her home again. If\nshe sees the king, ill will come of it. You know, or should know, his\ncharacter.\u201d\n\n\u201cHagthorne advises well,\u201d interposed Fenwolf. \u201cMabel will be better at\nhome.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut she has no intention of returning at present,\u201d replied Mabel. \u201cYou\nbrought me here for pastime, dear grandfather, and will not take me back\nat the recommendation of this strange man?\u201d\n\n\u201cContent you, child--content you,\u201d replied Tristram kindly. \u201cYou shall\nremain where you are.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will repent it!\u201d cried Hagthorne.\n\nAnd hastily darting among the trees, he disappeared from view.\n\nAffecting to laugh at the occurrence, though evidently annoyed by it,\nthe old forester led his granddaughter towards the stand, where he was\ncordially greeted by the keepers, most of whom, while expressing their\npleasure at seeing him, strove to render themselves agreeable in the\neyes of Mabel.\n\nFrom this scene Morgan Fenwolf kept aloof, and remained leaning against\na tree, with his eyes riveted upon the damsel. He was roused from his\nreverie by a slight tap upon the shoulder; and turning at the touch,\nbeheld Valentine Hagthorne. Obedient to a sign from the latter, he\nfollowed him amongst the trees, and they both plunged into a dell.\n\nAn hour or two after this, when the sun was higher in the heavens, and\nthe dew dried upon the greensward, the king and a large company of lords\nand ladies rode forth from the upper gate of the castle, and taking\ntheir way along the great avenue, struck off on the right when about\nhalf-way up it, and shaped their course towards the haye.\n\nA goodly sight it was to see this gallant company riding beneath the\ntrees; and pleasant was it, also, to listen to the blithe sound of\ntheir voices, amid which Anne Boleyn's musical laugh could be plainly\ndistinguished. Henry was attended by his customary band of archers and\nyeomen of the guard, and by the Duke of Shoreditch and his followers. On\nreaching the haye, the king dismounted, and assisting the Lady Anne from\nher steed, ascended the stand with her.\n\nHe then took a small and beautifully fashioned bow from an attendant,\nand stringing it, presented it to her.\n\n\u201cI trust this will not prove too strong for your fair hands,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI will make shift to draw it,\u201d replied Anne, raising the bow, and\ngracefully pulling the string. \u201cWould I could wound your majesty as\nsurely as I shall hit the first roe that passes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat were a needless labour,\u201d rejoined Henry, \u201cseeing that you have\nalready stricken me to the heart. You should cure the wound you have\nalready made, sweetheart-not inflict a new one.\u201d\n\nAt this juncture the chief verderer, mounted on a powerful steed, and\nfollowed by two keepers, each holding a couple of stag-hounds in leash,\nrode up to the royal stand, and placing his horn to his lips, blew three\nlong mootes from it. At the same moment part of the network of the haye\nwas lifted up, and a roebuck set free.\n\nBy the management of the keepers, the animal was driven past the royal\nstand; and Anne Boleyn, who had drawn an arrow nearly to the head, let\nit fly with such good aim that she pierced the buck to the heart. A loud\nshout from the spectators rewarded the prowess of the fair huntress; and\nHenry was so enchanted, that he bent the knee to her, and pressed\nher hand to his lips. Satisfied, however, with the' achievement, Anne\nprudently declined another shot. Henry then took a bow from one of the\narchers, and other roes being turned out, he approved upon them his\nunerring skill as a marksman.\n\nMeanwhile, the hounds, being held in leash, kept up a loud and incessant\nbaying; and Henry, wearying of his slaughterous sport, turned to Anne,\nand asked her whether she was disposed for the chase. She answered in\nthe affirmative, and the king motioned his henchmen to bring forward the\nsteeds.\n\nIn doing this, he caught sight of Mabel, who was standing with her\ngrandsire among the keepers, at a little distance from the stand, and,\nstruck with her extraordinary beauty, he regarded her for a moment\nintently, and then called to Gabriel Lapp, who chanced to be near him,\nand demanded her name.\n\n\u201cIt is Mabel Lyndwood, an't please your majesty,\u201d replied Gabriel. \u201cShe\nis granddaughter to old Tristram Lyndwood, who dwells at Black Nest,\nnear the lake, at the farther extremity of Windsor Forest, and who\nwas forester to your royal father, King Henry the Seventh, of blessed\nmemory.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! is it so?\u201d cried Henry.\n\nBut he was prevented from further remark by Anne Boleyn, who, perceiving\nhow his attention was attracted, suddenly interposed.\n\n\u201cYour majesty spoke of the chase,\u201d she said impatiently. \u201cBut perhaps you\nhave found other pastime more diverting?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so--not so, sweetheart,\u201d he replied hastily.\n\n\u201cThere is a hart royal in the haye,\u201d said Gabriel Lapp. \u201cIs it your\nmajesty's pleasure that I set him free?\n\n\u201cIt is, good fellow--it is,\u201d replied the king.\n\nAnd as Gabriel hastened to the netted fencework, and prepared to\ndrive forth the hart, Henry assisted Anne Boleyn, who could not help\nexhibiting some slight jealous pique, to mount her steed, and having\nsprung into his own saddle, they waited the liberation of the buck,\nwhich was accomplished in a somewhat unexpected manner.\n\nSeparated from the rest of the herd, the noble animal made a sudden dart\ntowards Gabriel, and upsetting him in his wild career, darted past the\nking, and made towards the upper part of the forest. In another instant\nthe hounds were un coupled and at his heels, while Henry and Anne urged\ntheir steeds after him, the king shouting at the top of his lusty\nvoice. The rest of the royal party followed as they might, and the woods\nresounded with their joyous cries.\n\nThe hart royal proved himself worthy of his designation. Dashing forward\nwith extraordinary swiftness, he rapidly gained upon his pursuers--for\nthough Henry, by putting his courser to his utmost speed, could have\nkept near him, he did not choose to quit his fair companion.\n\nIn this way they scoured the forest, until the king, seeing they should\nbe speedily distanced, commanded Sir Thomas Wyat, who, with the Dukes of\nSuffolk and Norfolk, was riding close behind him, to cross by the\nlower ground on the left, and turn the stag. Wyat instantly obeyed,\nand plunging his spurs deeply into his horse's sides, started off at a\nfurious pace, and was soon after seen shaping his rapid course through a\ndevious glade.\n\nMeanwhile, Henry and his fair companion rode on without relaxing their\npace, until they reached the summit of a knoll, crowned by an old oak\nand beech-tree, and commanding a superb view of the castle, where they\ndrew in the rein.\n\nFrom this eminence they could witness the progress of the chase, as it\ncontinued in the valley beyond. An ardent lover of hunting, the king\nwatched it with the deepest interest, rose in his saddle, and uttering\nvarious exclamations, showed, from his impatience, that he was only\nrestrained by the stronger passion of love from joining it.\n\nEre long, stag, hounds, and huntsmen were lost amid a thicket, and\nnothing could be distinguished but a distant baying and shouts. At last\neven these sounds died away.\n\nHenry, who had ill brooked the previous restraint, now grew so\nimpatient, that Anne begged him to set off after them, when suddenly the\ncry of hounds burst upon their ears, and the hart was seen issuing from\nthe dell, closely followed by his pursuers.\n\nThe affrighted animal, to the king's great satisfaction, made his way\ndirectly towards the spot where he was stationed; but on reaching the\nside of the knoll, and seeing his new foes, he darted off on the right,\nand tried to regain the thicket below. But he was turned by another band\nof keepers, and again driven towards the knoll.\n\nScarcely had Sir Thomas Wyat reined in his steed by the side of the\nking, than the hart again appeared bounding up the hill. Anne Boleyn,\nwho had turned her horse's head to obtain a better view of the hunt,\nalarmed by the animal's menacing appearance, tried to get out of\nhis way. But it was too late. Hemmed in on all sides, and driven to\ndesperation by the cries of hounds and huntsmen in front, the hart\nlowered his horns, and made a furious push at her.\n\nDreadfully alarmed, Anne drew in the rein so suddenly and sharply, that\nshe almost pulled her steed back upon his haunches; and in trying to\navoid the stag's attack, caught hold of Sir Thomas Wyat, who was close\nbeside her. In all probability she would have received some serious\ninjury from the infuriated animal, who was just about to repeat his\nassault and more successfully, when a bolt from a cross-bow, discharged\nby Morgan Fenwolf, who suddenly made his appearance from behind the\nbeech-tree, brought him to the ground.\n\nBut Anne Boleyn escaped one danger only to encounter another equally\nserious. On seeing her fling herself into the arms of Sir Thomas Wyat,\nHenry regarded her in stern displeasure for a moment, and then calling\nangrily to his train, without so much as deigning to inquire whether\nshe had sustained any damage from the accident, or making the slightest\nremark upon her conduct, rode sullenly towards the castle.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\n     By what means Sir Thomas Wyat obtained an Interview with\n     Anne Boleyn--And how the Earl of Surrey saved them from the\n     King's anger.\n\n\nThe incident above related gave new life to the adherents of Catherine\nof Arragon, while it filled those devoted to Anne Boleyn with alarm.\nImmediately on Anne's return to the castle Lord Rochford had a private\ninterview with her, and bitterly reproached her for endangering her\nsplendid prospects. Anne treated the matter very lightly--said it was\nonly a temporary gust of jealousy--and added that the king would be at\nher feet again before the day was past.\n\n\u201cYou are over-confident, mistress!\u201d cried Rochford angrily. \u201cHenry is\nnot an ordinary gallant.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is you who are mistaken, father,\u201d replied Anne. \u201cThe king differs\nin no respect from any of his love-smitten subjects. I have him in my\ntoils, and will not let him escape.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have a tiger in your toils, daughter, and take heed he breaks not\nforcibly through them,\u201d rejoined Rochford. \u201cHenry is more wayward than\nyou suppose him. Once let him take up a notion, and nothing can shake\nhim from it. He has resolved upon the divorce as much from self-will as\nfrom any other consideration. If you regain your position with him, of\nwhich you seem so confident, do not consider yourself secure--not even\nwhen you are crowned queen--but be warned by Catherine of Arragon.\u201d\n\n\u201cCatherine has not the art to retain him,\u201d said Anne. \u201cHenry will never\ndivorce me.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake care he does not rid himself of you in a more summary manner,\ndaughter,\u201d rejoined Rochford. \u201cIf you would stand well with him, you\nmust study his lightest word, look, and action--humour him in every\nwhim--and yield to every caprice. Above all, you must exhibit no\njealousy.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are wrong in all but the last, father,\u201d returned Anne. \u201cHenry is\nnot to be pleased by such nice attention to his humours. It is because\nI have shown myself careless of them that I have captivated him. But\nI will take care not to exhibit jealousy, and, sooth to say, I do not\nthink I shall have cause.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe not too sure of that,\u201d replied Rochford. \u201cAnd at all events, let not\nthe king have cause to be jealous of you. I trust Wyat will be banished\nfrom court. But if he is not, do not let him approach you more.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor Sir Thomas!\u201d sighed Anne. \u201cHe loved me very dearly.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what is his love compared to the king's?\u201d cried Rochford. \u201cTut,\ntut, girl! think no more of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not, my lord,\u201d she rejoined; \u201cI see the prudence of your\ncounsel, and will obey it. Leave me, I pray you. I will soon win back\nthe affections of the king.\u201d\n\nNo sooner had Rochford quitted the chamber than the arras at the farther\nend was raised, and Wyat stepped from behind it. His first proceeding\nwas to bar the door.\n\n\u201cWhat means this, Sir Thomas?\u201d cried Anne in alarm. \u201cHow have you\nobtained admittance here?\u201d\n\n\u201cThrough the secret staircase,\u201d replied Wyat, bending the knee before\nher.\n\n\u201cRise, sir!\u201d cried Anne, in great alarm. \u201cReturn, I beseech you, as you\ncame. You have greatly endangered me by coming here. If you are seen to\nleave this chamber, it will be in vain to assert my innocence to Henry.\nOh, Sir Thomas! you cannot love me, or you would not have done this.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot love you, Anne!\u201d he repeated bitterly; \u201cnot love you I Words cannot\nspeak my devotion. I would lay down my head on the scaffold to prove it.\nBut for my love for you, I would throw open that door, and walk forth so\nthat all might see me--so that Henry might experience some part of the\nanguish I now feel.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you will not do so, good Sir Thomas--dear Sir Thomas,\u201d cried Anne\nBoleyn, in alarm.\n\n\u201cHave no fear,\u201d rejoined Wyat, with some contempt; \u201cI will sacrifice\neven vengeance to love.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir Thomas, I had tolerated this too long,\u201d said Anne. \u201cBegone--you\nterrify me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is my last interview with you, Anne,\u201d said Wyat imploringly; \u201cdo\nnot abridge it. Oh, bethink you of the happy hours we have passed\ntogether--of the vows we have interchanged--of the protestations you\nhave listened to, and returned--ay, returned, Anne. Are all these\nforgotten?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot forgotten, Sir Thomas,\u201d replied Anne mournfully; \u201cbut they must not\nbe recalled. I cannot listen to you longer. You must go. Heaven grant\nyou may get hence in safety!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnne,\u201d replied Wyat in a sombre tone, \u201cthe thought of Henry's happiness\ndrives me mad. I feel that I am grown a traitor--that I could slay him.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir Thomas!\u201d she exclaimed, in mingled fear and anger.\n\n\u201cI will not go,\u201d he continued, flinging himself into a seat. \u201cLet them\nput what construction they will upon my presence. I shall at least wring\nHenry's heart. I shall see him suffer as I have suffered; and I shall be\ncontent.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is not like you, Wyat,\u201d cried Anne, in great alarm. \u201cYou were wont\nto be noble, generous, kind. You will not act thus disloyally?\n\n\u201cWho has acted disloyally, Anne?\u201d cried Wyat, springing to his feet, and\nfixing his dark eyes, blazing with jealous fury, upon her--\u201cyou or I?\nHave you not sacrificed your old affections at the shrine of ambition?\nAre you not about to give yourself to one to whom--unless you are\nforesworn--you cannot give your heart? Better had you been the mistress\nof Allington Castle--better the wife of a humble knight like myself,\nthan the queen of the ruthless Henry.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more of this, Wyat,\u201d said Anne.\n\n\u201cBetter far you should perish by his tyranny for a supposed fault now\nthan hereafter,\u201d pursued Wyat fiercely. \u201cThink not Henry will respect\nyou more than her who had been eight-and-twenty years his wife. No;\nwhen he is tired of your charms--when some other dame, fair as yourself,\nshall enslave his fancy, he will cast you off, or, as your father truly\nintimated, will seek a readier means of ridding himself of you. Then you\nwill think of the different fate that might have been yours if you had\nadhered to your early love.\u201d\n\n\u201cWyat! Wyat! I cannot bear this--in mercy spare me!\u201d cried Anne.\n\n\u201cI am glad to see you weep,\u201d said Wyat; \u201cyour tears make you look more\nlike your former self.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Wyat, do not view my conduct too harshly!\u201d she said. \u201cFew of my sex\nwould have acted other than I have done.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not think so,\u201d replied Wyat sternly; \u201cnor will I forego my\nvengeance. Anne, you shall die. You know Henry too well to doubt your\nfate if he finds me here.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou cannot mean this,\u201d she rejoined, with difficulty repressing a\nscream; \u201cbut if I perish, you will perish with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish to do so,\u201d he rejoined, with a bitter laugh.\n\n\u201cWyat,\u201d cried Anne, throwing herself on her knees before him, \u201cby your\nformer love for me, I implore you to spare me! Do not disgrace me thus.\u201d\n\nBut Wyat continued inexorable.\n\n\u201cO God!\u201d exclaimed Anne, wringing her hands in agony. A terrible silence\nensued, during which Anne regarded Wyat, but she could discern no change\nin his countenance.\n\nAt this juncture the tapestry was again raised, and the Earl of Surrey\nissued from it.\n\n\u201cYou here, my lord?\u201d said Anne, rushing towards him.\n\n\u201cI am come to save you, madame,\u201d said the earl. \u201cI have been just\nliberated from arrest, and was about to implore your intercession with\nthe king, when I learned he had been informed by one of his pages that\na man was in your chamber. Luckily, he knows not who it is, and while he\nwas summoning his attendants to accompany him, I hurried hither by the\nsecret staircase. I have arrived in time. Fly--fly! Sir Thomas Wyat!\u201d\n\nBut Wyat moved not.\n\nAt this moment footsteps were heard approaching the door--the handle\nwas tried--and the stern voice of the king was heard commanding that it\nmight be opened.\n\n\u201cWill you destroy me, Wyat?\u201d cried Anne.\n\n\u201cYou have destroyed yourself,\u201d he rejoined.\n\n\u201cWhy stay you here, Sir Thomas?\u201d said Surrey, seizing his arm. \u201cYou may\nyet escape. By heaven! if you move not, I will stab you to the heart!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou would do me a favour, young man,\u201d said Wyat coldly; \u201cbut I will go.\nI yield to love, and not to you, tyrant!\u201d he added, shaking his hand\nat the door. \u201cMay the worst pangs of jealously rend your heart!\u201d And he\ndisappeared behind the arras.\n\n\u201cI hear voices,\u201d cried Henry from without. \u201cGod's death! madam, open the\ndoor--or I will burst it open!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, heaven! what is to be done?\u201d cried Anne Boleyn, in despair.\n\n\u201cOpen the door, and leave all to me, madam,\u201d said Surrey; \u201cI will save\nyou, though it cost me my life!\u201d\n\nAnne pressed his hand, with a look of ineffable gratitude, and Surrey\nconcealed himself behind the arras.\n\nThe door was opened, and Henry rushed in, followed by Richmond, Norfolk,\nSuffolk, and a host of attendants.\n\n\u201cAh! God's death! where is the traitor?\u201d roared the king, gazing round.\n\n\u201cWhy is my privacy thus broken upon?\u201d said Anne, assuming a look of\nindignation.\n\n\u201cYour privacy!\u201d echoed Henry, in a tone of deep derision--\u201cYour privacy!\n--ha!--ha! You bear yourself bravely, it must be confessed. My lords,\nyou heard the voices as well as myself. Where is Sir Thomas Wyat?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is not here,\u201d replied Anne firmly.\n\n\u201cAha! we shall see that, mistress,\u201d rejoined Henry fiercely. \u201cBut if Sir\nThomas Wyat is not here, who is? for I am well assured that some one is\nhidden in your chamber.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat if there be?\u201d rejoined Anne coldly.\n\n\u201cAh! by Saint Mary, you confess it!\u201d cried the king. \u201cLet the traitor\ncome forth.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty shall not need to bid twice,\u201d said Surrey, issuing from\nhis concealment.\n\n\u201cThe Earl of Surrey!\u201d exclaimed Henry, in surprise. \u201cHow come you here,\nmy lord? Methought you were under arrest at the guard-house.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe was set free by my orders,\u201d said the Duke of Richmond.\n\n\u201cFirst of all I must entreat your majesty to turn your resentment\nagainst me,\u201d said the earl. \u201cI am solely to blame, and I would not have\nthe Lady Anne suffer for my fault. I forced myself into her presence.\nShe knew not of my coming.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd wherefore did you so, my lord?\u201d demanded Henry sternly.\n\n\u201cLiberated from the guard-house at the Duke of Richmond's instance, my\nliege, I came to entreat the Lady Anne to mediate between me and\nyour majesty, and to use her influence with your highness to have me\nbetrothed to the Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs this so, madam?\u201d asked the king.\n\nAnne bowed her head.\n\n\u201cBut why was the door barred?\u201d demanded Henry, again frowning\nsuspiciously.\n\n\u201cI barred it myself,\u201d said Surrey, \u201cand vowed that the Lady Anne should\nnot go forth till she had granted my request.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy our lady you have placed yourself in peril, my lord,\u201d said Henry\nsternly.\n\n\u201cYour majesty will bear in mind his youth,\u201d said the Duke of Norfolk\nanxiously.\n\n\u201cFor my sake overlook the indiscretion,\u201d cried the Duke of Richmond.\n\n\u201cIt will not, perhaps, avail him to hope that it may be overlooked for\nmine,\u201d added Anne Boleyn.\n\n\u201cThe offence must not pass unpunished,\u201d said Henry musingly. \u201cMy lord of\nSurrey, you must be content to remain for two months a prisoner in the\nRound Tower of this castle.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty!\u201d cried Richmond, bending the knee in supplication.\n\n\u201cThe sentence is passed,\u201d replied Henry coldly; \u201cand the earl may thank\nyou it is not heavier. Richmond, you will think no more of the fair\nGeraldine; and it is my pleasure, Lady Anne, that the young dame\nwithdraw from the court for a short while.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty shall be obeyed,\u201d said Anne; \u201cbut--\u201d\n\n\u201cBut me no buts, sweetheart,\u201d said the king peremptorily. \u201cSurrey's\nexplanation is satisfactory so far as it goes, but I was told Sir Thomas\nWyat was here.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir Thomas Wyat is here,\u201d said Will Sommers, pointing out the knight,\nwho had just joined the throng of courtiers at the door.\n\n\u201cI have hurried hither from my chamber, my liege,\u201d said Wyat, stepping\nforward, \u201chearing there was some inquiry concerning me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs your majesty now satisfied?\u201d asked Anne Boleyn.\n\n\u201cWhy, ay, sweetheart, well enough,\u201d rejoined Henry. \u201cSir Thomas Wyat,\nwe have a special mission for you to the court of our brother of France.\nYou will set out to-morrow.\u201d\n\nWyat bowed.\n\n\u201cYou have saved your head, gossip,\u201d whispered Will Sommers in the\nknight's ear. \u201cA visit to Francis the First is better than a visit to\nthe Tower.\u201d\n\n\u201cRetire, my lords,\u201d said Henry to the assemblage; \u201cwe owe some apology\nto the Lady Anne for our intrusion, and desire an opportunity to make\nit.\u201d\n\nUpon this the chamber was instantly cleared of its occupants, and the\nEarl of Surrey was conducted, under a guard, to the Round Tower.\n\nHenry, however, did not find it an easy matter to make peace with the\nLady Anne. Conscious of the advantage she had gained, she determined not\nto relinquish it, and, after half an hour's vain suing, her royal lover\nproposed a turn in the long gallery, upon which her apartments opened.\nHere they continued conversing--Henry pleading in the most passionate\nmanner, and Anne maintaining a show of offended pride.\n\nAt last she exhibited some signs of relenting, and Henry led her into\na recess in the gallery, lighted by a window filled with magnificent\nstained glass. In this recess was a seat and a small table, on which\nstood a vase filled with flowers, arranged by Anne's own hand; and here\nthe monarch hoped to adjust his differences with her.\n\nMeanwhile, word having reached Wolsey and Campeggio of the new cause of\njealousy which the king had received, it was instantly resolved that the\nformer should present to him, while in his present favourable mood, a\ndespatch received that morning from Catherine of Arragon.\n\nArmed with the letter, Wolsey repaired to the king's closet. Not finding\nhim there, and being given to understand by an usher that he was in\nthe great gallery, he proceeded thither. As he walked softly along\nthe polished oak floor, he heard voices in one of the recesses, and\ndistinguished the tones of Henry and Anne Boleyn.\n\nHenry was clasping the snowy fingers of his favourite, and gazing\npassionately at her, as the cardinal approached.\n\n\u201cYour majesty shall not detain my hand,\u201d said Anne, \u201cunless you swear to\nme, by your crown, that you will not again be jealous without cause.\u201d\n\n\u201cI swear it,\u201d replied Henry.\n\n\u201cWere your majesty as devoted to me as you would have me believe, you\nwould soon bring this matter of the divorce to an issue,\u201d said Anne.\n\n\u201cI would fain do so, sweetheart,\u201d rejoined Henry; \u201cbut these cardinals\nperplex me sorely.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am told by one who overheard him, that Wolsey has declared the\ndivorce shall not be settled these two years,\u201d said Anne; \u201cin which case\nit had better not be settled at all; for I care not to avow I cannot\nbrook so much delay. The warmth of my affection will grow icy cold by\nthat time.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt were enough to try the patience of the most forbearing,\u201d rejoined\nthe king, smiling--\u201cbut it shall not be so--by this lily hand it shall\nnot! And now, sweetheart, are we entirely reconciled?\n\n\u201cNot yet,\u201d replied Anne. \u201cI shall claim a boon from your majesty before\nI accord my entire forgiveness.\u201d\n\n\u201cName it,\u201d said the king, still clasping her hand tenderly, and\nintoxicated by the witchery of her glance.\n\n\u201cI ask an important favour,\u201d said Anne, \u201cbut as it is one which will\nbenefit your majesty as much as myself, I have the less scruple in\nrequesting it. I ask the dismissal of one who has abused your favour,\nwho, by his extortion and rapacity, has in some degree alienated the\naffections of your subjects from you, and who solely opposes your\ndivorce from Catherine of Arragon because he fears my influence may be\nprejudicial to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou cannot mean Wolsey?\u201d said Henry uneasily.\n\n\u201cYour majesty has guessed aright,\u201d replied Anne.\n\n\u201cWolsey has incurred my displeasure oft of late,\u201d said Henry; \u201cand yet\nhis fidelity--\u201d\n\n\u201cBe not deceived, my liege,\u201d said Anne; \u201che is faithful to you only so\nfar as serves his turn. He thinks he rules you.\u201d\n\nBefore Henry could reply, the cardinal stepped forward.\n\n\u201cI bring your majesty a despatch, just received from the queen,\u201d he\nsaid.\n\n\u201cAnd you have been listening to our discourse?\u201d rejoined Henry sternly.\n\u201cYou have overheard--\u201d\n\n\u201cEnough to convince me, if I had previously doubted it, that the Lady\nAnne Boleyn is my mortal foe,\u201d replied Wolsey.\n\n\u201cFoe though I am, I will make terms with your eminence,\u201d said Anne.\n\u201cExpedite the divorce--you can do so if you will--and I am your fast\nfriend.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know too well the value of your friendship, noble lady, not to do all\nin my power to gain it,\u201d replied Wolsey. \u201cI will further the matter, if\npossible. But it rests chiefly in the hands of his holiness Pope Clement\nthe Seventh.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf his majesty will listen to my counsel, he will throw off the pope's\nyoke altogether,\u201d rejoined Anne. \u201cNay, your eminence may frown at me\nif you will. Such, I repeat, shall be my counsel. If the divorce is\nspeedily obtained, I am your friend: if not--look to yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not appeal to me, Wolsey,\u201d said Henry, smiling approval at Anne; \u201cI\nshall uphold her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill it please your majesty to peruse this despatch?\u201d said Wolsey,\nagain offering Catherine's letter.\n\n\u201cTake it to my closet,\u201d replied the king; \u201cI will join you there. And\nnow at last we are good friends, sweetheart.\u201d\n\n\u201cExcellent friends, my dear liege,\u201d replied Anne; \u201cbut I shall never be\nyour queen while Wolsey holds his place.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, indeed, he shall lose it,\u201d replied Henry.\n\n\u201cShe is a bitter enemy, certes,\u201d muttered Wolsey as he walked away. \u201cI\nmust overthrow her quickly, or she will overthrow me. A rival must be\nfound--ay, a rival--but where? I was told that Henry cast eyes on a\ncomely forester's daughter at the chase this morning. She may do for the\nnonce.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\n     Of the Mysterious Disappearance of Herne the Hunter in the\n     Lake.\n\n\nUnable to procure any mitigation of Surrey's sentence, the Duke of\nRichmond proceeded to the Round Tower, where he found his friend in a\nsmall chamber, endeavouring to beguile his captivity by study.\n\nRichmond endeavoured to console him, and was glad to find him in better\nspirits than he expected. Early youth is seldom long dejected, and\nmisfortunes, at that buoyant season, seem lighter than they appear later\non in life. The cause for which he suffered, moreover, sustained Surrey,\nand confident of the Fair Geraldine's attachment, he cared little\nfor the restraint imposed upon him. On one point he expressed some\nregret--namely, his inability to prosecute the adventure of Herne the\nHunter with the duke.\n\n\u201cI grieve that I cannot accompany you, Richmond,\u201d he said; \u201cbut since\nthat is impossible, let me recommend you to take the stout archer who\ngoes by the name of the Duke of Shoreditch with you. He is the very man\nyou require.\u201d\n\nAfter some consideration the duke assented, and, promising to return on\nthe following day and report what had occurred he took his leave, and\nwent in search of the archer in question. Finding he had taken up his\nquarters at the Garter, he sent for him and proposed the matter.\n\nShoreditch heard the duke's relation with astonishment, but expressed\nthe greatest willingness to accompany him, pledging himself, as Richmond\ndemanded, to profound secrecy on the subject.\n\nAt the appointed hour--namely, midnight--the duke quitted the castle,\nand found Shoreditch waiting for him near the upper gate. The latter was\narmed with a stout staff, and a bow and arrows.\n\n\u201cIf we gain sight of the mysterious horseman to-night,\u201d he said, \u201ca\ncloth-yard shaft shall try whether he is of mortal mould or not. If he\nbe not a demon, I will warrant he rides no more.\u201d\n\nQuitting the Home Park, they shaped their course at once towards the\nforest. It was a stormy night, and the moon was obscured by thick\nclouds. Before they reached the hill, at the end of the long avenue, a\nheavy thunderstorm came on, and the lightning, playing among the trees,\nseemed to reveal a thousand fantastic forms to their half-blinded gaze.\nPresently the rain began to descend in torrents, and compelled them to\ntake refuge beneath a large beech-tree.\n\nIt was evident, notwithstanding his boasting, that the courage of\nShoreditch was waning fast, and he at last proposed to his leader that\nthey should return as soon as the rain abated. But the duke indignantly\nrejected the proposal.\n\nWhile they were thus sheltering themselves, the low winding of a horn\nwas heard. The sound was succeeded by the trampling of horses' hoofs,\nand the next moment a vivid flash of lightning showed a hart darting\npast, followed by a troop of some twenty ghostly horsemen, headed by the\ndemon hunter.\n\nThe Duke of Richmond bade his companion send a shaft after them; but the\nlatter was so overcome by terror that he could scarcely fix an arrow\non the string, and when he bent the bow, the shaft glanced from the\nbranches of an adjoining tree.\n\nThe storm continued with unabated fury for nearly an hour, at the\nexpiration of which time it partially cleared off, and though it was\nstill profoundly dark, the duke insisted upon going on. So they pressed\nforward beneath the dripping trees and through the wet grass. Ever and\nanon the moon broke through the rifted clouds, and shed a wild glimmer\nupon the scene.\n\nAs they were tracking a glade on the farther side of the hill, the\nspectral huntsmen again swept past them, and so closely that they could\nalmost touch their horses. To the duke's horror, he perceived among\nthem the body of the butcher, Mark Fytton, sitting erect upon a powerful\nblack steed.\n\nBy this time, Shoreditch, having somewhat regained his courage,\ndischarged another shaft at the troop. The arrow struck the body of the\nbutcher, and completely transfixed it, but did not check his career;\nwhile wild and derisive laughter broke from the rest of the cavalcade.\n\nThe Duke of Richmond hurried after the band, trying to keep them in\nsight; and Shoreditch, flinging down his bow, which he found useless,\nand grasping his staff, endeavoured to keep up with him. But though they\nran swiftly down the glade, and tried to peer through the darkness, they\ncould see nothing more of the ghostly company.\n\nAfter a while they arrived at a hillside, at the foot of which lay the\nlake, whose darkling waters were just distinguishable through an opening\nin the trees. As the duke was debating with himself whether to go on or\nretrace his course, the trampling of a horse was heard behind them, and\nlooking in the direction of the sound, they beheld Herne the Hunter,\nmounted on his swarthy steed and accompanied only by his two black\nhounds, galloping furiously down the declivity. Before him flew the owl,\nwhooping as it sailed along the air.\n\nThe demon hunter was so close to them that they could perfectly discern\nhis horrible lineaments, the chain depending from his neck, and his\nantlered helm. Richmond shouted to him, but the rider continued his\nheadlong course towards the lake, heedless of the call.\n\nThe two beholders rushed forward, but by this time the huntsman had\ngained the edge of the lake. One of his sable hounds plunged into it,\nand the owl skimmed over its surface. Even in the hasty view which the\nduke caught of the flying figure, he fancied he perceived that it was\nattended by a fantastic shadow, whether cast by itself or arising from\nsome supernatural cause he could not determine.\n\nBut what followed was equally marvellous and incomprehensible. As the\nwild huntsman reached the brink of the lake, he placed a horn to his\nmouth, and blew from it a bright blue flame, which illumined his own\ndusky and hideous features, and shed a wild and unearthly glimmer over\nthe surrounding objects.\n\nWhile enveloped in this flame, the demon plunged into the lake, and\napparently descended to its abysses, for as soon as the duke could\nmuster courage to approach its brink, nothing could be seen of him, his\nsteed, or his hounds.\n\nTHUS ENDS THE FIRST BOOK OF THE CHRONICLE OF WINDSOR CASTLE\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II. HERNE THE HUNTER\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n     Of the Compact between Sir Thomas Wyat and Herne the Hunter.\n\n\nOn the day after his secret interview with Anne Boleyn, Sir Thomas Wyat\nreceived despatches from the king for the court of France.\n\n\u201cHis majesty bade me tell you to make your preparations quickly, Sir\nThomas,\u201d said the messenger who delivered the despatches; \u201che cares not\nhow soon you set forth.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king's pleasure shall be obeyed,\u201d rejoined Wyat.\n\nAnd the messenger retired.\n\nLeft alone, Wyat remained for some time in profound and melancholy\nthought. Heaving a deep sigh, he then arose, and paced the chamber with\nrapid strides.\n\n\u201cYes, it is better thus,\u201d he ejaculated. \u201cIf I remain near her, I shall\ndo some desperate deed. Better--far better--I should go. And yet to\nleave her with Henry--to know that he is ever near her--that he drinks\nin the music of her voice, and basks in the sunshine of her smile--while\nI am driven forth to darkness and despair--the thought is madness! I\nwill not obey the hateful mandate! I will stay and defy him!\u201d\n\nAs he uttered aloud this wild and unguarded speech, the arras screening\nthe door was drawn aside, and gave admittance to Wolsey.\n\nWyat's gaze sunk before the penetrating glance fixed upon him by the\nCardinal.\n\n\u201cI did not come to play the eavesdropper, Sir Thomas,\u201d said Wolsey; \u201cbut\nI have heard enough to place your life in my power. So you refuse to\nobey the king's injunctions. You refuse to proceed to Paris. You refuse\nto assist in bringing about the divorce, and prefer remaining here to\nbrave your sovereign, and avenge yourself upon a fickle mistress. Ha?\u201d\n\nWyat returned no answer.\n\n\u201cIf such be your purpose,\u201d pursued Wolsey, after a pause, during which\nhe intently scrutinised the knight's countenance, \u201cI will assist you in\nit. Be ruled by me, and you shall have a deep and full revenge.\u201d\n\n\u201cSay on,\u201d rejoined Wyat, his eyes blazing with infernal fire, and his\nhand involuntarily clutching the handle of his dagger.\n\n\u201cIf I read you aright,\u201d continued the cardinal, \u201cyou are arrived at that\npitch of desperation when life itself becomes indifferent, and when but\none object remains to be gained--\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that is vengeance!\u201d interrupted Wyat fiercely. \u201cRight,\ncardinal--right. I will have vengeance--terrible vengeance!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall. But I will not deceive you. You will purchase what you seek\nat the price of your own head.\u201d\n\n\u201cI care not,\u201d replied Wyat. \u201cAll sentiments of love and loyalty are\nswallowed up by jealousy and burning hate. Nothing but blood can allay\nthe fever that consumes me. Show me how to slay him!\u201d\n\n\u201cHim!\u201d echoed the cardinal, in alarm and horror. \u201cWretch! would you kill\nyour king? God forbid that I should counsel the injury of a hair of\nhis head! I do not want you to play the assassin, Wyat,\u201d he added more\ncalmly, \u201cbut the just avenger. Liberate the king from the thraldom of\nthe capricious siren who enslaves him, and you will do a service to the\nwhole country. A word from you--a letter--a token--will cast her from\nthe king, and place her on the block. And what matter? The gory scaffold\nwere better than Henry's bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot harm her,\u201d cried Wyat distractedly. \u201cI love her still,\ndevotedly as ever. She was in my power yesterday, and without your aid,\ncardinal, I could have wreaked my vengeance upon her, if I had been so\nminded.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou were then in her chamber, as the king suspected?\u201d cried Wolsey,\nwith a look of exultation. \u201cTrouble yourself no more, Sir Thomas. I will\ntake the part of vengeance off your hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy indiscretion will avail you little, cardinal,\u201d replied Wyat sternly.\n\u201cA hasty word proves nothing. I will perish on the rack sooner than\naccuse Anne Boleyn. I am a desperate man, but not so desperate as you\nsuppose me. A moment ago I might have been led on, by the murderous and\ntraitorous impulse that prompted me, to lift my hand against the king,\nbut I never could have injured her.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a madman!\u201d cried Wolsey impatiently, \u201cand it is a waste of time\nto argue with you. I wish you good speed on your journey. On your return\nyou will find Anne Boleyn Queen of England.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you disgraced,\u201d rejoined Wyat, as, with a malignant and vindictive\nlook, the cardinal quitted the chamber.\n\nAgain left alone, Wyat fell into another fit of despondency from which\nhe roused himself with difficulty, and went forth to visit the Earl of\nSurrey in the Round Tower.\n\nSome delay occurred before he could obtain access to the earl. The\nhalberdier stationed at the entrance to the keep near the Norman Tower\nrefused to admit him without the order of the officer in command of the\ntower, and as the latter was not in the way at the moment, Wyat had to\nremain without till he made his appearance.\n\nWhile thus detained, he beheld Anne Boleyn and her royal lover mount\ntheir steeds in the upper ward, and ride forth, with their attendants,\non a hawking expedition. Anne Boleyn bore a beautiful falcon on her\nwrist--Wyat's own gift to her in happier days--and looked full of\ncoquetry, animation, and delight--without the vestige of a cloud upon\nher brow, or a care on her countenance. With increased bitterness\nof heart, he turned from the sight, and shrouded himself beneath the\ngateway of the Norman Tower.\n\nSoon after this, the officer appeared, and at once according Wyat\npermission to see the earl, preceded him up the long flight of stone\nsteps communicating with the upper part of the keep, and screened by\nan embattled and turreted structure, constituting a covered way to the\nRound Tower.\n\nArrived at the landing, the officer unlocked a door on the left, and\nushered his companion into the prisoner's chamber.\n\nInfluenced by the circular shape of the structure in which it was\nsituated, and of which it formed a segment, the farther part of this\nchamber was almost lost to view, and a number of cross-beams and wooden\npillars added to its sombre and mysterious appearance. The walls were of\nenormous thickness, and a narrow loophole, terminating a deep embrasure,\nafforded but scanty light. Opposite the embrasure sat Surrey, at a small\ntable covered with books and writing materials. A lute lay beside him on\nthe floor, and there were several astrological and alchemical implements\nwithin reach.\n\nSo immersed was the youthful prisoner in study, that he was not aware,\nuntil a slight exclamation was uttered by Wyat, of the entrance of the\nlatter. He then arose, and gave him welcome.\n\nNothing material passed between them as long as the officer remained\nin the chamber, but on his departure Surrey observed laughingly to his\nfriend, \u201cAnd how doth my fair cousin, the Lady Anne Boleyn?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has just ridden forth with the king, to hawk in the park,\u201d replied\nWyat moodily. \u201cFor myself, l am ordered on a mission to France, but I\ncould not depart without entreating your forgiveness for the jeopardy in\nwhich I have placed you. Would I could take your place.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not heed me,\u201d replied Surrey; \u201cI am well content with what has\nhappened. Virgil and Homer, Dante and Petrarch, are the companions of\nmy confinement; and in good sooth, I am glad to be alone. Amid the\ndistractions of the court I could find little leisure for the muse.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour situation is, in many respects, enviable, Surrey,\u201d replied Wyat.\n\u201cDisturbed by no jealous doubts and fears, you can beguile the tedious\nhours in the cultivation of your poetical tastes, or in study. Still, I\nmust needs reproach myself with being the cause of your imprisonment.\u201d\n\n\u201cI repeat, you have done me a service,\u201d rejoined the earl, \u201cI would lay\ndown my life for my fair cousin, Anne Boleyn, and I am glad to be able\nto prove the sincerity of my regard for you, Wyat. I applaud the king's\njudgment in sending you to France, and if you will be counselled by me,\nyou will stay there long enough to forget her who now occasions you so\nmuch uneasiness.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill the Fair Geraldine be forgotten when the term of your imprisonment\nshall expire, my lord?\u201d asked Wyat.\n\n\u201cOf a surety not,\u201d replied the earl.\n\n\u201cAnd yet, in less than two months I shall return from France,\u201d rejoined\nWyat.\n\n\u201cOur cases are not alike,\u201d said Surrey. \u201cThe Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald\nhas plighted her troth to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnne Boleyn vowed eternal constancy to me,\u201d cried Wyat bitterly; \u201cand\nyou see how she kept her oath. The absent are always in danger; and few\nwomen are proof against ambition. Vanity--vanity is the rock they\nsplit upon. May you never experience from Richmond the wrong I have\nexperienced from his father.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no fear,\u201d replied Surrey.\n\nAs he spoke, there was a slight noise in that part of the chamber which\nwas buried in darkness.\n\n\u201cHave we a listener here?\u201d cried Wyat, grasping his sword.\n\n\u201cNot unless it be a four-legged one from the dungeons beneath,\u201d replied\nSurrey. \u201cBut you were speaking of Richmond. He visited me this morning,\nand came to relate the particulars of a mysterious adventure that\noccurred to him last night.\u201d\n\nAnd the earl proceeded to detail what had befallen the duke in the\nforest.\n\n\u201cA marvellous story, truly!\u201d said Wyat, pondering upon the relation. \u201cI\nwill seek out the demon huntsman myself.\u201d\n\nAgain a noise similar to that heard a moment before resounded from the\nlower part of the room. Wyat immediately flew thither, and drawing his\nsword, searched about with its point, but ineffectually.\n\n\u201cIt could not be fancy,\u201d he said; \u201cand yet nothing is to be found.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not like jesting about Herne the Hunter,\u201d remarked Surrey, \u201cafter\nwhat I myself have seen. In your present frame of mind I advise you not\nto hazard an interview with the fiend. He has power over the desperate.\u201d\n\nWyat returned no answer. He seemed lost in gloomy thought, and soon\nafterwards took his leave.\n\nOn returning to his lodgings, he summoned his attendants, and ordered\nthem to proceed to Kingston, adding that he would join them there\nearly the next morning. One of them, an old serving-man, noticing the\nexceeding haggardness of his looks, endeavoured to persuade him to\ngo with them; but Wyat, with a harshness totally unlike his customary\nmanner, which was gracious and kindly in the extreme, peremptorily\nrefused.\n\n\u201cYou look very ill, Sir Thomas,\u201d said the old servant; \u201cworse than I\never remember seeing you. Listen to my counsel, I beseech you. Plead ill\nhealth with the king in excuse of your mission to France, and retire for\nsome months to recruit your strength and spirits at Allington.\u201d\n\n\u201cTush, Adam Twisden! I am well enough,\u201d exclaimed Wyat impatiently. \u201cGo\nand prepare my mails.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear, dear master,\u201d cried old Adam, bending the knee before him, and\npressing his hand to his lips; \u201csomething tells me that if I leave you\nnow I shall never see you again. There is a paleness in your cheek, and\na fire in your eye, such as I never before observed in you, or in mortal\nman. I tremble to say it, but you look like one possessed by the\nfiend. Forgive my boldness, sir. I speak from affection and duty. I was\nserving-man to your father, good Sir Henry Wyat, before you, and I love\nyou as a son, while I honour you as a master. I have heard that there\nare evil beings in the forest--nay, even within the castle--who lure men\nto perdition by promising to accomplish their wicked desires. I trust no\nsuch being has crossed your path.\u201d\n\n\u201cMake yourself easy, good Adam,\u201d replied Wyat; \u201cno fiend has tempted\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cSwear it, sir,\u201d cried the old man eagerly--\u201cswear it by the Holy\nTrinity.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the Holy Trinity, I swear it,\u201d replied Wyat.\n\nAs the words were uttered, the door behind the arras was suddenly shut\nwith violence.\n\n\u201cCurses on you, villain! you have left the door open,\u201d cried Wyat\nfiercely. \u201cOur conversation has been overheard.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will soon see by whom,\u201d cried Adam, springing to his feet, and\nrushing towards the door, which opened upon a long corridor.\n\n\u201cWell!\u201d cried Wyat, as Adam returned the next moment, with cheeks almost\nas white as his own--\u201cwas it the cardinal?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was the devil, I believe!\u201d replied the old man. \u201cI could see no\none.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would not require supernatural power to retreat into an adjoining\nchamber!\u201d replied Wyat, affecting an incredulity he was far from\nfeeling.\n\n\u201cYour worship's adjuration was strangely interrupted,\u201d cried the old\nman, crossing himself devoutly. \u201cSaint Dunstan and Saint Christopher\nshield us from evil spirits!\u201d\n\n\u201cA truce to your idle terrors, Adam,\u201d said Wyat. \u201cTake these packets,\u201d\n he added, giving him Henry's despatches, \u201cand guard them as you would\nyour life. I am going on an expedition of some peril to-night, and\ndo not choose to keep them about me. Bid the grooms have my steed in\nreadiness an hour before midnight.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope your worship is not about to ride into the forest at that hour?\u201d\n said Adam, trembling. \u201cI was told by the stout archer, whom the king\ndubbed Duke of Shoreditch, that he and the Duke of Richmond ventured\nthither last night, and that they saw a legion of demons mounted on\ncoal-black horses, and amongst them Mark Fytton, the butcher, who was\nhanged a few days ago from the Curfew Tower by the king's order, and\nwhose body so strangely disappeared. Do not go into the forest, dear Sir\nThomas!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more of this!\u201d cried Wyat fiercely. \u201cDo as I bid you, and if I join\nyou not before noon to-morrow, proceed to Rochester, and there await my\ncoming.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never expect to see you again, sir!\u201d groaned the old man, as he took\nhis leave.\n\nThe anxious concern evinced in his behalf by his old and trusty servant\nwas not without effect on Sir Thomas Wyat, and made him hesitate in\nhis design; but by-and-by another access of jealous rage came on, and\noverwhelmed all his better resolutions. He remained within his chamber\nto a late hour, and then issuing forth, proceeded to the terrace at\nthe north of the castle, where he was challenged by a sentinel, but was\nsuffered to pass on, on giving the watch-word.\n\nThe night was profoundly dark, and the whole of the glorious prospect\ncommanded by the terrace shrouded from view. But Wyat's object in coming\nthither was to gaze, for the last time, at that part of the castle which\nenclosed Anne Boleyn, and knowing well the situation of her apartments,\nhe fixed his eyes upon the windows; but although numerous lights\nstreamed from the adjoining corridor, all here was buried in obscurity.\n\nSuddenly, however, the chamber was illumined, and he beheld Henry and\nAnne Boleyn enter it, preceded by a band of attendants bearing tapers.\nIt needed not Wyat's jealousy-sharpened gaze to read, even at that\ndistance, the king's enamoured looks, or Anne Boleyn's responsive\nglances. He saw that one of Henry's arms encircled her waist, while the\nother caressed her yielding hand. They paused. Henry bent forward, and\nAnne half averted her head, but not so much so as to prevent the king\nfrom imprinting a long and fervid kiss upon her lips.\n\nTerrible was its effect upon Wyat. An adder's bite would have been less\npainful. His hands convulsively clutched together; his hair stood erect\nupon his head; a shiver ran through his frame; and he tottered back\nseveral paces. When he recovered, Henry had bidden good-night to the\nobject of his love, and, having nearly gained the door, turned and waved\na tender valediction to her. As soon as he was gone, Anne looked round\nwith a smile of ineffable pride and pleasure at her attendants, but a\ncloud of curtains dropping over the window shrouded her from the sight\nof her wretched lover.\n\nIn a state of agitation wholly indescribable, Wyat staggered towards\nthe edge of the terrace--it might be with the design of flinging himself\nfrom it--but when within a few yards of the low parapet wall defending\nits precipitous side, he perceived a tall dark figure standing directly\nin his path, and halted. Whether the object he beheld was human or not\nhe could not determine, but it seemed of more than mortal stature. It\nwas wrapped in a long black cloak, and wore a high conical cap on its\nhead. Before Wyat could speak the figure addressed him.\n\n\u201cYou desire to see Herne the Hunter,\u201d said the figure, in a deep,\nsepulchral tone. \u201cRide hence to the haunted beechtree near the marsh, at\nthe farther side of the forest, and you will find him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are Herne--I feel it,\u201d cried Wyat. \u201cWhy go into the forest? Speak\nnow.\u201d\n\nAnd he stepped forward with the intention of grasping the figure, but it\neluded him, and, with a mocking laugh, melted into the darkness.\n\nWyat advanced to the edge of the terrace and looked over the parapet,\nbut he could see nothing except the tops of the tall trees springing\nfrom the side of the moat. Flying to the sentinel, he inquired whether\nany one had passed him, but the man returned an angry denial.\n\nAwestricken and agitated, Wyat quitted the terrace, and, seeking his\nsteed, mounted him, and galloped into the forest.\n\n\u201cIf he I have seen be not indeed the fiend, he will scarcely outstrip me\nin the race,\u201d he cried, as his steed bore him at a furious pace up the\nlong avenue.\n\nThe gloom was here profound, being increased by the dense masses of\nfoliage beneath which he was riding. By the time, however, that he\nreached the summit of Snow Hill the moon struggled through the clouds,\nand threw a wan glimmer over the leafy wilderness around. The deep\nslumber of the woods was unbroken by any sound save that of the frenzied\nrider bursting through them.\n\nWell acquainted with the forest, Wyat held on a direct course. His\nbrain was on fire, and the fury of his career increased his fearful\nexcitement. Heedless of all impediments, he pressed forward--now dashing\nbeneath overhanging boughs at the risk of his neck--now skirting the\nedge of a glen where a false step might have proved fatal.\n\nOn--on he went, his frenzy increasing each moment.\n\nAt length he reached the woody height overlooking the marshy tract\nthat formed the limit of his ride. Once more the moon had withdrawn her\nlustre, and a huge indistinct black mass alone pointed out the\nposition of the haunted tree. Around it wheeled a large white owl,\ndistinguishable by its ghostly plumage through the gloom, like a\nsea-bird in a storm, and hooting bodingly as it winged its mystic\nflight. No other sound was heard, nor living object seen.\n\nWhile gazing into the dreary expanse beneath him, Wyat for the first\ntime since starting experienced a sensation of doubt and dread; and the\nwarning of his old and faithful attendant rushed upon his mind. He tried\nto recite a prayer, but the words died away on his lips--neither would\nhis fingers fashion the symbol of a cross.\n\nBut even these admonitions did not restrain him. Springing from his\nfoaming and panting steed, and taking the bridle in his hand, he\ndescended the side of the acclivity. Ever and anon a rustling among the\ngrass told him that a snake, with which description of reptile the spot\nabounded, was gliding away from him. His horse, which had hitherto\nbeen all fire and impetuosity, now began to manifest symptoms of alarm,\nquivered in every limb, snorted, and required to be dragged along\nforcibly.\n\nWhen within a few paces of the tree, its enormous rifted trunk became\nfully revealed to him; but no one was beside it. Wyat then stood still,\nand cried in a loud, commanding tone, \u201cSpirit, I summon thee!--appear!\u201d\n\nAt these words a sound like a peal of thunder rolled over head,\naccompanied by screeches of discordant laughter. Other strange and\nunearthly noises were heard, and amidst the din a blue phosphoric light\nissued from the yawning crevice in the tree, while a tall, gaunt figure,\ncrested with an antlered helm, sprang from it. At the same moment a\nswarm of horribly grotesque, swart objects, looking like imps, appeared\namid the branches of the tree, and grinned and gesticulated at Wyat,\nwhose courage remained unshaken during the fearful ordeal. Not so his\nsteed. After rearing and plunging violently, the affrighted animal broke\nits hold and darted off into the swamp, where it floundered and was\nlost.\n\n\u201cYou have called me, Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d said the demon, in a sepulchral\ntone. \u201cI am here. What would you?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name being known to you, spirit of darkness, my errand should be\nalso,\u201d replied Wyat boldly.\n\n\u201cYour errand is known to me,\u201d replied the demon. \u201cYou have lost a\nmistress, and would regain her?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would give my soul to win her back from my kingly rival,\u201d cried Wyat.\n\n\u201cI accept your offer,\u201d rejoined the spirit. \u201cAnne Boleyn shall be yours.\nYour hand upon the compact.\u201d\n\nWyat stretched forth his hand, and grasped that of the demon.\n\nHis fingers were compressed as if by a vice, and he felt himself dragged\ntowards the tree, while a stifling and sulphurous vapour rose around\nhim. A black veil fell over his head, and was rapidly twined around his\nbrow in thick folds.\n\nAmid yells of fiendish laughter he was then lifted from the ground,\nthrust into the hollow of the tree, and thence, as it seemed to him,\nconveyed into a deep subterranean cave.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n     In what manner Wolsey put his Scheme into Operation.\n\n\nFoiled in his scheme of making Wyat the instrument of Anne Boleyn's\noverthrow, Wolsey determined to put into immediate operation the plan\nhe had conceived of bringing forward a rival to her with the king. If a\nchoice had been allowed him, he would have selected some high-born dame\nfor the purpose; but as this was out of the question--and as, indeed,\nHenry had of late proved insensible to the attractions of all the\nbeauties that crowded his court except Anne Boleyn--he trusted to the\nforester's fair granddaughter to accomplish his object. The source\nwhence he had received intelligence of the king's admiration of Mabel\nLyndwood was his jester, Patch--a shrewd varlet who, under the mask\nof folly, picked up many an important secret for his master, and was\nproportionately rewarded.\n\nBefore executing the scheme, it was necessary to ascertain whether the\ndamsel's beauty was as extraordinary as it had been represented; and\nwith this view, Wolsey mounted his mule one morning, and, accompanied by\nPatch and another attendant, rode towards the forest.\n\nIt was a bright and beautiful morning, and preoccupied as he was, the\nplotting cardinal could not be wholly insensible to the loveliness of\nthe scene around him. Crossing Spring Hill, he paused at the head of a\nlong glade, skirted on the right by noble beech-trees whose silver stems\nsparkled in the sun shine, and extending down to the thicket now called\nCooke's Hill Wood. From this point, as from every other eminence on\nthe northern side of the forest, a magnificent view of the castle was\nobtained.\n\nThe sight of the kingly pile, towering above its vassal woods, kindled\nhigh and ambitious thoughts in his breast.\n\n\u201cThe lord of that proud structure has been for years swayed by me,\u201d\n he mused, \u201cand shall the royal puppet be at last wrested from me by a\nwoman's hand? Not if I can hold my own.\u201d\n\nRoused by the reflection, he quickened his pace, and shaping his course\ntowards Black Nest, reached in a short time the borders of a wide swamp\nlying between the great lake and another pool of water of less extent\nsituated in the heart of the forest. This wild and dreary marsh,\nthe haunt of the bittern and the plover, contrasted forcibly and\ndisagreeably with the rich sylvan district he had just quitted.\n\n\u201cI should not like to cross this swamp at night,\u201d he observed to Patch,\nwho rode close behind him.\n\n\u201cNor I, your grace,\u201d replied the buffoon. \u201cWe might chance to be led by\na will-o'-the-wisp to a watery grave.\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch treacherous fires are not confined to these regions, knave,\u201d\n rejoined Wolsey. \u201cMankind are often lured, by delusive gleams of glory\nand power, into quagmires deep and pitfalls. Holy Virgin; what have we\nhere?\u201d\n\nThe exclamation was occasioned by a figure that suddenly emerged from\nthe ground at a little distance on the right. Wolsey's mule swerved so\nmuch as almost to endanger his seat, and he called out in a loud angry\ntone to the author of the annoyance--\u201cWho are you, knave? and what do\nyou here?\u201d\n\nI am a keeper of the forest, an't please your grace, replied the\nother, doffing his cap, and disclosing harsh features which by no means\nrecommended him to the cardinal, \u201cand am named Morgan Fenwolf. I\nwas crouching among the reeds to get a shot at a fat buck, when your\napproach called me to my feet.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy St. Jude! this is the very fellow, your grace, who shot the\nhart-royal the other day,\u201d cried Patch.\n\n\u201cAnd so preserved the Lady Anne Boleyn,\u201d rejoined the cardinal. \u201cArt\nsure of it, knave?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs sure as your grace is of canonisation,\u201d replied Patch. \u201cThat shot\nshould have brought you a rich reward, friend--either from the king's\nhighness or the Lady Anne,\u201d remarked Wolsey to the keeper.\n\n\u201cIt has brought me nothing,\u201d rejoined Fenwolf sullenly.\n\n\u201cHum!\u201d exclaimed the cardinal. \u201cGive the fellow a piece of gold, Patch.\u201d\n\n\u201cMethinks I should have better earned your grace's bounty if I had let\nthe hart work his will,\u201d said Fenwolf, reluctantly receiving the coin.\n\n\u201cHow, fellow?\u201d cried the cardinal, knitting his brows.\n\n\u201cNay, I mean no offence,\u201d replied Fenwolf; \u201cbut the rumour goes that\nyour grace and the Lady Anne are not well affected towards each other.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe rumour is false,\u201d rejoined the cardinal, \u201cand you can now\ncontradict it on your own experience. Harkee, sirrah! where lies\nTristram Lyndwood's hut?\u201d\n\nFenwolf looked somewhat surprised and confused by the question.\n\n\u201cIt lies on the other side of yonder rising ground, about half a mile\nhence,\u201d he said. \u201cBut if your grace is seeking old Tristram, you will\nnot find him. I parted with him, half-an-hour ago, on Hawk's Hill, and\nhe was then on his way to the deer-pen at Bray Wood.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I see his granddaughter Mabel, it will suffice,\u201d rejoined the\ncardinal. \u201cI am told she is a comely damsel. Is it so?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am but an indifferent judge of beauty,\u201d replied Fenwolf moodily.\n\n\u201cLead my mule across this swamp, thou senseless loon,\u201d said the\ncardinal, \u201cand I will give thee my blessing.\u201d\n\nWith a very ill grace Fenwolf complied, and conducted Wolsey to the\nfarther side of the marsh.\n\n\u201cIf your grace pursues the path over the hill,\u201d he said, \u201cand then\nstrikes into the first opening on the right, it will bring you to the\nplace you seek.\u201d And, without waiting for the promised blessing, he\ndisappeared among the trees.\n\nOn reaching the top of the hill, Wolsey descried the hut through an\nopening in the trees at a few hundred yards' distance. It was pleasantly\nsituated on the brink of the lake, at the point where its width was\ngreatest, and where it was fed by a brook that flowed into it from a\nlarge pool of water near Sunninghill.\n\nFrom the high ground where Wolsey now stood the view of the lake was\nbeautiful. For nearly a mile its shining expanse was seen stretching out\nbetween banks of varied form, sometimes embayed, sometimes running out\ninto little headlands, but everywhere clothed with timber almost to the\nwater's edge. Wild fowl skimmed over its glassy surface, or dipped in\nsearch of its finny prey, and here and there a heron might be detected\nstanding in some shallow nook, and feasting on the smaller fry. A flight\nof cawing rooks were settling upon the tall trees on the right bank, and\nthe voices of the thrush, the blackbird, and other feathered songsters\nburst in redundant melody from the nearer groves.\n\nA verdant path, partly beneath the trees, and partly on the side of the\nlake, led Wolsey to the forester's hut. Constructed of wood and clay,\nwith a thatched roof, green with moss, and half overgrown with ivy, the\nlittle building was in admirable keeping with the surrounding scenery.\nOpposite the door, and opening upon the lake, stood a little boathouse,\nand beside it a few wooden steps, defended by a handrail, ran into\nthe water. A few yards beyond the boathouse the brook before mentioned\nemptied its waters into the lake.\n\nGazing with much internal satisfaction at the hut, Wolsey bade Patch\ndismount, and ascertain whether Mabel was within. The buffoon obeyed,\ntried the door, and finding it fastened, knocked, but to no purpose.\n\nAfter a pause of a few minutes, the cardinal was turning away in extreme\ndisappointment, when a small skiff, rowed by a female hand, shot round\nan angle of the lake and swiftly approached them. A glance from Patch\nwould have told Wolsey, had he required any such information, that this\nwas the forester's granddaughter. Her beauty quite ravished him, and\ndrew from him an exclamation of wonder and delight. Features regular,\nexquisitely moulded, and of a joyous expression, a skin dyed like a\npeach by the sun, but so as to improve rather than impair its hue; eyes\nbright, laughing, and blue as a summer sky; ripe, ruddy lips, and pearly\nteeth; and hair of a light and glossy brown, constituted the sum of\nher attractions. Her sylph-like figure was charmingly displayed by\nthe graceful exercise on which she was engaged, and her small hands,\nseemingly scarcely able to grasp an oar, impelled the skiff forwards\nwith marvellous velocity, and apparently without much exertion on her\npart.\n\nUnabashed by the presence of the strangers, though Wolsey's attire could\nleave her in no doubt as to his high ecclesiastical dignity, she sprang\nashore at the landing-place, and fastened her bark to the side of the\nboathouse.\n\n\u201cYou are Mabel Lyndwood, I presume, fair maiden?\u201d inquired the cardinal,\nin his blandest tones.\n\n\u201cSuch is my name, your grace,\u201d she replied; \u201cfor your garb tells me I am\naddressing Cardinal Wolsey.\u201d\n\nThe cardinal graciously inclined his head.\n\n\u201cChancing to ride in this part of the forest,\u201d he said, \u201cand having\nheard of your beauty, I came to see whether the reality equalled the\ndescription, and I find it far transcends it.\u201d\n\nMabel blushed deeply, and cast down her eyes.\n\n\u201cWould that Henry could see her now!\u201d thought the cardinal, \u201cAnne\nBoleyn's reign were nigh at an end.--How long have you dwelt in this\ncottage, fair maid?\u201d he added aloud.\n\n\u201cMy grandsire, Tristram Lyndwood, has lived here fifty years and more,\u201d\n replied Mabel, \u201cbut I have only been its inmate within these few weeks.\nBefore that time I lived at Chertsey, under the care of one of the lay\nsisters of the monastery there--Sister Anastasia.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd your parents--where are they?\u201d asked the cardinal curiously.\n\n\u201cAlas! your grace, I have none,\u201d replied Mabel with a sigh. \u201cTristram\nLyndwood is my only living relative. He used to come over once a month\nto see me at Chertsey--and latterly, finding his dwelling lonely, for\nhe lost the old dame who tended it for him, he brought me to dwell with\nhim. Sister Anastasia was loth to part with me--and I was grieved to\nleave her--but I could not refuse my grandsire.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf a surety not,\u201d replied the cardinal musingly, and gazing hard at\nher. \u201cAnd you know nothing of your parents?\u201d\n\n\u201cLittle beyond this,\u201d replied Mabel:--\u201cMy father was a keeper of the\nforest, and being unhappily gored by a stag, perished of the wound--for\na hurt from a hart's horn, as your grace knows, is certain death; and\nmy mother pined after him and speedily followed him to the grave. I\nwas then placed by my grandsire with Sister Anastasia, as I have just\nrelated--and this is all my history.\u201d\n\n\u201cA simple yet a curious one,\u201d said Wolsey, still musing. \u201cYou are the\nfairest maid of low degree I ever beheld. You saw the king at the chase\nthe other day, Mabel?\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, did I, your grace,\u201d she replied, her eyes brightening and her\ncolour rising; \u201cand a right noble king he is.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd as gentle and winning as he is goodly to look upon,\u201d said Wolsey,\nsmiling.\n\n\u201cReport says otherwise,\u201d rejoined Mabel.\n\n\u201cReport speaks falsely,\u201d cried Wolsey; \u201cI know him well, and he is what\nI describe him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad to hear it,\u201d replied Mabel; \u201cand I must own I formed the same\nopinion myself--for the smile he threw upon me was one of the sweetest\nand kindliest I ever beheld.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince you confess so much, fair maiden,\u201d rejoined Wolsey, \u201cI will be\nequally frank, and tell you it was from the king's own lips I heard of\nyour beauty.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour grace!\u201d she exclaimed.\n\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d said Wolsey, smiling, \u201cif the king is bewitched, I cannot\nmarvel at it. And now, good day, fair maiden; you will hear more of me.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour grace will not refuse me your blessing?\u201d said Mabel.\n\n\u201cAssuredly not, my child,\u201d replied Wolsey, stretching his hands over\nher. \u201cAll good angels and saints bless you, and hold you in their\nkeeping. Mark my words: a great destiny awaits you; but in all changes,\nrest assured you will find a friend in Cardinal Wolsey.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour grace overwhelms me with kindness,\u201d cried Mabel; \u201cnor can I\nconceive how I have found an interest in your eyes--unless Sister\nAnastasia or Father Anslem, of Chertsey Abbey, may have mentioned me to\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have found a more potent advocate with me than either Sister\nAnastasia or Father Anselm,\u201d replied Wolsey; \u201cand now, farewell.\u201d\n\nAnd turning the head of his mule, he rode slowly away.\n\nOn the same day there was a great banquet in the castle, and, as usual,\nWolsey took his station on the right of the sovereign, while the papal\nlegate occupied a place on the left. Watching a favourable opportunity,\nWolsey observed to Henry that he had been riding that morning in the\nforest, and had seen the loveliest damsel that eyes ever fell upon.\n\n\u201cAh! by our Lady! and who may she be?\u201d asked the king curiously.\n\n\u201cShe can boast little in regard to birth, being grandchild to an old\nforester,\u201d replied Wolsey; \u201cbut your majesty saw her at the hunting\nparty the other day.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, now I bethink me of her,\u201d said Henry. \u201cA comely damsel, in good\nsooth.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not where her match is to be found,\u201d cried the cardinal. \u201cWould\nyour majesty had seen her skim over the lake in a fairy boat managed by\nherself, as I beheld her this morning. You would have taken her for a\nwater-sprite, except that no water-sprite was half so beautiful.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak in raptures, cardinal,\u201d cried Henry. \u201cI must see this\ndamsel again. Where does she dwell? I have heard, but it has slipped my\nmemory.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn a hut near the great lake,\u201d replied Wolsey. \u201cThere is some mystery\nattached to her birth, which I have not yet fathomed.\u201d\n\n\u201cLeave me to unriddle it,\u201d replied the king laughingly.\n\nAnd he turned to talk on other subjects to Campeggio, but Wolsey felt\nsatisfied that the device was successful. Nor was he mistaken. As Henry\nretired from the banquet, he motioned the Duke of Suffolk towards him,\nand said, in an undertone--\u201cI shall go forth at dusk to-morrow even in\ndisguise, and shall require your attendance.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn a love affair?\u201d asked the duke, in the same tone.\n\n\u201cPerchance,\u201d replied Henry; \u201cbut I will explain myself more fully anon.\u201d\n\nThis muttered colloquy was overheard by Patch, and faithfully reported\nby him to the cardinal.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n     Of the Visit of the Two Guildford Merchants to the\n     Forester's Hut.\n\n\nTristam Lyndwood did not return home till late in the evening; and when\ninformed of the cardinal's visit, he shook his head gravely.\n\n\u201cI am sorry we went to the hunting party,\u201d he observed. \u201cValentine\nHagthorne said mischief would come of it, and I wish I had attended to\nhis advice.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see no mischief in the matter, grandsire,\u201d cried Mabel. \u201cOn the\ncontrary, I think I have met with excellent fortune. The good cardinal\npromises me a high destiny, and says the king himself noticed me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould his regards had fallen anywhere than on you,\u201d rejoined Tristram.\n\u201cBut I warrant me you told the cardinal your history--all you know of\nit, at least.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did so,\u201d she replied; \u201cnor did I know I was doing any harm.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnswer no such inquiries in future,\u201d said Tristram angrily.\n\n\u201cBut, grandfather, I could not refuse to answer the cardinal,\u201d she\nreplied, in a deprecating voice.\n\n\u201cNo more excuses, but attend to my injunctions,\u201d said Tristram. \u201cHave\nyou seen Morgan Fenwolf to-day?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; and I care not if I never see him again,\u201d she replied pettishly.\n\n\u201cYou dislike him strangely, Mab,\u201d rejoined her grandfather; \u201che is the\nbest keeper in the forest, and makes no secret of his love for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe very reason why I dislike him,\u201d she returned.\n\n\u201cBy the same rule, if what the cardinal stated be true--though, trust\nme, he was but jesting--you ought to dislike the king. But get my\nsupper. I have need of it, for I have fasted long.\u201d\n\nMabel hastened to obey, and set a mess of hot pottage and other viands\nbefore him. Little more conversation passed between them, for the old\nman was weary, and sought his couch early.\n\nThat night Mabel did nothing but dream of the king--of stately chambers,\nrich apparel, and countless attendants. She awoke, and finding herself\nin a lowly cottage, and without a single attendant, was, like other\ndreamers of imaginary splendour, greatly discontented.\n\nThe next morning her grandsire went again to Bray Wood, and she was\nleft to muse upon the event of the previous day. While busied about\nsome trifling occupation, the door suddenly opened, and Morgan Fenwolf\nentered the cottage. He was followed by a tall man, with a countenance\nof extreme paleness, but a noble and commanding figure. There was\nsomething so striking in the appearance of the latter person, that it\nriveted the attention of Mabel. But no corresponding effect was produced\non the stranger, for he scarcely bestowed a look upon her.\n\nMorgan Fenwolf hastily asked whether her grandsire was at home, or near\nat hand, and being answered in the negative, appeared much disappointed.\nHe then said that he must borrow the skiff for a short while, as he\nwished to visit some nets on the lake. Mabel readily assented, and\nthe stranger quitted the house, while Fenwolf lingered to offer some\nattention to Mabel, which was so ill received that he was fain to hurry\nforth to the boathouse, where he embarked with his companion. As soon as\nthe plash of oars announced their departure, Mabel went forth to watch\nthem. The stranger, who was seated in the stern of the boat, for the\nfirst time fixed his large melancholy eyes full upon her, and did not\nwithdraw his gaze till an angle of the lake hid him from view.\n\nMarvelling who he could be, and reproaching herself for not questioning\nFenwolf on the subject, Mabel resolved to repair the error when the\nskiff was brought back. But the opportunity did not speedily occur.\nHours flew by, the shades of evening drew on, but neither Fenwolf nor\nthe stranger returned.\n\nSoon after dusk her grandfather came home. He did not express the least\nastonishment at Fenwolf's prolonged absence, but said that he was sure\nto be back in the course of the evening, and the skiff was not wanted.\n\n\u201cHe will bring us a fine jack or a carp for dinner to-morrow, I'll\nwarrant me,\u201d he said. \u201cIf he had returned in time we might have had\nfish for supper. No matter. I must make shift with the mutton pie and a\nrasher of bacon. Morgan did not mention the name of his companion, you\nsay?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe did not,\u201d replied Mabel; \u201cbut I hope he will bring him with him. He\nis the goodliest gentleman I ever beheld.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! a goodlier gentleman than the king!\u201d cried Tristram.\n\n\u201cNay, they should not be compared,\u201d replied Mabel: \u201cthe one is stout\nand burly; the other slight, long-visaged, and pale, but handsome\nwithal--very handsome.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I daresay I shall see him anon,\u201d said Tristram. \u201cAnd now for\nsupper, for I am as sharp-set as a wolf; and so is old Hubert,\u201d he\nadded, glancing affectionately at the hound by which he was attended.\n\nMabel placed the better part of a huge pie before him, which the old\nforester attacked with great zeal. He then fell to work upon some slices\nof bacon toasted over the embers by his granddaughter, and having washed\nthem down with a jug of mead, declared he had supped famously. While\ntaking care of himself, he did not forget his hound. From time to time\nhe threw him morsels of the pie, and when he had done he gave him a\nlarge platterful of bones.\n\n\u201cOld Hubert has served me faithfully nigh twenty years,\u201d he said,\npatting the hound's shaggy neck, \u201cand must not be neglected.\u201d\n\nThrowing a log of wood on the fire, he drew his chair into the\ningle-nook, and disposed himself to slumber. Meanwhile, Mabel busied\nherself about her household concern, and was singing a lulling melody to\nher grandfather, in a voice of exquisite sweetness, when a loud tap was\nheard at the door. Tristram roused himself from his doze, and old Hubert\ngrowled menacingly.\n\n\u201cQuiet, Hubert--quiet!\u201d cried Tristram. \u201cIt cannot be Morgan Fenwolf,\u201d\n he added. \u201cHe would never knock thus. Come in, friend, whoever thou\nart.\u201d\n\nAt this invitation two persons darkened the doorway. The foremost was a\nman of bulky frame and burly demeanour. He was attired in a buff jerkin,\nover which he wore a loose great surcoat; had a flat velvet cap on his\nhead; and carried a stout staff in his hand. His face was broad and\nhandsome, though his features could scarcely be discerned in the\ndoubtful light to which they were submitted. A reddish-coloured beard\nclothed his chin. His companion, who appeared a trifle the taller of the\ntwo, and equally robust, was wrapped in a cloak of dark green camlet.\n\n\u201cGive you good e'en, friend,\u201d said the foremost stranger to the\nforester. \u201cWe are belated travellers, on our way from Guildford\nto Windsor, and, seeing your cottage, have called to obtain some\nrefreshment before we cross the great park. We do not ask you to bestow\na meal upon us, but will gladly pay for the best your larder affords.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall have it, and welcome, my masters,\u201d replied Tristram, \u201cbut I am\nafraid my humble fare will scarcely suit you.\u201d\n\n\u201cFear nothing,\u201d replied the other; \u201cwe have good appetites, and are not\nover dainty. Beshrew me, friend,\u201d he added, regarding Mabel, \u201cyou have a\ncomely daughter.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is my granddaughter, sir,\u201d replied Tristram.\n\n\u201cWell, your granddaughter, then,\u201d said the other; \u201cby the mass, a lovely\nwench. We have none such in Guildford, and I doubt if the king hath such\nin Windsor Castle. What say you, Charles Brandon?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt were treason to agree with you, Harry La Roy,\u201d replied Brandon,\nlaughing, \u201cfor they say the king visits with the halter all those who\ndisparage the charms of the Lady Anne Boleyn. But, comparisons apart,\nthis damsel is very fair.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will discompose her, my masters, if you praise her thus to her\nface,\u201d said Tristram somewhat testily. \u201cHere, Mab, bring forth all my\nscanty larder affords, and put some rashers of bacon on the fire.\u201d\n\n\u201cCold meat and bread will suffice for us,\u201d said Harry: \u201cwe will not\ntrouble the damsel to play the cook.\u201d\n\nWith this Mabel, who appeared a good deal embarrassed by the presence of\nthe strangers, spread a cloth of snow-white linen on the little table,\nand placed the remains of the pie and a large oven cake before them. The\nnew-comers sate down, and ate heartily of the humble viands, he who had\nanswered to the name of Harry frequently stopping in the course of his\nrepast to compliment his fair attendant.\n\n\u201cBy our Lady, I have never been so waited on before,\u201d he added, rising\nand removing his stool towards the fire, while his companion took up a\nposition, with his back against the wall, near the fireplace. \u201cAnd now,\nmy pretty Mabel, have you never a cup of ale to wash down the pie?\u201d\n\n\u201cI can offer you a draught of right good mead, master,\u201d said Tristram;\n\u201cand that is the only liquor my cottage can furnish.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing can be better,\u201d replied Harry. \u201cThe mead, by all means.\u201d\n\nWhile Mabel went to draw the liquor, Tristram fixed his eyes on Harry,\nwhose features were now fully revealed by the light of the fire.\n\n\u201cWhy do you look at me so hard, friend?\u201d demanded Harry bluffly.\n\n\u201cI have seen some one very like you, master,\u201d replied Tristram, \u201cand one\nwhom it is no light honour to resemble.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean the king,\u201d returned Harry, laughing. \u201cYou are not the first\nperson who has thought me like him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are vain of the likeness, I see, master,\u201d replied Tristram, joining\nin the laugh. \u201cHow say you, Mab?\u201d he added to his granddaughter, who at\nthat moment returned with a jug and a couple of drinking-horns. \u201cWhom\ndoes this gentleman resemble?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one,\u201d returned Mabel, without raising her eyes.\n\n\u201cNo one,\u201d echoed Harry, chucking her under the chin. \u201cLook me full in\nthe face, and you will find out your mistake. Marry, if I were the royal\nHenry, instead of what I am, a plain Guildford merchant, I should prefer\nyou to Anne Boleyn.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that said in good sooth, sir?\u201d asked Mabel, slightly raising\nher eyes, and instantly dropping them before the ardent gaze of the\nself-styled merchant.\n\n\u201cIn good sooth and sober truth,\u201d replied Henry, rounding his arm and\nplacing his hand on his lusty thigh in true royal fashion.\n\n\u201cWere you the royal Henry, I should not care for your preference,\u201d said\nMabel more confidently. \u201cMy grandsire says the king changes his love as\noften as the moon changes--nay, oftener.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod's death!--your grandsire is a false knave to say so! cried Harry.\n\n\u201cHeaven help us! you swear the king's oaths,\u201d said Mabel. \u201cAnd wherefore\nnot, sweetheart?\u201d said Harry, checking himself. \u201cIt is enough to make\none swear, and in a royal fashion too, to hear one's liege lord unjustly\naccused. I have ever heard the king styled a mirror of constancy. How\nsay you, Charles Brandon?--can you not give him a good character?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! an excellent character,\u201d said Brandon. \u201cHe is constancy\nitself--while the fit lasts,\u201d he added, aside.\n\n\u201cYou hear what my friend says, sweetheart,\u201d observed Harry; \u201cand I\nassure you he has the best opportunities of judging. But I'll be sworn\nyou did not believe your grand-sire when he thus maligned the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe contradicted me flatly,\u201d said Tristram. \u201cBut pour out the mead,\ngirl; our guests are waiting for it.\u201d\n\nWhile Mabel, in compliance with her grandsire's directions, filled the\nhorn, the door of the cottage was noiselessly opened by Morgan Fenwolf,\nwho stepped in, followed by Bawsey. He stared inquisitively at the\nstrangers, but both were so much occupied by the damsel that he remained\nunnoticed. A sign from the old forester told him he had better retire:\njealous curiosity, however, detained him, and he tarried till Harry had\nreceived the cup from Mabel, and drained it to her health. He then drew\nback, closed the door softly, and joined a dark and mysterious figure,\nwith hideous lineaments and an antlered helm upon its brows, lurking\noutside the cottage.\n\nMeanwhile, a cup of mead having been offered to Brandon, he observed to\nhis companion, \u201cWe must now be setting forth on our journey. Night is\nadvancing, and we have five long miles to traverse across the great\npark.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would stay where I am,\u201d rejoined Harry, \u201cand make a bench near\nthe fire serve me in lieu of a couch, but that business requires our\npresence at the castle to-night. There is payment for our meal, friend,\u201d\n he added, giving a mark to Tristram, \u201cand as we shall probably return\nto-morrow night, we will call and have another supper with you. Provide\nus a capon, and some fish from the lake.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou pay as you swear, good sir, royally,\u201d replied Tristram. \u201cYou shall\nhave a better supper to-morrow night.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have a dangerous journey before you, sir,\u201d said Mabel. \u201cThey say\nthere are plunderers and evil spirits in the great park.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no fear of any such, sweetheart,\u201d replied Harry. \u201cI have a\nstrong arm to defend myself, and so has my friend Charles Brandon. And\nas to evil spirits, a kiss from you will shield me from all ill.\u201d\n\nAnd as he spoke, he drew her towards him, and clasping her in his arms,\nimprinted a score of rapid kisses on her lips.\n\n\u201cHold! hold, master!\u201d cried Tristram, rising angrily; \u201cthis may not be.\n'Tis an arrant abuse of hospitality.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, be not offended, good friend,\u201d replied Harry, laughing. \u201cI am\non the look-out for a wife, and I know not but I may take your\ngranddaughter with me to Guildford.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is not to be so lightly won,\u201d cried Tristram; \u201cfor though I am but\na poor forester, I rate her as highly as the haughtiest noble can rate\nhis child.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd with reason,\u201d said Harry. \u201cGood-night, sweet-heart! By my crown,\nSuffolk!\u201d he exclaimed to his companion, as he quitted the cottage, \u201cshe\nis an angel, and shall be mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot if my arm serves me truly,\u201d muttered Fenwolf, who, with his\nmysterious companion, had stationed himself at the window of the hut.\n\n\u201cDo him no injury,\u201d returned the other; \u201che is only to be made\ncaptive-mark that. And now to apprise Sir Thomas Wyat. We must intercept\nthem before they reach their horses.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n     How Herne the Hunter showed the Earl of Surrey the Fair\n     Geraldine in a Vision.\n\n\nOn the third day after Surrey's imprisonment in the keep, he was removed\nto the Norman Tower. The chamber allotted him was square, tolerably\nlofty, and had two narrow-pointed windows on either side, looking on\nthe one hand into the upper quadrangle, and on the other into the middle\nward. At the same time permission was accorded him to take exercise on\nthe battlements of the Round Tower, or within the dry and grassy moat at\nits foot.\n\nThe Fair Geraldine, he was informed, had been sent to the royal palace\nat Greenwich; but her absence occasioned him little disquietude, because\nhe knew, if she had remained at Windsor, he would not have been allowed\nto see her.\n\nOn the same day that Surrey was removed to the Norman Tower, the Duke\nof Richmond quitted the castle without assigning any motive for his\ndeparture, or even taking leave of his friend. At first some jealous\nmistrust that he might be gone to renew his suit to the Fair\nGeraldine troubled the earl; but he strongly combated the feeling, as\ncalculated, if indulged, to destroy his tranquillity; and by fixing\nhis thoughts sedulously on other subjects, he speedily succeeded in\novercoming it.\n\nOn that night, while occupied in a translation of the Aeneid which he\nhad commenced, he remained at his task till a late hour. The midnight\nbell had tolled, when, looking up, he was startled by perceiving a tall\nfigure standing silent and motionless beside him.\n\nIndependently of the difficulty of accounting for its presence, the\nappearance of the figure was in itself sufficiently appalling. It was\nabove the ordinary stature, and was enveloped in a long black cloak,\nwhile a tall, conical black cap, which added to its height, and\nincreased the hideousness of its features, covered its head.\n\nFor a few minutes Surrey remained gazing at the figure in mute\nastonishment, during which it maintained the same motionless posture. At\nlength he was able to murmur forth the interrogation, \u201cWho art thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cA friend,\u201d replied the figure, in a sepulchral tone.\n\n\u201cAre you a man or spirit?\u201d demanded Surrey.\n\n\u201cIt matters not--I am a friend,\u201d rejoined the figure.\n\n\u201cOn what errand come you here?\u201d asked Surrey.\n\n\u201cTo serve you,\u201d replied the figure; \u201cto liberate you. You shall go hence\nwith me, if you choose.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn what condition?\u201d rejoined Surrey.\n\n\u201cWe will speak of that when we are out of the castle, and on the green\nsod of the forest,\u201d returned the figure.\n\n\u201cYou tempt in vain,\u201d cried Surrey. \u201cI will not go with you. I recognise\nin you the demon hunter Herne.\u201d The figure laughed hollowly--so hollowly\nthat Surrey's flesh crept upon his bones.\n\n\u201cYou are right, lord of Surrey,\u201d he said; \u201cI am Herne the Hunter. You\nmust join me. Sir Thomas Wyat is already one of my band.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou lie, false fiend!\u201d rejoined Surrey. \u201cSir Thomas Wyat is in France.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is you who lie, lord of Surrey,\u201d replied Herne; \u201cSir Thomas Wyat is\nnow in the great park. You shall see him in a few minutes, if you will\ncome with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI disbelieve you, tempter!\u201d cried Surrey indignantly. \u201cWyat is too good\na Christian, and too worthy a knight, to league with a demon.\u201d\n\nAgain Herne laughed bitterly.\n\n\u201cSir Thomas Wyat told you he would seek me out,\u201d said the demon. \u201cHe did\nso, and gave himself to me for Anne Boleyn.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you have no power over her, demon?\u201d cried Surrey, shuddering.\n\n\u201cYou will learn whether I have or not, in due time,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cDo\nyou refuse to go with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI refuse to deliver myself to perdition,\u201d rejoined the earl.\n\n\u201cAn idle fear,\u201d rejoined Herne. \u201cI care not for your soul--you will\ndestroy it without my aid. I have need of you. You shall be back again\nin this chamber before the officer visits it in the morning, and no one\nshall be aware of your absence. Come, or I will bear you hence.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou dare not touch me,\u201d replied Surrey, placing his hand upon his\nbreast; \u201cI am armed with a holy relic.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d said Herne; \u201cand I feel its power, or I would not have\ntrifled with you thus long. But it cannot shield you from a rival. You\nbelieve the Fair Geraldine constant--ha?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know her to be so,\u201d said Surrey.\n\nA derisive laugh broke from Herne.\n\n\u201cPeace, mocking fiend!\u201d cried Surrey furiously.\n\n\u201cI laugh to think how you are deceived,\u201d said Herne. \u201cWould you behold\nyour mistress now?--would you see how she conducts herself during your\nabsence?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you choose to try me, I will not oppose the attempt,\u201d replied\nSurrey; \u201cbut it will be futile.\u201d\n\n\u201cRemove the relic from your person,\u201d rejoined Herne. \u201cPlace it upon the\ntable, within your grasp, and you shall see her.\u201d\n\nSurrey hesitated; but he was not proof against the low mocking laugh of\nthe demon.\n\n\u201cNo harm can result from it,\u201d he cried at length, detaching the relic\nfrom his neck, and laying it on the table.\n\n\u201cExtinguish the light!\u201d cried Herne, in a commanding voice.\n\nSurrey instantly sprang to his feet, and dashed the lamp off the table.\n\u201cBehold!\u201d cried the demon.\n\nAnd instantly a vision, representing the form and lineaments of the\nFair Geraldine to the life, shone forth against the opposite wall of the\nchamber. At the feet of the visionary damsel knelt a shape resembling\nthe Duke of Richmond. He was pressing the hand extended to him by\nthe Fair Geraldine to his lips, and a smile of triumph irradiated his\nfeatures.\n\n\u201cSuch is man's friendship--such woman's constancy!\u201d cried Herne. \u201cAre\nyou now satisfied?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am, that you have deceived me, false spirit!\u201d cried the earl. \u201cI\nwould not believe the Fair Geraldine inconstant, though all hell told me\nso.\u201d\n\nA terrible laugh broke from the demon, and the vision faded away. All\nbecame perfect darkness, and for a few moments the earl remained silent.\nHe then called to the demon, but receiving no answer, put forth his hand\ntowards the spot where he had stood. He was gone.\n\nConfounded, Surrey returned to the table, and searched for the relic,\nbut, with a feeling of indescribable anguish and self-reproach, found\nthat it had likewise disappeared.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\n     What befell Sir Thomas Wyat in the Sandstone Cave--And how\n     he drank a maddening Potion.\n\n\nTHE cave in which Sir Thomas Wyat found himself, on the removal of the\nbandage from his eyes, was apparently--for it was only lighted by a\nsingle torch--of considerable width and extent, and hewn out of a bed\nof soft sandstone. The roof, which might be about ten feet high, was\nsupported by the trunks of three large trees rudely fashioned into\npillars. There were several narrow lateral passages within it,\napparently communicating with other caverns; and at the farther end,\nwhich was almost buried in obscurity, there was a gleam seemingly\noccasioned by the reflection of the torchlight upon water. On the right\nhand stood a pile of huge stones, disposed somewhat in the form of a\nDruidical altar, on the top of which, as on a throne, sat the demon\nhunter, surrounded by his satellites--one of whom, horned and bearded\nlike a satyr, had clambered the roughened sides of the central pillar,\nand held a torch over the captive's head.\n\nHalf-stifled by the noxious vapour he had inhaled, and blinded by the\ntightness of the bandage, it was some time before Wyat fully recovered\nhis powers of sight and utterance.\n\n\u201cWhy am I brought hither, false fiend?\u201d he demanded at length.\n\n\u201cTo join my band,\u201d replied the demon harshly and imperiously.\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d rejoined Wyat. \u201cI will have nought to do with you, except as\nregards our compact.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat I require from you is part of our compact,\u201d rejoined the demon.\n\u201cHe who has once closed hands with Herne the Hunter cannot retreat. But\nI mean you fairly, and will not delude you with false expectation. What\nyou seek cannot be accomplished on the instant. Ere three days Anne\nBoleyn shall be yours.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive me some proof that you are not deceiving me, spirit,\u201d said Wyat.\n\n\u201cCome, then!\u201d replied Herne. So saying, he sprang from the stone, and,\ntaking Wyat's hand, led him towards the lower end of the cave, which\ngradually declined till it reached the edge of a small but apparently\ndeep pool of water, the level of which rose above the rock that formed\nits boundary.\n\n\u201cRemove the torch!\u201d thundered the demon to those behind. \u201cNow summon\nyour false love, Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d he added, as his orders were obeyed,\nand the light was taken into one of the side passages, so that its gleam\nno longer fell upon the water.\n\n\u201cAppear, Anne Boleyn!\u201d cried Wyat.\n\nUpon this a shadowy resemblance of her he had invoked flitted over the\nsurface of the water, with hands outstretched towards him. So moved was\nWyat by the vision, that he would have flung himself into the pool to\ngrasp it if he had not been forcibly detained by the demon. During the\nstruggle the figure vanished, and all was buried in darkness.\n\n\u201cI have said she shall be yours,\u201d cried Herne; \u201cbut time is required for\nthe accomplishment of my purpose. I have only power over her when evil\nis predominant in her heart. But such moments are not unfrequent,\u201d he\nadded, with a bitter laugh. \u201cAnd now to the chase. I promise you it will\nbe a wilder and more exciting ride than you ever enjoyed in the king's\ncompany. To the chase!--to the chase, I say!\u201d\n\nSounding a call upon his horn, the light instantly reappeared. All was\nstir and confusion amid the impish troop--and presently afterwards a\nnumber of coal-black horses, and hounds of the same hue, leashed in\ncouples, were brought out of one of the side passages. Among the latter\nwere two large sable hounds of Saint Hubert's breed, whom Herne summoned\nto his side by the names of Saturn and Dragon.\n\nA slight noise, as of a blow dealt against a tree, was now heard\noverhead, and Herne, imposing silence on the group by a hasty gesture,\nassumed an attitude of fixed attention. The stroke was repeated a second\ntime.\n\n\u201cIt is our brother, Morgan Fenwolf,\u201d cried the demon.\n\nCatching hold of a chain hanging from the roof, which Wyat had not\nhitherto noticed, he swung himself into a crevice above, and disappeared\nfrom view. During the absence of their leader the troop remained\nmotionless and silent.\n\nA few minutes afterwards Herne reappeared at the upper end of the cave.\nHe was accompanied by Fenwolf, between whom and Wyat a slight glance of\nrecognition passed.\n\nThe order being given by the demon to mount, Wyat, after an instant's\nhesitation, seized the flowing mane of the horse nearest him--for it was\nfurnished neither with saddle nor bridle-and vaulted upon its back. At\nthe same moment Herne uttered a wild cry, and plunging into the pool,\nsunk within it. Wyat's steed followed, and swam swiftly forward beneath\nthe water.\n\nWhen Wyat rose to the surface, he found himself in the open lake, which\nwas gleaming in the moonlight. Before him he beheld Herne clambering the\nbank, accompanied by his two favourite hounds, while a large white\nowl wheeled round his head, hooting loudly. Behind came the grisly\ncavalcade, with their hounds, swimming from beneath a bank covered by\nthick overhanging trees, which completely screened the secret entrance\nto the cave. Having no control over his steed, Wyat was obliged to\nsurrender himself to its guidance, and was soon placed by the side of\nthe demon hunter.\n\n\u201cPledge me, Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d said Herne, unslinging a gourd-shaped\nflask from his girdle, and offering it to him. \u201c'Tis a rare wine, and\nwill prevent you from suffering from your bath, as well as give you\nspirits for the chase.\u201d\n\nChilled to the bone by the immersion he had undergone, Wyat did not\nrefuse the offer, but placing the flask to his lips took a deep draught\nfrom it. The demon uttered a low bitter laugh as he received back the\nflask, and he slung it to his girdle without tasting it.\n\nThe effect of the potion upon Wyat was extraordinary. The whole scene\nseemed to dance around him;-the impish figures in the lake, or upon its\nbank, assumed forms yet more fantastic; the horses looked like monsters\nof the deep; the hounds like wolves and ferocious beasts; the branches\nof the trees writhed and shot forward like hissing serpents;--and though\nthis effect speedily passed off, it left behind it a wild and maddening\nfeeling of excitement.\n\n\u201cA noble hart is lying in yon glen,\u201d said Morgan Fenwolf, advancing\ntowards his leader; \u201cI tracked his slot thither this evening.\u201d\n\n\u201cHaste, and unharbour him,\u201d replied Herne, \u201cand as soon as you rouse\nhim, give the halloa.\u201d Fenwolf obeyed; and shortly afterwards a cry was\nheard from the glen.\n\n\u201cList halloa! list halloa!\u201d cried Herne, \u201cthat's he! that's he! hyke!\nSaturn! hyke, Dragon--Away!--away, my merry men all.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\n     How Sir Thomas Wyat hunted with Herne.\n\n\nAccompanied by Wyat, and followed by the whole cavalcade, Herne dashed\ninto the glen, where Fenwolf awaited him. Threading the hollow, the\ntroop descried the hart flying swiftly along a sweeping glade at\nsome two hundred yards distance. The glade was passed--a woody knoll\nskirted--a valley traversed--and the hart plunged into a thick grove\nclothing the side of Hawk's Hill. But it offered him no secure retreat.\nDragon and Saturn were close upon him, and behind them came Herne,\ncrashing through the branches of the trees, and heedless of all\nimpediments. By-and-by the thicket became more open, and they entered\nCranbourne Chase. But the hart soon quitted it to return to the great\npark, and darted down a declivity skirted by a line of noble oaks. Here\nhe was so hotly pressed by his fierce opponents, whose fangs he could\nalmost feel within his haunches, that he suddenly stopped and stood at\nbay, receiving the foremost of his assailants, Saturn, on the points of\nhis horns. But his defence, though gallant, was unavailing. In another\ninstant Herne came up, and, dismounting, called off Dragon, who was\nabout to take the place of his wounded companion. Drawing a knife from\nhis girdle, the hunter threw himself on the ground, and, advancing on\nall fours towards the hart, could scarcely be distinguished himself\nfrom some denizen of the forest. As he approached the hart snorted and\nbellowed fiercely, and dashed its horns against him; but the blow was\nreceived by the hunter upon his own antlered helm, and at the same\nmoment his knife was thrust to the hilt into the stag's throat, and it\nfell to the ground.\n\nSpringing to his feet, Herne whooped joyfully, placed his bugle to his\nlips, and blew the dead mot. He then shouted to Fenwolf to call away and\ncouple the hounds, and, striking off the deer's right forefoot with his\nknife, presented it to Wyat. Several large leafy branches being gathered\nand laid upon the ground, the hart was placed upon them, and Herne\ncommenced breaking him up, as the process of dismembering the deer is\ntermed in the language of woodcraft. His first step was to cut off\nthe animal's head, which he performed by a single blow with his heavy\ntrenchant knife.\n\n\u201cGive the hounds the flesh,\u201d he said, delivering the trophy to Fenwolf;\n\u201cbut keep the antlers, for it is a great deer of head.\u201d\n\nPlacing the head on a hunting-pole, Fenwolf withdrew to an open space\namong the trees, and, halloing to the others, they immediately cast off\nthe hounds, who rushed towards him, leaping and baying at the\nstag's head, which he alternately raised and lowered until they were\nsufficiently excited, when he threw it on the ground before them.\n\nWhile this was going forward the rest of the band were occupied in\nvarious ways--some striking a light with flint and steel--some gathering\ntogether sticks and dried leaves to form a fire--others producing\nvarious strange-shaped cooking utensils--while others were assisting\ntheir leader in his butcherly task, which he executed with infinite\nskill and expedition.\n\nAs soon as the fire was kindled, Herne distributed certain portions of\nthe venison among his followers, which were instantly thrown upon the\nembers to broil; while a few choice morsels were stewed in a pan with\nwine, and subsequently offered to the leader and Wyat.\n\nThis hasty repast concluded, the demon ordered the fire to be\nextinguished, and the quarters of the deer to be carried to the cave. He\nthen mounted his steed, and, attended by Wyat and the rest of his troop,\nexcept those engaged in executing his orders, galloped towards Snow\nHill, where he speedily succeeded in unharbouring another noble hart.\n\nAway then went the whole party--stag, hounds, huntsmen, sweeping like a\ndark cloud down the hill, and crossing the wide moonlit glade, studded\nwith noble trees, on the west of the great avenue.\n\nFor a while the hart held a course parallel with the avenue; he then\ndashed across it, threaded the intricate woods on the opposite side,\ntracked a long glen, and leaping the pales, entered the home park. It\nalmost seemed as if he designed to seek shelter within the castle, for\nhe made straight towards it, and was only diverted by Herne himself,\nwho, shooting past him with incredible swiftness, turned him towards the\nlower part of the park.\n\nHere the chase continued with unabated ardour, until, reaching the banks\nof the Thames, the hart plunged into it, and suffered himself to be\ncarried noiselessly down the current. But Herne followed him along the\nbanks, and when sufficiently near, dashed into the stream, and drove him\nagain ashore.\n\nOnce more they flew across the home park--once more they leaped its\npales--once more they entered the great park--but this time the stag\ntook the direction of Englefield Green. He was not, however, allowed\nto break forth into the open country; but, driven again into the thick\nwoods, he held on with wondrous speed till the lake appeared in view. In\nanother instant he was swimming across it.\n\nBefore the eddies occasioned by the affrighted animal's plunge had\ndescribed a wide ring, Herne had quitted his steed, and was cleaving\nwith rapid strokes the waters of the lake. Finding escape impossible,\nthe hart turned to meet him, and sought to strike him with his horns,\nbut as in the case of his ill-fated brother of the wood, the blow was\nwarded by the antlered helm of the swimmer. The next moment the clear\nwater was dyed with blood, and Herne, catching the gasping animal by the\nhead, guided his body to shore.\n\nAgain the process of breaking up the stag was gone through; and when\nHerne had concluded his task, he once more offered his gourd to Sir\nThomas Wyat. Reckless of the consequences, the knight placed the flask\nto his lips, and draining it to the last drop, fell from his horse\ninsensible.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\n     How Wyat beheld Mabel Lyndwood--And how he was rowed by\n     Morgan Fenwolf upon the Lake.\n\n\nWhen perfect consciousness returned to him, Wyat found himself lying\nupon a pallet in what he first took to be the cell of an anchorite; but\nas the recollection of recent events arose more distinctly before him,\nhe guessed it to be a chamber connected with the sandstone cave. A small\nlamp, placed in a recess, lighted the cell; and upon a footstool by his\nbed stood a jug of water, and a cup containing some drink in which herbs\nhad evidently been infused. Well-nigh emptying the jug, for he felt\nparched with thirst, Wyat attired himself, took up the lamp, and walked\ninto the main cavern. No one was there, nor could he obtain any answer\nto his calls. Evidences, however, were not wanting to prove that a feast\nhad recently been held there. On one side were the scarcely extinguished\nembers of a large wood fire; and in the midst of the chamber was a rude\ntable, covered with drinking-horns and wooden platters, as well as with\nthe remains of three or four haunches of venison. While contemplating\nthis scene Wyat heard footsteps in one of the lateral passages, and\npresently afterwards Morgan Fenwolf made his appearance.\n\n\u201cSo you are come round at last, Sir Thomas,\u201d observed the keeper, in a\nslightly sarcastic tone.\n\n\u201cWhat has ailed me?\u201d asked Wyat, in surprise.\n\n\u201cYou have had a fever for three days,\u201d returned Fenwolf, \u201cand have been\nraving like a madman.\u201d\n\n\u201cThree days!\u201d muttered Wyat. \u201cThe false juggling fiend promised her to\nme on the third day.\u201d\n\n\u201cFear not; Herne will be as good as his word,\u201d said Fenwolf. \u201cBut will\nyou go forth with me? I am about to visit my nets. It is a fine day, and\na row on the lake will do you good.\u201d\n\nWyat acquiesced, and followed Fenwolf, who returned along the passage.\nIt grew narrower at the sides and lower in the roof as they advanced,\nuntil at last they were compelled to move forward on their hands and\nknees. For some space the passage, or rather hole (for it was nothing\nmore) ran on a level. A steep and tortuous ascent then commenced, which\nbrought them to an outlet concealed by a large stone.\n\nPushing it aside, Fenwolf crept forth, and immediately afterwards Wyat\nemerged into a grove, through which, on one side, the gleaming waters\nof the lake were discernible. The keeper's first business was to replace\nthe stone, which was so screened by brambles and bushes that it could\nnot, unless careful search were made, be detected.\n\nMaking his way through the trees to the side of the lake, Fenwolf\nmarched along the greensward in the direction of Tristram Lyndwood's\ncottage. Wyat mechanically followed him; but he was so pre-occupied that\nhe scarcely heeded the fair Mabel, nor was it till after his embarkation\nin the skiff with the keeper, when she came forth to look at them, that\nhe was at all struck with her beauty. He then inquired her name from\nFenwolf.\n\n\u201cShe is called Mabel Lyndwood, and is an old forester's granddaughter,\u201d\n replied the other somewhat gruffly.\n\n\u201cAnd do you seek her love?\u201d asked Wyat.\n\n\u201cAy, and wherefore not?\u201d asked Fenwolf, with a look of displeasure.\n\n\u201cNay, I know not, friend,\u201d rejoined Wyat. \u201cShe is a comely damsel.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!--comelier than the Lady Anne?\u201d demanded Fenwolf spitefully.\n\n\u201cI said not so,\u201d replied Wyat; \u201cbut she is very fair, and looks\ntrue-hearted.\u201d\n\nFenwolf glanced at him from under his brows; and plunging his oars into\nthe water, soon carried him out of sight of the maiden.\n\nIt was high noon, and the day was one of resplendent loveliness. The\nlake sparkled in the sunshine, and as they shot past its tiny bays and\nwoody headlands, new beauties were every moment revealed to them. But\nwhile the scene softened Wyat's feelings, it filled him with intolerable\nremorse, and so poignant did his emotions become, that he pressed his\nhands upon his eyes to shut out the lovely prospect. When he looked\nup again the scene was changed. The skiff had entered a narrow creek,\narched over by huge trees, and looking as dark and gloomy as the rest\nof the lake was fair and smiling. It was closed in by a high overhanging\nbank, crested by two tall trees, whose tangled roots protruded through\nit like monstrous reptiles, while their branches cast a heavy shade over\nthe deep, sluggish water.\n\n\u201cWhy have you come here?\u201d demanded Wyat, looking uneasily round the\nforbidding spot.\n\n\u201cYou will discover anon,\u201d replied Fenwolf moodily.\n\n\u201cGo back into the sunshine, and take me to some pleasant bank--I will\nnot land here,\u201d said Wyat sternly.\n\n\u201cNeeds must when--I need not remind you of the proverb,\u201d rejoined\nFenwolf, with a sneer.\n\n\u201cGive me the oars, thou malapert knave!\u201d cried Wyat fiercely, \u201cand I\nwill put myself ashore.\u201d\n\n\u201cKeep quiet,\u201d said Fenwolf; \u201cyou must perforce abide our master's\ncoming.\u201d\n\nWyat gazed at the keeper for a moment, as if with the intention of\nthrowing him overboard; but abandoning the idea, he rose up in the\nboat, and caught at what he took to be a root of the tree above. To his\nsurprise and alarm, it closed upon him with an iron grasp, and he felt\nhimself dragged upwards, while the skiff, impelled by a sudden stroke\nfrom Morgan Fenwolf, shot from beneath him. All Wyat's efforts to\ndisengage himself were vain, and a wild, demoniacal laugh, echoed by a\nchorus of voices, proclaimed him in the power of Herne the Hunter. The\nnext moment he was set on the top of the bank, while the demon greeted\nhim with a mocking laugh.\n\n\u201cSo you thought to escape me, Sir Thomas Wyatt,\u201d he cried, in a taunting\ntone; \u201cbut any such attempt will prove fruitless. The murderer may\nrepent the blow when dealt; the thief may desire to restore the gold he\nhas purloined; the barterer of his soul may rue his bargain; but they\nare Satan's, nevertheless. You are mine, and nothing can redeem you!\u201d\n\n\u201cWoe is me that it should be so!\u201d groaned Wyat.\n\n\u201cLamentation is useless and unworthy of you,\u201d rejoined Herne scornfully.\n\u201cYour wish will be speedily accomplished. This very night your kingly\nrival shall be placed in your hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed Wyat, the flame of jealousy again rising within his\nbreast.\n\n\u201cYou can make your own terms with him for the Lady Anne,\u201d pursued Herne.\n\u201cHis life will be at your disposal.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you promise this?\u201d cried Wyat.\n\n\u201cAy,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cPut yourself under the conduct of Fenwolf, and all\nshall happen as you desire. We shall meet again at night. I have other\nbusiness on hand now. Meschines,\u201d he added to one of his attendants, \u201cgo\nwith Sir Thomas to the skiff.\u201d\n\nThe personage who received the command, and who was wildly and\nfantastically habited, beckoned Wyat to follow him, and after many\ntwistings and turnings brought them to the edge of the lake, where the\nskiff was lying, with Fenwolf reclining at full length upon its benches.\nHe arose, however, quickly at the appearance of Meschines, and asked him\nfor some provisions, which the latter promised to bring, and while Wyat\ngot into the skiff he disappeared, but returned a few minutes afterwards\nwith a basket, which he gave to the keeper.\n\nCrossing the lake, Fenwolf then shaped his course towards a verdant bank\nenamelled with wild flowers, where he landed. The basket being opened,\nwas found to contain a flask of wine and the better part of a venison\npasty, of which Wyat, whose appetite was keen enough after his long\nfasting, ate heartily. He then stretched himself on the velvet sod,\nand dropped into a tranquil slumber which lasted to a late hour in the\nevening.\n\nHe was roused from it by a hand laid on his shoulder, while a deep voice\nthundered in his ear--\u201cUp, up, Sir Thomas, and follow me, and I will\nplace the king in your hands!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\n     How the King and the Duke of Suffolk were assailed by\n     Herne's Band--And what followed the Attack.\n\n\nHenry and Suffolk, on leaving the forester's hut, took their way for\na sort space along the side of the lake, and then turned into a path\nleading through the trees up the eminence on the left. The king was in\na joyous mood, and made no attempt to conceal the passion with which the\nfair damsel had inspired him.\n\n\u201cI' faith!\u201d he cried, \u201cthe cardinal has a quick eye for a pretty wench.\nI have heard that he loves one in secret, and I am therefore the more\nbeholden to him for discovering Mabel to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou forget, my liege, that it is his object to withdraw your regards\nfrom the Lady Anne Boleyn,\u201d remarked Suffolk.\n\n\u201cI care not what his motive may be, as long as the result is so\nsatisfactory,\u201d returned Henry. \u201cConfess now, Suffolk, you never beheld\na figure so perfect, a complexion so blooming, or eyes so bright. As to\nher lips, by my soul, I never tasted such.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd your majesty is not inexperienced in such matters,\u201d laughed\nSuffolk. \u201cFor my own part, I was as much struck by her grace as by her\nbeauty, and can scarcely persuade myself she can be nothing more than a\nmere forester's grand-daughter.\u201d\n\n\u201cWolsey told me there was a mystery about her birth,\u201d rejoined Henry;\n\u201cbut, pest on it; her beauty drove all recollection of the matter out of\nmy head. I will go back, and question her now.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty forgets that your absence from the castle will occasion\nsurprise, if not alarm,\u201d said Suffolk. \u201cThe mystery will keep till\nto-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cTut, tut!--I will return,\u201d said the king perversely. And Suffolk,\nknowing his wilfulness, and that all remonstrance would prove fruitless,\nretraced his steps with him. They had not proceeded far when they\nperceived a female figure at the bottom of the ascent, just where the\npath turned off on the margin of the lake.\n\n\u201cAs I live, there she is!\u201d exclaimed the king joyfully. \u201cShe has divined\nmy wishes, and is come herself to tell me her history.\u201d\n\nAnd he sprang forward, while Mabel advanced rapidly towards him.\n\nThey met half-way, and Henry would have caught her in his arms, but\nshe avoided him, exclaiming, in a tone of confusion and alarm, \u201cThank\nHeaven, I have found you, sire!\u201d\n\n\u201cThank Heaven, too, sweetheart!\u201d rejoined Henry. \u201cI would not hide when\nyou are the seeker. So you know me--ha?\n\n\u201cI knew you at first,\u201d replied Mabel confusedly. \u201cI saw you at the great\nhunting party; and, once beheld, your majesty is not easily forgotten.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! by Saint George! you turn a compliment as soothly as the most\npractised dame at court,\u201d cried Henry, catching her hand.\n\n\u201cBeseech your majesty, release me!\u201d returned Mabel, struggling to get\nfree. \u201cI did not follow you on the light errand you suppose, but to warn\nyou of danger. Before you quitted my grandsire's cottage I told you\nthis part of the forest was haunted by plunderers and evil beings, and\napprehensive lest some mischance might befall you, I opened the window\nsoftly to look after you--\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you overheard me tell the Duke of Suffolk how much smitten I was\nwith your beauty, ha?\u201d interrupted the king, squeezing her hand--\u201cand\nhow resolved I was to make you mine--ha! sweetheart?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe words I heard were of very different import, my liege,\u201d rejoined\nMabel. \u201cYou were menaced by miscreants, who purposed to waylay you\nbefore you could reach your steed.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them come,\u201d replied Henry carelessly; \u201cthey shall pay for their\nvillainy. How many were there?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo, sire,\u201d answered Mabel; \u201cbut one of them was Herne, the weird\nhunter of the forest. He said he would summon his band to make you\ncaptive. What can your strong arm, even aided by that of the Duke of\nSuffolk, avail against numbers?\u201d\n\n\u201cCaptive! ha!\u201d exclaimed the king. \u201cSaid the knave so?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe did, sire,\u201d replied Mabel; \u201cand I knew it was Herne by his antlered\nhelm.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is reason in what the damsel says, my liege,\u201d interposed Suffolk.\n\u201cIf possible, you had better avoid an encounter with the villains.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy hands itch to give them a lesson,\u201d rejoined Henry. \u201cBut I will be\nruled by you. God's death! I will return to-morrow, and hunt them down\nlike so many wolves.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere are your horses, sire?\u201d asked Mabel.\n\n\u201cTied to a tree at the foot of the hill,\u201d replied Henry. \u201cBut I have\nattendants midway between this spot and Snow Hill.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis way, then!\u201d said Mabel, breaking from him, and darting into a\nnarrow path among the trees.\n\nHenry ran after her, but was not agile enough to overtake her. At length\nshe stopped.\n\n\u201cIf your majesty will pursue this path,\u201d she cried, \u201cyou will come to an\nopen space amid the trees, when, if you will direct your course towards\na large beech-tree on the opposite side, you will find another narrow\npath, which will take you where you desire to go.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I cannot go alone,\u201d cried Henry.\n\nMabel, however, slipped past him, and was out of sight in an instant.\n\nHenry looked as if he meant to follow her, but Suffolk ventured to\narrest him.\n\n\u201cDo not tarry here longer, my gracious liege,\u201d said the duke. \u201cDanger is\nto be apprehended, and the sooner you rejoin your attendants the better.\nReturn with them, if you please, but do not expose yourself further\nnow.\u201d\n\nHenry yielded, though reluctantly, and they walked on in silence. Ere\nlong they arrived at the open space described by Mabel, and immediately\nperceived the large beech-tree, behind which they found the path. By\nthis time the moon had arisen, and as they emerged upon the marsh they\neasily discovered a track, though not broader than a sheep-walk, leading\nalong its edge. As they hurried across it, Suffolk occasionally cast a\nfurtive glance over his shoulder, but he saw nothing to alarm him. The\nwhole tract of marshy land on the left was hidden from view by a silvery\nmist.\n\nIn a few minutes the king and his companion gained firmer ground, and\nascending the gentle elevation on the other side of the marsh, made\ntheir way to a little knoll crowned by a huge oak, which commanded a\nfine view of the lake winding through the valley beyond. Henry, who was\na few yards in advance of his companion, paused at a short distance from\nthe free, and being somewhat over-heated, took off his cap to wipe his\nbrow, laughingly observing--\u201cIn good truth, Suffolk, we must henceforth\nbe rated as miserable faineants, to be scared from our path by a silly\nwench's tale of deerstealers and wild huntsmen. I am sorry I yielded to\nher entreaties. If Herne be still extant, he must be more than a century\nand a half old, for unless the legend is false, he flourished in the\ntime of my predecessor, Richard the Second. I would I could see him!\u201d\n\n\u201cBehold him, then!\u201d cried a harsh voice from behind.\n\nTurning at the sound, Henry perceived a tall dark figure of hideous\nphysiognomy and strange attire, helmed with a huge pair of antlers,\nstanding between him and the oak-tree. So sudden was the appearance of\nthe figure, that in spite of himself the king slightly started.\n\n\u201cWhat art thou--ha?\u201d he demanded.\n\n\u201cWhat I have said,\u201d replied the demon. \u201cI am Herne the Hunter. Welcome\nto my domain, Harry of England. You are lord of the castle, but I am\nlord of the forest. Ha! ha!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am lord both of the forest and the castle--yea, of all this broad\nland, false fiend!\u201d cried the king, \u201cand none shall dispute it with\nme. In the name of the most holy faith, of which I am the defender, I\ncommand thee to avoid my path. Get thee backwards, Satan!\u201d\n\nThe demon laughed derisively.\n\n\u201cHarry of England, advance towards me, and you advance upon your peril,\u201d\n he rejoined.\n\n\u201cAvaunt, I say!\u201d cried the king. \u201cIn the name of the blessed Trinity,\nand of all holy angels and saints, I strike!\u201d\n\nAnd he whirled the staff round his head. But ere the weapon could\ndescend, a flash of dazzling fire encircled the demon, amidst which he\nvanished.\n\n\u201cHeaven protect us!\u201d exclaimed Henry, appalled.\n\nAt this juncture the sound of a horn was heard, and a number of\nwild figures in fantastic garbs--some mounted on swarthy steeds, and\naccompanied by hounds, others on foot-issued from the adjoining covert,\nand hurried towards the spot occupied by the king.\n\n\u201cAha!\u201d exclaimed Henry--\u201cmore of the same sort. Hell, it would seem, has\nlet loose her hosts; but I have no fear of them. Stand by me, Suffolk.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo the death, sire,\u201d replied the duke, drawing his sword. By this\ntime one of the foremost of the impish crew had reached the king, and\ncommanded him to yield himself prisoner.\n\n\u201cDost know whom thou askest to yield, dog?\u201d cried Henry furiously.\n\n\u201cYea,\u201d replied the other, \u201cthou art the king!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen down on thy knees, traitor!\u201d roared Henry; \u201cdown all of ye, and\nsue for mercy.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor mercy--ha! ha!\u201d rejoined the other; \u201cit is thy turn to sue for\nmercy, tyrant! We acknowledge no other ruler than Herne the Hunter.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen seek him in hell!\u201d cried Henry, dealing the speaker a tremendous\nblow on the head with his staff, which brought him senseless to the\nground.\n\nThe others immediately closed round him, and endeavoured to seize the\nking.\n\n\u201cHa! dogs--ha! traitors!\u201d vociferated Henry, plying his staff with great\nactivity, and bringing down an assailant at each stroke; \u201cdo you dare to\nlay hands upon our sacred person? Back! back!\u201d\n\nThe determined resistance offered by the king, supported as he was by\nSuffolk, paralysed his assailants, who seemed more bent upon securing\nhis person than doing him injury. But Suffolk's attention was presently\ndiverted by the attack of a fierce black hound, set upon him by a stout\nfellow in a bearded mask. After a hard struggle, and not before he had\nbeen severely bitten in the arm, the duke contrived to despatch his\nassailant.\n\n\u201cThis to avenge poor Bawsey!\u201d cried the man who had set on the hound,\nstabbing at Suffolk with his knife.\n\nBut the duke parried the blow, and, disarming his antagonist, forced\nhim to the ground, and tearing off his mask, disclosed the features of\nMorgan Fenwolf.\n\nMeanwhile, Henry had been placed in considerable jeopardy. Like Suffolk,\nhe had slaughtered a hound, and, in aiming a blow at the villain who set\nit on, his foot slipped, and he lay at his mercy. The wretch raised his\nknife, and was in the act of striking when a sword was passed through\nhis body. The blow was decisive; the king instantly arose, and the\nrest of his assailants-horse as well as foot--disheartened by what had\noccurred, beat a hasty retreat. Harry turned to look for his deliverer,\nand uttered an exclamation of astonishment and anger.\n\n\u201cAh! God's death!\u201d he cried, \u201ccan I believe my eyes? Is it you, Sir\nThomas Wyat?\u201d\n\n\u201cAy,\u201d replied the other.\n\n\u201cWhat do you here? Ha!\u201d demanded the king. \u201cYou should be in Paris.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have tarried for revenge,\u201d replied Wyat.\n\n\u201cRevenge!--ha!\u201d cried Henry. \u201cOn whom?\u201d\n\n\u201cOn you,\u201d replied Wyat.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d vociferated Henry, foaming with rage. \u201cIs it you, traitor, who\nhave devised this damnable plot?--is it you who would make your king a\ncaptive?--you who slay him? Have you leagued yourself with fiends?\u201d\n\nBut Wyat made no answer; and though he lowered the point of his sword,\nhe regarded the king sternly.\n\nA female figure now rushed forward, and bending before the king, cried\nin an imploring voice--\u201cSpare him, sire--spare him! He is no party to\nthe attack. I was near him in yon wood, and he stirred not forth till he\nsaw your life in danger. He then delivered you from the assassin.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did so because I reserved him for my own hand,\u201d said Wyat.\n\n\u201cYou hear him confess his treason,\u201d cried Henry; \u201cdown on your knees,\nvillain, or I will strike you to my feet.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has just saved your life, my liege,\u201d cried the supplicant. \u201cOh,\nspare him!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat make you here, Mabel?\u201d cried Henry angrily. \u201cI followed your\nmajesty unseen,\u201d she replied, in some confusion, \u201cand reached yon wood\njust as the attack commenced. I did not dare to advance farther.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou should have gone home--gone home,\u201d rejoined the king. \u201cWyat,\u201d he\ncontinued, in a tone of stern reproach, \u201cyou were once a loyal subject.\nWhat means this change?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt means that you have robbed me of a mistress,\u201d replied Wyat; \u201cand for\nthis cause I have damned myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon him!-oh, pardon him, sire,\u201d cried Mabel.\n\n\u201cI cannot understand you, Wyat,\u201d said Henry, after a pause; \u201cbut I have\nmyself suffered from the pangs of jealousy. You have saved my life, and\nI will spare yours.\u201d\n\n\u201cSire!\u201d cried Wyat.\n\n\u201cSuffolk,\u201d exclaimed Henry, looking towards the duke, who was holding\nFenwolf by the throat, \u201cshall I be justified in letting him go free?\n\n\u201cStrike!--strike!\u201d cried a deep voice in Wyat's ear; \u201cyour rival is now\nin your power.\u201d\n\n\u201cFar be it from me to thwart your majesty's generous impulses,\u201d rejoined\nSuffolk. \u201cIt is true that Wyat has saved your life; and if he had been\ndisposed to take it, you have this moment exposed yourself to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir Thomas Wyat,\u201d said the king, turning to him, \u201cyou have my full and\nfree pardon. Quit this forest instantly, and make your way to Paris. If\nyou are found within it to-morrow you will be lodged in the Tower.\u201d\n\nWyat knelt down, and would have pressed Henry's hand to his lips, but\nthe latter pushed him aside.\n\n\u201cNo--no! Not now--on your return.\u201d\n\nThus rebuffed, Wyat strode away, and as he passed the tree he heard a\nvoice exclaim, \u201cYou have escaped him, but think not to escape me!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now, sweetheart,\u201d said Henry, turning to Mabel, \u201csince you are so\nfar on the way, you shall go with me to the castle.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn no account, my liege,\u201d she returned; \u201cmy grandsire will wonder what\nhas become of me. He must already be in great alarm.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I will send an attendant to quiet his fears,\u201d urged Henry.\n\n\u201cThat would only serve to increase them,\u201d she rejoined. \u201cNay, I must\ngo.\u201d\n\nAnd breaking from him, she darted swiftly down the hill, and glanced\nacross the marsh like a moonbeam.\n\n\u201cPlague on it!\u201d cried Henry, \u201cI have again forgotten to question her\nabout her birth.\u201d\n\n\u201cShall I despatch this knave, my liege?\u201d cried Suffolk, pointing with\nhis sword to Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cBy no means,\u201d said the king; \u201csomething may be learnt from him. Hark\nthee, thou felon hound; if thou indeed servest the fiend, thou seest he\ndeserts thee, as he does all who put faith in him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see it,\u201d replied Fenwolf, who, finding resistance vain, had folded\nhis hands doggedly upon his breast.\n\n\u201cThen confess thy evil practices,\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cGive me my life, and I will,\u201d replied Fenwolf. And as he uttered the\nwords, he caught sight of the dark figure of Herne, stationed at the\nside of the oak, with its right arm raised menacingly.\n\n\u201cWhat seest thou?\u201d cried Henry, remarking his fixed gaze towards the\ntree, and glancing in that direction.\n\nFenwolf made no reply.\n\nHenry went up to the tree, and walked round it, but he could see\nnothing.\n\n\u201cI will scour the forest to-morrow,\u201d he muttered, \u201cand hang every knave\nI find within it who cannot give a good account of himself.\u201d\n\n\u201cHo! ho! ho!\u201d laughed a voice, which seemed to proceed from the branches\nof the tree. Henry looked up, but no one was visible.\n\n\u201cGod's death--derided!\u201d he roared. \u201cMan or devil, thou shalt feel my\nwrath.\u201d\n\n\u201cHo! ho! ho!\u201d again laughed the voice.\n\nStamping with rage, Henry swore a great oath, and smote the trunk of the\ntree with his sword.\n\n\u201cYour majesty will search in vain,\u201d said Suffolk; \u201cit is clearly the\nfiend with whom you have to deal, and the aid of holy priests must be\nobtained to drive him from the forest.\u201d\n\n\u201cHo! ho! ho!\u201d again laughed the voice.\n\nA party of horsemen now appeared in view. They proved to be the royal\nattendants, who had ridden forward in search of the king, and were\ninstantly hailed by Henry and Suffolk. They were headed by Captain\nBouchier, who at a sign from the king instantly dismounted.\n\n\u201cGive me your horse, Bouchier,\u201d said Henry, \u201cand do you and half-a-dozen\nof your men remain on guard at this tree till I send a troop of\narquebusiers to relieve you. When they arrive, station them near it, and\nlet them remain here till I return in the morning. If any one appears,\nmake him a prisoner.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty's orders shall be faithfully obeyed,\u201d replied Bouchier.\n\nBound hand and foot, Fenwolf was thrown upon the back of a horse, and\nguarded by two halberdiers, who were prepared to strike him dead on\nthe slightest movement. In this way he was conveyed to the castle, and\nplaced in the guard-chamber of the lower gate till further orders should\nbe issued respecting him.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\n     Showing how Morgan Fenwolf escaped from the Garter Tower.\n\n\nHalf-an-hour afterwards Fenwolf was visited by the Duke of Suffolk and\na canon of the college; and the guard-chamber being cleared, the duke\nenjoined him to make clear his bosom by confession.\n\n\u201cI hold it my duty to tell you, prisoner,\u201d said Suffolk, \u201cthat there\nis no hope of your life. The king's highness is determined to make a\nfearful example of you and all your companions in crime; but he does not\nseek to destroy your soul, and has therefore sent this holy man to you,\nwith the desire that you may open your heart to him, and by confession\nand repentance save yourself from eternal perdition.\u201d\n\n\u201cConfession will profit me nothing,\u201d said Fenwolf moodily. \u201cI cannot\npray if I would.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou cannot be so utterly lost, my son,\u201d rejoined the canon. \u201cHell may\nhave woven her dark chains round you, but not so firmly but that the\nhand of Heaven can burst them.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou waste time in seeking to persuade me,\u201d returned Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cYou are not ignorant of the punishment inflicted upon those condemned\nfor sorcery, my son?\u201d demanded the canon.\n\n\u201cIt is the stake, is it not?\u201d replied Fenwolf\n\n\u201cAy,\u201d replied the canon; \u201cbut even that fiery trial will fail to purge\nout your offences without penitence. My lord of Suffolk, this wretched\nman's condition demands special attention. It will profit the Church\nmuch to win his soul from the fiend. Let him, I pray you, be removed to\nthe dungeon beneath the Garter Tower, where a priest shall visit him,\nand pray by his side till daybreak.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will be useless, father,\u201d said Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cI do not despair, my son,\u201d replied the canon; \u201cand when I see you again\nin the morning I trust to find you in a better frame of mind.\u201d\n\nThe duke then gave directions to the guard to remove the prisoner, and\nafter some further conference with the canon, returned to the royal\napartments.\n\nMeanwhile, the canon shaped his course towards the Horseshoe Cloisters,\na range of buildings so designated from their form, and situated at the\nwest end of St. George's Chapel, and he had scarcely entered them\nwhen he heard footsteps behind him, and turning at the sound, beheld a\nFranciscan friar, for so his habit of the coarsest grey cloth, tied\nwith a cord round the waist, proclaimed him. The friar was very tall\nand gaunt, and his cowl was drawn over his face so as to conceal his\nfeatures.\n\n\u201cWhat would you, brother?\u201d inquired the canon, halting. \u201cI have a\nrequest to make of you, reverend sir,\u201d replied the friar, with a lowly\ninclination of the head. \u201cI have just arrived from Chertsey Abbey,\nwhither I have been tarrying for the last three days, and while\nconversing with the guard at the gate, I saw a prisoner brought into the\ncastle charged with heinous offences, and amongst others, with dealings\nwith the fiend.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have been rightly informed, brother,\u201d rejoined the canon.\n\n\u201cAnd have I also been rightly informed that you desire a priest to pass\nthe night with him, reverend sir?\u201d returned the friar. \u201cIf so, I would\ncrave permission to undertake the office. Two souls, as deeply laden as\nthat of this poor wretch, have been snatched from the jaws of Satan by\nmy efforts, and I do not despair of success now.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince you are so confident, brother,\u201d said the canon, \u201cI commit him\nreadily to your hands. I was about to seek other aid, but your offer\ncomes opportunely. With Heaven's help I doubt not you will achieve a\nvictory over the evil one.\u201d\n\nAs the latter words were uttered a sudden pain seemed to seize the\nfriar. Staggering slightly, he caught at the railing of the cloisters\nfor support, but he instantly recovered himself.\n\n\u201cIt is nothing, reverend sir,\u201d he said, seeing that the good canon\nregarded him anxiously. \u201cLong vigils and fasting have made me liable to\nfrequent attacks of giddiness, but they pass as quickly as they come.\nWill it please you to go with me, and direct the guard to admit me to\nthe prisoner?\u201d\n\nThe canon assented; and crossing the quadrangle, they returned to the\ngateway.\n\nMeanwhile, the prisoner had been removed to the lower chamber of the\nGarter Tower. This fortification, one of the oldest in the castle, being\ncoeval with the Curfew Tower, is now in a state of grievous neglect and\nruin. Unroofed, unfloored, filled with rubbish, masked by the yard walls\nof the adjoining habitations, with one side entirely pulled down, and\na great breach in front, it is solely owing to the solid and\nrock-like construction of its masonry that it is indebted for partial\npreservation. Still, notwithstanding its dilapidated condition, and\nthat it is the mere shell of its former self, its appearance is highly\npicturesque. The walls are of prodigious thickness, and the deep\nembrasures within them are almost perfect; while a secret staircase may\nstill be tracked partly round the building. Amid the rubbish choking up\nits lower chamber grows a young tree, green and flourishing-a type, it\nis to be hoped, of the restoration of the structure.\n\nConducted to a low vaulted chamber in this tower, the prisoner was cast\nupon its floor-for he was still hound hand and foot-and left alone and\nin darkness. But he was not destined to continue in this state long. The\ndoor of the dungeon opened, and the guard ushered in the tall Franciscan\nfriar.\n\n\u201cWhat ho! dog of a prisoner,\u201d he cried, \u201chere is a holy man come to pass\nthe night with you in prayer.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe may take his Ave Maries and Paternosters elsewhere-I want them not,\u201d\n replied Fenwolf moodily.\n\n\u201cYou would prefer my bringing Herne the Hunter, no doubt,\u201d rejoined the\nguard, laughing at his own jest; \u201cbut this is a physician for your soul.\nThe saints help you in your good work, father; you will have no easy\ntask.\u201d\n\n\u201cSet down the light, my son,\u201d cried the friar harshly, \u201cand leave us; my\ntask will be easily accomplished.\u201d\n\nPlacing the lamp on the stone floor of the dungeon, the guard withdrew,\nand locked the door after him.\n\n\u201cDo you repent, my son?\u201d demanded the friar, as soon as they were alone.\n\n\u201cCertes, I repent having put faith in a treacherous fiend, who has\ndeserted me-but that is all,\u201d replied Fenwolf, with his face turned to\nthe ground.\n\n\u201cWill you put faith in me, if I promise you deliverance?\u201d demanded the\nfriar.\n\n\u201cYou promise more than you can perform, as most of your brethren do,\u201d\n rejoined the other.\n\n\u201cYou will not say so if you look up,\u201d said the friar.\n\nFenwolf started at the words, which were pronounced in a different tone\nfrom that previously adopted by the speaker, and raised himself as far\nas his bonds would permit him. The friar had thrown hack his cowl, and\ndisclosed features of appalling hideousness, lighted up by a diabolical\ngrin.\n\n\u201cYou here!\u201d cried Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cYou doubted me,\u201d rejoined Herne, \u201cbut I never desert a follower.\nBesides, I wish to show the royal Harry that my power is equal to his\nown.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how are we to get out of this dungeon?\u201d asked Fenwolf, gazing round\napprehensively.\n\n\u201cMy way out will be easy enough,\u201d replied Herne; \u201cbut your escape is\nattended with more difficulty. You remember how we went to the vaulted\nchamber in the Curfew Tower on the night when Mark Fytton, the butcher,\nwas confined within it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d replied Fenwolf; \u201cbut I can think of nothing while I am tied\nthus.\u201d\n\nHeme instantly drew forth a hunting-knife, and cutting Fenwolf's bonds\nasunder, the latter started to his feet.\n\n\u201cIf that bull-headed butcher would have joined me, I would have\nliberated him as I am about to liberate you,\u201d pursued Herne. \u201cBut to\nreturn to the matter in hand. You recollect the secret passage we then\ntracked? There is just such another staircase in this tower.\u201d\n\nAnd stepping to the farther side of the chamber, he touched a small knob\nin the wall, and a stone flew hack, disclosing an aperture just large\nenough to allow a man to pass through it.\n\n\u201cThere is your road to freedom,\u201d he said, pointing to the hole. \u201cCreep\nalong that narrow passage, and it will bring you to a small loophole in\nthe wall, not many feet from the ground. The loophole is guarded by a\nbar of iron, but it is moved by a spring in the upper part of the stone\nin which it appears to be mortised. This impediment removed, you will\neasily force your way through the loophole. Drop cautiously, for fear of\nthe sentinels on the walls; then make your way to the forest, and if\nyou 'scape the arquebusiers who are scouring it, conceal yourself in the\nsandstone cave below the beech-tree.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what of you?\u201d asked Fenwoif.\n\n\u201cI have more to do here,\u201d replied Herne impatiently-\u201caway!\u201d\n\nThus dismissed, Fenwolf entered the aperture, which was instantly closed\nafter him by Herne. Carefully following the instructions of his leader,\nthe keeper passed through the loophole, let himself drop softly down,\nand keeping close to the walls of the tower till he heard the sentinels\nmove off, darted swiftly across the street and made good his escape.\n\nMeanwhile Herne drew the cowl over his head, and stepping to the door,\nknocked loudly against it.\n\n\u201cWhat would you, father?\u201d cried the guard from without.\n\n\u201cEnter, my son, and you shall know,\u201d replied Herne.\n\nThe next moment the door was unlocked, and the guard advanced into the\ndungeon.\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d he exclaimed, snatching up the lamp and looking around, \u201cwhere is\nthe prisoner?\u201d\n\n\u201cGone,\u201d replied Herne.\n\n\u201cWhat! has the fiend flown away with him?\u201d cried the man, in mixed\nastonishment and alarm.\n\n\u201cHe has been set free by Herne the Hunter!\u201d cried the demon. \u201cTell all\nwho question thee so, and relate what thou now seest.\u201d\n\nAt the words a bright blue flame illumined the chamber, in the midst of\nwhich was seen the tall dark figure of Herne. His Franciscan's gown had\ndropped to his feet, and he appeared habited in his wild deer-skin garb.\nWith a loud cry, the guard fell senseless on the ground.\n\nA few minutes after this, as was subsequently ascertained, a tall\nFranciscan friar threaded the cloisters behind Saint George's Chapel,\nand giving the word to the sentinels, passed through the outer door\ncommunicating with the steep descent leading to the town.\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\n     How Herne the Hunter was himself hunted.\n\n\nOn the guard's recovery, information of what had occurred was\nimmediately conveyed to the king, who had not yet retired to rest,\nbut was sitting in his private chamber with the Dukes of Suffolk and\nNorfolk. The intelligence threw him into a great fury: he buffeted\nthe guard, and ordered him to be locked up in the dungeon whence the\nprisoner had escaped; reprimanded the canon; directed the Duke of\nSuffolk, with a patrol, to make search in the neighbourhood of the\ncastle for the fugitive and the friar; and bade the Duke of Norfolk\nget together a band of arquebusiers; and as soon as the latter were\nassembled, he put himself at their head and again rode into the forest.\n\nThe cavalcade had proceeded about a mile along the great avenue, when\none of the arquebusiers rode up and said that he heard some distant\nsounds on the right. Commanding a halt, Henry listened for a moment,\nand, satisfied that the man was right, quitted the course he was\npursuing, and dashed across the broad glade now traversed by the avenue\ncalled Queen Anne's Ride. As he advanced the rapid trampling of horses\nwas heard, accompanied by shouts, and presently afterwards a troop of\nwild-looking horsemen in fantastic garbs was seen galloping down the\nhill, pursued by Bouchier and his followers. The king immediately shaped\nhis course so as to intercept the flying party, and, being in some\nmeasure screened by the trees, he burst unexpectedly upon them at a turn\nof the road.\n\nHenry called to the fugitives to surrender, but they refused, and,\nbrandishing their long knives and spears, made a desperate resistance.\nBut they were speedily surrounded and overpowered. Bouchier inquired\nfrom the king what should be done with the prisoners.\n\n\u201cHang them all upon yon trees!\u201d cried Henry, pointing to two sister oaks\nwhich stood near the scene of strife.\n\nThe terrible sentence was immediately carried into execution. Cords were\nproduced, and in less than half-an-hour twenty breathless bodies were\nswinging from the branches of the two trees indicated by the king.\n\n\u201cThis will serve to deter others from like offences,\u201d observed Henry,\nwho had watched the whole proceedings with savage satisfaction. \u201cAnd\nnow, Bouchier, how came you to let the leader of these villains escape?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not know he had escaped, my liege,\u201d replied Bouchier, in\nastonishment.\n\n\u201cYea, marry, but he has escaped,\u201d rejoined Henry; \u201cand he has had\nthe audacity to show himself in the castle within this hour, and the\ncunning, moreover, to set the prisoner free.\u201d\n\nAnd he proceeded to relate what had occurred.\n\n\u201cThis is strange indeed, my liege,\u201d replied Bouchier, at the close of\nthe king's recital, \u201cand to my thinking, is proof convincing that we\nhave to do with a supernatural being.\u201d\n\n\u201cSupernatura!--pshaw!--banish the idle notion,\u201d rejoined Henry sternly.\n\u201cWe are all the dupes of some jugglery. The caitiff will doubtless\nreturn to the forest. Continue your search, therefore, for him\nthroughout the night. If you catch him, I promise you a royal reward.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he rode back to the castle, somewhat appeased by the\nwholesale vengeance he had taken upon the offenders.\n\nIn obedience to the orders he had received, Bouchier, with his\nfollowers, continued riding about the forest during the whole night,\nbut without finding anything to reward his search, until about dawn\nit occurred to him to return to the trees on which the bodies were\nsuspended. As he approached them he fancied he beheld a horse standing\nbeneath the nearest tree, and immediately ordered his followers to\nproceed as noiselessly as possible, and to keep under the cover of the\nwood. A nearer advance convinced him that his eyes had not deceived him.\nIt was a swart, wild-looking horse that he beheld, with eyes that flamed\nlike carbuncles, while a couple of bodies, evidently snatched from the\nbranches, were laid across his back. A glance at the trees, too, showed\nBouchier that they had been considerably lightened of their hideous\nspoil.\n\nSeeing this, Bouchier dashed forward. Alarmed by the noise, the wild\nhorse neighed loudly, and a dark figure instantly dropped from the tree\nupon its back, and proceeded to disencumber it of its load. But before\nthis could be accomplished, a bolt from a cross-bow, shot by one of\nBouchier's followers, pierced the animal's brain. Rearing aloft, it fell\nbackwards in such manner as would have crushed an ordinary rider, but\nHerne slipped off uninjured, and with incredible swiftness darted among\nthe trees. The others started in pursuit, and a chase commenced in which\nthe demon huntsman had to sustain the part of the deer--nor could any\ndeer have afforded better sport.\n\nAway flew the pursued and pursuers over broad glade and through tangled\nglen, the woods resounding with their cries. Bouchier did not lose sight\nof the fugitive for a moment, and urged his men to push on; but, despite\nhis alternate proffers and menaces, they gained but little on Herne,\nwho, speeding towards the home park, cleared its high palings with a\nsingle bound.\n\nOver went Bouchier and his followers, and they then descried him making\nhis way to a large oak standing almost alone in the centre of a\nwide glade. An instant afterwards he reached the tree, shook his arm\nmenacingly at his pursuers, and vanished.\n\nThe next moment Bouchier came up, flung himself from his panting steed,\nand, with his drawn sword in hand, forced himself through a rift in its\nside into the tree. There was a hollow within it large enough to allow\na man to stand upright, and two funnel-like holes ran upwards into the\nbranches. Finding nothing, Bouchier called for a hunting-spear, and\nthrust it as far as he could into the holes above. The point encountered\nno obstruction except such as was offered by the wood itself. He stamped\nupon the ground, and sounded it on all sides with the spear, but with no\nbetter success.\n\nIssuing forth he next directed his attention to the upper part of the\ntree, which, while he was occupied inside, had been very carefully\nwatched by his followers, and not content with viewing it from below, he\nclambered into the branches. But they had nothing to show except their\nown leafy covering.\n\nThe careful examination of the ground about the tree at length led to\nthe discovery of a small hole among its roots, about half a dozen yards\nfrom the trunk, and though this hole seemed scarcely large enough\nto serve for an entrance to the burrow of a fox, Bouchier deemed it\nexpedient to keep a careful watch over it.\n\nHis investigation completed, he dispatched a sergeant of the guard to\nthe castle to acquaint the king with what had occurred.\n\nDisturbed by the events of the night, Henry obtained little sleep, and\nat an early hour summoned an attendant, and demanded whether there were\nany tidings from the forest The attendant replied that a sergeant of\nthe guard was without, sent by Captain Bouchier with a message for his\nmajesty. The sergeant was immediately admitted to the royal presence,\nand on the close of his marvellous story the king, who had worked\nhimself into a tremendous fury during its relation, roared out, \u201cWhat!\nfoiled again? ha! But he shall not escape, if I have to root up half the\ntrees in the forest. Bouchier and his fellows must be bewitched. Harkye,\nknaves: get together a dozen of the best woodmen and yeomen in the\ncastle--instantly, as you value your lives; bid them bring axe and saw,\npick and spade. D'ye mark me? ha! Stay, I have not done. I must have\nfagots and straw, for I will burn this tree to the ground--burn it to\na char. Summon the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk--the rascal archer I\ndubbed the Duke of Shoreditch and his mates--the keepers of the forest\nand their hounds--summon them quickly, and bid a band of the yeomen of\nthe guard get ready.\u201d And he sprang from his couch.\n\nThe king's commands were executed with such alacrity, that by the time\nhe was fully attired the whole of the persons he had ordered to be\nsummoned were assembled. Putting himself at their head, he rode forth to\nthe home park, and found Bouchier and his followers grouped around the\ntree.\n\n\u201cWe are still at fault, my liege,\u201d said Bouchier.\n\n\u201cSo I see, Sir,\u201d replied the king angrily. \u201cHew down the tree instantly,\nknaves,\u201d he added to the woodmen. \u201cFall to--fall to.\u201d\n\nRopes were then fastened to the head of the tree, and the welkin\nresounded with the rapid strokes of the hatchets. It was a task of some\ndifficulty, but such zeal and energy were displayed by the woodmen that\nere long the giant trunk lay prostrate on the ground. Its hollows were\nnow fully exposed to view, but they were empty.\n\n\u201cSet fire to the accursed piece of timber!\u201d roared the king, \u201cand burn\nit to dust, and scatter it to the wind!\u201d\n\nAt these orders two yeomen of the guard advanced, and throwing down a\nheap of fagots, straw, and other combustibles on the roots of the tree,\nsoon kindled a fierce fire.\n\nMeanwhile a couple of woodmen, stripped of their jerkins, and with their\nbrawny arms bared to the shoulder, mounted on the trunk, and strove to\nsplit it asunder. Some of the keepers likewise got into the branches,\nand peered into every crack and crevice, in the hope of making some\ndiscovery. Amongst the latter was Will Sommers, who had posted himself\nnear a great arm of the tree, which he maintained when lopped off would\nbe found to contain the demon.\n\nNor were other expedients neglected. A fierce hound had been sent into\nthe hole near the roots of the tree by Gabriel Lapp, but after a short\nabsence he returned howling and terrified, nor could all the efforts of\nGabriel, seconded by a severe scourging with his heavy dog-whip, induce\nhim to enter it again.\n\nWhen the hound had come forth, a couple of yeomen advanced to enlarge\nthe opening, while a third with a pick endeavoured to remove the root,\nwhich formed an impediment to their efforts.\n\n\u201cThey may dig, but they'll never catch him,\u201d observed Shoreditch, who\nstood by, to his companions. \u201cHunting a spirit is not the same thing as\ntraining and raising a wolf, or earthing and digging out a badger.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so loud, duke,\u201d said Islington; \u201chis majesty may think thy jest\nirreverent.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have an arrow blessed by a priest,\u201d said Paddington, \u201cwhich I shall\nlet fly at the spirit if he appears.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere he is--here he is!\u201d cried Will Sommers, as a great white horned\nowl, which had been concealed in some part of the tree, flew forth.\n\n\u201cIt may be the demon in that form--shoot! shoot!\u201d cried Shoreditch.\n\nPaddington bent his bow. The arrow whistled through the air, and\nin another moment the owl fell fluttering to the ground completely\ntransfixed; but it underwent no change, as was expected by the credulous\narcher.\n\nMeanwhile the fire, being kept constantly supplied with fresh fagots,\nand stirred by the yeomen of the guard, burnt bravely. The lower part\nof the tree was already consumed, and the flames, roaring through the\nhollow within with a sound like that of a furnace, promised soon to\nreduce it to charcoal.\n\nThe mouth of the hole having now been widened, another keeper, who had\nbrought forward a couple of lurchers, sent them into it; but in a few\nmoments they returned, as the hound had done, howling and with scared\nlooks. Without heeding their enraged master, they ran off, with their\ntails between their legs, towards the castle.\n\n\u201cI see how it is, Rufus,\u201d said Gabriel, patting his hound, who looked\nwistfully and half-reproachfully at him. \u201cThou wert not to blame, poor\nfellow! The best dog that ever was whelped cannot be expected to face\nthe devil.\u201d\n\nThough long ere this it had become the general opinion that it\nwas useless to persevere further in the search, the king, with his\ncharacteristic obstinacy, would not give it up. In due time the whole of\nthe trunk of the enormous tree was consumed, and its branches cast\ninto the fire. The roots were rent from the ground, and a wide and deep\ntrench digged around the spot. The course of the hole was traced for\nsome distance, but it was never of any size, and was suddenly lost by\nthe falling in of the earth.\n\nAt length, after five hours' close watching, Henry's patience was\nexhausted, and he ordered the pit to be filled up, and every crevice and\nfissure in the ground about to be carefully stopped.\n\n\u201cIf we cannot unkennel the fox,\u201d he said, \u201cwe will at least earth him\nup.\n\n\u201cFor all your care, gossip Henry,\u201d muttered Will Sommers, as he rode\nafter his royal master to the castle, \u201cthe fox will work his way out.\u201d\n\n\nTHUS ENDS THE SECOND BOOK OF THE CHRONICLE OF WINDSOR CASTLE\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III. THE HISTORY OF THE CASTLE\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n     Comprising the First Two Epochs in the History of Windsor\n     Castle.\n\n\nAmid the gloom hovering over the early history of Windsor Castle appear\nthe mighty phantoms of the renowned King Arthur and his knights, for\nwhom it is said Merlin reared a magic fortress upon its heights, in a\ngreat hall whereof, decorated with trophies of war and of the chase, was\nplaced the famous Round Table. But if the antique tale is now worn out,\nand no longer part of our faith, it is pleasant at least to record it,\nand surrendering ourselves for a while to the sway of fancy, to conjure\nup the old enchanted castle on the hill, to people its courts with\nwarlike and lovely forms, its forests with fays and giants.\n\nWindsor, or Wyndleshore, so called from the winding banks of the river\nflowing past it, was the abode of the ancient Saxon monarchs; and a\nlegend is related by William of Malmesbury of a woodman named Wulwin,\nwho being stricken with blindness, and having visited eighty-seven\nchurches and vainly implored their tutelary saints for relief, was at\nlast restored to sight by the touch of Edward the Confessor, who further\nenhanced the boon by making him keeper of his palace at Windsor. But\nthough this story may be doubted, it is certain that the pious king\nabove mentioned granted Windsor to the abbot and monks of Saint Peter at\nWestminster, \u201cfor the hope of eternal reward, the remission of his sins,\nthe sins of his father, mother, and all his ancestors, and to the praise\nof Almighty God, as a perpetual endowment and inheritance.\u201d\n\nBut the royal donation did not long remain in the hands of the\npriesthood. Struck by the extreme beauty of the spot, \u201cfor that it\nseemed exceeding profitable and commodious, because situate so near the\nThames, the wood fit for game, and many other particulars lying there,\nmeet and necessary for kings--yea, a place very convenient for his\nreception,\u201d William the Conqueror prevailed upon Abbot Edwin to accept\nin exchange for it Wakendune and Feringes, in Essex, together with three\nother tenements in Colchester; and having obtained possession of the\ncoveted hill, he forthwith began to erect a castle upon it--occupying a\nspace of about half a hide of land. Around it he formed large parks, to\nenable him to pursue his favourite pastime of hunting; and he enacted\nand enforced severe laws for the preservation of the game.\n\nAs devoted to the chase as his father, William Rufus frequently hunted\nin the forests of Windsor, and solemnised some of the festivals of the\nChurch in the castle.\n\nIn the succeeding reign--namely, that of Henry the First--the castle\nwas entirely rebuilt and greatly enlarged--assuming somewhat of the\ncharacter of a palatial residence, having before been little more than\na strong hunting-seat. The structure then erected in all probability\noccupied the same site as the upper and lower wards of the present pile;\nbut nothing remains of it except perhaps the keep, and of that little\nbeyond its form and position. In 1109 Henry celebrated the feast of\nPentecost with great state and magnificence within the castle. In 1122\nhe there espoused his second wife, Adelicia, daughter of Godfrey, Duke\nof Louvain; and failing in obtaining issue by her, assembled the barons\nat Windsor, and causing them, together with David, King of Scotland,\nhis sister Adela, and her son Stephen, afterwards King of England, to do\nhomage to his daughter Maud, widow of the Emperor Henry the Fifth.\n\nProof that Windsor Castle was regarded as the second fortress in the\nrealm is afforded by the treaty of peace between the usurper Stephen and\nthe Empress Maud, in which it is coupled with the Tower of London under\nthe designation of Mota de Windsor. At the signing of the treaty it was\ncommitted to the custody of Richard de Lucy, who was continued in the\noffice of keeper by Henry the Second.\n\nIn the reign of this monarch many repairs were made in the castle, to\nwhich a vineyard was attached--the cultivation of the grape being at\nthis time extensively practised throughout England. Strange as the\ncircumstance may now appear, Stow mentions that vines grew in abundance\nin the home park in the reign of Richard the Second, the wine made from\nthem being consumed at the king's table, and even sold.\n\nIt is related by Fabian that Henry, stung by the disobedience and\ningratitude of his sons, caused an allegorical picture to be painted,\nrepresenting an old eagle assailed by four young ones, which he placed\nin one of the chambers of the castle. When asked the meaning of the\ndevice, he replied, \u201cI am the old eagle, and the four eaglets are\nmy sons, Who cease not to pursue my death. The youngest bird, who\nis tearing out its parent's eyes, is my son John, my youngest and\nbest-loved son, and who yet is the most eager for my destruction.\u201d\n\nOn his departure for the holy wars Richard Coeur de Lion entrusted the\ngovernment of the castle to Hugh de Pudsey, Bishop of Durham and Earl of\nNorthumberland; but a fierce dispute arising between the warrior-prelate\nand his ambitious colleague, William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, he was\nseized and imprisoned by the latter, and compelled to surrender the\ncastle. After an extraordinary display of ostentation, Longchamp was\nousted in his turn. On the arrival of the news of Richard's capture and\nimprisonment in Austria, the castle was seized by Prince John; but it\nwas soon afterwards taken possession of in the king's behalf by the\nbarons, and consigned to the custody of Eleanor, the queen-dowager.\n\nIn John's reign the castle became the scene of a foul and terrible event\nWilliam de Braose, a powerful baron, having offended the king, his wife\nMaud was ordered to deliver up her son a hostage for her husband.\nBut instead of complying with the injunction, she rashly returned for\nanswer--\u201cthat she would not entrust her child to the person who could\nslay his own nephew.\u201d Upon which the ruthless king seized her and her\nson, and enclosing them in a recess in the wall of the castle, built\nthem up within it.\n\nSorely pressed by the barons in 1215, John sought refuge within the\ncastle, and in the same year signed the two charters, Magna Charta and\nCharta de Foresta, at Runnymede--a plain between Windsor and Staines. A\ncurious account of his frantic demeanour, after divesting himself of\nso much power and extending so greatly the liberties of the subject, is\ngiven by Holinshed:--\u201cHaving acted so far contrary to his mind, the king\nwas right sorrowful in heart, cursed his mother that bare him, and\nthe hour in which he was born; wishing that he had received death by\nviolence of sword or knife instead of natural nourishment. He whetted\nhis teeth, and did bite now on one staff, now on another, as he walked,\nand oft brake the same in pieces when he had done, and with such\ndisordered behaviour and furious gestures he uttered his grief, that\nthe noblemen very well perceived the inclination of his inward affection\nconcerning these things before the breaking-up of the council, and\ntherefore sore lamented the state of the realm, guessing what would\nfollow of his impatience, and displeasant taking of the matter.\u201d\n The faithless king made an attempt to regain his lost power, and war\nbreaking out afresh in the following year, a numerous army, under the\ncommand of William de Nivernois, besieged the castle, which was stoutly\ndefended by Inglehard de Achie and sixty knights. The barons, however,\nlearning that John was marching through Norfolk and Suffolk, and\nravaging the country, hastily raised the siege and advanced to meet him.\nBut he avoided them, marched to Stamford and Lincoln, and from thence\ntowards Wales. On his return from this expedition he was seized with the\ndistemper of which he died.\n\nHenry the Third was an ardent encourager of architecture, and his reign\nmarks the second great epoch in the annals of the castle. In 1223 eight\nhundred marks were paid to Engelhard de Cygony, constable of the castle,\nJohn le Draper, and William the clerk of Windsor, masters of the works,\nand others, for repairs and works within the castle; the latter, it is\nconjectured, referring to the erection of a new great hall within the\nlower ward, there being already a hall of small dimensions in the upper\ncourt. The windows of the new building were filled with painted glass,\nand at the upper end, upon a raised dais, was a gilt throne sustaining\na statue of the king in his robes. Within this vast and richly decorated\nchamber, in 1240, on the day of the Nativity, an infinite number of poor\npersons were collected and fed by the king's command.\n\nDuring the greater part of Henry's long and eventful reign the works\nwithin the castle proceeded with unabated activity. Carpenters were\nmaintained on the royal establishment; the ditch between the hall and\nthe lower ward was repaired; a new kitchen was built; the bridges were\nrepaired with timber procured from the neighbouring forests; certain\nbreaches in the wall facing the garden were stopped; the fortifications\nwere surveyed, and the battlements repaired. At the same time the\nqueen's chamber was painted and wainscoted, and iron bars were placed\nbefore the windows of Prince Edward's chamber. In 1240 Henry commenced\nbuilding an apartment for his own use near the wall of the castle,\nsixty feet long and twenty-eight high; another apartment for the queen\ncontiguous to it; and a chapel, seventy feet long and twenty-eight feet\nwide, along the same wall, but with a grassy space between it and the\nroyal apartments. The chapel, as appears from an order to Walter de\nGrey, Archbishop of York, had a Galilee and a cloister, a lofty wooden\nroof covered with lead, and a stone turret in front holding three or\nfour bells. Withinside it was made to appear like stone-work with good\nceiling and painting, and it contained four gilded images.\n\nThis structure is supposed to have been in existence, under the\ndesignation of the Old College Church, in the latter part of the reign\nof Henry the Seventh, by whom it was pulled down to make way for the\ntomb-house. Traces of its architecture have been discovered by diligent\nantiquarian research in the south ambulatory of the Dean's Cloister, and\nin the door behind the altar in St. George's Chapel, the latter of\nwhich is conceived to have formed the principal entrance to the older\nstructure, and has been described as exhibiting \u201cone of the most\nbeautiful specimens which time and innovation have respected of the\nelaborate ornamental work of the period.\u201d\n\nIn 1241 Henry commenced operations upon the outworks of the castle, and\nthe three towers on the western side of the lower ward--now known as the\nCurfew, the Garter, and the Salisbury Towers--were erected by him. He\nalso continued the walls along the south side of the lower ward, traces\nof the architecture of the period being discoverable in the inner walls\nof the houses of the alms-knights as far as the tower now bearing his\nname. From thence it is concluded that the ramparts ran along the east\nside of the upper ward to a tower occupying the site of the Wykeham or\nWinchester Tower.\n\nThe three towers at the west end of the lower ward, though much\ndilapidated, present unquestionable features of the architecture of the\nthirteenth century. The lower storey of the Curfew Tower, which has been\nbut little altered, consists of a large vaulted chamber, twenty-two feet\nwide, with walls of nearly thirteen feet in thickness, and having\narched recesses terminated by loopholes. The walls are covered with the\ninscriptions of prisoners who have been confined within it. The Garter\nTower, though in a most ruinous condition, exhibits high architectural\nbeauty in its moulded arches and corbelled passages. The Salisbury Tower\nretains only externally, and on the side towards the town, its original\naspect. The remains of a fourth tower are discernible in the Governor\nof the Alms-Knights' Tower; and Henry the Third's Tower, as\nbefore observed, completes what remains of the original chain of\nfortifications.\n\nOn the 24th of November 1244 Henry issued a writ enjoining \u201cthe clerks\nof the works at Windsor to work day and night to wainscot the high\nchamber upon the wall of the castle near our chapel in the upper bailey,\nso that it may be ready and properly wainscoted on Friday next [the 24th\noccurring on a Tuesday, only two days were allowed for the task], when\nwe come there, with boards radiated and coloured, so that nothing be\nfound reprehensible in that wainscot; and also to make at each gable of\nthe said chamber one glass window, on the outside of the inner window\nof each gable, so that when the inner window shall be closed the glass\nwindows may be seen outside.\u201d\n\nThe following year the works were suspended, but they were afterwards\nresumed and continued, with few interruptions; the keep was new\nconstructed; a stone bench was fixed in the wall near the grass-plot by\nthe king's chamber; a bridge was thrown across the ditch to the king's\ngarden, which lay outside the walls; a barbican was erected, to which\na portcullis was subsequently attached; the bridges were defended by\nstrong iron chains; the old chambers in the upper ward were renovated;\na conduit and lavatory were added; and a fountain was constructed in the\ngarden.\n\nIn this reign, in all probability, the Norman Tower, which now forms a\ngateway between the middle and the upper ward, was erected. This tower,\nat present allotted to the house keeper of the castle, Lady Mary Fox,\nwas used as a prison-lodging during the civil wars of Charles the\nFirst's time; and many noble and gallant captives have left mementoes of\ntheir loyalty and ill fate upon its walls.\n\nIn 1260 Henry received a visit to Windsor from his daughter Margaret,\nand her husband, Alexander the Third, King of Scotland. The queen gave\nbirth to a daughter during her stay at the castle.\n\nIn 1264, during the contest between Henry and the barons, the valiant\nPrince Edward, his son, returning from a successful expedition into\nWales, surprised the citizens of London, and carrying off their\nmilitary chest, in which was much treasure, retired to Windsor Castle\nand strongly garrisoned it. The Queen Eleanor, his mother, would fain\nhave joined him there, but she was driven back by the citizens at London\nBridge, and compelled to take sanctuary in the palace of the Bishop of\nLondon, at St. Paul's.\n\nCompelled at length to surrender the castle to the barons, and to depart\nfrom it with his consort, Eleanor of Castile, the brave prince soon\nafterwards recovered it, but was again forced to deliver it up to\nSimon de Montford, Earl of Leicester, who appointed Geoffrey de Langele\ngovernor. But though frequently wrested from him at this period, Windsor\nCastle was never long out of Henry's possession; and in 1265 the chief\ncitizens of London were imprisoned till they had paid the heavy fine\nimposed upon them for their adherence to Simon de Montford, who had been\njust before slain at the battle of Evesham.\n\nDuring this reign a terrific storm of wind and thunder occurred, which\ntore up several great trees in the park, shook the castle, and blew down\na part of the building in which the queen and her family were lodged,\nbut happily without doing them injury.\n\nFour of the children of Edward the First, who was blessed with a\nnumerous offspring, were born at Windsor; and as he frequently\nresided at the castle, the town began to increase in importance and\nconsideration. By a charter granted in 1276 it was created a free\nborough, and various privileges were conferred on its inhabitants. Stow\ntells us that in 1295, on the last day of February, there suddenly arose\nsuch a fire in the castle of Windsor that many offices were therewith\nconsumed, and many goodly images, made to beautify the buildings,\ndefaced and deformed.\n\nEdward the Second, and his beautiful but perfidious queen, Isabella of\nFrance, made Windsor Castle their frequent abode; and here, on the 13th\nday of November 1312 at forty minutes past five in the morning, was\nborn a prince, over whose nativity the wizard Merlin must have presided.\nBaptized within the old chapel by the name of Edward, this prince became\nafterwards the third monarch of the name, and the greatest, and was also\nstyled, from the place of his birth, EDWARD OF WINDSOR.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n     Comprising the Third Great Epoch in the History of the\n     Castle--And showing how the Most Noble Order of the Garter\n     was instituted.\n\n\nStrongly attached to the place of his birth, Edward the Third, by his\nletters patent dated from Westminster, in the twenty-second year of his\nreign, now founded the ancient chapel established by Henry the First,\nand dedicated it to the Virgin, Saint George of Cappadocia, and Saint\nEdward the Confessor; ordaining that to the eight canons appointed by\nhis predecessor there should be added one custos, fifteen more canons,\nand twenty-four alms-knights; the whole to be maintained out of the\nrevenues with which the chapel was to be endowed. The institution was\nconfirmed by Pope Clement the Sixth, by a bull issued at Avignon the\n13th of November 1351.\n\nIn 1349, before the foundation of the college had been confirmed, as\nabove related, Edward instituted the Order of the Garter. The origin of\nthis illustrious Order has been much disputed. By some writers it has\nbeen ascribed to Richard Coeur de Lion, who is said to have girded a\nleathern band round the legs of his bravest knights in. Palestine. By\nothers it has been asserted that it arose from the word \u201cgarter\u201d having\nbeen used as a watchword by Edward at the battle of Cressy. Others again\nhave stoutly maintained that its ringlike form bore mysterious reference\nto the Round Table. But the popular legend, to which, despite the doubts\nthrown upon it, credence still attaches, declares its origin to be as\nfollows: Joan, Countess of Salisbury, a beautiful dame, of whom Edward\nwas enamoured, while dancing at a high festival accidentally slipped\nher garter, of blue embroidered velvet. It was picked up by her royal\npartner, who, noticing the significant looks of his courtiers on the\noccasion, used the words to them which afterwards became the motto of\nthe Order--\u201cHoni soit qui mal y pense;\u201d adding that \u201cin a short time\nthey should see that garter advanced to so high honour and estimation as\nto account themselves happy to wear it.\u201d\n\nBut whatever may have originated the Order, it unquestionably owes\nits establishment to motives of policy. Wise as valiant, and bent upon\nprosecuting his claim to the crown of France, Edward, as a means of\naccomplishing his object, resolved to collect beneath his standard the\nbest knights in Europe, and to lend a colour to the design, he gave\nforth that he intended a restoration of King Arthur's Round Table, and\naccordingly commenced constructing within the castle a large circular\nbuilding of two hundred feet in diameter, in which he placed a round\ntable. On the completion of the work, he issued proclamations throughout\nEngland, Scotland, France, Burgundy, Flanders, Brabant, and the Empire,\ninviting all knights desirous of approving their valour to a solemn\nfeast and jousts to be holden within the castle of Windsor on Saint\nGeorge's Day, 1345. The scheme was completely successful. The flower of\nthe chivalry of Europe--excepting that of Philip the Sixth of France,\nwho, seeing through the design, interdicted the attendance of his\nknights-were present at the tournament, which was graced by Edward\nand his chief nobles, together with his queen and three hundred of\nher fairest dames, \u201cadorned with all imaginable gallantry.\u201d At this\nchivalrous convocation the institution of the Order of the Garter\nwas arranged; but before its final establishment Edward assembled his\nprincipal barons and knights, to determine upon the regulations, when it\nwas decided that the number should be limited to twenty-six.\n\nThe first installation took place on the anniversary of Saint George,\nthe patron of the Order, 1349, when the king, accompanied by the\ntwenty-five knights'-companions, attired in gowns of russet, with\nmantles of fine blue woollen cloth, powdered with garters, and hearing\nthe other insignia of the Order, marched bareheaded in solemn procession\nto the chapel of Saint George, then recently rebuilt, where mass was\nperformed by William Edington, Bishop of Winchester, after which they\npartook of a magnificent banquet. The festivities were continued for\nseveral days. At the jousts held on this occasion, David, King of\nScotland, the Lord Charles of Blois, and Ralph, Earl of Eu and Guisnes,\nand Constable of France, to whom the chief prize of the day was\nadjudged, with others, then prisoners, attended. The harness of the King\nof Scotland, embroidered with a pale of red velvet, and beneath it a\nred rose, was provided at Edward's own charge. This suit of armour was,\nuntil a few years back, preserved in the Round Tower, where the royal\nprisoner was confined. Edward's device was a white swan, gorged, or,\nwith the \u201cdaring and inviting\u201d motto--\n\nHay hay the wythe swan By God's soul I am thy man.\n\nThe insignia of the Order in the days of its founder were the garter,\nmantle, surcoat, and hood, the George and collar being added by Henry\nthe Eighth. The mantle, as before intimated, was originally of fine blue\nwoollen cloth; but velvet, lined with taffeta, was substituted by\nHenry the Sixth, the left shoulder being adorned with the arms of Saint\nGeorge, embroidered within a garter. Little is known of the materials\nof which the early garter was composed; but it is supposed to have been\nadorned with gold, and fastened with a buckle of the same metal.\nThe modern garter is of blue velvet, bordered with gold wire, and\nembroidered with the motto, \u201cHoni soit qui mal y pense.\u201d It is worn on\nthe left leg, a little below the knee. The most magnificent garter\nthat ever graced a sovereign was that presented to Charles the First by\nGustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, each letter in the motto of which was\ncomposed of diamonds. The collar is formed of pieces of gold fashioned\nlike garters, with a blue enamelled ground. The letters of the motto are\nin gold, with a rose enamelled red in the centre of each garter. From\nthe collar hangs the George, an ornament enriched with precious stones,\nand displaying the figure of the saint encountering the dragon.\n\nThe officers of the Order are the prelate, represented by the Bishop\nof Winchester; the Chancellor, by the Bishop of Oxford; the registrar,\ndean, garter king-at-arms, and the usher of the black rod. Among the\nforeign potentates who have been invested with the Order are eight\nemperors of Germany, two of Russia, five kings of France, three of\nSpain, one of Arragon, seven of Portugal, one of Poland, two of Sweden,\nsix of Denmark, two of Naples, one of Sicily and Jerusalem, one of\nBohemia, two of Scotland, seven princes of Orange, and many of the most\nillustrious personages of different ages in Europe.\n\nTruly hath the learned Selden written, \u201cthat the Order of the Garter\nhath not only precedency of antiquity before the eldest rank of honour\nof that kind anywhere established, but it exceeds in majesty, honour,\nand fame all chivalrous orders in the world.\u201d Well also hath glorious\nDryden, in the \u201cFlower and the Leaf,\u201d sung the praises of the\nillustrious Institution:--\n\n\u201cBehold an order yet of newer date, Doubling their number, equal in\ntheir state; Our England's ornament, the crown's defence, In battle\nbrave, protectors of their prince: Unchanged by fortune, to their\nsovereign true, For which their manly legs are bound with blue. These\nof the Garter call'd, of faith unstain'd, In fighting fields the laurel\nhave obtain'd, And well repaid the laurels which they gained.\u201d\n\nIn 1357 John, King of France, defeated at the battle of Poitiers by\nEdward the Black Prince, was brought captive to Windsor; and on the\nfestival of Saint George in the following year; 1358, Edward outshone\nall his former splendid doings by a tournament which he gave in honour\nof his royal prisoner. Proclamation having been made as before, and\nletters of safe conduct issued, the nobles and knighthood of Almayne,\nGascoigne, Scotland, and other countries, flocked to attend it, The\nQueen of Scotland, Edward's sister, was present at the jousts; and it is\nsaid that John, commenting upon the splendour of the spectacle, shrewdly\nobserved \u201cthat he never saw or knew such royal shows and feastings\nwithout some after-reckoning.\u201d The same monarch replied to his\nkingly captor, who sought to rouse him from dejection, on another\noccasion--\u201cQuomodo cantabimus canticum in terra aliena!\u201d\n\nThat his works might not be retarded for want of hands, Edward in the\ntwenty-fourth year of his reign appointed John de Sponlee master of the\nstonehewers, with a power not only \u201cto take and keep, as well within\nthe liberties as without, as many masons and other artificers as were\nnecessary, and to convey them to Windsor, but to arrest and imprison\nsuch as should disobey or refuse; with a command to all sheriffs,\nmayors, bailiffs, etc., to assist him.\u201d These powers were fully acted\nupon at a later period, when some of the workmen, having left their\nemployment, were thrown into Newgate; while the place of others, who had\nbeen carried off by a pestilence then raging in the castle, was supplied\nby impressment.\n\nIn 1356 WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM was constituted superintendent of the works,\nwith the same powers as John de Sponlee, and his appointment marks\nan important era in the annals of the castle. Originally secretary to\nEdward the Third, this remarkable man became Bishop of Winchester and\nprelate of the Garter. When he solicited the bishopric, it is said\nthat Edward told him he was neither a priest nor a scholar; to which he\nreplied that he would soon be the one, and in regard to the other, he\nwould make more scholars than all the bishops of England ever did. He\nmade good his word by founding the collegiate school at Winchester, and\nerecting New College at Oxford. When the Winchester Tower was finished,\nhe caused the words, HOC FECIT WYKEHAM, to be carved upon it; and the\nking, offended at his presumption, Wykeham turned away his displeasure\nby declaring that the inscription meant that the castle had made him,\nand not that he had made the castle. It is a curious coincidence that\nthis tower, after a lapse of four centuries and a half, should become\nthe residence of an architect possessing the genius of Wykeham, and who,\nlike him, had rebuilt the kingly edifice--SIR JEFFRY WYATVILLE.\n\nWilliam of Wykeham retired from office, loaded with honours, in 1362,\nand was succeeded by William de Mulso. He was interred in the cathedral\nat Winchester. His arms were argent, two chevrons, sable, between three\nroses, gules, with the motto--\u201cManners maketh man.\u201d\n\nIn 1359 Holinshed relates that the king \u201cset workmen in hand to take\ndown much old buildings belonging to the castle, and caused divers other\nfine and sumptuous works to be set up in and about the same castle, so\nthat almost all the masons and carpenters that were of any account\nin the land were sent for and employed about the same works.\u201d The old\nbuildings here referred to were probably the remains of the palace and\nkeep of Henry the First in the middle ward.\n\nAs the original chapel dedicated to Saint George was demolished by\nEdward the Fourth, its position and form cannot be clearly determined,\nBut a conjecture has been hazarded that it occupied the same ground as\nthe choir of the present chapel, and extended farther eastward.\n\n\u201cUpon the question of its style,\u201d says Mr. Poynter, from whose valuable\naccount of the castle much information has been derived, \u201cthere is the\nevidence of two fragments discovered near this site, a corbel and\na piscina, ornamented with foliage strongly characteristic of the\nDecorated English Gothic, and indicating, by the remains of colour\non their surfaces, that they belonged to an edifice adorned in the\npolychromatic style, so elaborately developed in the chapel already\nbuilt by Edward the Third at Westminster.\u201d\n\nThe royal lodgings, Saint George's Hall, the buildings on the east and\nnorth sides of the upper ward, the Round Tower, the canons' houses in\nthe lower ward, and the whole circumference of the castle, exclusive of\nthe towers erected in Henry the Third's reign, were now built. Among the\nearlier works in Edward's reign is the Dean's Cloister. The square of\nthe upper ward, added by this monarch, occupied a space of four\nhundred and twenty feet, and encroached somewhat upon the middle ward.\nExternally the walls presented a grim, regular appearance, broken only\nby the buttresses, and offering no other apertures than the narrow\nloopholes and gateways. Some traces of the architecture of the period\nmay still be discerned in the archway and machecoulis of the principal\ngateway adjoining the Round Tower; the basement chamber of the Devil\nTower, or Edward the Third's Tower; and in the range of groined and\nfour-centred vaulting, extending along the north side of the upper\nquadrangle, from the kitchen gateway to King John's Tower.\n\nIn 1359 Queen Philippa, consort of Edward the Third, breathed her last\nin Windsor Castle.\n\nRichard the Second, grandson of Edward the Third, frequently kept his\ncourt at Windsor. Here, in 1382, it was determined by council that war\nshould be declared against France; and here, sixteen years later, on a\nscaffold erected within the castle, the famous appeal for high treason\nwas made by Henry of Lancaster, Duke of Hereford, against Thomas\nMowbray, Duke of Norfolk, the latter of whom defied his accuser to\nmortal combat. The duel was stopped by the king, and the adversaries\nbanished; but the Duke of Lancaster afterwards returned to depose his\nbanisher. About the same time, the citizens of London having refused\nRichard a large loan, he summoned the lord mayor, sheriffs, aldermen,\nand twenty-four of the principal citizens, to his presence, and after\nrating them soundly, ordered them all into custody, imprisoning the lord\nmayor in the castle.\n\nIn this reign Geoffrey Chaucer, \u201cthe father of English poetry,\u201d was\nappointed clerk to the works of Saint George's Chapel, at a salary of\ntwo shillings per day (a sum equal to 657 pounds per annum of modern\nmoney), with the same arbitrary power as had been granted to previous\nsurveyors to impress carpenters and masons. Chaucer did not retain his\nappointment more than twenty months, and was succeeded by John Gedney.\n\nIt was at Windsor that Henry the Fourth, scarcely assured of the crown\nhe had seized, received intelligence of a conspiracy against his life\nfrom the traitorous Aumerle, who purchased his own safety at the expense\nof his confederates. The timely warning enabled the king to baffle the\ndesign. It was in Windsor also that the children of Mortimer, Earl of\nMarch, the rightful successor to the throne, were detained as hostages\nfor their father. Liberated by the Countess-dowager of Gloucester,\nwho contrived to open their prison door with false keys, the youthful\ncaptives escaped to the marshes of Wales, where, however, they were\novertaken by the emissaries of Henry, and brought back to their former\nplace of confinement.\n\nA few years later another illustrious prisoner was brought to\nWindsor--namely, Prince James, the son of King Robert the Third, and\nafterwards James the First of Scotland. This prince remained a captive\nfor upwards of eighteen years; not being released till 1424, in the\nsecond of Henry the Sixth, by the Duke of Bedford, then regent. James's\ncaptivity, and his love for Jane of Beaufort, daughter of the Duke of\nSomerset, and granddaughter to John of Gaunt, to whom he was united,\nhave breathed a charm over the Round Tower, where he was confined; and\nhis memory, like that of the chivalrous and poetical Surrey, whom he\nresembled in character and accomplishments, will be ever associated with\nit.\n\nIn the \u201cKing's Quair,\u201d the royal poet has left an exquisite picture of a\ngarden nook, contrived within the dry moat of the dungeon.\n\n\u201cNow was there made, fast by the tower's wall, A garden faire, and in\nthe corners set An arbour green with wandis long and small Railed about,\nand so with leaves beset Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet,\nThat lyf was none, walking there forbye, That might within scarce any\nwight espy. So thick the branches and the leave's green Beshaded all\nthe alleys that there were. And midst of every harbour might be seen\nThe sharpe, green, sweet juniper, Growing so fair with branches here\nand there, That as it seemed to a lyf without The boughs did spread the\narbour all about.\u201d\n\nAnd he thus describes the first appearance of the lovely Jane, and the\neffect produced upon him by her charms:\n\n\u201cAnd therewith cast I down mine eye again, Where as I saw walking under\nthe tower, Full secretly, new comyn her to plain, The fairest and the\nfreshest younge flower That e'er I saw, methought, before that hour;\nFor which sudden abate, anon did start The blood of all my body to my\nheart.\u201d\n\nHenry the Fifth occasionally kept his court at Windsor, and in 1416\nentertained with great magnificence the Emperor Sigismund, who brought\nwith him an invaluable relic--the heart of Saint George--which he\nbestowed upon the chapter. The emperor was at the same time invested\nwith the Order.\n\nIn 1421 the unfortunate Henry the Sixth was born within the castle, and\nin 1484 he was interred within it.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n     Comprising the Fourth Epoch in the History of the Castle--\n     And showing how Saint George's Chapel was rebuilt by King\n     Edward the Fourth.\n\n\nFinding the foundation and walls of Saint George's Chapel much\ndilapidated and decayed, Edward the Fourth resolved to pull down the\npile, and build a larger and statelier structure in its place. With this\nview, he constituted Richard Beauchamp, Bishop of Salisbury, surveyor\nof the works, from whose designs arose the present beautiful edifice. To\nenable the bishop to accomplish the work, power was given him to remove\nall obstructions, and to enlarge the space by the demolition of the\nthree buildings then commonly called Clure's Tower, Berner's Tower, and\nthe Almoner's Tower.\n\nThe zeal and assiduity with which Beauchamp prosecuted his task is\nadverted to in the patent of his appointment to the office of chancellor\nof the Garter, the preamble whereof recites, \u201cthat out of mere love\ntowards the Order, he had given himself the leisure daily to attend the\nadvancement and progress of this goodly fabric.\u201d\n\nThe chapel, however, was not completed in one reign, or by one\narchitect. Sir Reginald Bray, prime minister of Henry the Seventh,\nsucceeded Bishop Beauchamp as surveyor of the works, and it was by him\nthat the matchless roof of the choir and other parts of the fabric were\nbuilt. Indeed, the frequent appearance of Bray's arms, sometimes single,\nsometimes impaling his alliances, in many parts of the ceiling and\nwindows, has led to the supposition that he himself contributed largely\nto the expense of the work. The groined ceiling of the chapel was\nnot commenced till the twenty-seventh year of the reign of Henry the\nSeventh, when the pinnacles of the roof were decorated with vanes,\nsupported by gilt figures of lions, antelopes, greyhounds, and dragons,\nthe want of which is still a detriment to the external beauty of the\nstructure.\n\n\u201cThe main vaulting of St. George's Chapel,\u201d says Mr. Poynter, \u201cis\nperhaps, without exception, the most beautiful specimen of the Gothic\nstone roof in existence; but it has been very improperly classed with\nthose of the same architectural period in the chapels of King's College,\nCambridge, and Henry the Seventh, at Westminster. The roofing of the\naisle and the centre compartment of the body of the building are indeed\nin that style, but the vault of the nave and choir differ essentially\nfrom fan vaulting, both in drawing and construction. It is, in fact,\na waggon-headed vault, broken by Welsh groins--that is to say, groins\nwhich cut into the main arch below the apex. It is not singular in the\nprinciple of its design, but it is unique in its proportions, in which\nthe exact mean seems to be attained between the poverty and monotony of\na waggon-headed ceiling and the ungraceful effect of a mere groined roof\nwith a depressed roof or large span--to which may be added, that with a\nrichness of effect scarcely, if at all, inferior to fan tracery, it\nis free from those abrupt junctions of the lines and other defects of\ndrawing inevitable when the length and breadth of the compartments of\nfan vaulting differ very much, of which King's College Chapel exhibits\nsome notable instances.\u201d\n\nSupported by these exquisite ribs and groins, the ceiling is decorated\nwith heraldic insignia, displaying the arms of Edward the Confessor,\nEdward the Third, Edward the Black Prince, Henry the Sixth, Edward\nthe Fourth, Henry the Seventh, and Henry the Eighth; with the arms of\nEngland and France quartered, the holy cross, the shield or cross of\nSaint George, the rose, portcullis, lion rampant, unicorn, fleur-de-lis,\ndragon, and prince's feathers, together with the arms of a multitude of\nnoble families. In the nave are emblazoned the arms of Henry the Eighth,\nand of several knights-companions, among which are those of Charles the\nFifth, Francis the First, and Ferdinand, Infant of Spain. The extreme\nlightness and graceful proportions of the pillars lining the aisles\ncontribute greatly to the effect of this part of the structure.\n\nBeautiful, however, as is the body of the chapel, it is not comparable\nto the choir. Here, and on either side, are ranged the stalls of the\nknights, formerly twenty-six in number, but now increased to thirty-two,\nelaborately carved in black oak, and covered by canopies of the richest\ntabernacle-work, supported by slender pillars. On the pedestals is\nrepresented the history of the Saviour, and on the front of the stalls\nat the west end of the choir is carved the legend of Saint George; while\non the outside of the upper seat is cut, in old Saxon characters, the\ntwentieth Psalm in Latin. On the canopies of the stalls are placed the\nmantle, helmet, coat, and sword of the knights-companions; and above\nthem are hung their emblazoned banners. On the back of each stall are\nfixed small enamelled plates, graven with the titles of the knights\nwho have occupied it. The ancient stall of the sovereign was removed in\n1788, and a new seat erected.\n\nThe altar was formerly adorned with costly hangings of crimson velvet\nand gold, but these, together with the consecrated vessels of great\nvalue, were seized by order of Parliament in 1642 amid the general\nplunder of the foundation. The service of the altar was replaced by\nCharles the Second.\n\nThe sovereign's stall is immediately on the right on the entrance to the\nchoir, and the prince's on the left. The queen's closet is on the\nnorth side above the altar. Beneath it is the beautiful and\nelaborately-wrought framework of iron, representing a pair of gates\nbetween two Gothic towers, designed as a screen to the tomb of Edward\nthe Fourth, and which, though popularly attributed to Quentin Matsys,\nhas with more justice been assigned to Master John Tressilian.\n\nOne great blemish to the chapel exists in the window over the altar,\nthe mullions and tracery of which have been removed to make way for\ndull colourless copies in painted glass of West's designs. Instead of\n--\u201cblushing with the blood of kings, And twilight saints, and dim\nemblazonings\u201d--steeping the altar in rich suffusion, chequering the\nwalls and pavement with variegated hues, and filling the whole sacred\nspot with a warm and congenial glow, these panes produce a cold,\ncheerless, and most disagreeable effect.\n\nThe removal of this objectionable feature, and the restoration of\nframework and compartments in the style of the original, and enriched\nwith ancient mellow-toned and many-hued glass in keeping with the place,\nare absolutely indispensable to the completeness and unity of character\nof the chapel. Two clerestory windows at the east end of the choir,\nadjoining the larger window, have been recently filled with stained\nglass in much better taste.\n\nThe objections above made may be urged with equal force against the east\nand west windows of the south aisle of the body of the fane, and the\nwest window of the north aisle. The glorious west window, composed of\neighty compartments, embellished with figures of kings, patriarchs, and\nbishops, together with the insignia of the Garter and the arms of the\nprelates--the wreck gathered from all the other windows--and streaming\nwith the radiance of the setting sun upon the broad nave and graceful\npillars of the aisles--this superb window, an admirable specimen of the\narchitecture of the age in which it was designed, had well-nigh shared\nthe fate of the others, and was only preserved from desecration by the\ncircumstance of the death of the glass-painter. The mullions of this\nwindow being found much decayed, were carefully and consistently\nrestored during the last year by Mr. Blore, and the ancient stained\nglass replaced.\n\nNot only does Saint George's Chapel form a house of prayer and a temple\nof chivalry, but it is also the burial-place of kings. At the east end\nof the north aisle of the choir is a plain flag, bearing the words--\n\nKing Edward IIII. And his Queen Elizabeth Widville.\n\nThe coat of mail and surcoat, decorated with rubies and precious stones,\ntogether with other rich trophies once ornamenting this tomb, were\ncarried off by the Parliamentary plunderers. Edward's queen, Elizabeth\nWoodville, it was thought, slept beside him; but when the royal tomb was\nopened in 1789, and the two coffins within it examined, the smaller one\nwas found empty. The queen's body was subsequently discovered in a stone\ncoffin by the workmen employed in excavating the vault for George the\nThird. Edward's coffin was seven feet long, and contained a perfect\nskeleton. On the opposite aisle, near the choir door, as already\nmentioned, rests the ill-fated Henry the Sixth, beneath an arch\nsumptuously embellished by Henry the Eighth, on the key-stone of which\nmay still be seen his arms, supported by two antelopes connected by a\ngolden chain. Henry's body was removed from Chertsey, where it was first\ninterred, and reburied in 1484, with much solemnity, in this spot. Such\nwas the opinion entertained of his sanctity that miracles were supposed\nto be wrought upon his tomb, and Henry the Seventh applied to have\nhim canonised, but the demands of the Pope were too exorbitant. The\nproximity of Henry and Edward in death suggested the following lines to\nPope--\n\n\u201cHere, o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps, And fast beside him\nonce-fear'd Edward sleeps; The grave unites, where e'en the grave finds\nrest, And mingled here the oppressor and the opprest.\u201d\n\nIn the royal vault in the choir repose Henry the Eighth and his third\nqueen Jane Seymour, together with the martyred Charles the First.\n\nSpace only permits the hasty enumeration of the different chapels and\nchantries adorning this splendid fane. These are Lincoln Chapel, near\nwhich Richard Beauchamp, Bishop of Salisbury, is buried; Oxenbridge\nChapel; Aldworth Chapel; Bray Chapel, where rests the body of Sir\nReginald de Bray, the architect of the pile; Beaufort Chapel, containing\nsumptuous monuments of the noble family of that name; Rutland Chapel;\nHastings Chapel; and Urswick Chapel, in which is now placed the cenotaph\nof the Princess Charlotte, sculptured by Matthew Wyatt.\n\nIn a vault near the sovereign's stall lie the remains of the Duke of\nGloucester, who died in 1805, and of his duchess, who died two years\nafter him. And near the entrance of the south door is a slab of grey\nmarble, beneath which lies \\one who in his day filled the highest\noffices of the realm, and was the brother of a king and the husband of a\nqueen. It is inscribed with the great name of Charles Brandon.\n\nAt the east end of the north aisle is the chapter-house, in which is a\nportrait and the sword of state of Edward the Third.\n\nAdjoining the chapel on the east stands the royal tombhouse. Commenced\nby Henry the Seventh as a mausoleum, but abandoned for the chapel in\nWestminster Abbey, this structure was granted by Henry the Eighth to\nWolsey, who, intending it as a place of burial for himself, erected\nwithin it a sumptuous monument of black and white marble, with eight\nlarge brazen columns placed around it, and four others in the form of\ncandlesticks.\n\nAt the time of the cardinal's disgrace, when the building reverted to\nthe crown, the monument was far advanced towards completion--the vast\nsum of 4280 ducats having been paid to Benedetto, a Florentine sculptor,\nfor work, and nearly four hundred pounds for gilding part of it. This\ntomb was stripped of its ornaments and destroyed by the Parliamentary\nrebels in 1646; but the black marble sarcophagus forming part of it, and\nintended as a receptacle for Wolsey's own remains, escaped destruction,\nand now covers the grave of Nelson in a crypt of Saint Paul's Cathedral.\n\nHenry the Eighth was not interred in this mausoleum, but in Saint\nGeorge's Chapel, as has just been mentioned, and as he himself directed,\n\u201cmidway between the state and the high altar.\u201d Full instructions\nwere left by him for the erection of a monument which, if it had been\ncompleted, would have been truly magnificent. The pavement was to be of\noriental stones, with two great steps upon it of the same material. The\ntwo pillars of the church between which the tomb was to be set were to\nbe covered with bas-reliefs, representing the chief events of the Old\nTestament, angels with gilt garlands, fourteen images of the prophets,\nthe apostles, the evangelists, and the four doctors of the Church, and\nat the foot of every image a little child with a basket full of red and\nwhite roses enamelled and gilt. Between these pillars, on a basement of\nwhite marble, the epitaphs of the king and queen were to be written in\nletters of gold.\n\nOn the same basement were to be two tombs of black touchstone supporting\nthe images of the king and queen, not as dead, but sleeping, \u201cto show,\u201d\n so runs the order, \u201cthat famous princes leaving behind them great fame\ndo never die.\u201d On the right hand, at either corner of the tomb, was to\nbe an angel holding the king's arms, with a great candlestick, and\nat the opposite corners two other angels hearing the queen's arms and\ncandlesticks. Between the two black tombs was to rise a high basement,\nlike a sepulchre, surmounted by a statue of the king on horseback, in\narmour--both figures to be \u201cof the whole stature of a goodly man and\na large horse.\u201d Over this statue was to be a canopy, like a triumphal\narch, of white marble, garnished with oriental stones of divers colours,\nwith the history of Saint John the Baptist wrought in gilt brass upon\nit, with a crowning group of the Father holding the soul of the king in\nhis right hand and the soul of the queen in his left, and blessing them.\nThe height of the monument was to be twenty-eight feet.\n\nThe number of statues was to be one hundred and thirty-four, with\nforty-four bas-reliefs. It would be matter of infinite regret that this\ngreat design was never executed, if its destruction by the Parliamentary\nplunderers would not in that case have been also matter of certainty.\n\nCharles the First intended to fit up this structure as a royal\nmausoleum, but was diverted from the plan by the outbreak of the civil\nwar. It was afterwards used as a chapel by James the Second, and mass\nwas publicly performed in it. The ceiling was painted by Verrio, and the\nwalls highly ornamented; but the decorations were greatly injured by the\nfury of an anti-Catholic mob, who assailed the building, and destroyed\nits windows, on the occasion of a banquet given to the Pope's nuncio by\nthe king.\n\nIn this state it continued till the commencement of the present century,\nwhen the exterior was repaired by George the Third, and a vault,\nseventy feet in length, twenty-eight in width, and fourteen in depth,\nconstructed within it, for the reception of the royal family. Catacombs,\nformed of massive octangular pillars, and supporting ranges of shelves,\nline the walls on either side.\n\nAt the eastern extremity there are five niches, and in the middle twelve\nlow tombs. A subterranean passage leads from the vault beneath the choir\nof Saint George's altar to the sepulchre. Within it are deposited the\nbodies of George the Third and Queen Charlotte, the Princesses Amelia\nand Charlotte, the Dukes of Kent and York, and the last two sovereigns,\nGeorge the Fourth and William the Fourth.\n\nBut to return to the reign of Edward the Fourth, from which the desire\nto bring down the history of Saint George's Chapel to the present time\nhas led to the foregoing digression. About the same time that the chapel\nwas built, habitations for the dean and canons were erected on the\nnorth-east of the fane, while another range of dwellings for the minor\ncanons was built at its west end, disposed in the form of a fetterlock,\none of the badges of Edward the Fourth, and since called the Horse-shoe\nCloisters. The ambulatory of these cloisters once displayed a fine\nspecimen of the timber architecture of Henry the Seventh's time, when\nthey were repaired, but little of their original character can now be\ndiscerned.\n\nIn 1482 Edward, desirous of advancing his popularity with the citizens\nof London, invited the lord mayor and aldermen to Windsor, where he\nfeasted them royally, and treated them to the pleasures of the chase,\nsending them back to their spouses loaded with game.\n\nIn 1484 Richard the Third kept the feast of Saint George at Windsor, and\nthe building of the chapel was continued during his reign.\n\nThe picturesque portion of the castle on the north side of the upper\nward, near the Norman Gateway, and which is one of the noblest Gothic\nfeatures of the proud pile, was built by Henry the Seventh, whose name\nit still bears. The side of this building looking towards the terrace\nwas originally decorated with two rich windows, but one of them has\ndisappeared, and the other has suffered much damage.\n\nIn 1500 the deanery was rebuilt by Dean Urswick. At the lower end of\nthe court, adjoining the canons' houses behind the Horse-shoe Cloisters,\nstands the Collegiate Library, the date of which is uncertain, though it\nmay perhaps be referred to this period. The establishment was enriched\nin later times by a valuable library, bequeathed to it by the Earl of\nRanelagh.\n\nIn 1506 Windsor was the scene of great festivity, in consequence of the\nunexpected arrival of Philip, King of Castile, and his queen, who had\nbeen driven by stress of weather into Weymouth. The royal visitors\nremained for several weeks at the castle, during which it continued a\nscene of revelry, intermixed with the sports of the chase. At the same\ntime Philip was invested with the Order of the Garter, and installed in\nthe chapel of St. George.\n\nThe great gateway to the lower ward was built in the commencement of\nthe reign of Henry the Eighth; it is decorated with his arms and\ndevices--the rose, portcullis, and fleur-de-lis, and with the bearings\nof Catherine of Arragon. In 1522 Charles the Fifth visited Windsor, and\nwas installed I knight of the Garter.\n\nDuring a period of dissension in the council, Edward the Sixth was\nremoved for safety to Windsor by the Lord Protector Somerset, and here,\nat a later period, the youthful monarch received a letter from the\ncouncil urging the dismissal of Somerset, with which, by the advice of\nthe Arch-bishop of Canterbury, he complied.\n\nIn this reign an undertaking to convey water to the castle from\nBlackmore Park, near Wingfield, a distance of five miles, was commenced,\nthough it was not till 1555, in the time of Mary, that the plan was\naccomplished, when a pipe was brought into the upper ward, \u201cand there\nthe water plenteously did rise thirteen feet high.\u201d In the middle of the\ncourt was erected a magnificent fountain, consisting of a canopy\nraised upon columns, gorgeously decorated with heraldic ornaments, and\nsurmounted by a great vane, with the arms of Philip and Mary impaled\nupon it, and supported by a lion and an eagle, gilt and painted. The\nwater was discharged by a great dragon, one of the supporters of the\nTudor arms, into the cistern beneath, whence it was conveyed by pipes to\nevery part of the castle.\n\nMary held her court at Windsor soon after her union with Philip of\nSpain. About this period the old habitations of the alms-knights on the\nsouth side of the lower quadrangle were taken down, and others erected\nin their stead.\n\nFewer additions were made to Windsor Castle by Elizabeth than might have\nbeen expected from her predilection for it as a place of residence. She\nextended and widened the north terrace, where, when lodging within the\ncastle, she daily took exercise, whatever might be the weather. The\nterrace at this time, as it is described by Paul Hentzner, and as it\nappears in Norden's view, was a sort of balcony projecting beyond the\nscarp of the hill, and supported by great cantilevers of wood.\n\nIn 1576 the gallery still bearing her name, and lying between Henry the\nSeventh's buildings and the Norman Tower, was erected by Elizabeth. This\nportion of the castle had the good fortune to escape the alterations and\nmodifications made in almost every other part of the upper ward after\nthe restoration of Charles the Second. It now forms the library. A large\ngarden was laid out by the same queen, and a small gateway on Castle\nHill built by her--which afterwards became one of the greatest\nobstructions to the approach, and it was taken down by George the\nFourth.\n\nElizabeth often hunted in the parks, and exhibited her skill in archery,\nwhich was by no means inconsiderable, at the butts. Her fondness for\ndramatic performances likewise induced her to erect a stage within\nthe castle, on which plays and interludes were performed. And to her\nadmiration of the character of Falstaff, and her love of the locality,\nthe world is indebted for the \u201cMerry Wives of Windsor.\u201d\n\nJames the First favoured Windsor as much as his predecessors; caroused\nwithin its halls, and chased the deer in its parks; Christian the Fourth\nof Denmark was sumptuously entertained by him at Windsor. In this reign\na curious dispute occurred between the king and the dean and chapter\nrespecting the repair of a breach in the wall, which was not brought\nto issue for three years, when, after much argument, it was decided in\nfavour of the clergy.\n\nLittle was done at Windsor by Charles the First until the tenth year of\nhis reign, when a banqueting-house erected by Elizabeth was taken down,\nand the magnificent fountain constructed by Queen Mary demolished. Two\nyears after wards \u201ca pyramid or lantern,\u201d with a clock, hell, and dial,\nwas ordered to be set up in front of the castle, and a balcony was\nerected before the room where Henry the Sixth was born.\n\nIn the early part of the year 1642 Charles retired to Windsor to\nshield himself from the insults of the populace, and was followed by a\ncommittee of the House of Commons, who prevailed upon him to desist from\nthe prosecution of the impeached members. On the 23rd of October in\nthe same year, Captain Fogg, at the head of a Parliamentarian force,\ndemanded the keys of the college treasury, and, not being able to obtain\nthem, forced open the doors, and carried off the whole of the plate.\n\nThe plunder of the college was completed by Vane, the Parliamentary\ngovernor of the castle, who seized upon the whole of the furniture and\ndecorations of the choir, rifled the tomb of Edward the Fourth,\nstripped off all the costly ornaments from Wolsey's tomb, defaced the\nemblazonings over Henry the Sixth's grave, broke the rich painted glass\nof the windows, and wantonly destroyed the exquisite woodwork of the\nchoir.\n\nTowards the close of the year 1648 the ill-fated Charles was brought a\nprisoner to Windsor, where he remained while preparations were made for\nthe execrable tragedy soon afterwards enacted. After the slaughter of\nthe martyr-monarch the castle became the prison of the Earl of Norwich,\nLord Capel, and the Duke of Hamilton, and other royalists and cavaliers.\n\nCromwell frequently resided within the castle, and often took a moody\nand distrustful walk upon the terrace. It was during the Protectorate,\nin 1677, that the ugly buildings appropriated to the naval knights, and\nstanding between the Garter Tower and Chancellor's Tower, were erected\nby Sir Francis Crane.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n     Containing the History of the Castle from the Reign of\n     Charles the Second to that of George the Third--With a few\n     Particulars concerning the Parks and the Forest. Windsor\n     Castle.\n\nON the Restoration the castle resumed its splendour, and presented a\nstriking contrast to the previous gloomy period. The terrace, with its\nfestive groups, resembled a picture by Watteau, the courts resounded\nwith laughter, and the velvet sod of the home park was as often pressed\nby the foot of frolic beauty as by that of the tripping deer.\n\nSeventeen state apartments were erected by Sir Christopher Wren, under\nthe direction of Sir John Denham. The ceilings were painted by Verrio,\nand the walls decorated with exquisite carvings by Grinling Gibbons. A\ngrand staircase was added at the same time. Most of the chambers were\nhung with tapestry, and all adorned with pictures and costly furniture.\nThe addition made to the castle by Charles was the part of the north\nfront, then called the \u201cStar Building,\u201d from the star of the Order of\nthe Garter worked in colours in the front of it, but now denominated the\n\u201cStuart Building,\u201d extending eastward along the terrace from Henry the\nSeventh's building one hundred and seventy feet. In 1676 the ditch was\nfilled up, and the terrace carried along the south and east fronts of\nthe castle.\n\nMeanwhile the original character of the castle was completely destroyed\nand Italianised. The beautiful and picturesque irregularities of the\nwalls were removed, the towers shaved off, the windows transformed into\ncommonplace circular-headed apertures. And so the castle remained for\nmore than a century.\n\nEdward the Third's Tower, indifferently called the Earl Marshal's\nTower and the Devil Tower, and used as a place of confinement for state\nprisoners, was now allotted to the maids of honour. It was intended by\nCharles to erect a monument in honour of his martyred father on the site\nof the tomb-house, which he proposed to remove, and 70,000 pounds were\nvoted by Parliament for this purpose. The design, however, was abandoned\nunder the plea that the body could not be found, though it was perfectly\nwell known where it lay. The real motive, probably, was that Charles had\nalready spent the money.\n\nIn 1680 an equestrian statue of Charles the Second, executed by Strada,\nat the expense of Tobias Rustat, formerly housekeeper at Hampton Court,\nwas placed in the centre of the upper ward. It now stands at the lower\nend of the same court. The sculptures on the pedestal were designed by\nGrinling Gibbons; and Horace Walpole pleasantly declared that the statue\nhad no other merit than to attract attention to them.\n\nIn old times a road, forming a narrow irregular avenue, ran through the\nwoods from the foot of the castle to Snow Hill but this road having been\nneglected during a long series of years, the branches of the trees\nand underwood had so much encroached upon it as to render it wholly\nimpassable. A grand avenue, two hundred and forty feet wide, was planned\nby Charles in its place, and the magnificent approach called the Long\nWalk laid out and planted.\n\nThe only material incident connected with the castle during the reign of\nJames the Second has been already related.\n\nWindsor was not so much favoured as Hampton Court by William the Third,\nthough he contemplated alterations within it during the latter part of\nhis life which it may be matter of rejoicing were never accomplished.\n\nQueen Anne's operations were chiefly directed towards the parks,\nin improving which nearly 40,000 pounds were expended. In 1707 the\nextensive avenue running almost parallel with the Long Walk, and called\nthe \u201cQueen's Walk,\u201d was planted by her; and three years afterwards\na carriage road was formed through the Long Walk. A garden was also\nplanned on the north side of the castle. In this reign Sir James\nThornhill commenced painting Charles the Second's staircase with designs\nfrom Ovid's Metamorphoses, but did not complete his task till after the\naccession of George the First. This staircase was removed in 1800, to\nmake way for the present Gothic entrance erected by the elder Wyatt.\n\nThe first two monarchs of the house of Hanover rarely used Windsor as a\nresidence, preferring Hampton Court and Kensington; and even George the\nThird did not actually live in the castle, but in the Queen's Lodge--a\nlarge detached building, with no pretension to architectural beauty,\nwhich he himself erected opposite the south terrace, at a cost of nearly\n44,000 pounds. With most praiseworthy zeal, and almost entirely at his\nown expense, this monarch undertook the restoration of Saint George's\nChapel. The work was commenced in 1787, occupied three years, and\nwas executed by Mr. Emlyn, a local architect. The whole building was\nrepaved, a new altar-screen and organ added, and the carving restored.\n\nIn 1796 Mr. James Wyatt was appointed surveyor-general of the royal\nbuildings, and effected many internal arrangements. Externally he\nrestored Wren's round-headed windows to their original form, and at the\nsame time gothicized a large portion of the north and south sides of the\nupper ward.\n\nBefore proceeding further, a word must be said about the parks. The home\npark, which lies on the east and north sides of the castle, is about\nfour miles in circumference, and was enlarged and enclosed with a brick\nwall by William the Third. On the east, and nearly on the site of the\npresent sunk garden, a bowling-green was laid out by Charles the Second.\nBelow, on the north, were Queen Anne's gardens, since whose time the\ndeclivity of the hill has been planted with forest trees. At the\neast angle of the north terrace are the beautiful slopes, with a path\nskirting the north side of the home park and leading through charming\nplantations in the direction of the royal farm and dairy, the ranger's\nlodge, and the kennel for the queen's harriers. This park contains many\nnoble trees; and the grove of elms in the south-east, near the spot\nwhere the scathed oak assigned to Herne stands, is traditionally\nasserted to have been a favourite walk of Queen Elizabeth. It still\nretains her name.\n\nThe great park is approached by the magnificent avenue called the Long\nWalk, laid out, as has been stated, by Charles the Second, and extending\nto the foot of Snow Hill, the summit of which is crowned by the colossal\nequestrian statue of George the Third, by Westmacott. Not far from this\npoint stands Cumberland Lodge, which derives its name from William, Duke\nof Cumberland, to whom it was granted in 1744. According to Norden's\nsurvey, in 1607, this park contained 3050 acres; but when surveyed by\nGeorge the Third it was found to consist of 3800 acres, of which 200\nwere covered with water. At that time the park was over grown with fern\nand rushes, and abounded in bogs and swamps, which in many places were\ndangerous and almost impassable. It contained about three thousand head\nof deer in bad condition. The park has since been thoroughly drained,\nsmoothed, and new planted in parts; and two farms have been introduced\nupon it, under the direction of Mr. Kent, at which the Flemish and\nNorfolk modes of husbandry have been successfully practised.\n\nBoasting every variety of forest scenery, and commanding from its knolls\nand acclivities magnificent views of the castle, the great park is\ntraversed, in all directions, by green drives threading its long\nvistas, or crossing its open glades, laid out by George the Fourth.\nAmid the groves at the back of Spring Hill, in a charmingly sequestered\nsituation, stands a small private chapel, built in the Gothic style, and\nwhich was used as a place of devotion by George the Fourth during the\nprogress of the improvements at the castle, and is sometimes attended by\nthe present queen.\n\nNot the least of the attractions of the park is Virginia Water, with\nits bright and beautiful expanse, its cincture of green banks, soft and\nsmooth as velvet, its screen of noble woods, its Chinese fishing-temple,\nits frigates, its ruins, its cascade, cave, and Druidical temple, its\nobelisk and bridges, with numberless beauties besides, which it would be\nsuperfluous to describe here. This artificial mere covers pretty nearly\nthe same surface of ground as that occupied by the great lake of olden\ntimes.\n\nWindsor forest once comprehended a circumference of a hundred and twenty\nmiles, and comprised part of Buckinghamshire, a considerable portion\nof Surrey, and the whole south-east side of Berkshire, as far as\nHungerford. On the Surrey side it included Chobham and Chertsey, and\nextended along the side of the Wey, which marked its limits as far as\nGuildford. In the reign of James the First, when it was surveyed by\nNorden, its circuit was estimated at seventy-seven miles and a half,\nexclusive of the liberties extending into Buckinghamshire. There were\nfifteen walks within it, each under the charge of a head keeper, and the\nwhole contained upwards of three thousand head of deer. It is now almost\nwholly enclosed.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\n     The Last Great Epoch in the History of the Castle.\n\n\nA prince of consummate taste and fine conceptions, George the Fourth\nmeditated, and, what is better, accomplished the restoration of the\ncastle to more than its original grandeur. He was singularly fortunate\nin his architect. Sir Jeffry Wyatville was to him what William\nof Wykeham had been to Edward the Third. All the incongruities of\nsuccessive reigns were removed: all, or nearly all, the injuries\ninflicted by time repaired; and when the work so well commenced was\nfinished, the structure took its place as the noblest and most majestic\npalatial residence in existence.\n\nTo enter into a full detail of Wyatville's achievements is beyond the\nscope of the present work; but a brief survey may be taken of them.\nNever was lofty design more fully realised. View the castle on the\nnorth, with its grand terrace of nearly a thousand feet in length,\nand high embattled walls; its superb facade, comprehending the stately\nBrunswick Tower; the Cornwall Tower, with its gorgeous window; George\nthe Fourth's Tower, including the great oriel window of the state\ndrawing-room; the restored Stuart buildings, and those of Henry the\nSeventh and of Elizabeth; the renovated Norman Tower; the Powder Tower,\nwith the line of walls as far as the Winchester Tower;--view this, and\nthen turn to the east, and behold another front of marvellous beauty\nextending more than four hundred feet from north to south, and\ndisplaying the Prince of Wales's Tower, the Chester, Clarence, and\nVictoria Towers--all of which have been raised above their former level,\nand enriched by great projecting windows;--behold also the beautiful\nsunken garden, with its fountain and orangery, its flights of steps, and\ncharming pentagonal terrace;--proceed to the south front, of which the\nVictoria Tower, with its machicolated battlements and oriel window,\nforms so superb a feature at the eastern corner, the magnificent gateway\nreceiving its name from George the Fourth, flanked by the York and\nLancaster Towers, and opening in a continued line from the Long Walk;\nlook at Saint George's Gate, Edward the Third's renovated tower, and the\noctagon tower beyond it; look at all these, and if they fail to excite a\ndue appreciation of the genius that conceived them, gaze at the triumph\nof the whole, and which lords over all the rest--the Round Tower--gaze\nat it, and not here alone, but from the heights of the great park,\nfrom the vistas of the home park, from the bowers of Eton, the meads\nof Clewer and Datchet, from the Brocas, the gardens of the naval\nknights--from a hundred points; view it at sunrise when the royal\nstandard is hoisted, or at sunset when it is lowered, near or at\na distance, and it will be admitted to be the work of a prodigious\narchitect!\n\nBut Wyatville's alterations have not yet been fully considered. Pass\nthrough Saint George's Gateway, and enter the grand quadrangle to which\nit leads. Let your eye wander round it, beginning with the inner\nsides of Edward the Third's Tower and George the Fourth's Gateway,\nand proceeding to the beautiful private entrance to the sovereign's\napartments, the grand range of windows of the eastern corridor, the\nproud towers of the gateway to the household, the tall pointed windows\nof Saint George's Hall, the state entrance tower, with its noble\nwindows, until it finally rests upon the Stuart buildings and King\nJohn's Tower, at the angle of the pile.\n\nInternally the alterations made by the architects have been of\ncorresponding splendour and importance. Around the south and east sides\nof the court at which you are gazing, a spacious corridor has been\nconstructed, five hundred and fifty feet in length, and connected with\nthe different suites of apartments on these sides of the quadrangle;\nextensive alterations have been made in the domestic offices; the state\napartments have been repaired and rearranged; Saint George's Hall\nhas been enlarged by the addition of the private chapel (the only\nquestionable change), and restored to the Gothic style; and the Waterloo\nChamber built to contain George the Fourth's munificent gift to the\nnation of the splendid collection of portraits now occupying it.\n\n\u201cThe first and most remarkable characteristic of operations of Sir\nJeffry Wyatville on the exterior,\u201d observes Mr. Poynter, \u201cis the\njudgment with which he has preserved the castle of Edward the Third.\nSome additions have been made to it, and with striking effect--as the\nBrunswick Tower, and the western tower of George the Fourth's Gate-way\nwhich so nobly terminates the approach from the great park. The more\nmodern buildings on the north side have also been assimilated to the\nrest; but the architect has yielded to no temptation to substitute his\nown design for that of William of Wykeham, and no small difficulties\nhave been combated and overcome for the sake of preserving the outline\nof the edifice, and maintaining the towers in their original position.\u201d\n\nThe Winchester Tower, originally inhabited by William of Wykeham, was\nbestowed upon Sir Jeffry Wyatville as a residence by George the Fourth;\nand, on the resignation of the distinguished architect, was continued to\nhim for life by the present queen.\n\nThe works within the castle were continued during the reign of William\nthe Fourth, and at its close the actual cost of the buildings had\nreached the sum of 771,000, pounds and it has been asserted that the\ngeneral expenditure up to the present time has exceeded a million and a\nhalf of money.\n\nThe view from the summit of the Round Tower is beyond description\nmagnificent, and commands twelve counties--namely, Middlesex, Essex,\nHertford, Berks, Bucks, Oxford, Wilts, Hants, Surrey, Sussex, Kent,\nand Bedford; while on a clear day the dome of Saint Paul's may be\ndistinguished from it. This tower was raised thirty-three feet by Sir\nJeffry Wyatville, crowned with a machicolated battlement, and surmounted\nwith a flag-tower.\n\nThe circumference of the castle is 4180 feet; the length from east to\nwest, 1480 feet; and the area, exclusive of the terraces, about twelve\nacres.\n\nFor the present the works are suspended. But it is to be hoped that the\ndesign of Sir Jeffry Wyatville will be fully carried out in the lower\nward, by the removal of such houses on the north as would lay Saint\nGeorge's Chapel open to view from this side; by the demolition of the\nold incongruous buildings lying westward of the bastion near the Hundred\nSteps, by the opening out of the pointed roof of the library; the repair\nand reconstruction in their original style of the Curfew, the Garter,\nand the Salisbury Towers; and the erection of a lower terrace extending\noutside the castle, from the bastion above mentioned to the point of\ntermination of the improvements, and accessible from the town; the\nconstruction of which terrace would necessitate the removal of the\ndisfiguring and encroaching houses on the east side of Thames Street.\nThis accomplished, Crane's ugly buildings removed, and the three western\ntowers laid open to the court, the Horse-shoe Cloisters consistently\nrepaired, Windsor Castle would indeed be complete. And fervently do\nwe hope that this desirable event may be identified with the reign of\nVICTORIA.\n\n\nTHUS ENDS THE THIRD BOOK OF THE CHRONICLE OF WINDSOR CASTLE\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV. CARDINAL WOLSEY\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n     Of the Interview between Henry and Catherine of Arragon in\n     the Urswick Chapel--And how it was interrupted.\n\n\n\nIT was now the joyous month of June; and where is June so joyous as\nwithin the courts and halls of peerless Windsor? Where does the summer\nsun shine so brightly as upon its stately gardens and broad terraces,\nits matchless parks, its silver belting river and its circumference of\nproud and regal towers? Nowhere in the world. At all seasons Windsor is\nmagnificent: whether, in winter, she looks upon her garnitures of woods\nstripped of their foliage--her river covered with ice--or the wide\nexpanse of country around her sheeted with snow--or, in autumn, gazes\non the same scene--a world of golden-tinted leaves, brown meadows, or\nglowing cornfields. But summer is her season of beauty--June is the\nmonth when her woods are fullest and greenest; when her groves are\nshadiest; her avenues most delicious; when her river sparkles like a\ndiamond zone; when town and village, mansion and cot, church and tower,\nhill and vale, the distant capital itself--all within view--are seen to\nthe highest advantage. At such a season it is impossible to behold from\nafar the heights of Windsor, crowned, like the Phrygian goddess, by\na castled diadem, and backed by lordly woods, and withhold a burst of\nenthusiasm and delight. And it is equally impossible, at such a season,\nto stand on the grand northern terrace, and gaze first at the proud\npile enshrining the sovereign mistress of the land, and then gaze on the\nunequalled prospect spread out before it, embracing in its wide range\nevery kind of beauty that the country can boast, and not be struck\nwith the thought that the perfect and majestic castle--\u201cIn state\nas wholesome as in state 'tis fit Worthy the owner, and the owner\nit,\u201d--together with the wide, and smiling, and populous district\naround it, form an apt representation of the British sovereign and her\ndominions. There stands the castle, dating back as far as the Conquest,\nand boasting since its foundation a succession of royal inmates, while\nat its foot lies a region of unequalled fertility and beauty-full of\nhappy homes, and loving, loyal hearts--a miniature of the old country\nand its inhabitants. What though the smiling landscape may he darkened\nby a passing cloud!--what though a momentary gloom may gather round\nthe august brow of the proud pile!--the cloud will speedily vanish, the\ngloom disperse, and the bright and sunny scene look yet brighter and\nsunnier from the contrast.\n\nIt was the chance of the writer of these lines upon one occasion to\nbehold his sovereign under circumstances which he esteems singularly\nfortunate. She was taking rapid exercise with the prince upon the south\nside of the garden-terrace. All at once the royal pair paused at the\nsummit of the ascent leading from George the Fourth's gateway. The\nprince disappeared along the eastern terrace, leaving the queen alone.\nAnd there she stood, her slight, faultless figure sharply defined\nagainst the clear sky. Nothing was wanting to complete the picture: the\ngreat bay-windows of the Victoria Tower on the one hand--the balustrade\nof the terrace on the other--the home park beyond. It was thrilling to\nfeel that that small, solitary figure comprehended all the might and\nmajesty of England--and a thousand kindling aspirations were awakened by\nthe thought.\n\nBut it was, as has been said, the merry month of June, and Windsor\nCastle looked down in all its magnificence upon the pomp of woods, and\nupon the twelve fair and smiling counties lying within its ken. A joyous\nstir was within its courts--the gleam of arms and the fluttering of\nbanners was seen upon its battlements and towers, and the ringing of\nbells, the beating of drums, and the fanfares of trumpets, mingled with\nthe shouting of crowds and the discharge of ordnance.\n\nAmidst this tumult a grave procession issued from the deanery, and took\nits way across the lower quadrangle, which was thronged with officers\nand men-at-arms, in the direction of the lower gate. Just as it arrived\nthere a distant gun was heard, and an answering peal was instantly\nfired from the culverins of the Curfew Tower, while a broad standard,\nemblazoned with the arms of France and England within the garter,\nand having for supporters the English lion crowned and the red dragon\nsinister, was reared upon the keep. All these preparations betokened the\napproach of the king, who was returning to the castle after six weeks'\nabsence.\n\nThough information of the king's visit to the castle had only preceded\nhim by a few hours, everything was ready for his reception, and the\ngreatest exertions were used to give splendour to it.\n\nIn spite of his stubborn and tyrannical nature, Henry was a popular\nmonarch, and never showed himself before his subjects but he gained\ntheir applauses; his love of pomp, his handsome person, and manly\ndeportment, always winning him homage from the multitude. But at\nno period was he in a more critical position than the present. The\nmeditated divorce from Catherine of Arragon was a step which found no\nsympathy from the better portion of his subjects, while the ill-assorted\nunion of Anne Boleyn, an avowed Lutheran, which it was known would\nfollow it, was equally objectionable. The seeds of discontent had been\nwidely sown in the capital; and tumults had occurred which, though\npromptly checked, had nevertheless alarmed the king, coupled as\nthey were with the disapprobation of his ministers, the sneering\nremonstrances of France, the menaces of the Papal See, and the open\nhostilities of Spain. But the characteristic obstinacy of his nature\nkept him firm to his point, and he resolved to carry it, be the\nconsequences what they might.\n\nAll his efforts to win over Campeggio proved fruitless. The legate was\ndeaf to his menaces or promises, well knowing that to aid Anne Boleyn\nwould be to seriously affect the interests of the Church of Rome.\n\nThe affair, however, so long and so artfully delayed, was now drawing to\na close. A court was appointed by the legates to be holden on the 18th\nof June, at Blackfriars, to try the question. Gardiner had been recalled\nfrom Rome to act as counsel for Henry; and the monarch, determining\nto appear by proxy at the trial, left his palace at Bridewell the day\nbefore it was to come on, and set out with Anne Boleyn and his chief\nattendants for Windsor Castle.\n\nWhatever secret feelings might be entertained against him, Henry was\nreceived by the inhabitants of Windsor with every demonstration of\nloyalty and affection. Deafening shouts rent the air as he approached;\nblessings and good wishes were showered upon him; and hundreds of caps\nwere flung into the air. But noticing that Anne Boleyn was received with\nevil looks and in stern silence, and construing this into an affront to\nhimself, Henry not only made slight and haughty acknowledgment of the\nwelcome given him, but looked out for some pretext to manifest his\ndispleasure. Luckily none was afforded him, and he entered the castle in\na sullen mood.\n\nThe day was spent in gentle exercise within the home park and on the\nterrace, and the king affected the utmost gaiety and indifference; but\nthose acquainted with him could readily perceive he was ill at ease.\nIn the evening he remained for some time alone in his closet penning\ndespatches, and then summoning an attendant, ordered him to bring\nCaptain Bouchier into his presence.\n\n\u201cWell, Bouchier,\u201d he said, as the officer made his appearance, \u201chave you\nobeyed my instructions in regard to Mabel Lyndwood?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have, my liege,\u201d replied Bouchier. \u201cIn obedience to your majesty's\ncommands, immediately after your arrival at the castle I rode to the\nforester's hut, and ascertained that the damsel was still there.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd looking as beautiful as ever, I'll be sworn!\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cIt was the first time I had seen her, my liege,\u201d replied Bouchier; \u201cbut\nI do not think she could have ever looked more beautiful.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am well assured of it,\u201d replied Henry. \u201cThe pressure of affairs\nduring my absence from the castle had banished her image from my mind;\nbut now it returns as forcibly as before. And you have so arranged it\nthat she will be brought hither to-morrow night?\u201d\n\nBouchier replied in the affirmative.\n\n\u201cIt is well,\u201d pursued Henry; \u201cbut what more?--for you look as if you had\nsomething further to declare.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty will not have forgotten how you exterminated the band of\nHerne the Hunter?\u201d said Bouchier.\n\n\u201cMother of Heaven, no!\u201d cried the king, starting up; \u201cI have not\nforgotten it. What of them?--Ha! have they come to life again?--do they\nscour the parks once more? That were indeed a marvel!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat I have to relate is almost as great a marvel,\u201d returned Bouchier.\n\u201cI have not heard of the resurrection of the band though for aught I\nknow it may have occurred. But Herne has been seen again in the forest.\nSeveral of the keepers have been scared by him--travellers have been\naffrighted and plundered--and no one will now cross the great park after\nnightfall.\u201d\n\n\u201cAmazement!\u201d cried Henry, again seating himself; \u201conce let the divorce\nbe settled, and I will effectually check the career of this lawless and\nmysterious being.\u201d\n\n\u201cPray heaven your majesty may be able to do so!\u201d replied Bouchier. \u201cBut\nI have always been of opinion that the only way to get rid of the\ndemon would be by the aid of the Church. He is unassailable by mortal\nweapons.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would almost seem so,\u201d said the king. \u201cAnd yet I do not like to\nyield to the notion.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shrewdly suspect that old Tristram Lyndwood, the grandsire of the\ndamsel upon whom your majesty has deigned to cast your regards, is in\nsome way or other leagued with Herne,\u201d said Bouchier. \u201cAt all events, I\nsaw him with a tall hideous-looking personage, whose name I understand\nto be Valentine Hagthorne, and who, I feel persuaded, must be one of the\nremnants of the demon hunter's band.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy did you not arrest him?\u201d inquired Henry.\n\n\u201cI did not like to do so without your majesty's authority,\u201d replied\nBouchier. \u201cBesides, I could scarcely arrest Hagthorne without at the\nsame time securing the old forester, which might have alarmed the\ndamsel. But I am ready to execute your injunctions now.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet a party of men go in search of Hagthorne to-night,\u201d replied Henry;\n\u201cand while Mabel is brought to the castle to-morrow, do you arrest old\nTristram, and keep him in custody till I have leisure to examine him.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt shall be done as you desire, my liege,\u201d replied Bouchier, bowing and\ndeparting.\n\nShortly after this Henry, accompanied by Anne Boleyn, proceeded with his\nattendants to Saint George's Chapel, and heard vespers performed. Just\nas he was about to return, an usher advanced towards him, and making\na profound reverence, said that a masked dame, whose habiliments\nproclaimed her of the highest rank, craved a moment's audience of him.\n\n\u201cWhere is she?\u201d demanded Henry.\n\n\u201cIn the north aisle, an't please your majesty,\u201d replied the usher,\n\u201cnear the Urswick Chapel. I told her that this was not the place for an\naudience of your majesty, nor the time; but she would not be said nay,\nand therefore, at the risk of incurring your sovereign displeasure, I\nhave ventured to proffer her request.\u201d\n\nThe usher omitted to state that his chief inducement to incur the risk\nwas a valuable ring, given him by the lady.\n\n\u201cWell, I will go to her,\u201d said the king. \u201cI pray you, excuse me for a\nshort space, fair mistress,\u201d he added to Anne Boleyn.\n\nAnd quitting the choir, he entered the northern aisle, and casting his\neyes down the line of noble columns by which it is flanked, and seeing\nno one, he concluded that the lady must have retired into the Urswick\nChapel. And so it proved; for on reaching this exquisite little shrine\nhe perceived a tall masked dame within it, clad in robes of the richest\nblack velvet. As he entered the chapel, the lady advanced towards him,\nand throwing herself on her knees, removed her mask--disclosing features\nstamped with sorrow and suffering, but still retaining an expression of\nthe greatest dignity. They were those of Catherine of Arragon.\n\nUttering an angry exclamation, Henry turned on his heel and would have\nleft her, but she clung to the skirts of his robe.\n\n\u201cHear me a moment, Henry--my king--my husband--one single moment--hear\nme!\u201d cried Catherine, in tones of such passionate anguish that he could\nnot resist the appeal.\n\n\u201cBe brief, then, Kate,\u201d he rejoined, taking her hand to raise her.\n\n\u201cBlessings on you for the word!\u201d cried the queen, covering his hand with\nkisses. \u201cI am indeed your own true Kate--your faithful, loving, lawful\nwife!\u201d\n\n\u201cRise, madam!\u201d cried Henry coldly; \u201cthis posture beseems not Catherine of\nArragon.\u201d\n\n\u201cI obey you now as I have ever done,\u201d she replied, rising; \u201cthough if\nI followed the prompting of my heart, I should not quit my knees till I\nhad gained my suit.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have, done wrong in coming here, Catherine, at this juncture,\u201d said\nHenry, \u201cand may compel me to some harsh measure which I would willingly\nhave avoided.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one knows I am here,\u201d replied the queen, \u201cexcept two faithful\nattendants, who are vowed to secrecy; and I shall depart as I came.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad you have taken these precautions,\u201d replied Henry. \u201cNow speak\nfreely, but again I must bid you be brief.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will be as brief as I can,\u201d replied the queen; \u201cbut I pray you\nbear with me, Henry, if I unhappily weary you. I am full of misery and\naffliction, and never was daughter and wife of king wretched as I am.\nPity me, Henry--pity me! But that I restrain myself, I should pour forth\nmy soul in tears before you. Oh, Henry, after twenty years' duty and\nto be brought to this unspeakable shame--to be cast from you with\ndishonour--to be supplanted by another--it is terrible!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you have only come here to utter reproaches, madam, I must put an\nend to the interview,\u201d said Henry, frowning.\n\n\u201cI do not reproach you, Henry,\u201d replied Catherine meekly, \u201cI only wish\nto show you the depth and extent of my affection. I only implore you to\ndo me right and justice--not to bring shame upon me to cover your own\nwrongful action. Have compassion upon the princess our daughter--spare\nher, if you will not spare me!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou sue in vain, Catherine,\u201d replied Henry. \u201cI lament your condition,\nbut my eyes are fully opened to the sinful state in which I have so long\nlived, and I am resolved to abandon it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn unworthy prevarication,\u201d replied Catherine, \u201cby which you seek to\nwork my ruin, and accomplish your union with Anne Boleyn. And you will\nno doubt succeed; for what can I, a feeble woman, and a stranger in your\ncountry, do to prevent it? You will succeed, I say--you will divorce me\nand place her upon the throne. But mark my words, Henry, she will not\nlong remain there.\u201d\n\nThe king smiled bitterly\n\n\u201cShe will bring dishonour upon you,\u201d pursued Catherine. \u201cThe woman who\nhas no regard for ties so sacred as those which bind us will not respect\nother obligations.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more of this!\u201d cried Henry. \u201cYou suffer your resentment to carry you\ntoo far.\u201d\n\n\u201cToo far!\u201d exclaimed Catherine. \u201cToo far!--Is to warn you that you are\nabout to take a wanton to your bed--and that you will bitterly repent\nyour folly when too late, going too far? It is my duty, Henry, no less\nthan my desire, thus to warn you ere the irrevocable step be taken.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you said all you wish to say, madam?\u201d demanded the king.\n\n\u201cNo, my dear liege, not a hundredth part of what my heart prompts me\nto utter,\u201d replied Catherine. \u201cI conjure you by my strong and tried\naffection--by the tenderness that has for years subsisted between us--by\nyour hopes of temporal prosperity and spiritual welfare--by all you hold\ndear and sacred--to pause while there is yet time. Let the legates meet\nto-morrow--let them pronounce sentence against me and as surely as those\nfatal words are uttered, my heart will break.\u201d\n\n\u201cTut, tut!\u201d exclaimed Henry impatiently, \u201cyou will live many years in\nhappy retirement.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will die as I have lived--a queen,\u201d replied Catherine; \u201cbut my\nlife will not be long. Now, answer me truly--if Anne Boleyn plays you\nfalse--\u201d\n\n\u201cShe never will play me false!\u201d interrupted Henry.\n\n\u201cI say if she does,\u201d pursued Catherine, \u201cand you are satisfied of her\nguilt, will you be content with divorcing her as you divorce me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, by my father's head!\u201d cried Henry fiercely. \u201cIf such a thing were\nto happen, which I hold impossible, she should expiate her offence on\nthe scaffold.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive me your hand on that,\u201d said Catherine.\n\n\u201cI give you my hand upon it,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cEnough,\u201d said the queen: \u201cif I cannot have right and justice I shall at\nleast have vengeance, though it will come when I am in my tomb. But it\nwill come, and that is sufficient.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is the frenzy of jealousy, Catherine,\u201d said Henry.\n\n\u201cNo, Henry; it is not jealousy,\u201d replied the queen, with dignity. \u201cThe\ndaughter of Ferdinand of Spain and Isabella of Castile, with the\nbest blood of Europe in her veins, would despise herself if she could\nentertain so paltry a feeling towards one born so much beneath her as\nAnne Boleyn.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs you will, madam,\u201d rejoined Henry. \u201cIt is time our interview\nterminated.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot yet, Henry--for the love of Heaven, not yet!\u201d implored Catherine.\n\u201cOh, bethink you by whom we were joined together!--by your father, Henry\nthe Seventh--one of the wisest princes that ever sat on a throne; and by\nthe sanction of my own father, Ferdinand the Fifth, one of the justest.\nWould they have sanctioned the match if it had been unlawful? Were they\ndestitute of good counsellors? Were they indifferent to the future?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou had better reserve these arguments for the legates' ears tomorrow,\nmadam,\u201d said Henry sternly.\n\n\u201cI shall urge them there with all the force I can,\u201d replied Catherine,\n\u201cfor I will leave nought untried to hinder an event so fraught with\nmisery. But I feel the struggle will be hopeless.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen why make it?\u201d rejoined Henry.\n\n\u201cBecause it is due to you--to myself--to the princess our daughter--to\nour illustrious progenitors--and to our people, to make it,\u201d replied\nCatherine. \u201cI should be unworthy to be your consort if I acted\notherwise--and I will never, in thought, word, or deed, do aught\nderogatory to that title. You may divorce me, but I will never assent to\nit; you may wed Anne Boleyn, but she will never be your lawful spouse;\nand you may cast me from your palace, but I will never go willingly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know you to be contumacious, madam,\u201d replied Henry. \u201cAnd now, I pray\nyou, resume your mask, and withdraw. What I have said will convince you\nthat your stay is useless.\u201d\n\n\u201cI perceive it,\u201d replied Catherine. \u201cFarewell, Henry--farewell, loved\nhusband of my heart--farewell for ever!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour mask--your mask, madam!\u201d cried Henry impatiently. \u201cGod's death!\nfootsteps are approaching. Lot no one enter here!\u201d he cried aloud.\n\n\u201cI will come in,\u201d said Anne Boleyn, stepping into the chapel just as\nCatherine had replaced her mask. \u201cAh! your majesty looks confused. I\nfear I have interrupted some amorous conference.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome with me, Anne,\u201d said Henry, taking her arm, and trying to draw her\naway--\u201ccome with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot till I learn who your lady--love is,\u201d replied Anne pettishly. \u201cYou\naffect to be jealous of me, my liege, but I have much more reason to be\njealous of you. When you were last at Windsor, I heard you paid a\nsecret visit to a fair maiden near the lake in the park, and now you are\nholding an interview with a masked dame here. Nay, I care not for your\ngestures of silence. I will speak.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are distraught, sweetheart,\u201d cried the king. \u201cCome away.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Anne. \u201cLot this dame be dismissed.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall not go at your bidding, minion!\u201d cried Catherine fiercely.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d cried Anne, starting, \u201cwhom have we here?\u201d\n\n\u201cOne you had better have avoided,\u201d whispered Henry.\n\n\u201cThe queen!\u201d exclaimed Anne, with a look of dismay.\n\n\u201cAy, the queen!\u201d echoed Catherine, unmasking. \u201cHenry, if you have any\nrespect left for me, I pray you order this woman from my presence. Lot\nme depart in peace.\u201d\n\n\u201cLady Anne, I pray you retire,\u201d said Henry. But Anne stood her ground\nresolutely.\n\n\u201cNay, let her stay, then,\u201d said the queen; \u201cand I promise you she shall\nrepent her rashness. And do you stay too, Henry, and regard well her\nwhom you are about to make your spouse. Question your sister\nMary, somewhile consort to Louis the Twelfth and now Duchess of\nSuffolk--question her as to the character and conduct of Anne Boleyn\nwhen she was her attendant at the court of France--ask whether she had\nnever to reprove her for levity--question the Lord Percy as to her love\nfor him--question Sir Thomas Wyat, and a host of others.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll these charges are false and calumnious!\u201d cried Anne Boleyn.\n\n\u201cLet the king inquire and judge for himself,\u201d rejoined Catherine; \u201cand if\nhe weds you, let him look well to you, or you will make him a scoff to\nall honourable men. And now, as you have come between him and me--as\nyou have divided husband and wife--for the intent, whether successful or\nnot, I denounce you before Heaven, and invoke its wrath upon your head.\nNight and day I will pray that you may be brought to shame; and when I\nshall be called hence, as I maybe soon, I will appear before the throne\nof the Most High, and summon you to judgment.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake me from her, Henry!\u201d cried Anne faintly; \u201cher violence affrights\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, you shall stay,\u201d said Catherine, grasping her arm and detaining\nher; \u201cyou shall hear your doom. You imagine your career will be a\nbrilliant one, and that you will be able to wield the sceptre you\nwrongfully wrest from me; but it will moulder into dust in your\nhand--the crown unjustly placed upon your brow will fall to the ground,\nand it will bring the head with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake me away, Henry, I implore you!\u201d cried Anne.\n\n\u201cYou shall hear me out,\u201d pursued Catherine, exerting all her strength,\nand maintaining her grasp, \u201cor I will follow you down yon aisles,\nand pour forth my malediction against you in the hearing of all your\nattendants. You have braved me, and shall feel my power. Look at her,\nHenry--see how she shrinks before the gaze of an injured woman. Look me\nin the face, minion--you cannot!--you dare not!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Henry!\u201d sobbed Anne.\n\n\u201cYou have brought it upon yourself,\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cShe has,\u201d replied Catherine; \u201cand, unless she pauses and repents, she\nwill bring yet more upon her head. You suffer now, minion, but how will\nyou feel when, in your turn, you are despised, neglected, and supplanted\nby a rival--when the false glitter of your charms having passed away,\nHenry will see only your faults, and will open his eyes to all I now\ntell him?\u201d\n\nA sob was all the answer Anne could return.\n\n\u201cYou will feel as I feel towards you,\u201d pursued the queen--\u201chatred\ntowards her; but you will not have the consolations I enjoy. You will\nhave merited your fate, and you will then think upon me and my woes, and\nwill bitterly, but unavailingly, repent your conduct. And now, Henry,\u201d\n she exclaimed, turning solemnly to him, \u201cyou have pledged your royal\nword to me, and given me your hand upon it, that if you find this woman\nfalse to you she shall expiate her offence on the block. I call upon you\nto ratify the pledge in her presence.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do so, Catherine,\u201d replied the king. \u201cThe mere suspicion of her guilt\nshall be enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cHenry!\u201d exclaimed Anne.\n\n\u201cI have said it,\u201d replied the king.\n\n\u201cTremble, then, Anne Boleyn!\u201d cried Catherine, \u201ctremble! and when you\nare adjudged to die the death of an adulteress, bethink you of the\nprediction of the queen you have injured. I may not live to witness your\nfate, but we shall meet before the throne of an eternal Judge.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Henry, this is too much!\u201d gasped Anne, and she sank fainting into\nhis arms.\n\n\u201cBegone!\u201d cried the king furiously. \u201cYou have killed her!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt were well for us both if I had done so,\u201d replied Catherine. \u201cBut she\nwill recover to work my misery and her own. To your hands I commit her\npunishment. May God bless you, Henry!\u201d\n\nWith this she replaced her mask, and quitted the chapel.\n\nHenry, meanwhile, anxious to avoid the comments of his attendants,\nexerted himself to restore Anne Boleyn to sensibility, and his efforts\nwere speedily successful.\n\n\u201cIs it then reality?\u201d gasped Anne, as she gazed around. \u201cI hoped it was\na hideous dream. Oh, Henry, this has been frightful! But you will not\nkill me, as she predicted? Swear to me you will not!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy should you be alarmed?\u201d rejoined the king. \u201cIf you are faithful,\nyou have nothing to fear.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you said suspicion, Henry--you said suspicion!\u201d cried Anne.\n\n\u201cYou must put the greater guard upon your conduct,\u201d rejoined the\nking moodily. \u201cI begin to think there is some truth in Catherine's\ninsinuations.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no, I swear to you there is not,\u201d said Anne--\u201cI have trifled\nwith the gallants of Francis's court, and have listened, perhaps too\ncomplacently, to the love-vows of Percy and Wyat, but when your majesty\ndeigned to cast eyes upon me, all others vanished as the stars of\nnight before the rising of the god of day. Henry, I love you deeply,\ndevotedly--but Catherine's terrible imprecations make me feel more\nkeenly than I have ever done before the extent of the wrong I am about\nto inflict upon her--and I fear that retributive punishment will follow\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will do her no wrong,\u201d replied Henry. \u201cI am satisfied of the\njustice of the divorce, and of its necessity; and if my purposed union\nwith you were out of the question, I should demand it. Be the fault on\nmy head.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour words restore me in some measure, my liege,\u201d said Anne. \u201cI\nlove you too well not to risk body and soul for you. I am yours for\never--ah!\u201d she exclaimed, with a fearful look.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you, sweetheart?\u201d exclaimed the king.\n\n\u201cI thought I saw a face at the window,\u201d she replied--\u201ca black and\nhideous face like that of a fiend.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was mere fancy,\u201d replied the king. \u201cYour mind is disturbed by what\nhas occurred. You had better join your attendants, and retire to your\nown apartments.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Henry!\u201d cried Anne--\u201cdo not judge me unheard--do not believe what\nany false tongue may utter against me. I love only you and can love only\nyou. I would not wrong you, even in thought, for worlds.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe you, sweetheart,\u201d replied the king tenderly.\n\nSo saying, he led her down the aisle to her attendants. They then\nproceeded together to the royal lodgings, where Anne retired to her own\napartments, and Henry withdrew to his private chamber.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n     How Herne the Hunter appeared to Henry on the Terrace.\n\n\nHenry again sat down to his despatches, and employed himself upon them\nto a late hour. At length, feeling heated and oppressed, he arose, and\nopened a window. As he did so, he was almost blinded by a vivid flash\nof forked lightning. Ever ready to court danger, and convinced, from\nthe intense gloom without, that a fearful storm was coming on, Henry\nresolved to go forth to witness it. With this view he quitted the\ncloset, and passed through a small door opening on the northern terrace.\nThe castle clock tolled the hour of midnight as he issued forth, and the\ndarkness was so profound that he could scarcely see a foot before him.\nBut he went on.\n\n\u201cWho goes there?\u201d cried a voice, as he advanced, and a partisan was\nplaced at his breast.\n\n\u201cThe king!\u201d replied Henry, in tones that would have left no doubt of\nthe truth of the assertion, even if a gleam of lightning had not at the\nmoment revealed his figure and countenance to the sentinel.\n\n\u201cI did not look for your majesty at such a time,\u201d replied the man,\nlowering his pike. \u201cHas your majesty no apprehension of the storm? I\nhave watched it gathering in the valley, and it will be a dreadful one.\nIf I might make bold to counsel you, I would advise you to seek instant\nshelter in the castle.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no fear, good fellow,\u201d laughed the king. \u201cGet thee in yon porch,\nand leave the terrace to me. I will warn thee when I leave it.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke a tremendous peal of thunder broke overhead, and seemed to\nshake the strong pile to its foundations. Again the lightning rent\nthe black canopy of heaven in various places, and shot down in forked\nflashes of the most dazzling brightness. A rack of clouds, heavily\ncharged with electric fluid, hung right over the castle, and poured down\nall their fires upon it.\n\nHenry paced slowly to and fro, utterly indifferent to the peril he\nran--now watching the lightning as it shivered some oak in the home\npark, or lighted up the wide expanse of country around him--now\nlistening to the roar of heaven's artillery; and he had just quitted the\nwestern extremity of the terrace, when the most terrific crash he had\nyet heard burst over him. The next instant a dozen forked flashes shot\nfrom the sky, while fiery coruscations blazed athwart it; and at the\nsame moment a bolt struck the Wykeham Tower, beside which he had been\nrecently standing. Startled by the appalling sound, he turned and beheld\nupon the battlemented parapet on his left a tall ghostly figure, whose\nantlered helm told him it was Herne the Hunter. Dilated against the\nflaming sky, the proportions of the demon seemed gigantic. His right\nhand was stretched forth towards the king, and in his left he held a\nrusty chain. Henry grasped the handle of his sword, and partly drew it,\nkeeping his gaze fixed upon the figure.\n\n\u201cYou thought you had got rid of me, Harry of England,\u201d cried Herne, \u201cbut\nwere you to lay the weight of this vast fabric upon me, I would break\nfrom under it--ho! ho!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat wouldst thou, infernal spirit?\u201d cried Henry.\n\n\u201cI am come to keep company with you, Harry,\u201d replied the demon; \u201cthis is\na night when only you and I should be abroad. We know how to enjoy\nit. We like the music of the loud thunder, and the dance of the blithe\nlightning.\u201d\n\n\u201cAvaunt, fiend!\u201d cried Henry. \u201cI will hold no converse with thee. Back\nto thy native hell!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have no power over me, Harry,\u201d rejoined the demon, his words\nmingling with the rolling of the thunder, \u201cfor your thoughts are evil,\nand you are about to do an accursed deed. You cannot dismiss me. Before\nthe commission of every great crime--and many great crimes you will\ncommit--I will always appear to you. And my last appearance shall he\nthree days before your end--ha! ha!\u201d\n\n\u201cDarest thou say this to me!\u201d cried Henry furiously.\n\n\u201cI laugh at thy menaces,\u201d rejoined Herne, amid another peal of\nthunder--\u201cbut I have not yet done. Harry of England! your career shall\nbe stained in blood. Your wrath shall descend upon the heads of those\nwho love you, and your love shall be fatal. Better Anne Boleyn fled\nthis castle, and sought shelter in the lowliest hovel in the land, than\nbecome your spouse. For you will slay her--and not her alone. Another\nshall fall by your hand; and so, if you had your own will, would all!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat meanest thou by all?\u201d demanded the king.\n\n\u201cYou will learn in due season,\u201d laughed the fiend. \u201cBut now mark me,\nHarry of England, thou fierce and bloody kin--thou shalt be drunken with\nthe blood of thy wives; and thy end shall be a fearful one. Thou shalt\nlinger out a living death--a mass of breathing corruption shalt thou\nbecome--and when dead the very hounds with which thou huntedst me shall\nlick thy blood!\u201d\n\nThese awful words, involving a fearful prophecy, which was afterwards,\nas will be shown, strangely fulfilled, were so mixed up with the rolling\nof the thunder that Henry could scarcely distinguish one sound from the\nother. At the close of the latter speech a flash of lightning of such\ndazzling brilliancy shot down past him, that he remained for some\nmoments almost blinded; and when he recovered his powers of vision the\ndemon had vanished.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n     How Mabel Lyndwood was taken to the Castle by Nicholas\n     Clamp--And how they encountered Morgan Fenwolf by the way.\n\n\nTHE storm which had fallen so heavily on the castle had likewise visited\nthe lake, and alarmed the inmates of the little dwelling on its banks.\nBoth the forester and his grand-daughter were roused from their beds,\nand they sat together in the chief apartment of the cottage, listening\nto the awful rolling of the thunder, and watching the blue flashing of\nthe lightning. The storm was of unusually long duration, and continued\nfor more than an hour with unintermitted violence. It then paused; the\nthunder rolled off, and the flashes of lightning grew fainter and less\nfrequent. During the storm Mabel continued on her knees, addressing the\nmost earnest prayers to the Virgin for her preservation and that of\nher grandfather; but the old forester, though evidently much alarmed,\nuttered not a single supplication, but remained sitting in his chair\nwith a sullen, scared look. As the thunder died away, he recovered\nhis composure, and addressed himself to soothe the fears of his\ngranddaughter. In this he had partially succeeded, and was urging her\nagain to seek her couch, when the storm recommenced with fresh fury.\nMabel once more fell on her knees, and the old man resumed his sullen\nposture. Another dreadful half-hour, marked by a succession of terrible\npeals and vivid flashes, succeeded, when, amidst an awful pause, Mabel\nventured to address her old relative.\n\n\u201cWhy do you not pray, grandfather?\u201d she said, regarding him uneasily.\n\u201cSister Anastasia and good Father Anselm always taught me to utter\nan Ave and cross myself during a thunderstorm. Why do you not pray,\ngrandfather?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not trouble me. I have no fear.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut your cheeks and lips are blanched,\u201d rejoined Mabel; \u201cand I observed\nyou shudder during that last awful crash. Pray, grandfather, pray!\u201d\n\n\u201cPeace, wench, and mind your own business!\u201d returned the old man\nangrily. \u201cThe storm will soon be over--it cannot last long in this way.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe saints preserve us!\u201d cried Mabel, as a tremendous concussion was\nheard overhead, followed by a strong sulphureous smell. \u201cThe cottage is\nstruck!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is--it is!\u201d cried Tristram, springing to his feet and rushing forth.\n\nFor a few minutes Mabel continued in a state of stupefaction. She then\nstaggered to the door, and beheld her grandfather occupied with two dark\nfigures, whom she recognised as Valentine Hagthorne and Morgan Fenwolf,\nin extinguishing the flames, which were bursting from the thatched roof\nof the hut. Surprise and terror held her silent, and the others were so\nbusily engaged that they did not notice her.\n\nAt last, by their united efforts, the fire was got under without\nmaterial damage to the little building, and Mabel retired, expecting her\ngrandsire to return; but as he did not do so, and as almost instantly\nafterwards the plash of oars was heard en the lake, she flew to the\nwindow, and beheld him, by the gleam of the lightning, seated in the\nskiff with Morgan Fenwolf, while Valentine Hagthorne had mounted a black\nhorse, and was galloping swiftly away. Mabel saw no more. Overcome by\nfright, she sank on the ground insensible. When she recovered the storm\nhad entirely ceased. A heavy shower had fallen, but the sky was now\nperfectly clear, and day had begun to dawn. Mabel went to the door of\nthe hut, and looked forth for her grandfather, but he was nowhere to\nbe seen. She remained gazing at the now peaceful lake till the sun had\nfairly risen, when, feeling more composed, she retired to rest, and\nsleep, which had been banished from them during the greater part of the\nnight, now fell upon her lovely eyelids.\n\nWhen she awoke, the day was far advanced, but still old Tristram had not\nreturned; and with a heavy heart she set about her household concerns.\nThe thought, however, of her anticipated visit to the castle speedily\ndispelled her anxiety, and she began to make preparations for setting\nout, attiring herself with unusual care. Bouchier had not experienced\nmuch difficulty in persuading her to obey the king's behest, and by his\nartful representations he had likewise induced her grandfather to give\nhis consent to the visit--the old forester only stipulating that she\nshould be escorted there and back by a falconer, named Nicholas Clamp,\nin whom he could put trust; to which proposition Bouchier readily\nassented.\n\nAt length five o'clock, the appointed hour, arrived, and with it came\nNicholas Clamp. He was a tall, middle-aged man, with yellow hair,\nclipped closely over his brows, and a beard and moustaches to match.\nHis attire resembled that of a keeper of the forest, and consisted of\na doublet and hose of green cloth; but he did not carry a bugle or\nhunting-knife. His sole weapon was a stout quarter-staff. After some\nlittle hesitation Mabel consented to accompany the falconer, and they\nset forth together.\n\nThe evening was delightful, and their way through the woods was marked\nby numberless points of beauty. Mabel said little, for her thoughts\nwere running upon her grandfather, and upon his prolonged and mysterious\nabsence; but the falconer talked of the damage done by the thunderstorm,\nwhich he declared was the most awful he had ever witnessed; and he\npointed out to her several trees struck by the lightning. Proceeding in\nthis way, they gained a road leading from Blacknest, when, from behind\na large oak, the trunk of which had concealed him from view, Morgan\nFenwolf started forth, and planted himself in their path. The gear\nof the proscribed keeper was wild and ragged, his locks matted and\ndisordered, his demeanour savage, and his whole appearance forbidding\nand alarming.\n\n\u201cI have been waiting for you for some time, Mabel Lyndwood,\u201d he said.\n\u201cYou must go with me to your grandfather.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy grandfather would never send you for me,\u201d replied Mabel; \u201cbut if he\ndid, I will not trust myself with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe saints preserve us!\u201d cried Nicholas Clamp. \u201cCan I believe my\neyes!--do I behold Morgan Fenwolf!\u201d\n\n\u201cCome with me, Mabel,\u201d cried Fenwolf, disregarding him.\n\nBut she returned a peremptory refusal.\n\n\u201cShe shall not stir an inch!\u201d cried the falconer. \u201cIt is thou, Morgan\nFenwolf, who must go with me. Thou art a proscribed felon, and thy life\nis forfeit to the king. Yield thee, dog, as my prisoner!\u201d\n\n\u201cThy prisoner!\u201d echoed Fenwolf scornfully. \u201cIt would take three such as\nthou art to make me captive! Mabel Lyndwood, in your grandfather's name,\nI command you to come with me, and let Nick Clamp look to himself if he\ndares to hinder you.\u201d\n\n\u201cNick will do something more than hinder her,\u201d rejoined the falconer,\nbrandishing his staff, and rushing upon the other. \u201cFelon hound! I\ncommand thee to yield!\u201d\n\nBefore the falconer could reach him, Morgan Fenwolf plucked a long\nhunting-knife from his girdle, and made a desperate stab at his\nassailant. But Clamp avoided the blow, and striking Fenwolf on the\nshins, immediately afterwards closed with him.\n\nThe result was still doubtful, when the struggle was suddenly\ninterrupted by the trampling of horse approaching from the side of\nWindsor; and at the sound Morgan Fenwolf disengaged himself from his\nantagonist and plunged into the adjoining wood. The next moment Captain\nBouchier rode up, followed by a small band of halberdiers, and receiving\ninformation from the falconer of what had occurred, darted with his\nmen into the wood in search of the fugitive. Nicholas Clamp and his\ncompanion did not await the issue of the search, but proceeded on their\nway.\n\nAs they walked at a brisk pace, they reached the long avenue in about\nhalf-an-hour, and took their way down it. When within a mile of the\ncastle they were overtaken by Bouchier and his followers, and the\nfalconer was much disappointed to learn that they had failed in tracking\nMorgan Fenwolf to his lair. After addressing a few complimentary words\nto the maiden, Bouchier rode on.\n\nSoon after this the pair quitted the great park, and passing through a\nrow of straggling houses, divided by gardens and closes, which skirted\nthe foot of Castle Hill, presently reached the lower gate. They were\nadmitted without difficulty; but just as they entered the lower ward\nthe falconer was hailed by Shoreditch and Paddington, who at the moment\nissued from the doorway of the guard-room.\n\nClamp obeyed the call and went towards them, and it was evident, from\nthe gestures of the archers, that they were making inquiries about\nMabel, whose appearance seemed to interest them greatly. After a brief\nconversation with the falconer they approached her, and, respectfully\naddressing her, begged leave to attend her to the royal lodgings,\nwhither they understood she was going. No objection being made to the\nproposal by Mabel, the party directed their course towards the middle\nward.\n\nPassing through the gateway of the Norman Tower, they stopped before a\nlow portal in a picturesque Gothic wing of the castle, with projecting\nwalls and bay-windows, which had been erected in the preceding reign of\nHenry the Seventh, and was consequently still in all its freshness and\nbeauty.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n     How Mabel was received by the Party in the Kitchen--And of\n     the Quarrel between the two Jesters.\n\n\nAddressing himself to a stout-built yeoman of the guard, who was\nstanding within the doorway, Nicholas Clamp demanded admittance to the\nkitchen, and the man having detained them for a few moments, during\nwhich he regarded Mabel with a very offensive stare, ushered them into\na small hall, and from thence into a narrow passage connected with it.\nLighted by narrow loopholes pierced through the walls, which were of\nimmense thickness, this passage described the outer side of the whole\nupper quadrangle, and communicated with many other lateral passages and\nwinding stairs leading to the chambers allotted to the household or\nto the state apartments. Tracking it for some time, Nicholas Clamp at\nlength turned off on the right, and, crossing a sort of ante-room, led\nthe way into a large chamber with stone walls and a coved and groined\nroof, lighted by a great window at the lower end. This was the royal\nkitchen, and in it yawned no fewer than seven huge arched fireplaces,\nin which fires were burning, and before which various goodly joints were\nbeing roasted, while a number of cooks and scullions were congregated\nround them. At a large table in the centre of the kitchen were seated\nsome half-dozen yeomen of the guard, together with the clerk of the\nkitchen, the chief bargeman, and the royal cutler, or bladesmith, as he\nwas termed.\n\nThese worthies were doing ample justice to a chine of beef, a wild-boar\npie, a couple of fat capons, a peacock pasty, a mess of pickled\nlobsters, and other excellent and inviting dishes with which the board\nwas loaded. Neither did they neglect to wash down the viands with\ncopious draughts of ale and mead from great pots and flagons placed\nbeside them. Behind this party stood Giovanni Joungevello, an Italian\nminstrel, much in favour with Anne Boleyn, and Domingo Lamellino, or\nLamelyn--as he was familiarly termed--a Lombard, who pretended to some\nknowledge of chirurgery, astrology, and alchemy, and who was a constant\nattendant on Henry. At the head of the bench, on the right of the table,\nsat Will Sommers. The jester was not partaking of the repast, but was\nchatting with Simon Quanden, the chief cook, a good-humoured personage,\nround-bellied as a tun, and blessed with a spouse, yclept Deborah, as\nfond of good cheer, as fat, and as good-humoured as himself. Behind\nthe cook stood the cellarman, known by the appellation of Jack of the\nBottles, and at his feet were two playful little turnspits, with long\nbacks, and short forelegs, as crooked almost as sickles.\n\nOn seeing Mabel, Will Sommers immediately arose, and advancing towards\nher with a mincing step, bowed with an air of mock ceremony, and said in\nan affected tone, \u201cWelcome, fair mistress, to the king's kitchen. We are\nall right glad to see you; are we not, mates?\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, that we are!\u201d replied a chorus of voices.\n\n\u201cBy my troth, the wench is wondrously beautiful!\u201d said Kit Coo, one of\nthe yeomen of the guard.\n\n\u201cNo wonder the king is smitten with her,\u201d said Launcelot Rutter, the\nbladesmith; \u201cher eyes shine like a dagger's point.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd she carries herself like a wafter on the river,\u201d said the bargeman.\n\n\u201cHer complexion is as good as if I had given her some of my sovereign\nbalsam of beauty,\u201d said Domingo Lamelyn.\n\n\u201cMuch better,\u201d observed Joungevello, the minstrel; \u201cI shall write a\ncanzonet in her praise, and sing it before the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd get flouted for thy pains by the Lady Anne,\u201d said Kit Coo.\n\n\u201cThe damsel is not so comely as I expected to find her,\u201d observed Amice\nLovekyn, one of the serving-women, to Hector Cutbeard, the clerk of the\nkitchen.\n\n\u201cWhy, if you come to that, she is not to be compared to you, pretty\nAmice,\u201d said Cutbeard, who was a red-nosed, red-faced fellow, with a\ntwinkling merry eye.\n\n\u201cNay, I meant not that,\u201d replied Amice, retreating.\n\n\u201cExcuse my getting up to receive you, fair mistress,\u201d cried Simon\nQuanden, who seemed fixed to his chair; \u201cI have been bustling about\nall day, and am sore fatigued--sore fatigued. But will you not take\nsomething? A sugared cate, and a glass of hypocras jelly, or a slice of\ncapon? Go to the damsel, dame, and prevail on her to eat.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will I,\u201d replied Deborah. \u201cWhat shall it be, sweetheart? We have a\nwell-stored larder here. You have only to ask and have.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank you, but I am in want of nothing,\u201d replied Mabel.\n\n\u201cNay, that is against all rule, sweetheart,\u201d said Deborah; \u201cno one enters\nthe king's kitchen without tasting his royal cheer.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sorry I must prove an exception, then,\u201d returned Mabel, smiling;\n\u201cfor I have no appetite.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well, I will not force you to eat against your will,\u201d replied the\ngood dame \u201cBut a cup of wine will do you good after your walk.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will wait upon her,\u201d said the Duke of Shoreditch.' who vied with\nPaddington and Nick Clamp in attention to the damsel.\n\n\u201cLet me pray you to cast your eyes upon these two dogs, fair Mabel,\u201d\n said Will Sommers, pointing to the two turn-spits, \u201cthey are special\nfavourites of the king's highness. They are much attached to the cook,\ntheir master; but their chief love is towards each other, and nothing\ncan keep them apart.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill Sommers speaks the truth,\u201d rejoined Simon Quanden. \u201cHob and Nob,\nfor so they are named, are fast friends. When Hob gets into the box to\nturn the spit, Nob will watch beside it till his brother is tired, and\nthen he will take his place. They always eat out of the same platter,\nand drink out of the same cup. I once separated them for a few hours to\nsee what would happen, but they howled so piteously, that I was forced\nto bring them together again. It would have done your heart good to\nwitness their meeting, and to see how they leaped and rolled with\ndelight. Here, Hob,\u201d he added, taking a cake from his apron pocket,\n\u201cdivide this with thy brother.\u201d\n\nPlacing his paws upon his master's knees, the nearest turnspit took the\ncake in his mouth, and proceeding towards Nob, broke it into two pieces,\nand pushed the larger portion towards him.\n\nWhile Mabel was admiring this display of sagacity and affection a\nbustling step was heard behind her, and turning, she beheld a strange\nfigure in a parti-coloured gown and hose, with a fool's cap and bells\non his head, whom she immediately recognised as the cardinal's jester,\nPatch. The new-comer recognised her too, stared in astonishment, and\ngave a leering look at Will Sommers.\n\n\u201cWhat brings you here, gossip Patch?\u201d cried Will Sommers. \u201cI thought you\nwere in attendance upon your master, at the court at Blackfriars.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I have been,\u201d replied Patch, \u201cand I am only just arrived with his\ngrace.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! is the decision pronounced?\u201d cried Will Sommers eagerly. \u201cIs the\nqueen divorced? Is the king single again? Let us hear the sentence.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, the sentence!--the sentence!\u201d resounded on all hands.\n\nStimulated by curiosity, the whole of the party rose from the table;\nSimon Quanden got out of his chair; the other cooks left their joints to\nscorch at the fire; the scullions suspended their work; and Hob and Nob\nfixed their large inquiring black eyes upon the jester.\n\n\u201cI never talk thirsting,\u201d said Patch, marching to the table, and filling\nhimself a flagon of mead. \u201cHere's to you, fair maiden,\u201d he added,\nkissing the cup to Mabel, and swallowing its contents at a draught. \u201cAnd\nnow be seated, my masters, and you shall hear all I have to relate, and\nit will be told in a few words. The court is adjourned for three days,\nQueen Catherine having demanded that time to prepare her allegations,\nand the delay has been granted her.\u201d\n\n\u201cPest on it!--the delay is some trick of your crafty and double-dealing\nmaster,\u201d cried Will Sommers. \u201cWere I the king, I know how I would deal\nwith him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat wouldst thou do, thou scurril knave?\u201d cried Patch angrily.\n\n\u201cI would strip him of his ill-gotten wealth, and leave him only thee--a\nfitting attendant--of all his thousand servitors,\u201d replied Will.\n\n\u201cThis shall to his grace's ears,\u201d screamed Patch, amid the laughter of\nthe company--\u201cand see whether your back does not smart for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear him not,\u201d replied Will Sommers. \u201cI have not yet told the king my\nmaster of the rare wine we found in his cellar.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat wine was that, Will?\u201d cried Jack of the Bottles.\n\n\u201cYou shall hear,\u201d replied Will Sommers, enjoying the disconcerted\nlook of the other jester. \u201cI was at the palace at Hampton, when this\nscant-witted knave invited me to taste some of his master's wine, and\naccordingly to the cellar we went. 'This wine will surprise you,' quoth\nhe, as we broached the first hogshead. And truly it did surprise me, for\nno wine followed the gimlet. So we went on to another, and another,\nand another, till we tried half a score of them, and all with the same\nresult. Upon this I seized a hammer which was lying by and sounded\nthe casks, but none of them seeming empty, I at last broke the lid of\none--and what do you think it contained?\u201d\n\nA variety of responses were returned by the laughing assemblage, during\nwhich Patch sought to impose silence upon his opponent. But Will Sommers\nwas not to be checked.\n\n\u201cIt contained neither vinegar, nor oil, nor lead,\u201d he said, \u201cbut gold;\nay, solid bars of gold-ingots. Every hogshead was worth ten thousand\npounds, and more.\u201d\n\n\u201cCredit him not, my masters,\u201d cried Patch, amid the roars of the\ncompany; \u201cthe whole is a mere fable--an invention. His grace has no such\ntreasure. The truth is, Will Sommers got drunk upon some choice Malmsey,\nand then dreamed he had been broaching casks of gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is no fable, as you and your master will find when the king comes\nto sift the matter,\u201d replied Will. \u201cThis will be a richer result to\nhim than was ever produced by your alchemical experiments, good Signor\nDomingo Lamelyn.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is false!--I say false!\u201d screamed Patch, \u201clet the cellars be\nsearched, and I will stake my head nothing is found.\u201d\n\n\u201cStake thy cap, and there may be some meaning in it,\u201d said Will,\nplucking Patch's cap from his head and elevating it on his truncheon.\n\u201cHere is an emblem of the Cardinal of York,\u201d he cried, pointing to it.\n\nA roar of laughter from the company followed this sally, and Hob and Nob\nlooked up in placid wonderment.\n\n\u201cI shall die with laughing,\u201d cried Simon Quanden, holding his fat sides,\nand addressing his spouse, who was leaning upon his shoulder.\n\nIn the meantime Patch sprang to his feet, and, gesticulating with rage\nand fury, cried, \u201cThou hast done well to steal my cap and bells, for\nthey belong of right to thee. Add my folly to thy own, and thou wilt\nbe a fitting servant to thy master; or e'en give him the cap, and then\nthere will be a pair of ye.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is the fool now, I should like to know?\u201d rejoined Will Sommers\ngravely. \u201cI call you all to witness that he has spoken treason.\u201d\n\nWhile this was passing Shoreditch had advanced with a flagon of Malmsey\nto Mabel, but she was so interested in the quarrel between the two\njesters that she heeded him not; neither did she attend to Nicholas\nClamp, who was trying to explain to her what was going forward. But just\nas Patch's indiscreet speech was uttered an usher entered the kitchen\nand announced the approach of the king.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\n     Of the Combat between Will Sommers and Patch--And how it\n     terminated.\n\n\nMabel's heart fluttered violently at the usher's announcement, and for\na moment the colour deserted her cheek, while the next instant she was\ncovered with blushes. As to poor Patch, feeling that his indiscretion\nmight place him in great jeopardy and seriously affect his master, to\nwhom he was devotedly attached, he cast a piteous and imploring look at\nhis antagonist, but was answered only by a derisive laugh, coupled\nwith an expressive gesture to intimate that a halter would be his fate.\nFearful that mischief might ensue, the good-natured Simon Quanden got\nout of his chair and earnestly besought Will not to carry matters too\nfar; but the jester remained implacable.\n\nIt was not unusual with Henry to visit the different offices of the\ncastle and converse freely and familiarly with the members of his\nhousehold, but it was by no means safe to trust to the continuance of\nhis good humour, or in the slightest degree to presume upon it. It is\nwell known that his taste for variety of character often led him, like\nthe renowned Caliph Haroun Al Raschid, to mix with the lower classes of\nhis subjects in disguise, at which times many extraordinary adventures\nare said to have befallen him. His present visit to the kitchen,\ntherefore, would have occasioned no surprise to its occupants if it\nhad not occurred so soon after the cardinal's arrival. But it was this\ncircumstance, in fact, that sent him thither. The intelligence brought\nby Wolsey of the adjournment of the court for three days, under the plea\nof giving the queen time for her allegations, was so unlooked for by\nHenry that he quitted the cardinal in high displeasure, and was about to\nrepair to Anne Boleyn, when he encountered Bouchier, who told him\nthat Mabel Lyndwood had been brought to the castle, and her grandsire\narrested. The information changed Henry's intentions at once, and he\nproceeded with Bouchier and some other attendants to the kitchen, where\nhe was given to understand he should find the damsel.\n\nMany a furtive glance was thrown at the king, for no one dared openly\nto regard him as he approached the forester's fair granddaughter. But\nhe tarried only a moment beside her, chucked her under the chin, and,\nwhispering a word or two in her ear that heightened her blushes, passed\non to the spot where the two jesters were standing.\n\n\u201cWhat dost thou here, knave?\u201d he said to Will Sommers.\n\n\u201cI might rather ask that question of your majesty,\u201d replied Will; \u201cand I\nwould do so but that I require not to be told.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have come to see what passeth in my household,\u201d replied the king,\nthrowing himself into the chair lately occupied by the chief cook. \u201cAh,\nHob and Nob, my merry rascals,\u201d he cried, patting the turnspits, who ran\ntowards him and thrust their noses against his hand, \u201cye are as gamesome\nand loving as ever, I see. Give me a manchet for them, Master Cook,\nand let not the proceedings in the kitchen be stayed for my presence. I\nwould not have my supper delayed, or the roasts spoiled, for any false\nceremony. And now, Will, what hast thou to say that thou lookest so hard\nat me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have a heavy charge to bring against this knave, an' please your\nmajesty,\u201d replied Will Sommers, pointing to Patch.\n\n\u201cWhat! hath he retorted upon thee too sharply?\u201d replied the king,\nlaughing. \u201cIf so, challenge him to the combat, and settle the grievance\nwith thy lathen dagger. But refer not the matter to me. I am no judge in\nfools' quarrels.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour own excepted,\u201d muttered Will. \u201cThis is not a quarrel that can be\nso adjusted,\u201d he added aloud. \u201cI charge this rascal Patch with speaking\ndisrespectfully of your highness in the hearing of the whole kitchen.\nAnd I also charge his master the cardinal with having secreted in his\ncellars at Hampton a vast amount of treasure, obtained by extortion,\nprivy dealings with foreign powers, and other iniquitous practices, and\nwhich ought of right to find its way to your royal exchequer.\u201d\n\n\u201c'And which shall find its way thither, if thou dost not avouch a\nfable,\u201d replied the king.\n\n\u201cYour majesty shall judge,\u201d rejoined Will. And he repeated the story\nwhich he had just before related.\n\n\u201cCan this be true?\u201d exclaimed Henry at its close.\n\n\u201cIt is false, your highness, every word of it,\u201d cried Patch, throwing\nhimself at the king's feet, \u201cexcept so far as relates to our visits to\nthe cellar, where, I shame to speak it, we drank so much that our senses\nclean forsook us. As to my indiscreet speech touching your majesty,\nneither disrespect nor disloyalty were intended by it. I was goaded to\nthe rejoinder by the sharp sting of this hornet.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe matter of the treasure shall be inquired into without delay,\u201d said\nHenry. \u201cAs to the quarrel, it shall be settled thus. Get both of you\nupon that table. A flour-bag shall be given to each; and he who is first\nknocked off shall be held vanquished.\u201d\n\nThe king's judgment was received with as much applause as dared be\nexhibited by the hearers; and in an instant the board was cleared, and a\ncouple of flour-bags partly filled delivered to the combatants by Simon\nQuanden, who bestirred himself with unwonted activity on the occasion.\n\nLeaping upon the table, amid the smothered mirth of the assemblage,\nthe two jesters placed themselves opposite each other, and grinned such\ncomical defiance that the king roared with laughter. After a variety of\nodd movements and feints on either side, Patch tried to bring down his\nadversary by a tremendous two-handed blow; but in dealing it, the weight\nof the hag dragged him forward, and well-nigh pitched him head foremost\nupon the floor. As it was, he fell on his face upon the table, and in\nthis position received several heavy blows upon the prominent part of\nhis back from Will Sommers. Ere long, however, he managed to regain his\nlegs, and, smarting with pain, attacked his opponent furiously in\nhis turn. For a short space fortune seemed to favour him. His bag\nhad slightly burst, and the flour, showering from it with every blow,\nwell-nigh blinded his adversary, whom he drove to the very edge of the\ntable. At this critical juncture Will managed to bring down his bag full\nupon his opponent's sconce, and the force of the blow bursting it, Patch\nwas covered from crown to foot with flour, and blinded in his turn. The\nappearance of the combatants was now so exquisitely ridiculous, that the\nking leaned back in his chair to indulge his laughter, and the mirth of\nthe spectators could no longer be kept within decorous limits. The very\nturnspits barked in laughing concert.\n\n\u201cWell fought on both sides!\u201d cried Henry; \u201cit were hard to say which\nwill prove the victor. Now, knaves, to it again--ha! ha!--to it again!\u201d\n\nOnce more the bags were wielded, descended, and the blows were so well\ndirected on either side, that both combatants fell backwards. Again the\nking's laughter rose loud and long. Again the merriment of the other\nbeholders was redoubled. Again Hob and Nob barked joyously, and tried\nto spring on to the table to take part in the conflict. Amid the general\nglee, the combatants rose and renewed the fight, dealing blows thick\nand fast--for the bags were now considerably lightened of their\ncontents--until they were completely hidden from view by a cloud of\nwhite dust.\n\n\u201cWe cannot see the fray,\u201d remarked Henry; \u201cbut we can hear the din of\nbattle. Which will prove the victor, I marvel?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am for Will Sommers,\u201d cried Bouchier.\n\n\u201cAnd I for Patch,\u201d said Simon Quanden. \u201cLatterly he hath seemed to me to\nhave the advantage.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is decided!\u201d cried the king, rising, as one of the combatants was\nknocked off the table, and fell to the floor with a great noise. \u201cWho is\nit?\u201d\n\n\u201cPatch,\u201d replied a faint voice. And through the cloud of dust struggled\nforth the forlorn figure of the cardinal's jester, while Will Sommers\nleaped triumphantly to the ground.\n\n\u201cGet thee to a wash-tub, knave, and cleanse thyself,\u201d said Henry,\nlaughing. \u201cIn consideration of the punishment thou hast undergone, I\npardon thee thy treasonable speech.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he rose, and walked towards Mabel, who had been quite as much\nalarmed as amused by the scene which had just taken place.\n\n\u201cI hope you have been as well cared for, damsel,\u201d he said, \u201csince your\narrival at the castle, as you cared for the Duke of Suffolk and myself\nwhen we visited your cottage?\n\n\u201cI have had everything I require, my liege,\u201d replied Mabel timidly.\n\n\u201cDame Quanden will take charge of you till to-morrow,\u201d rejoined the\nking, \u201cwhen you will enter upon the service of one of our dames.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty is very considerate,\u201d said Mabel, \u201cbut I would rather go\nback at early dawn to my grandsire.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is needless,\u201d rejoined the king sternly. \u201cYour grandsire is in the\ncastle.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad to hear it!\u201d exclaimed Mabel. And then, altering her tone, for\nshe did not like the expression of the king's countenance, she added, \u201cI\nhope he has not incurred your majesty's displeasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cI trust he will be able to clear himself, Mabel,\u201d said Henry, \u201cbut he\nlabours under the grave suspicion of leaguing with lawless men.\u201d\n\nMabel shuddered, for the thought of what she had witnessed on the\nprevious night during the storm rushed forcibly to her recollection. The\nking noticed her uneasiness, and added, in a gentler tone, \u201cIf he makes\nsuch confession as will bring the others to justice, he has nothing to\nfear. Dame Quanden, I commit this maiden to your charge. To-morrow she\nwill take her place as attendant to the Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he moved off with Bouchier and the rest of his attendants,\nleaving Mabel to the care of the cook's good humoured spouse, who seeing\nher eyes filled with tears, strove to cheer her, and led her towards a\nsmall side-table, where she pressed wine and cates upon her.\n\n\u201cBe of good cheer, sweetheart,\u201d she said, in a soothing tone; \u201cno harm\nwill befall your grandfather. You are much too high in favour with the\nking for that.\u201d\n\n\u201cI liked the king much better as I saw him at our cottage, good dame,\u201d\n replied Mabel, smiling through her tears, \u201cin the guise of a Guildford\nmerchant. He seemed scarcely to notice me just now.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was because so many eyes were upon you, sweet-heart,\u201d replied\nDeborah; \u201cbut sooth to say, I should be better pleased if he did not\nnotice you at all.\u201d\n\nMabel blushed, and hung her head.\n\n\u201cI am glad you are to be an attendant on the Lady Fitzgerald,\u201d pursued\nDeborah, \u201cfor she is the fairest young lady at court, and as good and\ngentle as she is fair, and I am sure you will find her a kind mistress.\nI will tell you something about her. She is beloved by the king's son,\nthe Duke of Richmond, but she requites not his passion, for her heart\nis fixed on the youthful Earl of Surrey. Alack-a-day! the noble rivals\nquarrelled and crossed swords about her; but as luck would have it, they\nwere separated before any mischief was done. The king was very wroth\nwith Lord Surrey, and ordered him to be imprisoned for two months in the\nRound Tower, in this castle, where he is now, though his term has very\nnearly expired.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow I pity him, to be thus harshly treated!\u201d remarked Mabel, her eyes\nswimming with tears, \u201cand the Lady Elizabeth too! I shall delight to\nserve her.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am told the earl passes the whole of his time in poring over books\nand writing love-verses and sonnets,\u201d said Deborah. \u201cIt seems strange\nthat one so young should be a poet; but I suppose he caught the art from\nhis friend Sir Thomas Wyat.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he a friend of Sir Thomas Wyat?\u201d asked Mabel quickly.\n\n\u201cHis close friend,\u201d replied Deborah; \u201cexcept the Duke of Richmond,\nnow his rival, he had none closer. Have you ever seen Sir Thomas,\nsweetheart?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, for a few moments,\u201d replied Mabel confusedly.\n\n\u201cI heard that he lingered for a short time in the forest before his\ndeparture for Paris,\u201d said Dame Quanden. \u201cThere was a strange rumour\nthat he had joined the band of Herne the Hunter. But that must have been\nuntrue.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he returned from France?\u201d inquired Mabel, without heeding the\nremark.\n\n\u201cI fancy not,\u201d replied the good dame. \u201cAt all events, he is not come to\nthe castle. Know you not,\u201d she added, in a low confidential tone, \u201cthat\nthe king is jealous of him? He was a former suitor to the Lady Anne\nBoleyn, and desperately in love with her; and it is supposed that his\nmission to France was only a pretext to get him out of the way.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suspected as much,\u201d replied Mabel. \u201cAlas! for Sir Thomas; and alas!\nfor the Earl of Surrey.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd alas! for Mabel Lyndwood, if she allows her heart to be fixed upon\nthe king,\u201d said Deborah.\n\nWhile this was passing the business of the kitchen, which had been\ninterrupted by the various incidents above related, and especially by\nthe conflict between the two jesters, was hurried forward, and for some\ntime all was bustle and confusion.\n\nBut as soon as the supper was served, and all his duties were fully\ndischarged, Simon Quanden, who had been bustling about, sat down in his\neasy-chair, and recruited himself with a toast and a sack posset. Hob\nand Nob had their supper at the same time, and the party at the table,\nwhich had been increased by the two archers and Nicholas Clamp, attacked\nwith renewed vigour a fresh supply of mead and ale, which had been\nprovided for them by Jack of the Bottles.\n\nThe conversation then turned upon Herne the Hunter; and as all had heard\nmore or less about him, and some had seen him, while few knew the legend\nconnected with him, Hector Cutbeard volunteered to relate it; upon which\nall the party gathered closer together, and Mabel and Deborah left off\ntalking, and drew near to listen.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\n     The Legend of Herne the Hunter.\n\n\n\u201cNearly a century and a half ago,\u201d commenced Cutbeard, about the middle\nof the reign of Richard the Second, there was among the keepers of the\nforest a young man named Herne. He was expert beyond his fellows in all\nmatters of woodcraft, and consequently in great favour with the king,\nwho was himself devoted to the chase. Whenever he stayed at the castle,\nKing Richard, like our own royal Harry, would pass his time in hunting,\nhawking, or shooting with the long-bow; and on all these occasions the\nyoung keeper was his constant attendant. If a hart was to be chased,\nHerne and his two black hounds of Saint Hubert's breed would hunt him\ndown with marvellous speed; if a wild boar was to be reared, a badger\ndigged out, a fox unkennelled, a marten bayed, or an otter vented, Herne\nwas chosen for the task. No one could fly a falcon so well as Herne--no\none could break up a deer so quickly or so skilfully as him. But in\nproportion as he grew in favour with the king, the young keeper was\nhated by his comrades, and they concerted together how to ruin him.\nAll their efforts, however, were ineffectual, and rather tended to his\nadvantage than injury.\n\n\u201cOne day it chanced that the king hunted in the forest with his\nfavourite, the Earl of Oxford, when a great deer of head was\nunharboured, and a tremendous chase ensued, the hart leading his\npursuers within a few miles of Hungerford, whither the borders of the\nforest then extended. All the followers of the king, even the Earl of\nOxford, had by this time dropped off, and the royal huntsman was only\nattended by Herne, who kept close behind him. At last the hart, driven\nto desperation, stood at bay, and gored the king's horse as he came up\nin such a manner that it reared and threw its rider. Another instant,\nand the horns of the infuriated animal would have been plunged into the\nbody of the king, if Herne had not flung himself between the prostrate\nmonarch and his assailant, and received the stroke intended for him.\nThough desperately wounded, the young hunter contrived slightly to raise\nhimself, and plunged his knife into the hart's throat, while the king\nregained his feet.\n\n\u201cGazing with the utmost concern at his unfortunate deliverer, King\nRichard demanded what he could do for him.\n\n\u201c'Nothing, sire--nothing,' replied Herne, with a groan. I shall require\nnothing but a grave from you, for I have received a wound that will\nspeedily bring me to it.'\n\n\u201c'Not so, I trust, good fellow,' replied the king, in a tone meant to\nbe encouraging, though his looks showed that his heart misgave him; 'my\nbest leech shall attend you.'\n\n\u201c'No skill will avail me now,' replied Herne sadly. 'A hurt from hart's\nhorn bringeth to the bier.'\n\n\u201c'I hope the proverb will not be justified in thy case,' rejoined the\nking; 'and I promise thee, if thou dost recover, thou shalt have the\npost of head keeper of the forest, with twenty nobles a year for wages.\nIf, unhappily, thy forebodings are realised, I will give the same sum to\nbe laid out in masses for thy soul.'\n\n\u201c'I humbly thank your highness,' replied the young man, 'and I accept\nthe latter offer, seeing it is the only one likely to profit me.'\n\n\u201cWith this he put his horn to his lips, and winding the dead mot feebly,\nfell back senseless. Much moved, the king rode off for succour; and\nblowing a lusty call on his bugle, was presently joined by the Earl\nof Oxford and some of his followers, among whom were the keepers. The\nlatter were secretly rejoiced on hearing what had befallen Herne, but\nthey feigned the greatest affliction, and hastened with the king to the\nspot where the body was lying stretched out beside that of the hart.\n\n\u201c'It is almost a pity his soul cannot pass away thus,' said King\nRichard, gazing compassionately at him, 'for he will only revive to\nanguish and speedy death.'\u201d\n\n\u201c'Your highness is right,' replied the chief keeper, a grim old\nman named Osmond Crooke, kneeling beside him, and half drawing his\nhunting-knife; 'it were better to put him out of his misery.'\n\n\u201c'What! slay the man who has just saved my own life!' cried the king.\n'I will consent to no such infamous deed. I would give a large reward to\nany one who could cure him.'\n\n\u201cAs the words were uttered, a tall dark man, in a strange garb,\nand mounted on a black wild-looking steed, whom no one had hitherto\nobserved, sprang to the ground and advanced towards the king.\n\n\u201c'I take your offer, sire,' said this personage, in a harsh voice. I\nwill cure him.'\n\n\u201c'Who art thou, fellow?' demanded King Richard doubtfully.\n\n\u201c'I am a forester,' replied the tall man, 'but I understand somewhat of\nchirurgery and leechcraft.'\n\n\u201c'And woodcraft, too, I'll be sworn, fellow,' said the king 'Thou hast,\nor I am mistaken, made free with some of my venison.'\n\n\u201c'He looks marvellously like Arnold Sheafe, who was outlawed for\ndeer-stealing,' said Osmond Crooke, regarding him steadfastly.\n\n\u201c'I am no outlaw, neither am I called Arnold Sheafe,' replied the other.\n'My name is Philip Urswick, and I can render a good account of myself\nwhen it shall please the king's highness to interrogate me. I dwell on\nthe heath near Bagshot, which you passed today in the chase, and where I\njoined you.'\n\n\u201c'I noted you not,' said Osmond.\n\n\u201c'Nor I--nor I!' cried the other keepers.\n\n\u201c'That may be; but I saw you,' rejoined Urswick contemptuously; 'and I\ntell you there is not one among you to be compared with the brave hunter\nwho lies there. You have all pronounced his case hopeless. I repeat I\ncan cure him if the king will make it worth my while.'\n\n\u201c'Make good thy words, fellow,' replied the king; 'and thou shalt not\nonly be amply rewarded, but shalt have a free pardon for any offence\nthou mayest have committed.'\n\n\u201c'Enough,' replied Urswick. And taking a large, keen-edged hunting-knife\nfrom his girdle, he cut off the head of the hart close to the point\nwhere the neck joins the skull, and then laid it open from the extremity\nof the under-lip to the nuke. 'This must be bound on the head of the\nwounded man,' he said.\n\n\u201cThe keepers stared in astonishment. But the king commanded that the\nstrange order should be obeyed. Upon which the bleeding skull was\nfastened upon the head of the keeper with leathern thongs.\n\n\u201c'I will now answer for his perfect cure in a month's time,' said\nUrswick to the king; 'but I shall require to watch over him myself till\nall danger is at an end. I pray your highness to command these keepers\nto transport him to my hut.'\n\n\u201c'You hear what he says, knaves?' cried the king; 'do his bidding, and\ncarefully, or ye shall answer to me with your lives.'\n\n\u201cAccordingly a litter was formed with branches of trees, and on this the\nbody of Herne, with the hart's head still bound to it, was conveyed by\nthe keepers to Urswick's hut, a small dwelling, situated in the wildest\npart of Bagshot Heath. After placing the body upon a bed of dried fern,\nthe keepers were about to depart, when Osmond Crooke observed to the\nforester, 'I am now certain thou art Arnold Sheafe.'\n\n\u201c'It matters not who I am, since I have the king's pardon,' replied the\nother, laughing disdainfully.\n\n\u201c'Thou hast yet to earn it,' said Osmond.\n\n\u201c'Leave that to me,' replied Urswick. 'There is more fear that thou wilt\nlose thy post as chief keeper, which the king has promised to Herne,\nthan that I shall fail.'\n\n\u201c'Would the deer had killed him outright!' growled Osmond.\n\n\u201cAnd the savage wish was echoed by the other keepers. \u201c'I see you all\nhate him bitterly,' said Urswick. 'What will you give me for revenge?'\n\n\u201c'We have little to give, save a fat buck on occasions,' replied Osmond;\n'and, in all likelihood, thou canst help thyself to venison.'\n\n\u201c'Will you swear to grant the first request I may make of you--provided\nit shall be in your power?' demanded Urswick.\n\n\u201c'Readily' they replied.\n\n\u201c'Enough' said Urswick. 'I must keep faith with the king. Herne will\nrecover, but he will lose all his skill as an archer, all his craft as a\nhunter.'\n\n\u201c'If thou canst accomplish this thou art the fiend himself' cried\nOsmond, trembling.\n\n\u201c'Fiend or not,' replied Urswick, with a triumphant laugh, 'ye have made\na compact with me, and must fulfil it. Now begone. I must attend to the\nwounded man.'\n\n\u201cAnd the keepers, full of secret misgiving, departed.\n\n\u201cAt the precise time promised, Herne, attended by Urswick, presented\nhimself to the king. He looked thin and pale, but all danger was past.\nKing Richard gave the forester a purse full of nobles, and added a\nsilver bugle to the gift. He then appointed Herne his chief keeper,\nhung a chain of gold round his neck, and ordered him to be lodged in the\ncastle.\n\n\u201cAbout a week after this, Herne, having entirely regained his strength,\naccompanied the king on a hunting expedition to the forest, and they\nhad scarcely entered it when his horse started and threw him. Up to\nthat moment such an accident had never happened to him, for he was an\nexcellent horseman, and he arose greatly discomfited, while the keepers\neyed each other askance. Soon after this a buck was started, and though\nHerne was bravely mounted on a black steed bestowed on him on account of\nits swiftness by the king, he was the last in the chase.\n\n\u201c'Thou art out of practice,' said the king, laughing, as he came up.\n\n\u201c'I know not what ails me,' replied Herne gloomily.\n\n\u201c'It cannot be thy steed's fault,' said the king, 'for he is usually as\nfleet as the wind. But I will give thee an opportunity of gaining credit\nin another way. Thou seest yon buck. He cannot be seventy yards off, and\nI have seen thee hit the mark at twice the distance. Bring him down.'\n\n\u201cHerne raised his crossbow, and let fly the bolt; but it missed its\nmark, and the buck, startled by the noise, dashed down the brake wholly\nuninjured.\n\n\u201cKing Richard's brow grew dark, and Herne uttered an exclamation of rage\nand despair.\n\n\u201c'Thou shalt have a third and yet easier trial,' said the king. Old\nOsmond Crooke shall lend thee his bow, and thy quarry shall be yon\nmagot-pie.'\n\n\u201cAs he spoke, the arrow sped. But it quivered in the trunk of the tree,\nsome yards from the bird. The unfortunate shooter looked distracted;\nbut King Richard made no remark, until, towards the close of the day,\nhe said to him, 'Thou must regain thy craft, friend Herne, or I cannot\ncontinue thee as my chief keeper.'\n\n\u201cThe keepers congratulated each other in secret, for they felt that\ntheir malice was about to be gratified.\n\n\u201cThe next day Herne went forth, as he thought, alone, but he was watched\nby his enemies. Not a shaft would go true, and he found that he had\ncompletely lost his mastery over hound and horse. The day after that he\nagain rode forth to hunt with the king, and his failures made him the\nlaughing-stock of the party. Richard at length dismissed him with these\nwords, 'Take repose for a week, and then thou shalt have a further\ntrial. If thou dost not then succeed, I must perforce discharge thee\nfrom thy post.'\n\n\u201cInstead of returning to the castle, Herne rode off wildly into the\nforest, where he remained till eventide. He then returned with ghastly\nlooks and a strange appearance, having the links of a rusty chain which\nhe had plucked from a gibbet hanging from his left arm, and the hart's\nantlered skull, which he had procured from Urswick, fixed like a helm\nupon his head. His whole demeanour showed that he was crazed; and his\ncondition, which might have moved the compassion of his foes, only\nprovoked their laughter. After committing the wildest extravagances, he\nburst from all restraint, and disappeared among the trees of the home\npark.\n\n\u201cAn hour after this a pedlar, who was crossing the park from Datchet,\nfound him suspended by a rope from a branch of the oak-tree which you\nhave all seen, and which bears his name. Despair had driven him to the\ndreadful deed. Instead of cutting him down, the pedlar ran to the castle\nto relate what he had witnessed; and the keepers, satisfied that their\nrevenge was now fully accomplished, hastened with him to the tree. But\nthe body was gone; and all that proclaimed it had been there, was the\nrope hanging from the branch. Search was everywhere made for the missing\nbody, but without effect. When the matter was related to the king he was\nmuch troubled, and would fain have had masses said for the repose of the\nsoul of the unfortunate keeper, but the priests refused to perform them,\nalleging that he had 'committed self-destruction, and was therefore out\nof the pale of the Church.\n\n\u201cOn that night, a terrible thunderstorm occurred--as terrible, it may\nbe, as that of last night--and during its continuance, the oak on which\nHerne had hanged himself was blasted by the lightning.\n\n\u201cOld Osmond was immediately reinstated in his post of chief keeper; but\nhe had little time for rejoicing, for he found that the same spell that\nhad bound Herne had fallen upon him. His bolts and arrows went wide of\ntheir mark, his hounds lost their scent, and his falcon would not be\nlured back. Half frantic, and afraid of exposing himself to the taunts\nof his companions, he feigned illness, and left his comrade, Roger\nBarfoot, to take his place. But the same ill-luck befell Barfoot, and\nhe returned in woeful plight, without a single head of game. Four others\nwere equally unfortunate, and it was now clear that the whole party were\nbewitched.\n\n\u201cLuckily, the king had quitted the castle, but they felt certain they\nshould be dismissed on his return, if not more severely punished. At\nlast, after taking counsel together, they resolved to consult Urswick,\nwho they doubted not could remove the spell. Accordingly, they went to\nBagshot Heath, and related their story to him. When they had done, he\nsaid, 'The curse of Herne's blood is upon you, and can only be removed\nin one way. As you return to the castle, go to the tree on which he\ndestroyed himself, and you may learn how to act.'\n\n\u201cThe keepers would have questioned him further, but he refused to\nanswer, and dismissed them.\n\n\u201cThe shades of evening had fallen as they quitted Bagshot; and it was\nmidnight as they entered the home park, and proceeded towards the fatal\noak. It was pitchy dark, and they could only distinguish the tree by\nits white, scathed trunk. All at once, a blue flame, like a\nwill-o'-the-wisp, appeared, flitted thrice round the tree, and then\nremained stationary, its light falling upon a figure in a wild garb,\nwith a rusty chain hanging from its left arm, and an antlered helm upon\nits head. They knew it to be Herne, and instantly fell down before him,\nwhile a burst of terrible laughter sounded in their ears.\n\n\u201cWithout heeding them further, the spirit darted round the tree,\nrattling its chain, and uttering appalling imprecations. It then\nstopped, and turning to the terrified beholders, bade them, in a hollow\nvoice, bring hounds and horses as for the chase on the following night\nand vanished.\n\n\u201cFilled with dread, the keepers returned home, and the next day Old\nOsmond again sought the forester, and told him what had occurred.\n\n\u201c'You must obey the spirit's injunctions, or worse mischief will befall\nyou,' said Urswick. 'Go to the tree, mounted as for a hunting-party,\nand take the black steed given to Herne by the king, and the two black\nhounds with you. You will see what will ensue.' And without another word\nhe dismissed him.\n\n\u201cOsmond told his comrades what the forester had said, and though they\nwere filled with alarm, they resolved upon compliance. At midnight,\ntherefore, they rode towards the tree with the black hounds in leash,\nand leading Herne's favourite horse, saddled and bridled. As they drew\nnear, they again saw the terrible shape stalking round the tree, and\nheard the fearful imprecations.\n\n\u201cHis spells ended, Herne called to Osmond to bring him his steed; and\nthe old man tremblingly obeyed. In an instant the mysterious being\nvaulted on its back, and in a voice of resistless authority cried, 'To\nthe forest!--to the forest!' With this, he dashed forward, and the whole\nparty, hounds and men, hurried after him.\n\n\u201cThey rode at a furious pace for five or six miles over the great park,\nthe keepers wondering where their unearthly leader was taking them, and\nalmost fancying they were hurrying to perdition, when they descended\na hillside leading to the marsh, and halted before a huge beech-tree,\nwhere Herne dismounted and pronounced certain mystic words, accompanying\nthem with strange gestures.\n\n\u201cPresently, he became silent and motionless. A flash of fire then burst\nfrom the roots of the tree, and the forester Urswick stood before him.\nBut his aspect was more terrible and commanding than it had seemed\nheretofore to the keepers.\n\n\u201c'Welcome, Herne,' he cried; 'welcome, lord of the forest. And you his\ncomrades, and soon to be his followers, welcome too. The time is come\nfor the fulfilment of your promise to me. I require you to form a band\nfor Herne the Hunter, and to serve him as leader. Swear to obey him, and\nthe spell that hangs over you shall be broken. If not, I leave you to\nthe king's justice.'\n\n\u201cNot daring to refuse compliance, the keepers took the oath\nproposed--and a fearful one it was! As soon as it was Urswick vanished,\nas he came, in a flash of fire. Herne, then commanded the others to\ndismount, and made them prostrate themselves before him, and pay him\nhomage.\n\n\u201cThis done, he blew a strike on his horn, rode swiftly up the hillside,\nand a stag being unharboured, the chase commenced. Many a fat buck was\nhunted and slaughtered that night; and an hour before daybreak, Herne\ncommanded them to lay the four finest and fattest at the foot of the\nbeech-tree, and then dismissed them, bidding them meet him at midnight\nat the scathed oak in the home park.\n\n\u201cThey came as they were commanded; but fearful of detection, they\nadopted strange disguises, not unlike those worn by the caitiffs who\nwere put to death, a few weeks ago, by the king in the great park.\nNight after night they thus went forth, thinning the herds of deer,\nand committing other outrages and depredations. Nor were their dark\nproceedings altogether unnoticed. Belated travellers crossing the forest\nbeheld them, and related what they had seen; others watched for them,\nbut they were so effectually disguised that they escaped detection.\n\n\u201cAt last, however, the king returned to the castle, and accounts of the\nstrange doings in the forest were instantly brought to him. Astonished\nat what he heard, and determined to ascertain the truth of the\nstatement, he ordered the keepers to attend him that night in an\nexpedition to the forest, when he hoped to encounter the demon huntsman\nand his hand. Much alarmed, Osmond Crooke, who acted as spokesman,\nendeavoured, by representing the risk he would incur, to dissuade the\nking from the enterprise; but he would not be deterred, and they now\ngave themselves up for lost.\n\n\u201cAs the castle clock tolled forth the hour of midnight, Richard,\naccompanied by a numerous guard, and attended by the keepers, issued\nfrom the gates, and rode towards the scathed oak. As they drew near the\ntree, the figure of Herne, mounted on his black steed, was discerned\nbeneath it. Deep fear fell upon all the beholders, but chiefly upon the\nguilty keepers, at the sight. The king, however, pressed forward, and\ncried, 'Why does thou disturb the quietude of night, accursed spirit?'\n\n\u201cBecause I desire vengeance!' replied Herne, in a hollow voice. 'I\nwas brought to my present woeful condition by Osmond Crooke and his\ncomrades.'\n\n\u201c'But you died by your own hand,--did you not?' demanded King Richard.\n\n\u201c'Yea,' replied Herne; 'but I was driven to the deed by an infernal\nspell laid upon me by the malice of the wretches I have denounced. Hang\nthem upon this tree, and I will trouble these woods no longer whilst\nthou reignest!'\n\n\u201cThe king looked round at the keepers. They all remained obdurate,\nexcept Roger Barfoot, who, falling on his knees, confessed his guilt,\nand accused the others.\n\n\u201cIt is enough,' cried the king to Herne; 'they shall all suffer for\ntheir offence.'\n\n\u201cUpon this a flash of fire enveloped the spirit and his horse, and he\nvanished.\n\n\u201cThe king kept his word. Osmond and his comrades were all hanged upon\nthe scathed tree, nor was Herne seen again in the forest while\nRichard sat upon the throne. But he reappeared with a new band at the\ncommencement of the rule of Henry the Fourth, and again hunted the deer\nat night. His band was destroyed, but he defied all attempts at capture;\nand so it has continued to our own time, for not one of the seven\nmonarchs who have held the castle since Richard's day have been able to\ndrive him from the forest.\u201d\n\n\u201cNor will the present monarch be able to drive him thence,\u201d said a deep\nvoice. \u201cAs long as Windsor Forest endures, Herne the Hunter will haunt\nit.\u201d\n\nAll turned at the exclamation and saw that it proceeded from a tall dark\nman, in an archer's garb, standing behind Simon Quanden's chair.\n\n\u201cThou hast told thy legend fairly enough, good clerk of the kitchen,\u201d\n continued this personage; \u201cbut thou art wrong on many material points.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have related the story as it was related to me,\u201d said Cutbeard\nsomewhat nettled at the remark; \u201cbut perhaps you will set me right where\nI have erred.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true that Herne was a keeper in the reign of Richard the Second,\u201d\n replied the tall archer. \u201cIt is true also that he was expert in all\nmatters of woodcraft, and that he was in high favour with the king; but\nhe was bewitched by a lovely damsel, and not by a weird forester. He\ncarried off a nun and dwelt with her in a cave in the forest where he\nassembled his brother keepers, and treated them to the king's venison\nand the king's wine.\n\n\u201cA sacreligious villain and a reprobate!\u201d exclaimed Launcelot Rutter.\n\n\u201cHis mistress was fair enough, I will warrant her,\u201d said Kit Coo.\n\n\u201cShe was the very image of this damsel,\u201d rejoined the tall archer,\npointing to Mabel, \u201cand fair enough to work his ruin, for it was through\nher that the fiend tempted him. The charms that proved his undoing were\nfatal to her also, for in a fit of jealousy he slew her. The remorse\noccasioned by this deed made him destroy himself.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, your version of the legend may be the correct one, for aught I\nknow, worthy sir,\u201d said Cutbeard; \u201cbut I see not that it accounts for\nHerne's antlers so well as mine, unless he were wedded to the nun, who\nyou say played him false. But how came you to know she resembled Mabel\nLyndwood?\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, I was thinking of that myself,\u201d said Simon Quanden. \u201cHow do you\nknow that, master?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause I have seen her picture,\u201d replied the tall archer.\n\n\u201cPainted by Satan's chief limner, I suppose?\u201d rejoined Cutbeard.\n\n\u201cHe who painted it had seen her,\u201d replied the tall archer sternly. \u201cBut,\nas I have said, it was the very image of this damsel.\u201d\n\nAnd as he uttered the words, he quitted the kitchen.\n\n\u201cWho is that archer?\u201d demanded Cutbeard, looking after him. But no one\ncould answer the question, nor could any one tell when he had entered\nthe kitchen.\n\n\u201cStrange!\u201d exclaimed Simon Quanden, crossing himself. \u201cHave you ever\nseen him before, Mabel?\u201d\n\n\u201cI almost think I have,\u201d she replied, with a slight shudder.\n\n\u201cI half suspect he is Herne himself,\u201d whispered the Duke of Shoreditch\nto Paddington.\n\n\u201cIt may be,\u201d responded the other; \u201chis glance made my blood run cold.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou look somewhat fatigued, sweetheart,\u201d said Deborah, observing\nMabel's uneasiness. \u201cCome with me and I will show you to a chamber.\u201d\n\nGlad to escape Mabel followed the good dame out of the kitchen, and they\nascended a winding staircase which brought them to a commodious chamber\nin the upper part of Henry the Seventh's buildings, where Deborah sat\ndown with her young charge and volunteered a great deal of good advice\nto her, which the other listened to with becoming attention, and\npromised to profit by it.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\n     Of the Mysterious Noise heard in the Curfew Tower.\n\n\nOn quitting the kitchen, Henry, having been informed by Bouchier that\nTristram Lyndwood was lodged in the prison-chamber in the lower gateway,\nproceeded thither to question him. He found the old man seated on a\nbench, with his hands tied behind him; but though evidently much alarmed\nat his situation, he could not be brought either by threats or proffers\nto make any confession.\n\nOut of patience, at length, the king ordered him to be conveyed to\nthe dungeon beneath the Curfew Tower, and personally superintended his\nremoval.\n\n\u201cI will find a means of shaking his obstinacy,\u201d said Henry, as he\nquitted the vault with Bouchier. \u201cIf I cannot move him by other means,\nI may through his granddaughter I will interrogate him in her presence\nto-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-night, sire!\u201d exclaimed Bouchier.\n\n\u201cAy, to-night,\u201d repeated the king. \u201cI am resolved, even if it should\ncost the life of this maiden, whose charms have moved me so, to break\nthe infernal machinery woven around me. And now as I think it not\nunlikely the miscreant Herne may attempt the prisoner's deliverance,\nlet the strictest watch be kept over the tower. Station an arquebusier\nthroughout the night at the door of the dungeon, and another at the\nentrance to the chamber on the ground floor. Your own post must be on\nthe roof of the fortification, that you may watch if any attempt is made\nto scale it from the town side, or to get in through the loopholes.\nKeep a sharp lookout Bouchier, for I shall hold you responsible if any\nmischance occurs.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will do my best, my liege,\u201d replied Bouchier; \u201cand were it with a\nmortal foe I had to contend, I should have no fear. But what vigilance\ncan avail against a fiend?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have heard my injunctions, and will attend to them,\u201d rejoined the\nking harshly. \u201cI shall return anon to the examination.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he departed.\n\nBrave as a lion on ordinary occasions, Bouchier entered upon his present\nduty with reluctance and misgiving; and he found the arquebusiers by\nwhom he was attended, albeit stout soldiers, equally uneasy. Herne had\nnow become an object of general dread throughout the castle; and the\npossibility of an encounter with him was enough to daunt the boldest\nbreast. Disguising his alarm, Bouchier issued his directions in an\nauthoritative tone, and then mounted with three arquebusiers to the\nsummit of the tower. It was now dark, but the moon soon arose, and her\nbeams rendered every object as distinguishable as daylight would have\ndone, so that watch was easily kept. But nothing occurred to occasion\nalarm, until all at once, a noise like that of a hammer stricken against\na board, was heard in the chamber below.\n\nDrawing his sword, Bouchier hurried down the steps leading into this\nchamber, which was buried in darkness, and advanced so precipitately\nand incautiously into the gloom, that he struck his head against a\ncrossbeam. The violence of the blow stunned him for a moment, but as\nsoon as he recovered, he called to the guard in the lower chamber to\nbring up a torch. The order was promptly obeyed; but, meanwhile, the\nsound had ceased, and, though they searched about, they could not\ndiscover the occasion of it.\n\nThis, however, was not so wonderful for the singular construction of the\nchamber, with its numerous crossbeams, its deep embrasures and recesses,\nits insecure and uneven floor, its steep ladder-like staircases, was\nhighly favourable to concealment, it being utterly impossible, owing\nto the intersections of the beams, for the searchers to see far before\nthem, or to move about quickly. In the midst of the chamber was a large\nwooden compartment enclosing the cumbrous and uncouth machinery of the\ncastle clock, and through the box ran the cord communicating with the\nbelfry above. At that time, pieces of ordnance were mounted in all\nthe embrasures, but there is now only one gun, placed in a porthole\ncommanding Thames Street, and the long thoroughfare leading to Eton. The\nview from this porthole of the groves of Eton, and of the lovely\nplains on the north-west, watered by the river, is enchanting beyond\ndescription.\n\nViewed from a recess which has been partly closed, the appearance of\nthis chamber is equally picturesque and singular; and it is scarcely\npossible to pass beneath its huge beams or to gaze at the fantastic yet\nstriking combinations they form in connection with the deep embrasures,\nthe steep staircases and trap-doors, and not feel that the whole place\nbelongs to romance, and that a multitude of strange and startling\nstories must be connected with it. The old architects were indeed great\nromancers, and built for the painter and the poet.\n\nBouchier and his companion crept about under the great meshwork of\nbeams-peered into all the embrasures, and beneath the carriages of\nthe culverins. There was a heap of planks and beams lying on the floor\nbetween the two staircases, but no one was near it.\n\nThe result of their investigations did not tend to decrease their alarm.\nBouchier would fain have had the man keep watch in the chamber, but\nneither threats nor entreaties could induce him to remain there. He\nwas therefore sent below, and the captain returned to the roof. He had\nscarcely emerged upon the leads when the hammering recommenced more\nviolently than before. In vain Bouchier ordered his men to go down. No\none would stir; and superstitious fear had by this time obtained such\nmastery over the captain, that he hesitated to descend alone. To add to\nhis vexation, the arquebusier had taken the torch with him, so that he\nshould have to proceed in darkness.\n\nAt length he mustered up courage to make the attempt; but he paused\nbetween each step, peering through the gloom, and half fancying he could\ndiscern the figure of Herne near the spot where the pile of wood lay.\nCertain it was that the sound of diabolical laughter, mingled with the\nrattling of the chain and the sharp blows of the hammer, smote his\nears. The laughter became yet louder as Bouchier advanced, the hammering\nceased, and the clanking of the chain showed that its mysterious wearer\nwas approaching the foot of the steps to meet him. But the captain\nhad not nerve enough for the encounter. Invoking the protection of the\nsaints, he beat a precipitate retreat, and closed the little door at the\nhead of the steps after him.\n\nThe demon was apparently satisfied with the alarm he had occasioned, for\nthe hammering was not renewed at that time.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\n     Showing the Vacillations of the King between Wolsey and Anne\n     Boleyn.\n\n\nBefore returning to the state apartments, Henry took a turn on the\nramparts on the north side of the castle, between the Curfew Tower\nand the Winchester Tower, and lingered for a short time on the bastion\ncommanding that part of the acclivity where the approach, called the\nHundred Steps, is now contrived. Here he cautioned the sentinels to be\ndoubly vigilant throughout the night, and having gazed for a moment at\nthe placid stream flowing at the foot of the castle, and tinged with the\nlast rays of the setting sun, he proceeded to the royal lodgings, and\nentered the banquet chamber, where supper was already served.\n\nWolsey sat on his right hand, but he did not vouchsafe him a single\nword, addressing the whole of his discourse to the Duke of Suffolk, who\nwas placed on his left. As soon as the repast was over, he retired to\nhis closet. But the cardinal would not be so repulsed, and sent one of\nhis gentlemen to crave a moment's audience of the king, which with some\nreluctance was accorded.\n\n\u201cWell, cardinal,\u201d cried Henry, as Wolsey presented himself, and the\nusher withdrew. \u201cYou are playing a deep game with me, as you think; but\ntake heed, for I see through it.\u201d \u201cI pray you dismiss these suspicions\nfrom your mind, my liege,\u201d said Wolsey. \u201cNo servant was ever more\nfaithful to his master than I have been to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo servant ever took better care of himself,\u201d cried the king fiercely.\n\u201cNot alone have you wronged me to enrich yourself, but you are ever\nintriguing with my enemies. I have nourished in my breast a viper; but I\nwill cast you off--will crush you as I would the noxious reptile.\u201d\n\nAnd he stamped upon the floor, as if he could have trampled the cardinal\nbeneath his foot.\n\n\u201cBeseech you calm yourself, my liege,\u201d replied Wolsey, in the soft and\ndeprecatory tone which he had seldom known to fail with the king. \u201cI\nhave never thought of my own aggrandisement, but as it was likely to\nadvance your power. For the countless benefits I have received at your\nhands, my soul overflows with gratitude. You have raised me from the\nmeanest condition to the highest. You have made me your confidant, your\nadviser, your treasurer, and with no improper boldness I say it, your\nfriend. But I defy the enemies who have poisoned your ears against me,\nto prove that I have ever abused the trust placed in me. The sole fault\nthat can be imputed to me is, that I have meddled more with temporal\nmatters than with spiritual, and it is a crime for which I must answer\nbefore Heaven. But I have so acted because I felt that I might thereby\nbest serve your highness. If I have aspired to the papal throne--which\nyou well know I have--it has been that I might be yet a more powerful\nfriend to your majesty, and render you what you are entitled to be, the\nfirst prince in Christendom.\u201d\n\n\u201cTut, tut!\u201d exclaimed the king, who was, nevertheless, moved by the\nartful appeal.\n\n\u201cThe gifts I have received from foreign princes,\u201d pursued Wolsey, seeing\nthe effect he had produced, \u201cthe wealth I have amassed, have all been\nwith a view of benefiting your majesty.\u201d \u201cHumph!\u201d exclaimed the king.\n\n\u201cTo prove that I speak the truth, sire,\u201d continued the wily cardinal,\n\u201cthe palace at Hampton Court, which I have just completed--\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd at a cost more lavish than I myself should have expended on it,\u201d\n interrupted the king angrily.\n\n\u201cIf I had destined it for myself, I should not have spent a tithe of\nwhat I have done,\u201d rejoined Wolsey. \u201cYour highness's unjust accusations\nforce me to declare my intentions somewhat prematurely. Deign,\u201d he\ncried, throwing at the king's feet, \u201cdeign to accept that palace and all\nwithin it. You were pleased, during your late residence there, to express\nyour approval of it. And I trust it will find equal favour in your eyes,\nnow that it is your own.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy holy Mary, a royal gift!\u201d cried Henry. \u201cRise, You are not the\ngrasping, selfish person you have been represented.\u201d\n\n\u201cDeclare as much to my enemies, sire, and I shall be more content. You\nwill find the palace better worth acceptance than at first sight might\nappear.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so?\u201d cried the king.\n\n\u201cYour highness will be pleased to take this key,\u201d said the cardinal; \u201cit\nis the key of the cellar.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have some choice wine there,\u201d cried Henry significantly; \u201cgiven you\nby some religious house, or sent you by some foreign potentate, ha!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is wine that a king might prize,\u201d replied the cardinal. \u201cYour\nmajesty will find a hundred hogsheads in that cellar, and each hogshead\nfilled with gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou amaze me!\u201d cried the king, feigning astonishment. \u201cAnd all this you\nfreely give me?\u201d\n\n\u201cFreely and fully, sire,\u201d replied Wolsey. \u201cNay, I have saved it for you.\nMen think I have cared for myself, whereas I have cared only for your\nmajesty. Oh! my dear liege, by the devotion I have just approved to you,\nand which I would also approve, if needful, with my life, I beseech you\nto consider well before you raise Anne Boleyn to the throne. In giving\nyou this counsel, I know I hazard the favour I have just regained. But\neven at that hazard, I must offer it. Your infatuation blinds you to\nthe terrible consequences of the step. The union is odious to all your\nsubjects, but most of all to those not tainted with the new heresies and\nopinions. It will never be forgiven by the Emperor Charles the Fifth,\nwho will seek to avenge the indignity offered to his illustrious\nrelative; while Francis will gladly make it a pretext for breaking his\ntruce with you. Add to this the displeasure of the Apostolic See, and it\nmust be apparent that, powerful as you are, your position will be one of\ninfinite peril.\u201d\n\n\u201cThus far advanced, I cannot honourably abandon the divorce,\u201d said\nHenry.\n\n\u201cNor do I advise its abandonment, sire,\u201d replied Wolsey; \u201cbut do not let\nit be a means of injuring you with all men. Do not let a mal-alliance\nplace your very throne in jeopardy; as, with your own subjects and all\nforeign powers against you, must necessarily be the case.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak warmly, cardinal,\u201d said Henry.\n\n\u201cMy zeal prompts me to do so,\u201d replied Wolsey. \u201cAnne Boleyn is in no\nrespect worthy of the honour you propose her.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd whom do you think more worthy?\u201d demanded Henry.\n\n\u201cThose whom I have already recommended to your majesty, the Duchess\nd'Alencon, or the Princess Renee,\u201d replied Wolsey; \u201cby a union with\neither of whom you would secure the cordial co-operation of Francis,\nand the interests of the see of Rome, which, in the event of a war with\nSpain, you may need.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Wolsey,\u201d replied Henry, taking a hasty turn across the chamber; \u201cno\nconsiderations of interests or security shall induce me to give up Anne.\nI love her too well for that. Let the lion Charles roar, the fox Francis\nsnarl, and the hydra-headed Clement launch forth his flames, I will\nremain firm to my purpose. I will not play the hypocrite with you,\nwhatever I may do with others. I cast off Catherine that I may wed Anne,\nbecause I cannot otherwise obtain her. And shall I now, when I\nhave dared so much, and when the prize is within my grasp, abandon\nit?--Never! Threats, expostulations, entreaties are alike unavailing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI grieve to hear it, my liege,\u201d replied Wolsey, heaving a deep sigh.\n\u201cIt is an ill-omened union, and will bring woe to you, woe to your\nrealm, and woe to the Catholic Church.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd woe to you also, false cardinal,\u201d cried Anne Boleyn, throwing aside\nthe arras, and stepping forward. \u201cI have overheard what has passed;\nand from my heart of hearts I thank you, Henry, for the love you have\ndisplayed for me. But I here solemnly vow never to give my hand to you\ntill Wolsey is dismissed from your counsels.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnne!\u201d exclaimed the king.\n\n\u201cMy own enmity I could forego,\u201d pursued Anne vehemently, \u201cbut I cannot\nforgive him his duplicity and perfidy towards you. He has just proffered\nyou his splendid palace of Hampton, and his treasures; and wherefore?--I\nwill tell you: because he feared they would be wrested from him. His\njester had acquainted him with the discovery just made of the secret\nhoard, and he was therefore compelled to have recourse to this desperate\nmove. But I was apprized of his intentions by Will Sommers, and have\ncome in time to foil him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my faith, I believe you are right, sweetheart,\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cGo, tell your allies, Francis and Clement, that the king's love for me\noutweighs his fear of them,\u201d cried Anne, laughing spitefully. \u201cAs for\nyou, I regard you as nothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cVain woman, your pride will be abased,\u201d rejoined Wolsey bitterly.\n\n\u201cVain man, you are already abased,\u201d replied Anne. \u201cA few weeks ago I\nwould have made terms with you. Now I am your mortal enemy, and will\nnever rest till I have procured your downfall.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king will have an amiable consort, truly,\u201d sneered Wolsey.\n\n\u201cHe will have one who can love him and hate his foes,\u201d replied Anne;\n\u201cand not one who would side with them and thee, as would be the case\nwith the Duchess d'Alencon or the Princess Renee. Henry, you know the\nsole terms on which you can procure my hand.\u201d\n\nThe king nodded a playful affirmative.\n\n\u201cThen dismiss him at once, disgrace him,\u201d said Anne.\n\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d replied Henry, \u201cthe divorce is not yet passed. You are\nangered now, and will view matters more coolly to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall never change my resolution,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cIf my dismissal and disgrace can save my sovereign, I pray him to\nsacrifice me without hesitation,\u201d said Wolsey; \u201cbut while I have liberty\nof speech with him, and aught of power remaining, I will use it to his\nadvantage. I pray your majesty suffer me to retire.\u201d\n\nAnd receiving a sign of acquiescence from the king, he withdrew, amid\nthe triumphant laughter of Anne.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\n     How Tristram Lyndwood was interrogated by the King.\n\n\nAnne Boleyn remained with her royal lover for a few minutes to pour\nforth her gratitude for the attachment he had displayed to her, and to\nconfirm the advantage she had gained over Wolsey. As soon as she\nwas gone, Henry summoned an usher, and giving him some instructions\nrespecting Mabel Lyndwood, proceeded to the Curfew Tower.\n\nNothing was said to him of the strange noise that had been heard in\nthe upper chamber, for the arquebusiers were fearful of exciting his\ndispleasure by a confession of their alarm, and he descended at once to\nthe dungeon.\n\n\u201cWell, fellow,\u201d he cried, sternly regarding the captive, who arose at\nhis entrance, \u201cyou have now had ample time for reflection, and I trust\nare in a better frame of mind than when I last spoke with you. I command\nyou to declare all you know concerning Herne the Hunter, and to give\nme such information respecting the proscribed felon, Morgan Fenwolf, as\nwill enable me to accomplish his capture.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have already told your highness that my mouth is sealed by an oath of\nsecrecy,\u201d replied Tristram, humbly, but firmly.\n\n\u201cObstinate dog! thou shalt either speak, or I will hang thee from the\ntop of this tower, as I hanged Mark Fytton the butcher,\u201d roared Henry.\n\n\u201cYou will execute your sovereign pleasure, my liege,\u201d said the old man.\n\u201cMy life is in your hands. It is little matter whether it is closed now\nor a year hence. I have well nigh run out my term.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf thou carest not for thyself, thou mayest not be equally indifferent\nto another,\u201d cried the king. \u201cWhat ho! bring in his granddaughter.\u201d\n\nThe old man started at the command, and trembled violently. The next\nmoment, Mabel was led into the dungeon by Shoreditch and Paddington.\nBehind her came Nicholas Clamp. On seeing her grandsire, she uttered a\nloud cry and would have rushed towards him, but she was held back by her\ncompanions.\n\n\u201cOh grandfather!\u201d she cried, \u201cwhat have you done?-why do I find you\nhere?\u201d\n\nTristram groaned, and averted his head.\n\n\u201cHe is charged with felony and sorcery,\u201d said the king sternly, \u201cand you,\nmaiden, come under the same suspicion.\u201d\n\n\u201cBelieve it not, sire,\u201d cried the old man, flinging himself at Henry's\nfeet; \u201coh, believe it not. Whatever you may judge of me, believe her\ninnocent. She was brought up most devoutly, by a lay sister of the\nmonastery at Chertsey; and she knows nothing, save by report, of what\npasses in the forest.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet she has seen and conversed with Morgan Fenwolf,\u201d the king.\n\n\u201cNot since he was outlawed,\u201d said Tristram.\n\n\u201cI saw him to--day, as I was brought to the castle,\u201d cried Mabel,\n\u201cand--\u201d but recollecting that she might implicate her grandfather, she\nsuddenly stopped.\n\n\u201cWhat said he?--ha!\u201d demanded the king.\n\n\u201cI will tell your majesty what passed,\u201d interposed Nicholas Clamp,\nstepping forward, \u201cfor I was with the damsel at the time. He came upon\nus suddenly from behind a great tree, and ordered her to accompany him\nto her grandsire.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed the king.\n\n\u201cBut he had no authority for what he said, I am well convinced,\u201d pursued\nClamp. \u201cMabel disbelieved him and refused to go, and I should have\ncaptured him if the fiend he serves had not lent him a helping hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat says the prisoner himself to this?\u201d observed the king. \u201cDidst thou\nsend Fenwolf on the errand?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did,\u201d replied Tristram. \u201cI sent him to prevent her from going to the\ncastle.\u201d\n\nMabel sobbed audibly.\n\n\u201cThou art condemned by thy own confession, caitiff,\u201d said the king,\n\u201cand thou knowest upon what terms alone thou canst save thyself from the\nhangman, and thy grand-daughter from the stake.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, mercy, sire, mercy!\u201d shrieked Mabel.\n\n\u201cYour fate rests with your grandsire,\u201d said the king sternly. \u201cIf he\nchooses to be your executioner he will remain silent.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, speak, grandsire, speak!\u201d cried Mabel. \u201cWhat matters the violation\nof an unholy vow?\u201d\n\n\u201cGive me till to-morrow for consideration, sire,\u201d said the old man.\n\n\u201cThou shalt have till midnight,\u201d replied the king; \u201cand till then Mabel\nshall remain with thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would rather be left alone,\u201d said Tristram.\n\n\u201cI doubt it not,\u201d replied the king; \u201cbut it shall not be.\u201d And without\nbestowing a look at Mabel, whose supplications he feared might shake\nhis purpose, he quitted the vault with his attendants, leaving her alone\nwith her grandsire.\n\n\u201cI shall return at midnight,\u201d he said to the arquebusier stationed at\nthe door; \u201cand meanwhile let no one enter the dungeon--not even the Duke\nof Suffolk--unless,\u201d he added, holding forth his hand to display a ring,\n\u201che shall bring this signet.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\n     Of the Brief Advantage gained by the Queen and the Cardinal.\n\n\nAs the king, wholly unattended--for he had left the archers at the\nCurfew Tower--was passing at the back of Saint George's Chapel, near the\nnorth transept, he paused for a moment to look at the embattled entrance\nto the New Commons--a structure erected in the eleventh year of his own\nreign by James Denton, a canon, and afterwards Dean of Lichfield, for\nthe accommodation of such chantry priests and choristers as had no place\nin the college. Over the doorway, surmounted by a niche, ran (and still\nruns) the inscription--\n\n\u201cAEDES PRO SACELLANORUM CHORISTARUM COVIVIIS EXTRUCTA, A.D. 1519.\u201d\n\nThe building has since been converted into one of the canons' houses.\n\nWhile he was contemplating this beautiful gateway, which was glimmering\nin the bright moonlight, a tall figure suddenly darted from behind one\nof the buttresses of the chapel, and seized his left arm with an\niron grasp. The suddenness of the attack took him by surprise; but he\ninstantly recovered himself, plucked away his arm, and, drawing his\nsword, made a pass at his assailant, who, however, avoided the thrust,\nand darted with inconceivable swiftness through the archway leading to\nthe cloisters. Though Henry followed as quickly as he could, he lost\nsight of the fugitive, but just as he was about to enter the passage\nrunning between the tomb-house and the chapel, he perceived a person in\nthe south ambulatory evidently anxious to conceal himself, and, rushing\nup to him and dragging him to the light he found it was no other than\nthe cardinal's jester, Patch.\n\n\u201cWhat does thou here, knave?\u201d cried Henry angrily.\n\n\u201cI am waiting for my master, the cardinal,\u201d replied the jester,\nterrified out of his wits.\n\n\u201cWaiting for him here!\u201d cried the king. \u201cWhere is he?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn that house,\u201d replied Patch, pointing to a beautiful bay-window,\nfull of stained glass, overhanging the exquisite arches of the north\nambulatory.\n\n\u201cWhy, that is Doctor Sampson's dwelling,\u201d cried Henry; \u201che who was\nchaplain to the queen, and is a strong opponent of the divorce. What doth\nhe there?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure I know not,\u201d replied Patch, whose terror increased each\nmoment. \u201cPerhaps I have mistaken the house. Indeed, I am sure it must be\nDoctor Voysey's, the next door.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou liest, knave!\u201d cried Henry fiercely; \u201cthy manner convinces me\nthere is some treasonable practice going forward. But I will soon find\nit out. Attempt to give the alarm, and I will cut thy throat.\u201d\n\nWith this he proceeded to the back of the north ambulatory, and finding\nthe door he sought unfastened, raised the latch and walked softly in.\nBut before he got half-way down the passage, Doctor Sampson himself\nissued from an inner room with a lamp in his hand. He started on seeing\nthe king, and exhibited great alarm.\n\n\u201cThe Cardinal of York is here--I know it,\u201d said Henry in a deep whisper.\n\u201cLead me to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, go not forward, my gracious liege!\u201d cried Sampson, placing himself\nin his path.\n\n\u201cWherefore not?\u201d rejoined the king. \u201cHa! what voice is that I heard in\nthe upper chamber? Is she here, and with Wolsey? Out of my way, man,\u201d\n he added, pushing the canon aside, and rushing up the short wooden\nstaircase.\n\nWhen Wolsey returned from his interview with the king, which had been\nso unluckily interrupted by Anne Boleyn, he found his ante-chamber\nbeset with a crowd of suitors to whose solicitations he was compelled to\nlisten, and having been detained in this manner for nearly half an hour,\nhe at length retired into an inner room.\n\n\u201cVile sycophants!\u201d he muttered, \u201cthey bow the knee before me, and pay me\ngreater homage than they render the king, but though they have fed upon\nmy bounty and risen by my help, not one of them, if he was aware of my\ntrue position, but would desert me. Not one of them but would lend a\nhelping hand to crush me. Not one but would rejoice in my downfall. But\nthey have not deceived me. I knew them from the first--saw through their\nhollowness and despised them. While power lasts to me, I will punish\nsome of them. While power lasts!\u201d he repeated. \u201cHave I any power\nremaining? I have already given up Hampton and my treasures to the king;\nand the work of spoliation once commenced, the royal plunderer will not\nbe content till he has robbed me of all; while his minion, Anne Boleyn,\nhas vowed my destruction. Well, I will not yield tamely, nor fall\nunavenged.\u201d\n\nAs these thoughts passed through his mind, Patch, who had waited for\na favourable moment to approach him, delivered him a small billet\ncarefully sealed, and fastened with a silken thread. Wolsey took it,\nand broke it open; and as his eye eagerly scanned its contents, the\nexpression of his countenance totally changed. A flash of joy and\ntriumph irradiated his fallen features; and thrusting the note into\nthe folds of his robe, he inquired of the jester by whom it had been\nbrought, and how long.\n\n\u201cIt was brought by a messenger from Doctor Sampson,\u201d replied Patch, \u201cand\nwas committed to me with special injunctions to deliver it to your grace\nimmediately on your return, and secretly.\u201d\n\nThe cardinal sat down, and for a few moments appeared lost in deep\nreflection; he then arose, and telling Patch he should return presently,\nquitted the chamber. But the jester, who was of an inquisitive turn, and\ndid not like to be confined to half a secret, determined to follow him,\nand accordingly tracked him along the great corridor, down a winding\nstaircase, through a private door near the Norman Gateway, across the\nmiddle ward, and finally saw him enter Doctor Sampson's dwelling, at the\nback of the north ambulatory. He was reconnoitring the windows of the\nhouse from the opposite side of the cloisters in the hope of discovering\nsomething, when he was caught, as before mentioned, by the king.\n\nWolsey, meanwhile, was received by Doctor Sampson at the doorway of\nhis dwelling, and ushered by him into a chamber on the upper floor,\nwainscoted with curiously carved and lustrously black oak. A silver lamp\nwas burning the on the table, and in the recess of the window, which\nwas screened by thick curtains, sat a majestic lady, who rose on the\ncardinal's entrance. It was Catherine of Arragon.\n\n\u201cI attend your pleasure, madam,\u201d said Wolsey, with a profound\ninclination.\n\n\u201cYou have been long in answering my summons,\u201d said the queen; \u201cbut\nI could not expect greater promptitude. Time was when a summons from\nCatherine of Arragon would have been quickly and cheerfully attended to;\nwhen the proudest noble in the land would have borne her message to you,\nand when you would have passed through crowds to her audience-chamber.\nNow another holds her place, and she is obliged secretly to enter the\ncastle where she once ruled, to despatch a valet to her enemy, to attend\nhis pleasure, and to receive him in the dwelling of an humble canon.\nTimes are changed with me, Wolsey--sadly changed.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been in attendance on the king, madam, or I should have been\nwith you sooner,\u201d replied Wolsey. \u201cIt grieves me sorely to see you\nhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cI want not your pity,\u201d replied the queen proudly. \u201cI did not send for\nyou to gratify your malice by exposing my abject state. I did not send\nfor you to insult me by false sympathy; but in the hope that your own\ninterest would induce you to redress the wrongs you have done me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! madam, I fear it is now too late to repair the error I have\ncommitted,\u201d said Wolsey, in a tone of affected penitence and sorrow.\n\n\u201cYou admit, then, that it was an error,\u201d cried Catherine. \u201cWell, that\nis something. Oh! that you had paused before you began this evil\nwork--before you had raised a storm which will destroy me and yourself.\nYour quarrel with my nephew the Emperor Charles has cost me dear, but it\nwill cost you yet more dearly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI deserve all your reproaches, madam,\u201d said Wolsey, with feigned\nmeekness; \u201cand I will bear them without a murmur. But you have sent for\nme for some specific object, I presume?\u201d\n\n\u201cI sent for you to give me aid, as much for your own sake as mine,\u201d\n replied the queen, \u201cfor you are in equal danger. Prevent this\ndivorce--foil Anne--and you retain the king's favour. Our interests are\nso far leagued together, that you must serve me to serve yourself. My\nobject is to gain time to enable my friends to act. Your colleague is\nsecretly favourable to me. Pronounce no sentence here, but let the cause\nbe removed to Rome. My nephew the emperor will prevail upon the Pope to\ndecide in my favour.\u201d\n\n\u201cI dare not thus brave the king's displeasure, madam;\u201d replied Wolsey.\n\n\u201cDissembler!\u201d exclaimed Catherine. \u201cI now perceive the insincerity of\nyour professions. This much I have said to try you. And now to my real\nmotive for sending for you. I have in my possession certain letters,\nthat will ruin Anne Boleyn with the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed the cardinal joyfully; \u201cif that be the case, all the\nrest will be easy. Let me see the letters, I pray you, madam.\u201d\n\nBefore Catherine could reply, the door was thrown violently open, and\nthe king stood before them.\n\n\u201cSoh!\u201d roared Henry, casting a terrible look at Wolsey, \u201cI have caught\nyou at your treasonable practices at last! And you, madam,\u201d he added,\nturning to Catherine, who meekly, but steadily, returned his gaze, \u201cwhat\nbrings you here again? Because I pardoned your indiscretion yesterday,\nthink not I shall always be so lenient. You will leave the castle\ninstantly. As to Wolsey, he shall render me a strict account of his\nconduct.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have nothing to declare, my liege,\u201d replied Wolsey, recovering\nhimself, \u201cI leave it to the queen to explain why I came hither.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe explanation shall be given at once,\u201d said Catherine. \u201cI sent for\nthe cardinal to request him to lay before your majesty these two letters\nfrom Anne Boleyn to Sir Thomas Wyat, that you might judge whether one\nwho could write thus would make you a fitting consort. You disbelieved\nmy charge of levity yesterday. Read these, sire, and judge whether I\nspoke the truth.\u201d\n\nHenry glanced at the letters, and his brow grew dark.\n\n\u201cWhat say you to them, my liege?\u201d cried Catherine, with a glance of\ntriumph. \u201cIn the one she vows eternal constancy to Sir Thomas Wyat, and\nin the other--written after her engagement to you--he tells him that\nthough they can never meet as heretofore, she will always love him.\u201d\n\n\u201cTen thousand furies!\u201d cried the king. \u201cWhere got you these letters,\nmadam?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey were given to me by a tall dark man, as I quitted the castle last\nnight,\u201d said the queen. \u201cHe said they were taken from the person of Sir\nThomas Wyat while he lay concealed in the forest in the cave of Herne\nthe Hunter.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I thought she wrote them,\u201d cried Henry, in an access jealous fury,\n\u201cI would cast her off for ever.\u201d\n\n\u201cMethinks your majesty should be able to judge whether they are true or\nfalse,\u201d said Catherine. \u201cI know her writing well--too well, alas!--and\nam satisfied they are genuine.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am well assured that Wyat was concealed in the Lady Anne's chamber\nwhen your majesty demanded admittance and could not obtain it--when the\nEarl of Surrey sacrificed himself for her, and for his friend,\u201d said\nWolsey.\n\n\u201cPerdition!\u201d exclaimed the king, striking his brow with his clenched\nhand. \u201cOh, Catherine!\u201d he continued, after a pause, during which she\nintently watched the workings of his countenance, \u201cand it was for this\nlight-hearted creature I was about to cast you off.\u201d\n\n\u201cI forgive you, sire--I forgive you!\u201d exclaimed the queen, clasping his\nhands, and bedewing them with grateful tears. \u201cYou have been deceived.\nHeaven keep you in the same mind!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have preserved me,\u201d said Henry, \u201cbut you must not tarry here. Come\nwith me to the royal lodgings.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Henry,\u201d replied Catherine, with a shudder, \u201cnot while she is\nthere.\u201d\n\n\u201cMake no conditions, madam,\u201d whispered Wolsey. \u201cGo.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe shall be removed to-morrow,\u201d said Henry.\n\n\u201cIn that case I am content to smother my feelings,\u201d said the queen.\n\n\u201cCome, then, Kate,\u201d said Henry, taking her hand. \u201cLord cardinal, you\nwill attend us.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight gladly, my liege,\u201d replied Wolsey. \u201cIf this mood will only\nendure,\u201d he muttered, \u201call will go well. But his jealousy must not be\nallowed to cool. Would that Wyat were here!\u201d\n\nDoctor Sampson could scarcely credit his senses as he beheld the august\npair come forth together, and a word from Wolsey explaining what had\noccurred, threw him into transports of delight. But the surprise of the\ngood canon was nothing to that exhibited as Henry and Catherine entered\nthe royal lodgings, and the king ordered his own apartments to be\ninstantly prepared for her majesty's reception.\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\n     How Tristram Lyndwood and Mabel were liberated.\n\n\nIntelligence of the queen's return was instantly conveyed to Anne\nBoleyn, and filled her with indescribable alarm. All her visions of\npower and splendour seemed to melt away at once. She sent for her\nfather, Lord Rochford, who hurried to her in a state of the utmost\nanxiety, and closely questioned her whether the extraordinary change had\nnot been occasioned by some imprudence of her own. But she positively\ndenied the charge, alleging that she had parted with the king scarcely\nan hour before on terms of the most perfect amity, and with the full\nconviction that she had accomplished the cardinal's ruin.\n\n\u201cYou should not have put forth your hand against him till you were sure\nof striking the blow,\u201d said Rochford. \u201cThere is no telling what secret\ninfluence he has over the king; and there may yet be a hard battle to\nfight. But not a moment must be lost in counteracting his operations.\nLuckily, Suffolk is here, and his enmity to the cardinal will make him\na sure friend to us. Pray Heaven you have not given the king fresh\noccasion for jealousy! That is all I fear.\u201d\n\nAnd quitting his daughter, he sought out Suffolk, who, alarmed at what\nappeared like a restoration of Wolsey to favour, promised heartily to\nco-operate with him in the struggle; and that no time might be lost,\nthe duke proceeded at once to the royal closet, where he found the king\npacing moodily to and fro.\n\n\u201cYour majesty seems disturbed,\u201d said the duke.\n\n\u201cDisturbed!--ay!\u201d exclaimed the king. \u201cI have enough to disturb me. I\nwill never love again. I will forswear the whole sex. Harkee, Suffolk,\nyou are my brother, my second self, and know all the secrets of\nmy heart. After the passionate devotion I have displayed for Anne\nBoleyn--after all I have done for her--all I have risked for her--I have\nbeen deceived.\u201d\n\n\u201cImpossible, my liege?\u201d exclaimed Suffolk.\n\n\u201cWhy, so I thought,\u201d cried Henry, \u201cand I turned a deaf ear to all\ninsinuations thrown out against her, till proof was afforded which I\ncould no longer doubt.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what was the amount of the proof, my liege?\u201d asked Suffolk.\n\n\u201cThese letters,\u201d said Henry, handing them to him, \u201cfound on the person\nof Sir Thomas Wyat.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut these only prove, my liege, the existence of a former\npassion--nothing more,\u201d remarked Suffolk, after he had scanned them.\n\n\u201cBut she vows eternal constancy to him!\u201d cried Henry; \u201csays she shall\never love him--says so at the time she professes devoted love for me!\nHow can I trust her after that? Suffolk, I feel she does not love me\nexclusively; and my passion is so deep and devouring, that it demands\nentire return. I must have her heart as well as her person; and I feel I\nhave only won her in my quality of king.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am persuaded your majesty is mistaken,\u201d said the duke. \u201cWould I\ncould think so!\u201d sighed Henry. \u201cBut no--no, I cannot be deceived. I\nwill conquer this fatal passion. Oh, Suffolk! it is frightful to be the\nbondslave of a woman--a fickle, inconstant woman. But between the depths\nof love and hate is but a step; and I can pass from one to the other.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo nothing rashly, my dear liege,\u201d said Suffolk; \u201cnothing that may\nbring with it after-repentance. Do not be swayed by those who have\ninflamed your jealousy, and who could practise upon it. Think the\nmatter calmly over, and then act. And till you have decided, see neither\nCatherine nor Anne; and, above all, do not admit Wolsey to your secret\ncounsels.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are his enemy, Suffolk,\u201d said the king sternly.\n\n\u201cI am your majesty's friend,\u201d replied the duke. \u201cI beseech you, yield to\nme on this occasion, and I am sure of your thanks hereafter.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I believe you are right, my good friend and brother,\u201d said Henry,\n\u201cand I will curb my impulses of rage and jealousy. To-morrow, before I\nsee either the queen or Anne, we will ride forth into the forest, and\ntalk the matter further over.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour highness has come to a wise determination,\u201d said the duke.\n\n\u201cOh, Suffolk!\u201d sighed Henry, \u201cwould I had never seen this siren! She\nexercises a fearful control over me, and enslaves my very soul.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot say whether it is for good or ill that you have met, my dear\nliege,\u201d replied Suffolk, \u201cbut I fancy I can discern the way in which\nyour ultimate decision will be taken. But it is now near midnight. I\nwish your majesty sound and untroubled repose.\u201d\n\n\u201cStay!\u201d cried Henry, \u201cI am about to visit the Curfew Tower, and must\ntake you with me. I will explain my errand as we go. I had some thought\nof sending you there in my stead. Ha!\u201d he exclaimed, glancing at his\nfinger, \u201cBy Saint Paul, it is gone!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is gone, my liege?\u201d asked Suffolk.\n\n\u201cMy signet,\u201d replied Henry, \u201cI missed it not till now. It has been\nwrested from me by the fiend, during my walk from the Curfew Tower. Let\nus not lose a moment, or the prisoners will be set free by him,--if they\nhave not been liberated already.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he took a couple of dags--a species of short gun--from a\nrest on the wall, and giving one to Suffolk, thrust the other into his\ngirdle. Thus armed, they quitted the royal lodgings, and hurried in\nthe direction of the Curfew Tower. Just as they reached the Horseshoe\nCloisters, the alarm-bell began to ring.\n\n\u201cDid I not tell you so?\u201d cried Henry furiously; \u201cthey have escaped. Ha!\nit ceases!--what has happened?\u201d\n\nAbout a quarter of an hour after the king had quitted the Curfew Tower,\na tall man, enveloped in a cloak, and wearing a high conical cap,\npresented himself to the arquebusier stationed at the entrance to the\ndungeon, and desired to be admitted to the prisoners.\n\n\u201cI have the king's signet,\u201d he said, holding forth the ring. On seeing\nthis, the arquebusier, who recognised the ring, unlocked the door, and\nadmitted him. Mabel was kneeling on the ground beside her grandsire,\nwith her hands raised as in prayer, but as the tall man entered the\nvault, she started to her feet, and uttered a slight scream.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter, child?\u201d cried Tristram..\n\n\u201cHe is here!--he is come!\u201d cried Mabel, in a tone of the deepest terror.\n\n\u201cWho--the king?\u201d cried Tristram, looking up. \u201cAh! I see! Herne is come\nto deliver me.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not go with him, grandsire,\u201d cried Mabel. \u201cIn the name of all the\nsaints, I implore you, do not.\u201d\n\n\u201cSilence her!\u201d said Herne in a harsh, imperious voice, \u201cor I leave you.\u201d\n\nThe old man looked imploringly at his granddaughter.\n\n\u201cYou know the conditions of your liberation?\u201d said Herne.\n\n\u201cI do--I do,\u201d replied Tristram hastily, and with a shudder.\n\n\u201cOh, grandfather!\u201d cried Mabel, falling at his feet, \u201cdo not, I conjure\nyou, make any conditions with this dreaded being, or it will be at the\nexpense of your salvation. Better I should perish at the stake--better\nyou should suffer the most ignominious death, than this should be.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you accept them?\u201d cried Herne, disregarding her supplications.\n\nTristram answered in the affirmative.\n\n\u201cRecall your words, grandfather--recall your words!\u201d cried Mabel. \u201cI\nwill implore pardon for you on my knees from the king, and he will not\nrefuse me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe pledge cannot be recalled, damsel,\u201d said Herne; \u201cand it is to save\nyou from the king, as much as to accomplish his own preservation, that\nyour grandsire consents. He would not have you a victim to Henry's\nlust.\u201d And as he spoke, he divided the forester's bonds with his knife.\n\u201cYou must go with him, Mabel,\u201d he added.\n\n\u201cI will not!\u201d she cried. \u201cSomething warns me that a great danger awaits\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must go, girl,\u201d cried Tristram angrily. \u201cI will not leave you to\nHenry's lawless passion.\u201d\n\nMeanwhile, Herne had passed into one of the large embrasures, and\nopened, by means of a spring, an entrance to a secret staircase in\nthe wall. He then beckoned Tristram towards him, and whispered some\ninstructions in his ear.\n\n\u201cI understand,\u201d replied the old man.\n\n\u201cProceed to the cave,\u201d cried Herne, \u201cand remain there till I join you.\u201d\n\nTristram nodded assent.\n\n\u201cCome, Mabel!\u201d he cried, advancing towards her, and seizing her hand.\n\n\u201cAway!\u201d cried Herne in a menacing tone.\n\nTerrified by the formidable looks and gestures of the demon, the poor\ngirl offered no resistance, and her grandfather drew her into the\nopening, which was immediately closed after her.\n\nAbout an hour after this, and when it was near upon the stroke of\nmidnight, the arquebusier who had admitted the tall stranger to the\ndungeon, and who had momentarily expected his coming forth, opened the\ndoor to see what was going forward. Great was his astonishment to find\nthe cell empty! After looking around in bewilderment, he rushed to the\nchamber above, to tell his comrades what had happened.\n\n\u201cThis is clearly the work of the fiend,\u201d said Shoreditch; \u201cit is useless\nto strive against him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat tall black man was doubtless Herne himself.\u201d said Paddington. \u201cI\nam glad he did us no injury. I hope the king will not provoke his malice\nfurther.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, we must inform Captain Bouchier of the mischance,\u201d said\nShoreditch. \u201cI would not be in thy skin, Mat Bee, for a trifle. The king\nwill be here presently, and then--\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is impossible to penetrate through the devices of the evil one,\u201d\n interrupted Mat. \u201cI could have sworn it was the royal signet, for I saw\nit on the king's finger as he delivered the order. I wish such another\nchance of capturing the fiend would occur to me.\u201d\n\nAs the words were uttered, the door of a recess was thrown suddenly\nopen, and Herne, in his wild garb, with his antlered helm upon his brow,\nand the rusty chain depending from his left arm, stood before them. His\nappearance was so terrific and unearthly that they all shrank aghast,\nand Mat Bee fell with his face on the floor.\n\n\u201cI am here!\u201d cried the demon. \u201cNow, braggart, wilt dare to seize me?\u201d\n\nBut not a hand was moved against him. The whole party seemed transfixed\nwith terror.\n\n\u201cYou dare not brave my power, and you are right,\u201d cried Herne--\u201ca wave\nof my hand would bring this old tower about your ears--a word would\nsummon a legion of fiends to torment you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut do not utter it, I pray you, good Herne--excellent Herne,\u201d cried\nMat Bee. \u201cAnd, above all things, do not wave your hand, for we have no\ndesire to be buried alive,--have we, comrades? I should never have said\nwhat I did if I had thought your friendship within hearing.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour royal master will as vainly seek to contend with me as he did to\nbury me beneath the oak-tree,\u201d cried Herne. \u201cIf you want me further,\nseek me in the upper chamber.\u201d\n\nAnd with these words he darted up the ladder-like flight of steps and\ndisappeared.\n\nAs soon as they recovered from the fright that had enchained them,\nShoreditch and Paddington rushed forth into the area in front of the\nturret, and shouting to those on the roof told them that Herne was in\nthe upper room--a piece of information which was altogether superfluous,\nas the hammering had recommenced, and continued till the clock struck\ntwelve, when it stopped. Just then, it occurred to Mat Bee to ring the\nalarm-bell, and he seized the rope, and began to pull it; but the bell\nhad scarcely sounded, when the cord, severed from above, fell upon his\nhead.\n\nAt this juncture, the king and the Duke of Suffolk arrived. When told\nwhat had happened, though prepared for it, Henry burst into a terrible\npassion, and bestowed a buffet on Mat Bee, that well nigh broke his jaw,\nand sent him reeling to the farther side of the chamber. He had not at\nfirst understood that Herne was supposed to be in the upper room; but\nas soon as he was made aware of the circumstance, he cried out--\u201cAh,\ndastards! have you let him brave you thus? But I am glad of it. His\ncapture is reserved for my own hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not expose yourself to this risk, my gracious liege,\u201d said Suffolk.\n\n\u201cWhat! are you too a sharer in their womanish fears, Suffolk?\u201d cried\nHenry. \u201cI thought you had been made of stouter stuff. If there is\ndanger, I shall be the first to encounter it. Come,\u201d he added, snatching\na torch from an arquebusier. And, drawing his dag, he hurried up the\nsteep steps, while Suffolk followed his example, and three or four\narquebusiers ventured after them.\n\nMeanwhile Shoreditch and Paddington ran out, and informed Bouchier that\nthe king had arrived, and was mounting in search of Herne, upon which\nthe captain, shaking off his fears, ordered his men to follow him, and\nopening the little door at the top of the stairs, began cautiously to\ndescend, feeling his way with his sword. He had got about half-way down,\nwhen Henry sprang upon the platform. The light of the torch fell upon\nthe ghostly figure of Herne, with his arms folded upon his breast,\nstanding near the pile of wood, lying between the two staircases. So\nappalling was the appearance of the demon, that Henry stood still to\ngaze at him, while Bouchier and his men remained irresolute on the\nstairs. In another moment, the Duke of Suffolk had gained the platform,\nand the arquebusiers were seen near the head of the stairs.\n\n\u201cAt last, thou art in my power, accursed being!\u201d cried Henry. \u201cThou art\nhemmed in on all sides, and canst not escape!\u201d\n\n\u201cHo! ho! ho!\u201d laughed Herne.\n\n\u201cThis shall prove whether thou art human or not,\u201d cried Henry, taking\ndeliberate aim at him with the dag.\n\n\u201cHo! ho! ho!\u201d laughed Herne. And as the report rang through the room, he\nsank through the floor, and disappeared from view.\n\n\u201cGone!\u201d exclaimed Henry, as the smoke cleared off; \u201cgone! Holy Mary!\nthen it must indeed be the fiend. I made the middle of his skull my aim,\nand if he had not been invulnerable, the bullet must have pierced his\nbrain.\n\n\u201cI heard it rebound from his horned helmet, and drop to the floor,\u201d said\nBouchier.\n\n\u201cWhat is that chest?\u201d cried Henry, pointing to a strange coffin-shaped\nbox, lying, as it seemed, on the exact spot where the demon had\ndisappeared.\n\nNo one had seen it before, though all called to mind the mysterious\nhammering; and they had no doubt that the coffin was the work of the\ndemon.\n\n\u201cBreak it open,\u201d cried Henry; \u201cfor aught we know, Herne may be concealed\nwithin it.\u201d\n\nThe order was reluctantly obeyed by the arquebusiers. But no force was\nrequired, for the lid was not nailed down; and when it was removed, a\nhuman body in the last stage of decay was discovered.\n\n\u201cPah! close it up,\u201d cried Henry, turning away in disgust. \u201cHow came it\nthere?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must have been brought by the powers of darkness,\u201d said Bouchier;\n\u201cno such coffin was here when I searched the chamber two hours ago. But\nsee,\u201d he suddenly added, stooping down, and picking up a piece of paper\nwhich had fallen from the coffin, \u201chere is a scroll.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive it me!\u201d cried Henry; and holding it to the light, he read the\nwords, \u201cThe body of Mark Fytton, the butcher, the victim of a tyrant's\ncruelty.\u201d\n\nUttering a terrible imprecation, Henry flung the paper from him; and\nbidding the arquebusiers burn the body at the foot of the gallows\nwithout the town, he quitted the tower without further search.\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\n     How Wolsey was disgraced by the King.\n\n\nOn the following day, a reconciliation took place between the king and\nAnne Boleyn. During a ride in the great park with his royal brother,\nSuffolk not only convinced him of the groundlessness of his jealousy,\nbut contrived to incense him strongly against Wolsey. Thus the queen and\nthe cardinal lost the momentary advantage they had gained, while Anne's\npower was raised yet higher. Yielding to her entreaties not to see\nCatherine again, nor to hold further conference with Wolsey until the\nsentence of the court should be pronounced, Henry left the castle that\nvery day, and proceeded to his palace of Bridewell. The distress of the\nunhappy queen at this sudden revolution of affairs may be conceived.\nDistrusting Wolsey, and putting her sole reliance on Heaven and the\ngoodness of her cause, she withdrew to Blackfriars, where she remained\ntill the court met. As to the cardinal himself, driven desperate by\nhis situation, and exasperated by the treatment he had experienced,\nhe resolved, at whatever risk, to thwart Henry's schemes, and revenge\nhimself upon Anne Boleyn.\n\nThus matters continued till the court met as before in the\nParliament-chamber, at Blackfriars. On this occasion Henry was present,\nand took his place under a cloth of estate,--the queen sitting at some\ndistance below him. Opposite them were the legates, with the Archbishop\nof Canterbury, and the whole of the bishops. The aspect of the\nassemblage was grave and anxious. Many eyes were turned on Henry, who\nlooked gloomy and menacing, but the chief object of interest was the\nqueen, who, though pale as death, had never in her highest days of power\nworn a more majestic and dignified air than on this occasion.\n\nThe proceedings of the court then commenced, and the king being called\nby the crier, he immediately answered to the summons. Catherine was next\ncalled, and instead of replying, she marched towards the canopy beneath\nwhich the king was seated, prostrated herself, and poured forth a most\npathetic and eloquent appeal to him, at the close of which she arose,\nand making a profound reverence, walked out of the court, leaning upon\nthe arm of her general receiver, Griffith. Henry desired the crier to\ncall her back, but she would not return; and seeing the effect produced\nby her address upon the auditory, he endeavoured to efface it by an\neulogium on her character and virtues, accompanied by an expression of\ndeep regret at the step he was compelled to take in separating himself\nfrom her. But his hypocrisy availed him little, and his speech was\nreceived with looks of ill-disguised incredulity. Some further discourse\nthen took place between the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop\nof Rochester; but as the queen had absented herself, the court was\nadjourned to the next day, when it again met, and as she did not then\nappear, though summoned, she was pronounced contumacious. After repeated\nadjournments, the last session was held, and judgment demanded on the\npart of the king, when Campeggio, as had been arranged between him and\nWolsey, declined to pronounce it until he had referred the matter to the\nPope, and the court was dissolved.\n\nAbout two months after this event, during which time the legate's\ncommission had been revoked, while Henry was revolving the expediency of\naccomplishing the divorce through the medium of his own ecclesiastical\ncourts, and without reference to that of Rome, a despatch was received\nfrom the Pope by the two cardinals, requiring them to cite the king\nto appear before him by attorney on a certain day. At the time of the\narrival of this instrument, Campeggio chanced to be staying with Wolsey\nat his palace at Esher, and as the king was then holding his court at\nWindsor, they both set out for the castle on the following day, attended\nby a retinue of nearly a hundred horsemen, splendidly equipped.\n\nIt was now the middle of September, and the woods, instead of presenting\none uniform mass of green, glowed with an infinite variety of lovely\ntints. And yet, despite the beauty of the scene, there was something\nmelancholy in witnessing the decline of the year, as marked by those old\nwoods, and by the paths that led through them, so thickly strewn with\nleaves. Wolsey was greatly affected. \u201cThese noble trees will ere long\nbereft of all their glories,\u201d he thought, \u201cand so, most likely, will it\nbe with me, and perhaps my winter may come sooner than theirs!\u201d\n\nThe cardinal and his train had crossed Staines Bridge, and passing\nthrough Egham, had entered the great park near Englefield Green. They\nwere proceeding along the high ridge overlooking the woody region\nbetween it and the castle, when a joyous shout in the glades beneath\nreached them, and looking down, they saw the king accompanied by Anne\nBoleyn, and attended by his falconers and a large company of horsemen,\npursuing the sport of hawking. The royal party appeared so much\ninterested in their sport that they did not notice the cardinal and his\ntrain, and were soon out of sight. But as Wolsey descended Snow Hill,\nand entered the long avenue, he heard the trampling of horses at a\nlittle distance, and shortly afterwards, Henry and Anne issued from out\nthe trees. They were somewhat more than a bow-shot in advance of the\ncardinal; but instead of halting till he came up, the king had no sooner\nascertained who it was, than, despatching a messenger to the castle, who\nwas seen galloping swiftly down the avenue, he rode off with Anne Boleyn\ntowards the opposite side of the park. Though deeply mortified by the\nslight, Wolsey concealed his vexation from his brother cardinal, and\npursued his way to the castle, before which he presently arrived. The\ngate was thrown open at his approach, but he had scarcely entered\nthe lower ward when Sir Henry Norris, the king's groom of the stole,\nadvanced to meet him, and, with a sorrowful expression of countenance,\nsaid that his royal master had so many guests at the castle, that he\ncould not accommodate him and his train.\n\n\u201cI understand your drift, sir,\u201d replied Wolsey; \u201cyou would tell me I am\nnot welcome. Well, then, his eminence Cardinal Campeggio and myself must\ntake up our lodging at some hostel in the town, for it is necessary we\nshould see the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf your grace is content to dismiss your attendants,\u201d said Norris in a\nlow tone, \u201cyou and Cardinal Campeggio can be lodged in Henry the Third's\nTower. Thus much I will take upon me; but I dare not admit you to the\nroyal lodgings.\u201d\n\nWolsey tried to look unconcerned, and calling to his gentleman usher,\nGeorge Cavendish, gave him some instructions in a low voice, upon which\nthe other immediately placed himself at the head of the retinue, and\nordered them to quit the castle with him, leaving only the jester,\nPatch, to attend upon his master. Campeggio's attendants being\ncomparatively speaking, few in number, were allowed to remain, and\nhis litter was conveyed to Henry the Third's Tower--a fortification\nstanding, as already stated, in the south side of the lower ward, near\nthe edge of the dry moat surrounding the Round Tower. At the steps of\nthis tower Wolsey dismounted, and was about to follow Campeggio into\nthe doorway, when Will Sommers, who had heard of his arrival, stepped\nforward, and with a salutation of mock formality, said, \u201cI am sure it\nwill grieve the king, my master, not to be able to accommodate your\ngrace's train; but since it is larger than his own, you will scarce\nblame his want of hospitality.\u201d\n\n\u201cNor the courtesy of his attendants,\u201d rejoined Wolsey sharply. \u201cI am in\nno mood for thy jesting now. Stand aside, sirrah, or I will have the rod\napplied to thy back!\u201d\n\n\u201cTake care the king does not apply the rod to your own, lord cardinal,\u201d\n retorted Will Sommers. \u201cIf he scourges you according to your deserts,\nyour skin will be redder than your robe.\u201d And his mocking laugh pursued\nWolsey like the hiss of a snake into the tower.\n\nSome two hours after this, Henry and his attendants returned from the\nchase. The king seemed in a blithe humour, and Wolsey saw him laugh\nheartily as Will Sommers pointed with his bauble towards Henry the\nThird's Tower. The cardinal received no invitation to the royal banquet;\nand the answer to his solicitation for an interview was, that he and\nCampeggio would be received in the presence-chamber on the following\nmorning, but not before.\n\nThat night a great revel was held in the castle. Masquing, dancing,\nand feasting filled up the evening, and the joyous sounds and strains\nreached Wolsey in his seclusion, and forced him to contrast it with his\nrecent position, when he would have been second only to the king in the\nentertainment. He laid his head upon his pillow, but not to rest, and\nwhile tossing feverishly about his couch, he saw the arras with which\nthe walls were covered, move, and a tall, dark figure step from behind\nit. The cardinal would have awakened his jester, who slept in a small\ntruckle-bed at his feet, but the strange visitor motioned him to be\nstill.\n\n\u201cYou may conjecture who I am, cardinal,\u201d he said, \u201cbut in case you\nshould doubt, I will tell you. I am Herne the Hunter! And now to my\nerrand. There is a damsel, whom you once saw in the forest near the\ngreat lake, and whom you promised to befriend. You can assist her\nnow--to-morrow it may be out of your power.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have enough to do to aid myself, without meddling with what concerns\nme not,\u201d said Wolsey.\n\n\u201cThis damsel does concern you,\u201d cried Herne. \u201cRead this, and you will\nsee in what way.\u201d\n\nAnd he tossed a letter to Wolsey, who glanced at it by the light of the\nlamp.\n\n\u201cHa! is it so?\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cIs she--\u201d\n\n\u201cHush!\u201d cried Herne, \u201cor you will wake this sleeper. It is as you\nsuppose. Will you not aid her now? Will you not bestow some of your\ntreasure upon her before it is wholly wrested from you by the king? I\nwill do aught you wish, secretly and swiftly.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo, then, to my palace at Esher,\u201d cried the cardinal. \u201cTake this key\nto my treasurer--it is the key of my coffers. Bid him deliver to you the\nsix caskets in the cabinet in the gilt chamber. Here is a token by which\nhe will know that you came from me,\u201d he added, delivering him a small\nchain of gold, \u201cfor it has been so agreed between us. But you will be\nsure to give the treasure to Mabel.\u201d\n\n\u201cFear nothing,\u201d replied Herne. And stretching forth his hand to receive\nthe key and the chain, he glided behind the tapestry, and disappeared.\n\nThis strange incident gave some diversion to Wolsey's thought; but ere\nlong they returned to their former channel. Sleep would not be summoned,\nand as soon as the first glimpse of day appeared, he arose, and wrapping\nhis robe around him, left his room and ascended a winding staircase\nleading to the roof of the tower.\n\nThe morning promised to be fine, but it was then hazy, and the greater\npart of the forest was wrapped in mist. The castle, however, was seen to\ngreat advantage. Above Wolsey rose the vast fabric of the Round Tower,\non the summit of which the broad standard was at that moment being\nunfurled; while the different battlements and towers arose majestically\naround. But Wolsey's gaze rested chiefly upon the exquisite mausoleum\nlying immediately beneath him; in which he had partly prepared\nfor himself a magnificent monument. A sharp pang shook him as he\ncontemplated it, and he cried aloud, \u201cMy very tomb will be wrested from\nme by this rapacious monarch; and after all my care and all my cost, I\nknow not where I shall rest my bones!\u201d\n\nSaddened by the reflection, he descended to his chamber, and again threw\nhimself on the couch.\n\nBut Wolsey was not the only person in the castle who had passed a\nsleepless night. Of the host of his enemies many had been kept awake by\nthe anticipation of his downfall on the morrow; and among these was\nAnne Boleyn, who had received an assurance from the king that her enmity\nshould at length be fully gratified.\n\nAt the appointed hour, the two cardinals, proceeded to the royal\nlodgings. They were detained for some time in the ante-chamber, where\nWolsey was exposed to the taunts and sneers of the courtiers, who had\nlately so servilely fawned upon him. At length, they were ushered\ninto the presence chamber, at the upper end of which beneath a canopy\nemblazoned with the royal arms woven in gold, sat Henry, with Anne\nBoleyn on his right hand. At the foot of the throne stood Will Sommers,\nand near him the Dukes of Richmond and Suffolk. Norfolk, Rochford, and\na number of other nobles, all open enemies of Wolsey, were also present.\nHenry watched the advance of the cardinals with a stern look, and after\nthey had made an obeisance to him, he motioned them to rise.\n\n\u201cYou have sought an interview with me, my lords,\u201d he said, with\nsuppressed rage. \u201cWhat would you?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have brought an instrument to you, my liege,\u201d said Wolsey, \u201cwhich\nhas just been received from his holiness the Pope.\u201d\n\n\u201cDeclare its nature,\u201d said Henry.\n\n\u201cIt is a citation,\u201d replied Wolsey, \u201cenjoining your high ness to appear\nby attorney in the papal court, under a penalty of ten thousand ducats.\u201d\n\nAnd he presented a parchment, stamped with the great seal of Rome, to\nthe king, who glanced his eye fiercely over it, and then dashed it to\nthe ground, with an explosion of fury terrible to hear and to witness.\n\n\u201cHa! by Saint George!\u201d he cried; \u201cam I as nothing, that the Pope dares\nto insult me thus?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a mere judicial form your majesty,\u201d interposed Campeggio, \u201cand\nis chiefly sent by his holiness to let you know we have no further\njurisdiction in the matter of the divorce.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will take care you have not, nor his holiness either,\u201d roared the\nking. \u201cBy my father's head, he shall find I will be no longer trifled\nwith.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, my liege,\u201d cried Campeggio.\n\n\u201cPeace!\u201d cried the king. \u201cI will hear no apologies nor excuses. The\ninsult has been offered, and cannot be effaced. As for you, Wolsey--\u201d\n\n\u201cSire!\u201d exclaimed the cardinal, shrinking before the whirlwind of\npassion, which seemed to menace his utter extermination.\n\n\u201cAs for you, I say,\u201d pursued Henry, extending his hand towards him,\nwhile his eyes flashed fire, \u201cwho by your outrageous pride have so long\novershadowed our honour--who by your insatiate avarice and appetite for\nwealth have oppressed our subjects--who by your manifold acts of bribery\nand extortion have impoverished our realm, and by your cruelty and\npartiality have subverted the due course of justice and turned it to\nyour ends--the time is come when you shall receive due punishment for\nyour offences.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou wrong me, my dear liege,\u201d cried Wolsey abjectly. \u201cThese are the\naccusations of my enemies. Grant me a patient hearing, and I will\nexplain all.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would not sharpen the king's resentment against you, lord cardinal,\u201d\n said Anne Boleyn, \u201cfor it is keen enough; but I cannot permit you to\nsay that these charges are merely hostile. Those who would support\nthe king's honour and dignity must desire to see you removed from his\ncounsels.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am ready to take thy place, lord cardinal,\u201d said Will Sommers; \u201cand\nwill exchange my bauble for thy chancellor's mace, and my fool's cap for\nthy cardinal's hat.\u201d\n\n\u201cPeace!\u201d thundered the king. \u201cStand not between me and the object of my\nwrath. Your accusers are not one but many, Wolsey; nay, the whole of my\npeople cry out for justice against you. And they shall have it. But you\nshall hear the charges they bring. Firstly, contrary to our prerogative,\nand for your own advancement and profit, you have obtained authority\nlegatine from the Pope; by which authority you have not only spoiled and\ntaken away their substance from many religious houses, but have usurped\nmuch of our own jurisdiction. You have also made a treaty with the\nKing of France for the Pope without our consent, and concluded another\nfriendly treaty with the Duke of Ferrara, under our great seal, and\nin our name, without our warrant. And furthermore you have presumed to\ncouple yourself with our royal self in your letters and instructions, as\nif you were on an equality with us.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! ha! 'The king and I would have you do thus!' 'The king and I give\nyou our hearty thanks!' Ran it not so, cardinal?\u201d cried Will Sommers.\n\u201cYou will soon win the cap and bells.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn exercise of your legatine authority,\u201d pursued the king, \u201cyou have\ngiven away benefices contrary to our crown and dignity, for the which\nyou are in danger of forfeiture of your lands and goods.\u201d\n\n\u201cA premunire, cardinal,\u201d cried Will Sommers. \u201cA premunire!--ha! ha!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen it has been your practice to receive all the ambassadors to our\ncourt first at your own palace,\u201d continued Henry, \u201cto hear their charges\nand intentions, and to instruct them as you might see fit. You have also\nso practised that all our letters sent from beyond sea have first come\nto your own hands, by which you have acquainted yourself with their\ncontents, and compelled us and our council to follow your devices.\nYou have also written to all our ambassadors abroad in your own name\nconcerning our affairs, without our authority; and received letters in\nreturn from them by which you have sought to compass your own purposes.\nBy your ambition and pride you have undone many of our poor subjects;\nhave suppressed religious houses, and received their possessions; have\nseized upon the goods of wealthy spiritual men deceased; constrained all\nordinaries yearly to compound with you; have gotten riches for yourself\nand servants by subversion of the laws, and by abuse of your authority\nin causing divers pardons of the Pope to be suspended until you, by\npromise of a yearly pension, chose to revive them; and also by crafty\nand untrue tales have sought to create dissention among our nobles.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat we can all avouch for,\u201d cried Suffolk. \u201cIt was never merry in\nEngland while there were cardinals among us.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf all men in England your grace should be the last to say so,\u201d\n rejoined Wolsey; \u201cfor if I had not been cardinal, you would not have had\na head upon your shoulders to utter the taunt.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more of this!\u201d cried the king. \u201cYou have misdemeaned yourself in\nour court by keeping up as great state in our absence as if we had been\nthere in person, and presumptuously have dared to join and imprint your\nbadge, the cardinal's hat, under our arms, graven on our coins struck at\nYork. And lastly, whenever in open Parliament allusion hath been made\nto heresies and erroneous sects, you have failed to correct and notice\nthem, to the danger of the whole body of good and Christian people of\nthis our realm.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis last charge ought to win me favour in the eyes of one who\nprofesses the Opinions of Luther,\u201d said Wolsey to Anne. \u201cBut I deny it,\nas I do all the rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will listen to no defence, Wolsey,\u201d replied the king. \u201cI will\nmake you a terrible example to others how they offend us and our laws\nhereafter.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not condemn me unheard!\u201d cried the cardinal, prostrating himself.\n\n\u201cI have heard too much, and I will hear no more!\u201d cried the king\nfiercely. \u201cI dismiss you from my presence for ever. If you are innocent,\nas you aver, justice will be done you.. If you are guilty, as I believe\nyou to be, look not for leniency from me, for I will show you none.\u201d\n And, seating himself, he turned to Anne, and said, in a low tone, \u201cAre\nyou content, sweetheart?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am,\u201d she replied. \u201cI shall not now break my vow. False cardinal,\u201d she\nadded aloud, \u201cyour reign is at an end.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour own may not be much longer, madam,\u201d rejoined Wolsey bitterly. \u201cThe\nshadow of the axe,\u201d he added, pointing to the reflection of a partisan\non the floor, \u201cis at your feet. Ere long it may rise to the head.\u201d\n\nAnd, accompanied by Campeggio, he slowly quitted the presence-chamber.\n\n\nTHUS ENDS THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE CHRONICLE OF WINDSOR CASTLE\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK V. MABEL LYNDWOOD\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n     How the Earl of Surrey and the Fair Geraldine met in King\n     James's Bower in the Moat--And how they were surprised by\n     the Duke of Richmond.\n\n\nIN order to preserve unbroken the chain of events with which the last\nbook of this chronicle concluded, it was deemed expedient to disturb\nthe unity of time, so far as it related to some of the less important\ncharacters; and it will now be necessary, therefore, to return to the\nmiddle of June, when the Earl of Surrey's term of captivity was drawing\nto a close.\n\nAs the best means of conquering the anxiety produced by the vision\nexhibited to him by Herne, increased as it was by the loss of the relic\nhe had sustained at the same time, the earl had devoted himself to\nincessant study, and for a whole month he remained within his chamber.\nThe consequence of his unremitting application was that, though he\nsucceeded in his design and completely regained his tranquillity, his\nstrength gave way under the effort, and he was confined for some days to\nhis couch by a low fever.\n\nAs soon as he was sufficiently recovered to venture forth, he mounted to\nthe summit of the Round Tower, in the hope that a walk round its breezy\nbattlements might conduce to his restoration to health. The day was\nbright and beautiful, and a gentle wind was stirring; and as Surrey\nfelt the breath of heaven upon his cheek, and gazed upon the glorious.\nprospect before him, he wondered that his imprisonment had not driven\nhim mad. Everything around him, indeed, was calculated to make the\nsense of captivity painful. The broad and beautiful meads, stretching\nout beneath him, seemed to invite a ramble over them; the silver river\ncourted a plunge into its waves, the woods an hour's retirement into\ntheir shady recesses, The bells of Eton College rang out merrily, but\ntheir sound saddened rather than elated him. The road between Eton and\nWindsor, then marked by straggling cottages with gardens between them,\nwith here and there a dwelling of a better kind, was thronged with herds\nof cattle and their drivers, for a fair was held that day in the town of\nWindsor, to which they were hastening. Then there were country maidens\nand youthful hinds in their holiday apparel, trooping towards the\nbridge. Booths were erected, near which, in the Brocas meads, the rustic\nsports of wrestling, running, and casting the bar were going forward,\nwhile numbers of boats shot to and fro upon the river, and strains of\nmusic proceeded from a large gilt barge moored to its banks. Nearer, and\nin the broad green plain lying beneath the north terrace, were a company\nof archers shooting at the butts. But these sights, instead of affording\npleasure to Surrey, only sharpened the anguish of his feelings by the\ncontrast they offered to his present position.\n\nTo distract his thoughts, he quitted the near view, and let his eye run\nalong the edge of the horizon, until it rested upon a small speck,\nwhich he knew to be the lofty spire of Saint Paul's Cathedral. If, as he\nsupposed, the Fair Geraldine was in attendance upon Anne Boleyn, at the\npalace at Bridewell, she must be under the shadow of this very spire;\nand the supposition, whether correct or not, produced such quick and\nstifling emotions, that the tears rushed to his eyes.\n\nAshamed of his weakness, he turned to the other side of the tower, and\nbent his gaze upon the woody heights of the great park. These recalled\nHerne the Hunter; and burning with resentment at the tricks practised\nupon him by the demon, he determined that the first use he would make of\nhis liberty should be to seek out, and, if possible, effect the capture\nof this mysterious being. Some of the strange encounters between Herne\nand the king had been related to him by the officer on guard at the\nNorman Tower but these only served as stimulants to the adventure. After\na couple of hours thus passed on the keep, he descended refreshed and\ninvigorated. The next day he was there again, and the day after that;\nwhen, feeling that his restoration was well nigh complete, he requested\npermission to pass the following evening in the dry moat of the donjon.\nAnd this was readily accorded him.\n\nCovered with green sod, and shaded by many tall trees growing out of\nthe side of the artificial mound on which the keep was built, the fosse\noffered all the advantages of a garden to the prisoners who were allowed\nto take exercise within it. Here, as has been mentioned, King James the\nFirst of Scotland first beheld, from the battlements above, the lovely\nJane Beaufort take her solitary walk, and by his looks and gestures\ncontrived to make her sensible of the passion with which she inspired\nhim; and here at last, in an arbour which, for the sake of the old and\ndelightful legend connected with it, was kept up at the time of this\nchronicle, and then bore the name of the royal poet, they had secretly\nmet, and interchanged their vows of affection.\n\nFamiliar with the story, familiar also with the poetic strains to which\nthe monarch's passion gave birth, Surrey could not help comparing his\nown fate with that of the illustrious captive who had visited the spot\nbefore him. Full of such thoughts, he pensively tracked the narrow path\nwinding between the grassy banks of the fosse--now casting up his eyes\nto the keep--now looking towards the arbour, and wishing that he had\nbeen favoured with such visitings as lightened the captivity of the\nScottish king. At last, he sought the bower--a charming little nest of\ngreen leaves and roses, sheltering a bench which seemed only contrived\nfor lovers--and taking out his tablets, began to trace within them some\nstanzas of that exquisite poem which has linked his name for ever with\nthe Round Tower. Thus occupied, the time stole on insensibly, and he was\nnot aware that he had over-stayed the limits allowed him, till he was\naroused by the voice of the officer, who came to summon him back to his\nprison.\n\n\u201cYou will be removed to your old lodging, in the Round Tower, to-morrow\nnight, my lord,\u201d said the officer.\n\n\u201cFor what reason?\u201d demanded the earl, as he followed his conductor up\nthe steep side of the mound. But receiving no reply, he did not renew\nthe inquiry.\n\nEntering a door in the covered way at the head of the flight of steps\ncommunicating with the Norman Tower, they descended them in silence.\nJust as they reached the foot of this long staircase, the earl chanced\nto cast back his eyes, and, to his inexpressible astonishment, perceived\non the landing at the head of the steps, and just before the piece of\nordnance commanding the ascent, the figure of Herne the Hunter.\n\nBefore he could utter an exclamation, the figure retreated through the\nadjoining archway. Telling the officer what he had seen, Surrey would\nfain have gone in quest of the fiendish spy; but the other would not\npermit him; and affecting to treat the matter as a mere creation of\nfancy, he hurried the earl to his chamber in the Curfew Tower.\n\nThe next day, Surrey was removed betimes to the Round Tower, and the\ncause of the transfer was soon explained by the discharge of ordnance,\nthe braying of trumpets and the rolling of drums, announcing the arrival\nof the king. From the mystery observed towards him, Surrey was led to\nthe conclusion that the Fair Geraldine accompanied the royal party;\nbut he in vain sought to satisfy himself of the truth of the surmise by\nexamining, through the deep embrasure of his window, the cavalcade\nthat soon afterwards entered the upper quadrangle. Amid the throng of\nbeautiful dames surrounding Anne Boleyn he could not be certain that he\ndetected the Fair Geraldine; but he readily distinguished the Duke\nof Richmond among the nobles, and the sight awakened a pang of bitter\njealousy in his breast.\n\nThe day wore away slowly, for he could not fix his attention upon his\nbooks, neither was he allowed to go forth upon the battlements of the\ntower. In the evening, however, the officer informed him he might\ntake exercise within the dry moat if he was so inclined, and he gladly\navailed himself of the permission.\n\nAfter pacing to and fro along the walk for a short time, he entered the\narbour, and was about to throw himself upon the bench, when he observed\na slip of paper lying upon it. He took it up, and found a few lines\ntraced upon it in hurried characters. They ran thus:--\u201cThe Fair\nGeraldine arrived this morning in the castle. If the Earl of Surrey\ndesires to meet her, he will find her within this arbour at midnight.\u201d\n\nThis billet was read and re-read by the young earl with feelings of\nindescribable transport; but a little reflection damped his ardour,\nand made him fear it might be a device to ensnare him. There was no\ncertainty that the note proceeded in any way from the Fair Geraldine,\nnor could he even be sure that she was in the castle. Still, despite\nthese misgivings, the attraction was too powerful to be resisted, and\nhe turned over the means of getting out of his chamber, but the scheme\nseemed wholly impracticable. The window was at a considerable height\nabove the ramparts of the keep, and even if he could reach them, and\nescape the notice of the sentinels, he should have to make a second\ndescent into the fosse. And supposing all this accomplished how was\nhe to return? The impossibility of answering this latter mental\ninterrogation compelled him to give up all idea of the attempt.\n\nOn returning to his prison-chamber, he stationed himself at the\nembrasure overlooking the ramparts, and listened to the regular tread of\nthe sentinel below, half resolved, be the consequences what they might,\nto descend. As the appointed time approached, his anxiety became almost\nintolerable, and quitting the window, he began to pace hurriedly to and\nfro within the chamber, which, as has been previously observed, partook\nof the circular form of the keep, and was supported in certain places\nby great wooden pillars and cross-beams. But instead of dissipating\nhis agitation, his rapid movements seemed rather to increase it, and at\nlast, wrought to a pitch of uncontrollable excitement, he cried aloud--\n\u201cIf the fiend were to present himself now, and offer to lead me to her,\nI would follow him.\u201d\n\nScarcely were the words uttered than a hollow laugh broke from the\nfarther end of the chamber, and a deep voice exclaimed--\u201cI am ready to\ntake you to her.\u201d \u201cI need not ask who addresses me,\u201d said Surrey, after\na pause, and straining his eyes to distinguish the figure of the speaker\nin the gloom.\n\n\u201cI will tell you who I am,\u201d rejoined the other. \u201cI am he who visited you\nonce before--who showed you a vision of the Fair Geraldine--and carried\noff your vaunted relic--ho! ho!\u201d\n\n\u201cAvoid thee, false fiend!\u201d rejoined Surrey, \u201cthou temptest me now in\nvain.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have summoned me,\u201d returned Herne; \u201cand I will not be dismissed. I\nam ready to convey you to your mistress, who awaits you in King James's\nbower, and marvels at your tardiness.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd with what design dost thou offer me this service?\u201d demanded Surrey.\n\n\u201cIt will be time enough to put that question when I make any condition,\u201d\n replied Herne. \u201cEnough, I am willing to aid you. Will you go?\u201d\n\n\u201cLead on!\u201d replied Surrey, marching towards him.\n\nSuddenly, Herne drew a lantern from beneath the cloak in which he was\nwrapped, and threw its light on a trap-door lying open at his feet.\n\n\u201cDescend!\u201d\n\nSurrey hesitated a moment, and then plunged down the steps. In another\ninstant the demon followed. Some hidden machinery was then set in\nmotion, and the trap-door returned to its place. At length, Surrey\narrived at a narrow passage, which appeared to correspond in form with\nthe bulwarks of the keep. Here Herne passed him, and taking the lead,\nhurried along the gallery and descended another flight of steps, which\nbrought them to a large vault, apparently built in the foundation of the\ntower. Before the earl had time to gaze round this chamber, the demon\nmasked the lantern, and taking his hand, drew him through a narrow\npassage, terminated by a small iron door, which flew open at a touch,\nand they emerged among the bushes clothing the side of the mound.\n\n\u201cYou can now proceed without my aid,\u201d said Herne: \u201cbut take care not to\nexpose yourself to the sentinels.\u201d\n\nKeeping under the shade of the trees, for the moon was shining brightly,\nSurrey hastened towards the arbour, and as he entered it, to his\ninexpressible delight found that he had not been deceived, but that the\nFair Geraldine was indeed there.\n\n\u201cHow did you contrive this meeting?\u201d she cried, after their first\ngreetings had passed. \u201cAnd how did you learn I was in the castle, for\nthe strictest instructions were given that the tidings should not reach\nyou.\u201d\n\nThe only response made by Surrey was to press her lily hand devotedly to\nhis lips.\n\n\u201cI should not have ventured hither,\u201d pursued the Fair Geraldine, \u201cunless\nyou had sent me the relic as a token. I knew you would never part with\nit, and I therefore felt sure there was no deception.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how did you get here?\u201d inquired Surrey.\n\n\u201cYour messenger provided a rope-ladder, by which I descended into the\nmoat,\u201d she replied.\n\nSurrey was stupefied.\n\n\u201cYou seem astonished at my resolution,\u201d she continued; \u201cand, indeed,\nI am surprised at it myself; but I could not overcome my desire to see\nyou, especially as this meeting may be our last. The king, through the\nLady Anne Boleyn, has positively enjoined me to think no more of you\nand has given your father, the Duke of Norfolk, to understand that your\nmarriage without the royal assent will be attended by the loss of all\nthe favour he now enjoys.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd think you I will submit to such tyranny?\u201d cried Surrey.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d replied the Fair Geraldine in a mournful tone, \u201cI feel we shall\nnever be united. This conviction, which has lately forced itself upon\nmy mind, has not made me love you less, though it has in some degree\naltered my feelings towards you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I may be able to move the king,\u201d cried Surrey. \u201cI have some claim\nbesides that of kindred on the Lady Anne Boleyn--and she will obtain his\nconsent.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not trust to her,\u201d replied the Fair Geraldine. \u201cYou may have\nrendered her an important service, but be not too sure of a return.\nNo, Surrey, I here release you from the troth you plighted to me in the\ncloisters.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not be released from it!\u201d cried the earl hastily; \u201cneither will\nI release you. I hold the pledge as sacred and as binding as if we had\nbeen affianced together before Heaven.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor your own sake, do not say so, my dear lord,\u201d rejoined the Fair\nGeraldine; \u201cI beseech you, do not. That your heart is bound to me now,\nI well believe--and that you could become inconstant I will not permit\nmyself to suppose. But your youth forbids an union between us for many\nyears; and if during that time you should behold some fairer face than\nmine, or should meet some heart you may conceive more loving--though\nthat can hardly be--I would not have a hasty vow restrain you. Be free,\nthen--free at least for three years--and if at the end of that time your\naffections are still unchanged, I am willing you should bind yourself to\nme for ever.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot act with equal generosity to you,\u201d rejoined Surrey in a tone\nof deep disappointment. \u201cI would sooner part with life than relinquish\nthe pledge I have received from you. But I am content that my constancy\nshould be put to the test you propose. During the long term of my\nprobation, I will shrink from no trial of faith. Throughout Europe I\nwill proclaim your beauty in the lists, and will maintain its supremacy\nagainst all comers. But, oh! sweet Geraldine, since we have met in this\nspot, hallowed by the loves of James of Scotland and Jane Beaufort, let\nus here renew our vows of eternal constancy, and agree to meet again at\nthe time you have appointed, with hearts as warm and loving as those we\nbring together now.\u201d\n\nAnd as he spoke he drew her towards him, and imprinted a passionate kiss\non her lips.\n\n\u201cLet that ratify the pledge,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cHo! ho! ho!\u201d laughed a deep voice without.\n\n\u201cWhat was that?\u201d demanded the Fair Geraldine in a tone of alarm.\n\n\u201cYou have the relic, have you not?\u201d inquired the earl in a low tone.\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d she replied, \u201cyour messenger merely showed it to me. But why do\nyou ask? Ah! I understand. The fiendish laughter that just now sounded\nin my ears proceeded from--\u201d\n\n\u201cHerne the Hunter,\u201d replied Surrey, in a whisper. \u201cBut fear nothing. I\nwill defend you with my life. Ah! accursed chance! I have no weapon.\u201d\n\n\u201cNone would avail against him,\u201d murmured the Fair Geraldine. \u201cLead me\nforth; I shall die if I stay here.\u201d\n\nSupporting her in his arms, Surrey complied, but they had scarcely\ngained the entrance of the arbour, when a tall figure stood before them.\nIt was the Duke of Richmond. A gleam of moonlight penetrating through\nthe leaves, fell upon the group, and rendered them distinctly visible to\neach other.\n\n\u201cSoh!\u201d exclaimed the duke, after regarding the pair in silence for\na moment, \u201cI have not been misinformed. You have contrived a meeting\nhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cRichmond,\u201d said Surrey sternly, \u201cwe once were dear and loving friends,\nand we are still honourable foes. I know that I am safe with you. I\nknow you will breathe no word about this meeting, either to the Fair\nGeraldine's prejudice or mine.\n\n\u201cYou judge me rightly, my lord,\u201d replied the duke, in a tone of equal\nsternness. \u201cI have no thought of betraying you; though, by a word to my\nroyal father, I could prevent all chance of future rivalry on your part.\nI shall, however, demand a strict account from you on liberation.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour grace acts as beseems a loyal gentleman,\u201d replied Surrey.\n\u201cHereafter I will not fail to account to you for my conduct in any way\nyou please.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! let me interpose between you, my lords,\u201d cried the Fair Geraldine,\n\u201cto prevent the disastrous consequences of this quarrel. I have already\ntold your grace I cannot love you, and that my heart is devoted to\nthe Earl of Surrey. Let me appeal to your noble nature--to your\ngenerosity--not to persist in a hopeless suit.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have conquered madam,\u201d said the duke, after a pause. \u201cI have been\nto blame in this matter. But I will make amends for my error. Surrey, I\nrelinquish her to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy friend!\u201d exclaimed the earl, casting himself into the duke's arms.\n\n\u201cI will now endeavour to heal the wounds I have unwittingly occasioned,\u201d\n said the Fair Geraldine. \u201cI am surprised your grace should be insensible\nto attractions so far superior to mine as those of the Lady Mary\nHoward.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Lady Mary is very beautiful, I confess,\u201d said the duke; \u201cand if you\nhad not been in the way, I should assuredly have been her captive.\u201d\n\n\u201cI ought not to betray the secret, perhaps,\u201d hesitated the Fair\nGeraldine, \u201cbut gratitude prompts me to do so. The lady is not so blind\nto your grace's merits as I have been.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d exclaimed the duke. \u201cIf it be so, Surrey, we may yet be\nbrothers as well as friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that it is so I can avouch, Richmond,\u201d rejoined the earl, \u201cfor I am\nin my sister's secret as well as the Fair Geraldine. But now that this\nexplanation has taken place, I must entreat your grace to conduct the\nFair Geraldine back to her lodgings, while I regain, the best way I can,\nmy chamber in the Round Tower.\u201d\n\n\u201cI marvel how you escaped from it,\u201d said Richmond; \u201cbut I suppose it was\nby the connivance of the officer.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe who set me free--who brought the Fair Geraldine hither--and who, I\nsuspect, acquainted you with our meeting, was no other than Herne the\nHunter,\u201d replied Surrey.\n\n\u201cYou amaze me!\u201d exclaimed the duke; \u201cit was indeed a tall dark man,\nmuffled in a cloak, who informed me that you were to meet at midnight in\nKing James's bower in the moat, and I therefore came to surprise you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour informant was Herne,\u201d replied Surrey.\n\n\u201cRight!\u201d exclaimed the demon, stepping from behind a tree, where he\nhad hitherto remained concealed; \u201cit was I--I, Herne the Hunter. And\nI contrived the meeting in anticipation of a far different result from\nthat which has ensued. But I now tell you, my lord of Surrey, that it\nis idle to indulge a passion for the Fair Geraldine. You will never wed\nher.\u201d\n\n\u201cFalse fiend, thou liest!\u201d cried Surrey.\n\n\u201cTime will show,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cI repeat, you will wed another--and\nmore, I tell you, you are blinder than Richmond has shown himself--for\nthe most illustrious damsel in the kingdom has regarded you with eyes of\naffection, and yet you have not perceived it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Princess Mary?\u201d demanded Richmond.\n\n\u201cAy, the Princess Mary,\u201d repeated Herne. \u201cHow say you now, my\nlord?--will you let ambition usurp the place of love?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Surrey. \u201cBut I will hold no further converse with thee.\nThou wouldst tempt to perdition. Hence, fiend!\u201d\n\n\u201cUnless you trust yourself to my guidance, you will never reach your\nchamber,\u201d rejoined Herne, with a mocking laugh. \u201cThe iron door in\nthe mound cannot be opened on this side, and you well know what the\nconsequence of a discovery will be. Come, or I leave you to your fate.\u201d\n And he moved down the path on the right.\n\n\u201cGo with him, Surrey,\u201d cried Richmond.\n\nPressing the Fair Geraldine to his breast, the Earl committed her to the\ncharge of his friend, and tearing himself away, followed the steps of\nthe demon. He had not proceeded far when he heard his name pronounced by\na voice issuing from the tree above him. Looking up, he saw Herne in one\nof the topmost branches, and at a sign, instantly climbed up to him. The\nthick foliage screened them from observation, and Surrey concluded his\nguide was awaiting the disappearance of the sentinel, who was at that\nmoment approaching the tree. But such apparently was not the other's\nintentions; for the man had scarcely passed than Herne sprang upon the\nramparts, and the poor fellow turning at the sound, was almost scared\nout of his senses at the sight of the dreaded fiend. Dropping his\nhalbert, he fell upon his face with a stifled cry Herne then motioned\nSurrey to descend, and they marched together quickly to a low door\nopening into the keep. Passing through it, and ascending a flight\nof steps, they stood upon the landing at the top of the staircase\ncommunicating with the Norman Tower, and adjoining the entrance to\nSurrey's chamber.\n\nApparently familiar with the spot, Herne took down a large key from a\nnail in the wall, against which it hung, and unlocked the door.\n\n\u201cEnter,\u201d he said to Surrey, \u201cand do not forget the debt you owe to Herne\nthe Hunter.\u201d\n\nAnd as the earl stepped into the chamber, the door was locked behind\nhim.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n     How Sir Thomas Wyat found Mabel in the Sandstone Cave, and\n     what happened to him there\n\n\nA week after the foregoing occurrence, the Earl of Surrey was set free.\nBut his joy at regaining his liberty was damped by learning that the\nFair Geraldine had departed for Ireland. She had left the tenderest\nmessages for him with his sister, the Lady Mary Howard, accompanied with\nassurances of unalterable attachment.\n\nBut other changes had taken place, which were calculated to afford him\nsome consolation. Ever since the night on which he had been told the\nLady Mary was not indifferent to him, Richmond had devoted himself\nentirely to her; and matters had already proceeded so far, that he had\nasked her in marriage of the Duke of Norfolk, who, after ascertaining\nthe king's pleasure on the subject, had gladly given his consent, and\nthe youthful pair were affianced to each other. Surrey and Richmond now\nbecame closer friends than ever; and if, amid the thousand distractions\nof Henry's gay and festive court, the young earl did not forget the\nFair Geraldine, he did not, at least, find the time hang heavily on his\nhands.\n\nAbout a week after Wolsey's dismissal, while the court was still\nsojourning at Windsor, Surrey proposed to Richmond to ride one morning\nwith him in the great park. The Duke willingly assented, and mounting\ntheir steeds, they galloped towards Snow Hill, wholly unattended. While\nmounting this charming ascent at a more leisurely pace, the earl said\nto his companion, \u201cI will now tell you why I proposed this ride to you,\nRichmond. I have long determined to follow up the adventure of Herne the\nHunter, and I wish to confer with you about it, and ascertain whether\nyou are disposed to join me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not what to say, Surrey,\u201d replied the duke gravely, and speaking\nin a low tone. \u201cThe king, my father, failed in his endeavours to expel\nthe demon, who still lords it in the forest.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe greater glory to us if we succeed,\u201d said Surrey.\n\n\u201cI will take counsel with Lady Mary on the subject before I give an\nanswer,\u201d rejoined Richmond.\n\n\u201cThen there is little doubt what your grace's decision will be,\u201d laughed\nSurrey. \u201cTo speak truth, it was the fear of your consulting her that\nmade me bring you here. What say you to a ride in the forest to-morrow\nnight?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have little fancy for it,\u201d replied Richmond; \u201cand if you will be\nruled by me, you will not attempt the enterprise yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy resolution is taken,\u201d said the earl; \u201cbut now, since we have reached\nthe brow of the hill, let us push forward to the lake.\u201d\n\nA rapid ride of some twenty minutes brought them to the edge of\nthe lake, and they proceeded along the verdant path leading to the\nforester's hut. On arriving at the dwelling, it appeared wholly\ndeserted, but they nevertheless dismounted, and tying their horses\nto the trees at the back of the cottage, entered it. While they were\nexamining the lower room, the plash of oars reached their ears, and\nrushing to the window, they descried the skiff rapidly approaching the\nshore. A man was seated within it, whose attire, though sombre, seemed\nto proclaim him of some rank, but as his back was towards them, they\ncould not discern his features. In another instant the skiff touched the\nstrand, and the rower leaping ashore, proved to be Sir Thomas Wyat.\nOn making this discovery they both ran out to him, and the warmest\ngreetings passed between them. When these were over, Surrey expressed\nhis surprise to Wyat at seeing him there, declaring he was wholly\nunaware of his return from the court of France.\n\n\u201cI came back about a month ago,\u201d said Wyat. \u201cHis majesty supposes me at\nAllington; nor shall I return to court without a summons.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not sorry to hear it,\u201d said Surrey; \u201cbut what are you doing here?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy errand is a strange and adventurous one,\u201d replied Wyat. \u201cYou may\nhave heard that before I departed for France I passed some days in the\nforest in company with Herne the Hunter. What then happened to me I may\nnot disclose; but I vowed never to rest till I have freed this forest\nfrom the weird being who troubles it.\u201d\n\n\u201cSay you so?\u201d cried Surrey; \u201cthen you are most fortunately encountered,\nSir Thomas, for I myself, as Richmond will tell you, am equally bent\nupon the fiend's expulsion. We will be companions in the adventure.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will speak of that anon,\u201d replied Wyat. \u201cI was sorry to find this\ncottage uninhabited, and the fair damsel who dwelt within it, when I\nbeheld it last, gone. What has become of her?\n\n\u201cIt is a strange story,\u201d said Richmond. And he proceeded to relate all\nthat was known to have befallen Mabel.\n\nWyat listened with profound attention to the recital, and at its close,\nsaid, \u201cI think I can find a clue to this mystery, but to obtain it I\nmust go alone. Meet me here at midnight to-morrow, and I doubt not we\nshall be able to accomplish our design.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay I not ask for some explanation of your scheme?\u201d said Surrey.\n\n\u201cNot yet,\u201d rejoined Wyat. \u201cBut I will freely confess to you that there\nis much danger in the enterprise--danger that I would not willingly any\none should share with me, especially you, Surrey, to whom I owe so much.\nIf you do not find me here, therefore, to-morrow night, conclude that I\nhave perished, or am captive.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, be it as you will, Wyat,\u201d said Surrey; \u201cbut I would gladly\naccompany you, and share your danger.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it, and I thank you,\u201d returned Wyat, warmly grasping the other's\nhand; \u201cbut much--nay, all--may remain to be done to-morrow night. You\nhad better bring some force with you, for we may need it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will bring half a dozen stout archers,\u201d replied Surrey--\u201cand if you\ncome not, depend upon it, I will either release you or avenge you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not intend to prosecute this adventure further,\u201d said Richmond;\n\u201cbut since you are both resolved to embark in it, I will not desert\nyou.\u201d\n\nSoon after this, the friends separated,--Surrey and Richmond taking\nhorse and returning to the castle, discoursing on the unlooked--for\nmeeting with Wyat, while the latter again entered the skiff, and rowed\ndown the lake. As soon as the hut was clear, two persons descended the\nsteps of a ladder leading to a sort of loft in the roof, and sprang upon\nthe floor of the hut.\n\n\u201cHo! ho! Ho!\u201d laughed the foremost, whose antlered helm and wild garb\nproclaimed him to be Herne; \u201cthey little dreamed who were the hearers of\ntheir conference. So they think to take me, Fenwolf--ha!\u201d\n\n\u201cThey know not whom they have to deal with,\u201d rejoined the latter.\n\n\u201cThey should do so by this time,\u201d said Herne; \u201cbut I will tell thee why\nSir Thomas Wyat has undertaken this enterprise. It is not to capture me,\nthough that may be one object that moves him. But he wishes to see\nMabel Lyndwood. The momentary glimpse he caught of her bright eyes was\nsufficient to inflame him.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d exclaimed Fenwolf, \u201cthink you so?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am assured of it,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cHe knows the secret of the cave,\nand will find her there.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he will never return to tell what he has seen,\u201d said Fenwolf\nmoodily.\n\n\u201cI know not that,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cI have my own views respecting him. I\nwant to renew my band.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will never join you,\u201d rejoined Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cWhat if I offer him Mabel as a bait?\u201d said Herne.\n\n\u201cYou will not do so, dread master?\u201d rejoined Fenwolf, trembling and\nturning pale. \u201cShe belongs to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo thee, fool!\u201d cried Herne, with a derisive laugh. \u201cThinkest thou I\nwould resign such a treasure to thee? No, no. But rest easy, I will not\ngive her to Wyat.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean her for yourself, then?\u201d said Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cDarest thou to question me?\u201d cried Herne, striking him with the hand\narmed with the iron gyves. \u201cThis to teach thee respect.\u201d\n\nAnd this to prove whether thou art mortal or rejoined Fenwolf, plucking\nhis hunting-knife from his belt, and striking it with all his force\nagainst the other's breast. But though surely and forcibly dealt, the\nblow glanced off as if the demon were cased in steel, and the intended\nassassin fell back in amazement, while an unearthly laugh rang in his\nears. Never had Fenwolf seen Herne wear so formidable a look as he at\nthat moment assumed. His giant frame dilated, his eyes flashed fire, and\nthe expression of his countenance was so fearful that Fenwolf shielded\nhis eyes with his hands.\n\n\u201cAh, miserable dog!\u201d thundered Herne; \u201cdost thou think I am to be hurt\nby mortal hands, or mortal weapons? Thy former experience should have\ntaught thee differently. But since thou hast provoked it, take thy\nfate!\u201d\n\nUttering these words, he seized Fenwolf by the throat, clutching him\nwith a terrific gripe, and in a few seconds the miserable wretch would\nhave paid the penalty of his rashness, if a person had not at the moment\nappeared at the doorway. Flinging his prey hastily backwards, Herne\nturned at the interruption, and perceived old Tristram Lyndwood, who\nlooked appalled at what he beheld.\n\n\u201cAh, it is thou, Tristram?\u201d cried Herne; \u201cthou art just in time to\nwitness the punishment of this rebellious hound.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpare him, dread master! oh, spare him!\u201d cried Tristram imploringly.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Herne, gazing at the half-strangled caitiff, \u201che may\nlive. He will not offend again. But why hast thou ventured from thy\nhiding-place, Tristram?\u201d\n\n\u201cI came to inform you that I have just observed a person row across the\nlake in the skiff,\u201d replied the old man. \u201cHe appears to be taking the\ndirection of the secret entrance to the cave.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d replied Herne, \u201cI am aware of his proceedings.\nStay with Fenwolf till he is able to move, and then proceed with him to\nthe cave. But mark me, no violence must be done to Wyat if you find\nhim there. Any neglect of my orders in this respect will be followed by\nsevere punishment. I shall be at the cave ere long; but, meanwhile, I\nhave other business to transact.\u201d\n\nAnd quitting the hut, he plunged into the wood.\n\nMeanwhile, Sir Thomas Wyat, having crossed the lake, landed, and\nfastened the skiff to a tree, struck into the wood, and presently\nreached the open space in which lay the secret entrance to the cave. He\nwas not long in finding the stone, though it was so artfully concealed\nby the brushwood that it would have escaped any uninstructed eye, and\nremoving it, the narrow entrance to the cave was revealed.\n\nCommitting himself to the protection of Heaven, Wyat entered, and having\ntaken the precaution of drawing the stone after him, which was easily\naccomplished by a handle fixed to the inner side of it, he commenced the\ndescent. At first, he had to creep along, but the passage gradually got\nhigher, until at length, on reaching the level ground, he was able to\nstand upright. There was no light to guide him, but by feeling against\nthe sides of the passage, he found that he was in the long gallery he\nhad formerly threaded. Uncertain which way to turn, he determined to\ntrust to chance for taking the right direction, and drawing his sword,\nproceeded slowly to the right.\n\nFor some time he encountered no obstacle, neither could he detect the\nslightest sound, but he perceived that the atmosphere grew damp, and\nthat the sides of the passage were covered with moisture. Thus warned,\nhe proceeded with great caution, and presently found, after emerging\ninto a more open space, and striking off on the left, that he had\narrived at the edge of the pool of water which he knew lay at the end of\nthe large cavern.\n\nWhile considering how he should next proceed, a faint gleam of light\nbecame visible at the upper end of the vault. Changing his position,\nfor the pillars prevented him from seeing the source of the glimmer, he\ndiscovered that it issued from a lamp borne by a female hand, who he had\nno doubt was Mabel. On making this discovery, he sprang forwards, and\ncalled to her, but instantly repented his rashness, for as he uttered\nthe cry the light was extinguished.\n\nWyat was now completely at a loss how to proceed. He was satisfied that\nMabel was in the vault; but in what way to guide himself to her retreat\nhe could not tell, and it was evident she herself would not assist him.\nPersuaded, however, if he could but make himself known, he should no\nlonger be shunned, he entered one of the lateral passages, and ever and\nanon, as he proceeded, repeated Mabel's name in a low, soft tone.\nThe stratagem was successful. Presently he heard a light footstep\napproaching him, and a gentle voice inquired--\u201cWho calls me?\u201d\n\n\u201cA friend,\u201d replied Wyat.\n\n\u201cYour name?\u201d she demanded.\n\n\u201cYou will not know me if I declare myself, Mabel,\u201d he replied, \u201cbut I am\ncalled Sir Thomas Wyat.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe name is well known to me,\u201d she replied, in trembling tones; \u201cand I\nhave seen you once--at my grandfather's cottage. But why have you come\nhere? Do you know where you are?\n\n\u201cI know that I am in the cave of Herne the Hunter,\u201d replied Wyat; \u201cand\none of my motives for seeking it was to set you free. But there is\nnothing to prevent your flight now.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! there is,\u201d she replied. \u201cI am chained here by bonds I cannot\nbreak. Herne has declared that any attempt at escape on my part shall be\nfollowed by the death of my grandsire. And he does not threaten idly, as\nno doubt you know. Besides, the most terrible vengeance would fall on my\nown head. No,--I cannot--dare not fly. But let us not talk in the dark.\nCome with me to procure a light. Give me your hand, and I will lead you\nto my cell.\u201d\n\nTaking the small, trembling hand offered him, Wyat followed his\nconductress down the passage. A few steps brought them to a door, which\nshe pushed aside, and disclosed a small chamber, hewn out of the rock,\nin a recess of which a lamp was burning. Lighting the lamp which she had\nrecently extinguished, she placed it on a rude table.\n\n\u201cHave you been long a prisoner here?\u201d asked Wyat, fixing his regards\nupon her countenance, which, though it had lost somewhat of its bloom,\nhad gained much in interest and beauty.\n\n\u201cFor three months, I suppose,\u201d she replied; \u201cbut I am not able to\ncalculate the lapse of time. It has seemed very--very long. Oh that I\ncould behold the sun again, and breathe the fresh, pure air!\n\n\u201cCome with me, and you shall do so,\u201d rejoined Wyat.\n\n\u201cI have told you I cannot fly,\u201d she answered. \u201cI cannot sacrifice my\ngrandsire.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if he is leagued with this demon he deserves the worst fate that\ncan befall him,\u201d said Wyat. \u201cYou should think only of your own safety.\nWhat can be the motive of your detention?\u201d\n\n\u201cI tremble to think of it,\u201d she replied; \u201cbut I fear that Herne has\nconceived a passion for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen indeed you must fly,\u201d cried Wyat; \u201csuch unhallowed love will tend\nto perdition of soul and body.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh that there was any hope for me!\u201d she ejaculated.\n\n\u201cThere is hope,\u201d replied Wyat. \u201cI will protect you--will care for\nyou--will love you.\u201d\n\n\u201cLove me!\u201d exclaimed Mabel, a deep blush overspreading her pale\nfeatures. \u201cYou love another.\u201d\n\n\u201cAbsence has enabled me to overcome the vehemence of my passion,\u201d\n replied Wyat, \u201cand I feel that my heart is susceptible of new emotions.\nBut you, maiden,\u201d he added coldly, \u201cyou are captivated by the admiration\nof the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy love, like yours, is past,\u201d she answered, with a faint smile; \u201cbut\nif I were out of Herne's power I feel that I could love again, and\nfar more deeply than I loved before--for that, in fact, was rather the\nresult of vanity than of real regard.\u201d\n\n\u201cMabel,\u201d said Wyat, taking her hand, and gazing into her eyes, \u201cif I set\nyou free, will you love me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI love you already,\u201d she replied; \u201cbut if that could be, my whole life\nshould be devoted to you. Ha!\u201d she exclaimed with a sudden change of\ntone, \u201cfootsteps are approaching; it is Fenwolf. Hide yourself within\nthat recess.\u201d\n\nThough doubting the prudence of the course, Wyat yielded to her\nterrified and imploring looks, and concealed himself in the manner she\nhad indicated. He was scarcely ensconed in the recess, when the door\nopened, and Morgan Fenwolf stepped in, followed by her grandfather.\nFenwolf gazed suspiciously round the little chamber, and then glanced\nsignificantly at old Tristram, but he made no remark.\n\n\u201cWhat brings you here?\u201d demanded Mabel tremblingly.\n\n\u201cYou are wanted in the cave,\u201d said Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cI will follow you anon,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cYou must come at once,\u201d rejoined Fenwolf authoritatively. \u201cHerne will\nbecome impatient.\u201d\n\nUpon this Mabel rose, and, without daring to cast a look towards the\nspot where Wyat was concealed, quitted the cell with them. No sooner\nwere they all out, than Fenwolf, hastily shutting the door, turned the\nkey in the lock, and taking it out, exclaimed, \u201cSo we have secured you,\nSir Thomas Wyat. No fear of your revealing the secret of the cave now,\nor flying with Mabel--ha! ha!\u201d to here.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n     In what manner Herne declared his Passion for Mabel.\n\n\nUtterly disregarding her cries and entreaties, Fenwolf dragged Mabel\ninto the great cavern, and forced her to take a seat on a bench near the\nspot where a heap of ashes showed that the fire was ordinarily lighted.\nAll this while, her grandfather had averted his face from her, as if\nfearing to meet her regards, and he now busied himself in striking a\nlight and setting fire to a pile of fagots and small logs of wood.\n\n\u201cI thought you told me Herne was here,\u201d said Mabel in a tone of bitter\nreproach, to Fenwolf, who seated himself beside her on the bench.\n\n\u201cHe will be here ere long,\u201d he replied sullenly.\n\n\u201cOh, do not detain Sir Thomas Wyat!\u201d cried Mabel piteously; \u201cdo not\ndeliver him to your dread master! Do what you will with me--but let him\ngo.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell you what I will do,\u201d replied Fenwolf, in a low tone;\n\u201cI will set Sir Thomas at liberty, and run all risks of Herne's\ndispleasure, if you will promise to be mine.\u201d\n\nMabel replied by a look of unutterable disgust.\n\n\u201cThen he will await Herne's coming where he is,\u201d rejoined Fenwolf.\n\nSaying which he arose, and, pushing a table near the bench, took the\nremains of a huge venison pasty and a loaf from a hutch standing on one\nside of the cavern.\n\nBy this time Old Tristram, having succeeded in lighting the fire, placed\nhimself at the farther end of the table, and fell to work upon the\nviands with Fenwolf. Mabel was pressed to partake of the repast, but she\ndeclined the offer. A large stone bottle was next produced and emptied\nof its contents by the pair, who seemed well contented with their\nregale.\n\nMeanwhile Mabel was revolving the possibility of flight, and had more\nthan once determined to make an attempt, but fear restrained her. Her\ngrandsire, as has been stated, sedulously avoided her gaze, and turned a\ndeaf ear to her complaints and entreaties. But once, when Fenwolf's back\nwas turned, she caught him gazing at her with peculiar significance, and\nthen comprehended the meaning of his strange conduct. He evidently only\nawaited an opportunity to assist her.\n\nSatisfied of this, she became more tranquil, and about an hour having\nelapsed, during which nothing was said by the party, the low winding of\na horn was heard, and Fenwolf started to his feet, exclaiming--\n\n\u201cIt is Herne!\u201d\n\nThe next moment the demon huntsman rode from one of the lateral passages\ninto the cave. He was mounted on a wild-looking black horse, with\nflowing mane and tail, eyes glowing like carbuncles, and in all respects\nresembling the sable steed he had lost in the forest.\n\nSpringing to the ground, he exchanged a few words with Fenwolf in a low\ntone, and delivering his steed to him, with orders to take it to the\nstable, signed to Tristram to go with him, and approached Mabel.\n\n\u201cSo you have seen Sir Thomas Wyat, I find,\u201d he said, in a stern tone.\n\nMabel made no answer, and did not even raise her eyes towards him.\n\n\u201cAnd he has told you he loves you, and has urged you to fly with\nhim--ha?\u201d pursued Herne.\n\nMabel still did not dare to look up, but a deep blush overspread her\ncheek.\n\n\u201cHe was mad to venture hither,\u201d continued Herne; \u201cbut having done so, he\nmust take the consequences.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will not destroy him?\u201d cried Mabel imploringly.\n\n\u201cHe will perish by a hand as terrible as mine,\u201d laughed Herne--\u201cby that\nof famine. He will never quit the dungeon alive unless--\u201d\n\n\u201cUnless what?\u201d gasped Mabel.\n\n\u201cUnless he is leagued with me,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cAnd now let him pass,\nfor I would speak of myself. I have already told you that I love you,\nand am resolved to make you mine. You shudder, but wherefore? It is\na glorious destiny to be the' bride of the wild hunter--the fiend who\nrules the forest, and who, in his broad domain, is more powerful than\nthe king. The old forester, Robin Hood, had his maid Marian; and what\nwas he compared to me? He had neither my skill nor my power. Be mine,\nand you shall accompany me on my midnight rides; shall watch the fleet\nstag dart over the moonlight glade, or down the lengthened vista. You\nshall feel all the unutterable excitement of the chase. You shall thread\nwith me the tangled grove, swim the river and the lake, and enjoy a\nthousand pleasures hitherto unknown to you. Be mine, and I will make you\nmistress of all my secrets, and compel the band whom I will gather round\nme to pay you homage. Be mine, and you shall have power of life and\ndeath over them, as if you were absolute queen. And from me, whom all\nfear, and all obey, you shall have love and worship.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he would have taken her hand; but she recoiled from horror.\n\n\u201cThough I now inspire you with terror and aversion,\u201d pursued \u201cthe time\nwill come when you will love me as passionately as I was beloved by one\nof whom you are the image.\u201d\n\nAnd she is dead? \u201casked Mabel, with curiosity.\n\n\u201cDead!\u201d exclaimed Herne. \u201cThrice fifty years have flown since she dwelt\nupon earth. The acorn which was shed in the forest has grown into a\nlusty oak, while trees at that time in their pride have fallen and\ndecayed away. Dead!--yes, she has passed from all memory save mine,\nwhere she will ever dwell. Generations of men have gone down to the\ngrave since her time--a succession of kings have lodged within the\ncastle but I am still a denizen of the forest. For crimes I then\ncommitted I am doomed to wander within it, and I shall haunt it, unless\nreleased, till the crack of doom.\u201d\n\n\u201cLiberate me!\u201d cried Mabel; \u201cliberate your other prisoner and we will\npray for your release.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more of this!\u201d cried Herne fiercely. \u201cIf you would not call down\ninstant and terrible punishment on your head--punishment that I cannot\navert, and must inflict--you will mention nothing sacred in my hearing,\nand never allude to prayer, I am beyond the reach of salvation.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, say not so!\u201d cried Mabel, in a tone of commiseration. \u201cI will tell\nyou how my doom was accomplished,\u201d rejoined Herne wildly. \u201cTo gain\nher of whom I have just spoken, and who was already vowed to Heaven, I\ninvoked the powers of darkness. I proffered my soul to the Evil One if\nhe would secure her to me, and the condition demanded by him was that I\nshould become what I am--the fiend of the forest, with power to terrify\nand to tempt, and with other more fearful and fatal powers besides.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d exclaimed Mabel.\n\n\u201cI grasped at the offer,\u201d pursued Herne. \u201cShe I loved became mine. But\nshe was speedily snatched from me by death, and since then I have known\nno human passion except hatred and revenge. I have dwelt in this forest,\nsometimes alone, sometimes at the head of a numerous band, but always\nexerting a baneful influence over mankind. At last, I saw the image\nof her I loved again appear before me, and the old passion was revived\nwithin my breast. Chance has thrown you in my way, and mine you shall\nbe, Mabel.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will die rather,\u201d she replied, with a shudder.\n\n\u201cYou cannot escape me,\u201d rejoined He me, with a triumphant laugh; \u201cyou\ncannot avoid your fate. But I want not to deal harshly with you. I love\nyou, and would win you rather by persuasion than by force. Consent to be\nmine, then, and I give Wyat his life and liberty.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot--I cannot!\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cNot only do I offer you Wyat's life as the price of your compliance,\u201d\n persevered Herne; \u201cbut you shall have what ever else you may\nseek--jewels, ornaments, costly attire, treasure--for of such I possess\na goodly store.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd of what use would they be to me here?\u201d said Mabel.\n\n\u201cI will not always confine you to this cave,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cYou shall\ngo where you please, and live as you please, but you must come to me\nwhenever I summon you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what of my grandsire?\u201d she demanded.\n\n\u201cTristram Lyndwood is no relative of yours,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cI will now\nclear up the mystery that hangs over your birth. You are the offspring\nof one who for years has exercised greater sway than the king within\nthis realm, but who is now disgraced and ruined, and nigh his end. His\npriestly vows forbid him to own you, even if he desired to do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave I seen him?\u201d demanded Mabel.\n\n\u201cYou have,\u201d replied Herne; \u201cand he has seen you--and little did he know\nwhen he sought you out, that he was essaying to maintain his own power,\nand overturn that of another, by the dishonour of his daughter--though\nif he had done so,\u201d he added, with a scoffing laugh, \u201cit might not have\nrestrained him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know whom you mean,\u201d said Mabel. \u201cAnd is it possible he can be my\nfather?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is as I have told you,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cYou now know my resolve.\nTo-morrow at midnight our nuptials shall take place.\u201d\n\n\u201cNuptials!\u201d echoed Mabel.\n\n\u201cAy, at that altar,\u201d he cried, pointing to the Druid pile of stones;\n\u201cthere you shall vow yourself to me and I to you, before terrible\nwitnesses. I shall have no fear that you will break your oath. Reflect\nupon what I have said.\u201d\n\nWith this he placed the bugle to his lips, blew a low call upon it, and\nFenwolf and Tristram immediately answering the summons, he whispered\nsome instructions to the former, and disappeared down one of the side\npassages.\n\nFenwolf's, deportment was now more sullen than before. In vain did Mabel\ninquire from him what Herne was about to do with Sir Thomas Wyat. He\nreturned no answer, and at last, wearied by her importunity, desired her\nto hold her peace. Just then, Tristram quitted the cavern for a moment,\nwhen he instantly changed his manner, and 'said to her quickly, \u201cI\noverheard what passed between you and Herne. Consent to be mine, and I\nwill deliver you from him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat were to exchange one evil for another,\u201d she replied, \u201cIf you would\nserve me, deliver Sir Thomas Wyat.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will only deliver him on the terms I have mentioned,\u201d replied Fenwolf.\n\nAt this moment, Tristram returned, and the conversation ceased.\n\nFresh logs were then thrown on the fire by Fenwolf, and, at his request,\nTristram proceeded to a hole in the rock, which served as a sort of\nlarder, and brought from it some pieces of venison, which were broiled\nupon the embers.\n\nAt the close of the repast, of which she sparingly partook, Mabel was\nconducted by Morgan Fenwolf into a small chamber opening out of the\ngreat cavern, which was furnished like the cell she had lately occupied,\nwith a small straw pallet. Leaving her a lamp, Fenwolf locked the door,\nand placed the key in his girdle.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n     How Sir Thomas Wyat was visited by Herne in the Cell.\n\n\nMade aware by the clangour of the lock, and Fenwolf's exulting laughter,\nof the snare in which he had been caught, Sir Thomas Wyat instantly\nsprang from his hiding-place, and rushed to the door; but being framed\nof the stoutest oak, and strengthened with plates of iron, it defied all\nhis efforts, nerved as they were by rage and despair, to burst it\nopen. Mabel's shrieks, as she was dragged away, reached his ears, and\nincreased his anguish; and he called out loudly to her companions to\nreturn, but his vociferations were only treated with derision.\n\nFinding it useless to struggle further, Wyat threw himself upon the\nbench, and endeavoured to discover some means of deliverance from his\npresent hazardous position. He glanced round the cell to see whether\nthere was any other outlet than the doorway, but he could discern none,\nexcept a narrow grated loophole opening upon the passage, and contrived,\ndoubtless, for the admission of air to the chamber. No dungeon could be\nmore secure.\n\nRaising the lamp, he examined every crevice, but all seemed solid stone.\nThe recess in which he had taken shelter proved to be a mere hollow in\nthe wall. In one corner lay a small straw pallet, which, no doubt, had\nformed the couch of Mabel; and this, together with the stone bench and\nrude table of the same material, constituted the sole furniture of the\nplace.\n\nHaving taken this careful survey of the cell, Wyat again sat down upon\nthe bench with the conviction that escape was out of the question; and\nhe therefore endeavoured to prepare himself for the worst, for it was\nmore than probable he would be allowed to perish of starvation. To a\nfiery nature like his, the dreadful uncertainty in which he was placed\nwas more difficult of endurance than bodily torture. And he was destined\nto endure it long. Many hours flew by, during which nothing occurred to\nrelieve the terrible monotony of his situation. At length, in spite of\nhis anxiety, slumber stole upon him unawares; but it was filled with\nfrightful visions.\n\nHow long he slept he knew not, but when he awoke, he found that the\ncell must have been visited in the interval, for there was a manchet of\nbread, part of a cold neck of venison, and a flask of wine on the table.\nIt was evident, therefore, that his captors did not mean to starve him,\nand yielding to the promptings of appetite, he attacked the provisions,\ndetermined to keep strict watch when his gaoler should next visit him.\n\nThe repast finished, he again examined the cell, but with no better\nsuccess than before; and he felt almost certain, from the position in\nwhich the bench was placed, that the visitor had not found entrance\nthrough the door.\n\nAfter another long and dreary interval, finding that sleep was stealing\nupon him fast, he placed the bench near the door, and leaned his back\nagainst the latter, certain that in this position he should be awakened\nif any one attempted to gain admittance in that way. His slumber was\nagain disturbed by fearful dreams; and he was at length aroused by a\ntouch upon the shoulder, while a deep voice shouted his own name in her\nears.\n\nStarting to his feet, and scarcely able to separate the reality from\nthe hideous phantasms that had troubled him, he found that the door was\nstill fastened, and the bench unremoved, while before him stood Herne\nthe Hunter.\n\n\u201cWelcome again to my cave, Sir Thomas Wyat!\u201d cried the demon, with a\nmocking laugh. \u201cI told you, on the night of the attempt upon the king,\nthat though you escaped him, you would not escape me. And so it has come\nto pass. You are now wholly in my power, body and soul--ha! ha!\u201d\n\n\u201cI defy you, false fiend,\u201d replied Wyat. \u201cI was mad enough to proffer\nyou my soul on certain conditions; but they have never been fulfilled.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey may yet be so,\u201d rejoined Herne.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Wyat, \u201cI have purged my heart from the fierce and\nunhallowed passion that swayed it. I desire no assistance from you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you have changed your mind, that is nought to me,\u201d rejoined the demon\nderisively--\u201cI shall hold you to your compact.\u201d\n\n\u201cAgain I say I renounce you, infernal spirit!\u201d cried Wyat; \u201cyou may\ndestroy my body--but you can work no mischief to my soul.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou alarm yourself without reason, good Sir Thomas,\u201d replied Herne, in\na slightly sneering tone. \u201cI am not the malignant being you suppose\nme; neither am I bent upon fighting the battles of the enemy of mankind\nagainst Heaven. I may be leagued with the powers of darkness, but I have\nno wish to aid them; and I therefore leave you to take care of your soul\nin your own way. What I desire from you is your service while living.\nNow listen to the conditions I have to propose. You must bind yourself\nby a terrible oath, the slightest infraction of which shall involve the\nperdition of the soul you are so solicitous to preserve, not to disclose\naught you may see, or that may be imparted to you here. You must also\nswear implicit obedience to me in all things--to execute any secret\ncommissions, of whatever nature, I may give you--to bring associates\nto my band--and to join me in any enterprise I may propose. This oath\ntaken, you are free. Refuse it, and I leave you to perish.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do refuse it,\u201d replied Wyat boldly. \u201cI would die a thousand deaths\nrather than so bind myself. Neither do I fear being left to perish here.\nYou shall not quit this cell without me.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a stout soldier, Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d rejoined the demon, with a\nscornful laugh; \u201cbut you are scarcely a match for Herne the Hunter, as\nyou will find, if you are rash enough to make the experiment. Beware!\u201d\n he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder, observing the knight lay his hand\nupon his sword, \u201cI am invulnerable, and you will, therefore, vainly\nstrike at me. Do not compel me to use the dread means, which I could\ninstantly employ, to subject you to my will. I mean you well, and would\nrather serve than injure you. But I will not let you go, unless you\nleague yourself with me. Swear, therefore, obedience to me, and depart\nhence to your friends, Surrey and Richmond, and tell them you have\nfailed to find me.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know, then, of our meeting?\u201d exclaimed Wyat.\n\n\u201cPerfectly well,\u201d laughed Herne. \u201cIt is now eventide, and at midnight\nthe meeting will take place in the forester's hut. If you attend it not,\nI will. They will be my prisoners as well as you. To preserve yourself\nand save them, you must join me.\u201d\n\n\u201cBefore I return an answer,\u201d said Wyat, \u201cI must know what has become of\nMabel Lyndwood.\u201d\n\n\u201cMabel Lyndwood is nought to you, Sir Thomas,\u201d rejoined Herne coldly.\n\n\u201cShe is so much to me that I will run a risk for her which I would not\nrun for myself,\u201d replied Wyat. \u201cIf I promise obedience to you, will you\nliberate her? will you let her depart with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Herne peremptorily. \u201cBanish all thoughts of her from your\nbreast. You will never behold her again. I will give you time for\nreflection on my proposal. An hour before midnight I shall return, and\nif I find you in the same mind, I abandon you to your fate.\u201d\n\nAnd with these words he stepped back towards the lower end of the cell.\nWyat instantly sprang after him, but before he could reach him a flash\nof fire caused him to recoil, and to his horror and amazement, he beheld\nthe rock open, and yield a passage to the retreating figure.\n\nWhen the sulphureous smoke, with which the little cell was filled, had\nin some degree cleared off, Wyat examined the sides of the rock, but\ncould not find the slightest trace of a secret outlet, and therefore\nconcluded that the disappearance of the demon had been effected by\nmagic.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\n     How Mabel escaped from the Cave with Sir Thomas Wyat.\n\n\nThe next day Mabel was set at liberty by her gaoler, and the hours flew\nby without the opportunity of escape, for which she sighed, occurring to\nher. As night drew on, she became more anxious, and at last expressed a\nwish to retire to her cell. When about to fasten the door, Fenwolf found\nthat the lock had got strained, and the bolts would not move, and he was\ntherefore obliged to content himself with placing a bench against it, on\nwhich he took a seat.\n\nAbout an hour after Mabel's retirement, old Tristram offered to relieve\nguard with Fenwolf, but this the other positively declined, and leaning\nagainst the door, disposed himself to slumber. Tristram then threw\nhimself on the floor, and in a short time all seemed buried in repose.\n\nBy-and-by, however, when Fenwolf's heavy breathing gave token of the\nsoundness of his sleep, Tristram raised himself upon his elbow, and\ngazed round. The lamp placed upon the table imperfectly illumined the\ncavern, for the fire which had been lighted to cook the evening meal\nhad gone out completely. Getting up cautiously, and drawing his\nhunting-knife, the old man crept towards Fenwolf, apparently with the\nintent of stabbing him, but he suddenly changed his resolution, and\ndropped his arm.\n\nAt that moment, as if preternaturally warned, Fenwolf opened his eyes,\nand seeing the old forester standing by, sprang upon him, and seized him\nby the throat.\n\n\u201cAh traitor!\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cwhat are you about to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am no traitor,\u201d replied the old man. \u201cI heard a noise in the passage\nleading to Wyat's cell, and was about to rouse you, when you awakened of\nyour own accord, probably disturbed by the noise.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be,\u201d replied Fenwolf, satisfied with the excuse, and\nrelinquishing his grasp. \u201cI fancied I heard something in my dreams. But\ncome with me to Wyat's cell. I will not leave you here.\u201d\n\nAnd snatching up the lamp, he hurried with Tristram into the passage.\nThey were scarcely gone, when the door of the cell was opened by Mabel,\nwho had overheard what had passed; and so hurriedly did she issue\nforth that she over-turned the bench, which fell to the ground with\na considerable clatter. She had only just time to replace it, and to\nconceal herself in an adjoining passage, when Fenwolf rushed back into\nthe cavern.\n\n\u201cIt was a false alarm,\u201d he cried. \u201cI saw Sir Thomas Wyat in his cell\nthrough the loop-hole, and I have brought the key away with me. But I am\nsure I heard a noise here.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must have been mere fancy,\u201d said Tristram. \u201cAll is as we left it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt seems so, certes,\u201d replied Fenwolf doubtfully. \u201cBut I will make\nsure.\u201d\n\nWhile he placed his ear to the door, Mabel gave a signal to Tristram\nthat she was safe. Persuaded that he heard some sound in the chamber,\nFenwolf nodded to Tristram that all was right, and resumed his seat.\n\nIn less than ten minutes he was again asleep. Mabel then emerged from\nher concealment, and cautiously approached Tristram, who feigned, also,\nto slumber. As she approached him, he rose noiselessly to his feet.\n\n\u201cThe plan has succeeded,\u201d he said in a low tone. \u201cIt was I who spoiled\nthe lock. But come with me. I will lead you out of the cavern.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot without Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d she replied; \u201cI will not leave him here.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will only expose yourself to risk, and fail to deliver him,\u201d\n rejoined Tristram. \u201cFenwolf has the key of his cell. Nay, if you are\ndetermined upon it, I will not hinder you. But you must find your own\nway out, for I shall not assist Sir Thomas Wyat.\u201d\n\nMotioning him to silence, Mabel crept slowly, and on the points of her\nfeet, towards Fenwolf.\n\nThe key was in his girdle. Leaning over him, she suddenly and\ndexterously plucked it forth.\n\nAt the very moment she possessed herself of it, Fenwolf stirred, and she\ndived down, and concealed herself beneath the table. Fenwolf, who had\nbeen only slightly disturbed, looked up, and seeing Tristram in his\nformer position, which he had resumed when Mabel commenced her task,\nagain disposed himself to slumber.\n\nWaiting till she was assured of the soundness of his repose, Mabel crept\nfrom under the table, signed to Tristram to remain where he was, and\nglided with swift and noiseless footsteps down the passage leading to\nthe cell.\n\nIn a moment, she was at the door--the key was in the lock--and she stood\nbefore Sir Thomas Wyat.\n\nA few words sufficed to explain to the astonished knight how she came\nthere, and comprehending that not a moment was to be lost, he followed\nher forth.\n\nIn the passage, they held a brief consultation together in a low tone,\nas to the best means of escape, for they deemed it useless to apply to\nTristram. The outlet with which Sir Thomas Wyat was acquainted lay\non the other side of the cavern; nor did he know how to discover the\nparticular passage leading to it.\n\nAs to Mabel, she could offer no information, but she knew that the\nstable lay in an adjoining passage.\n\nRecollecting, from former experience, how well the steeds were trained,\nSir Thomas Wyat eagerly caught at the suggestion, and Mabel led him\nfarther down the passage, and striking off through an opening on the\nleft, brought him, after a few turns, to a large chamber, in which two\nor three black horses were kept.\n\nLoosening one of them, Wyat placed a bridle on his neck, sprang upon his\nback, and took up Mabel beside him. He then struck his heels against the\nsides of the animal, who needed no further incitement to dash along the\npassage, and in a few seconds brought them into the cavern.\n\nThe trampling of the horse wakened Fenwolf, who started to his feet,\nand ran after them, shouting furiously. But he was too late. Goaded\nby Wyat's dagger, the steed dashed furiously on, and plunging with its\ndouble burden into the pool at the bottom of the cavern, disappeared.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\n     Of the Desperate Resolution formed by Tristram and Fenwolf,\n     and how the Train was laid.\n\n\nTransported with rage at the escape of the fugitives, Fenwolf turned to\nold Tristram, and drawing his knife, threatened to make an end of him.\nBut the old man, who was armed with a short hunting-sword, stood upon\nhis defence, and they remained brandishing their weapons at each other\nfor some minutes, but without striking a blow.\n\n\u201cWell, I leave you to Herne's vengeance,\u201d said Fenwolf, returning his\nknife to his belt. \u201cYou will pay dearly for allowing them to escape.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will take my chance,\u201d replied Tristram moodily: \u201cmy mind is made up\nto the worst. I will no longer serve this fiend.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! dare you break your oath?\u201d cried Fenwolf. \u201cRemember the terrible\nconsequences.\u201d\n\n\u201cI care not for them,\u201d replied Tristram. \u201cHarkee, Fenwolf: I know you\nwill not betray me, for you hate him as much as I do, and have as great\na desire for revenge. I will rid the forest of this fell being.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould you could make good your words, old man!\u201d cried Fenwolf. \u201cI would\ngive my life for vengeance upon him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI take the offer,\u201d said Tristram; \u201cyou shall have vengeance.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how?\u201d cried the other. \u201cI have proved that he is invulnerable and\nthe prints of his hands are written in black characters upon my throat.\nIf we could capture him, and deliver him to the king, we might purchase\nour own pardon.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, that can never be,\u201d said Tristram. \u201cMy plan is to destroy him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, let me hear it,\u201d said Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cCome with me, then,\u201d rejoined Tristram.\n\nAnd taking up the lamp, he led the way down a narrow lateral passage.\nWhen about half-way down it, he stopped before a low door, cased with\niron, which he opened, and showed that the recess was filled with large\ncanvas bags.\n\n\u201cWhy, this is the powder-magazine,\u201d said Fenwolf. \u201cI can now guess how\nyou mean to destroy Herne. I like the scheme well enough; but it cannot\nbe executed without certain destruction to ourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will take all the risk upon myself,\u201d said Tristram, \u201cI only require\nyour aid in the preparations. What I propose to do is this. There is\npowder enough in the magazine, not only to blow up the cave, but to set\nfire to all the wood surrounding it. It must be scattered among the dry\nbrush-wood in a great circle round the cave, and connected by a train\nwith this magazine. When Herne comes hack, I will fire the train.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is much hazard in the scheme, and I fear it will fail,\u201d replied\nFenwolf, after a pause, \u201cnevertheless, I will assist you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, let us go to work at once,\u201d said Tristram, \u201cfor we have no time\nto lose. Herne will be here before midnight, and I should like to have\nall ready for him.\u201d\n\nAccordingly, they each shouldered a couple of the bags, and returning\nto the cavern, threaded a narrow passage, and emerged from the secret\nentrance in the grove.\n\nWhile Fenwolf descended for a fresh supply of powder, Tristram\ncommenced operations. Though autumn was now far advanced, there had\nbeen remarkably fine weather of late; the ground was thickly strewn with\nyellow leaves, the fern was brown and dry, and the brushwood crackled\nand broke as a passage was forced through it. The very trees were\nparched by the long-continued drought. Thus favoured in his design,\nTristram scattered the contents of one of the bags in a thick line among\nthe fern and brushwood, depositing here and there among the roots of a\ntree, several pounds of powder, and covering the heaps over with dried\nsticks and leaves.\n\nWhile he was thus employed, Fenwolf appeared with two more bags of\npowder, and descended again for a fresh supply. When he returned, laden\nas before, the old forester had already described a large portion of the\ncircle he intended to take.\n\nJudging that there was now powder sufficient, Tristram explained to his\ncompanion how to proceed; and the other commenced laying a train on the\nleft of the secret entrance, carefully observing the instructions given\nhim. In less than an hour, they met together at a particular tree, and\nthe formidable circle was complete.\n\n\u201cSo far, well!\u201d said Tristram, emptying the contents of his bag beneath\nthe tree, and covering it with leaves and sticks, as before; \u201cand now to\nconnect this with the cavern.\u201d\n\nWith this, he opened another bag, and drew a wide train towards the\ncentre of the space. At length, he paused at the foot of a large hollow\ntree.\n\n\u201cI have ascertained,\u201d he said, \u201cthat this tree stands immediately over\nthe magazine; and by following this rabbit's burrow, I have contrived\nto make a small entrance into it. A hollow reed introduced through the\nhole, and filled with powder, will be sure to reach the store below.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn excellent ideal,\u201d replied Fenwolf. \u201cI will fetch one instantly.\u201d\n\nAnd starting off to the side of the lake, he presently returned with\nseveral long reeds, one of which was selected by Tristram and thrust\ninto the burrow. It proved of the precise length required; and as soon\nas it touched the bottom, it was carefully filled with powder from a\nhorn. Having connected this tube with the side train, and scattered\npowder for several yards around, so as to secure instantaneous ignition,\nTristram pronounced that the train was complete.\n\n\u201cWe have now laid a trap from which Herne will scarcely escape,\u201d he\nobserved, with a moody laugh, to Fenwolf.\n\nThey then prepared to return to the cave, but had not proceeded many\nyards, when Herne, mounted on his sable steed, burst through the trees.\n\n\u201cAh! what make you here?\u201d he cried, instantly checking his career. \u201cI\nbade you keep a strict watch over Mabel. Where is she?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has escaped with Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d replied Fenwolf, \u201cand we have\nbeen in search of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cEscaped!\u201d exclaimed Herne, springing from his steed, and rushing up\nto him; \u201cdogs! you have played me false. But your lives shall pay the\npenalty of your perfidy.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe had no hand in it whatever,\u201d replied Fenwolf doggedly. \u201cShe\ncontrived to get out of a chamber in which I placed her, and to liberate\nSir Thomas Wyat. They then procured a steed from the stable, and plunged\nthrough the pool into the lake.\u201d\n\n\u201cHell's malison upon them, and upon you both!\u201d cried Herne. \u201cBut you\nshall pay dearly for your heedlessness,--if, indeed, it has not been\nsomething worse. How long have they been gone?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be two hours,\u201d replied Fenwolf.\n\n\u201cGo to the cave,\u201d cried Herne, \u201cand await my return there; and if I\nrecover not the prize, woe betide you both!\u201d\n\nAnd with these words, he vaunted upon his steed and disappeared.\n\n\u201cAnd woe betide you too, false fiend!\u201d cried Fenwolf. \u201cWhen you come\nback you shall meet with a welcome you little expect. Would we had fired\nthe train, Tristram, even though we had perished with him!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will be time enough to fire it on his return,\u201d replied the old\nforester; \u201cit is but postponing our vengeance for a short time. And now\nto fix our positions. I will take my station in yon brake.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I in that hollow tree,\u201d said Fenwolf. \u201cWhoever first beholds him\nshall fire the train.\u201d\n\n\u201cAgreed!\u201d replied Tristram. \u201cLet us now descend to the cave and see that\nall is right in the magazine, and then we will return and hold ourselves\nin readiness for action.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\n     How the Train was fired, and what followed the Explosion.\n\n\nAbout ten o'clock in the night under consideration, Surrey and Richmond,\naccompanied by the Duke of Shoreditch, and half a dozen other archers,\nset out from the castle, and took their way along the great park, in the\ndirection of the lake.\n\nThey had not ridden far, when they were overtaken by two horsemen who,\nas far as they could be discerned in that doubtful light, appeared\nstalwart personages, and well mounted, though plainly attired. The\nnew-comers very unceremoniously joined them.\n\n\u201cThere are ill reports of the park, my masters,\u201d said the foremost of\nthese persons to Surrey, \u201cand we would willingly ride with you across\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut our way may not be yours, friend,\u201d replied Surrey, who did not\naltogether relish this proposal. \u201cWe are not going farther than the\nlake.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur road lies in that direction,\u201d replied the other, \u201cand, if you\nplease, we will bear you company as far as we go. Come, tell me\nfrankly,\u201d he added, after a pause, \u201care you not in search of Herne the\nHunter?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy do you ask, friend?\u201d rejoined the earl somewhat angrily.\n\n\u201cBecause if so,\u201d replied the other, \u201cI shall be right glad to join you,\nand so will my friend, Tony Cryspyn, who is close behind me. I have an\nold grudge to settle with this Herne, who has more than once attacked\nme, and I shall be glad to pay it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you will take my advice, Hugh Dacre, you will ride on, and leave\nthe achievement of the adventure to these young galliards,\u201d interposed\nCryspyn.\n\n\u201cNay, by the mass! that shall never be,\u201d rejoined Dacre, \u201cif they have\nno objection to our joining them. If they have, they have only to say\nso, and we will go on.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will be plain with you, my masters,\u201d said Surrey. \u201cWe are determined\nthis night, as you have rightly conjectured, to seek out Herne the\nHunter; and we hope to obtain such clue to him as will ensure his\ncapture. If, therefore, you are anxious to join us, we shall be glad of\nyour aid. But you must be content to follow, and not lead--and to act\nas you are directed--or you will only be in the way, and we would rather\ndispense with your company.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are content with the terms--are we not, Tony?\u201d said Dacre.\n\nHis companion answered somewhat sullenly in the affirmative.\n\n\u201cAnd now that the matter is arranged, may I ask when you propose to go?\u201d\n he continued.\n\n\u201cWe are on our way to a hut on the lake, where we expect a companion to\njoin us,\u201d replied Surrey.\n\n\u201cWhat! Tristram Lyndwood's cottage?\u201d demanded Dacre.\n\n\u201cAy,\u201d replied the earl, \u201cand we hope to recover his fair granddaughter\nfrom the power of the demon.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! say you so?\u201d cried Dacre; \u201cthat were a feat, indeed!\u201d\n\nThe two strangers then rode apart for a few moments, and conversed\ntogether in a low tone, during which Richmond expressed his doubts of\nthem to Surrey, adding that he was determined to get rid of them.\n\nThe new-comers, however, were not easily shaken off. As soon as they\nperceived the duke's design, they stuck more pertinaciously to him and\nthe earl than before, and made it evident they would not be dismissed.\n\nBy this time they had passed Spring Hill, and were within a mile of\nthe valley in which lay the marsh, when a cry for help was heard in\nthe thicket on the left, and the troop immediately halted. The cry was\nrepeated, and Surrey, bidding the others follow him, dashed off in the\ndirection of the sound.\n\nPresently, they perceived two figures beneath the trees, whom they\nfound, on a nearer approach, were Sir Thomas Wyat, with Mabel in a state\nof insensibility in his arms.\n\nDismounting by the side of his friend, Surrey hastily demanded how he\ncame there, and what had happened?\n\n\u201cIt is too long a story to relate now,\u201d said Wyat; \u201cbut the sum of it\nis, that I have escaped, by the aid of this damsel, from the clutches\nof the demon. Our escape was effected on horseback, and we had to plunge\ninto the lake. The immersion deprived my fair preserver of sensibility,\nso that as soon as I landed, and gained a covert where I fancied\nmyself secure, I dismounted, and tried to restore her. While I was thus\noccupied, the steed I had brought with me broke his bridle, and darted\noff into the woods. After a while, Mabel opened her eyes, but she was so\nweak that she could not move, and I was fain to make her a couch in the\nfern, in the hope that she would speedily revive. But the fright and\nsuffering had been too much for her, and a succession of fainting-fits\nfollowed, during which I thought she would expire. This is all. Now, let\nus prepare a litter for her, and convey her where proper assistance can\nbe rendered.\u201d\n\nMeanwhile, the others had come up, and Hugh Dacre, flinging himself from\nhis horse, and pushing Surrey somewhat rudely aside, advanced towards\nMabel, and, taking her hand, said, in a voice of some emotion, \u201cAlas!\npoor girl! I did not expect to meet thee again in this state.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou knew her, then?\u201d said Surrey.\n\nDacre muttered an affirmative.\n\n\u201cWho is this man?\u201d asked Wyat of the earl.\n\n\u201cI know him not,\u201d answered Surrey. \u201cHe joined us on the road hither.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am well known to Sir Thomas Wyat,\u201d replied Dacre, in a significant\ntone, \u201cas he will avouch when I recall certain matters to his mind. But\ndo not let us lose time here. This damsel claims our first attention.\nShe must be conveyed to a place of safety, and where she can be well\ntended. We can then return to search for Herne.\u201d\n\nUpon this, a litter of branches were speedily made, and Mabel being laid\nupon it, the simple conveyance was sustained by four of the archers.\nThe little cavalcade then quitted the thicket, and began to retrace its\ncourse towards the castle. Wyat had been accommodated with a horse by\none of the archers, and rode in a melancholy manner by the side of the\nlitter.\n\nThey had got back nearly as far as the brow of Spring Hill, when a\nhorseman, in a wild garb, and mounted on a coal black steed, lashed\nsuddenly and at a furious pace, out of the trees on the right. He\nmade towards the litter, over-turning Sir Thomas Wyat, and before any\nopposition could be offered him, seized the inanimate form of Mabel, and\nplacing her before him on his steed, dashed off as swiftly as he came,\nand with a burst of loud, exulting laughter.\n\n\u201cIt is Herne! it is Herne!\u201d burst from every lip. And they all started\nin pursuit, urging the horses to their utmost speed. Sir Thomas Wyat had\ninstantly remounted his steed, and he came up with the others.\n\nHerne's triumphant and demoniacal laugh was heard as he scoured with\nthe swiftness of the wind down the long glade. But the fiercest\ndetermination animated his pursuers, who, being all admirably mounted,\nmanaged to keep him fully in view.\n\nAway! away! he speeded in the direction of the lake; and after him they\nthundered, straining every sinew in the desperate chase. It was a wild\nand extraordinary sight, and partook of the fantastical character of a\ndream.\n\nAt length Herne reached the acclivity, at the foot of which lay the\nwaters of the lake glimmering in the starlight; and by the time he had\ndescended to its foot, his pursuers had gained its brow.\n\nThe exertions made by Sir Thomas Wyat had brought him a little in\nadvance of the others. Furiously goading his horse, he dashed down the\nhillside at a terrific pace.\n\nAll at once, as he kept his eye on the flying figure of the demon, he\nwas startled by a sudden burst of flame in the valley. A wide circle\nof light was rapidly described, a rumbling sound was heard like that\npreceding an earth-quake, and a tremendous explosion followed, hurling\ntrees and fragments of rock into the air.\n\nAstounded at the extraordinary occurrence, and not knowing what might\nensue, the pursuers reined in their steeds. But the terror of the scene\nwas not yet over. The whole of the brushwood had caught fire, and blazed\nup with the fury and swiftness of lighted flax. The flames caught the\nparched branches of the trees, and in a few seconds the whole grove was\non fire.\n\nThe sight was awfully grand, for the wind, which was blowing strongly,\nswept the flames forward, so that they devoured all before them.\n\nWhen the first flash was seen the demon had checked his steed and backed\nhim, so that he had escaped without injury, and he stood at the edge of\nthe flaming circle watching the progress of the devastating element; but\nat last, finding that his pursuers had taken heart and were approaching\nhim, he bestirred himself, and rode round the blazing zone.\n\nHaving by this time recovered from their surprise, Wyat and Surrey\ndashed after him, and got so near him that they made sure of his\ncapture. But at the very moment they expected to reach him, he turned\nhis horse's head, and forced him to leap over the blazing boundary.\n\nIn vain the pursuers attempted to follow. Their horses refused to\nencounter the flames; while Wyat's steed, urged on by its frantic\nmaster, reared bolt upright, and dislodged him.\n\nBut the demon held on his way, apparently unscathed in the midst of the\nflames, casting a look of grim defiance at his pursuers. As he passed\na tree, from which volumes of fire were bursting, the most appalling\nshrieks reached his ear, and he beheld Morgan Fenwolf emerging from a\nhole in the trunk. But without bestowing more than a glance upon his\nunfortunate follower, he dashed forward, and becoming involved in the\nwreaths of flame and smoke, was lost to sight.\n\nAttracted by Fenwolf's cries, the beholders perceived him crawl out of\nthe hole, and clamber into the upper part of the tree, where he roared\nto them most piteously for aid. But even if they had been disposed\nto render it, it was impossible to do so now; and after terrible and\nprotracted suffering, the poor wretch, half stifled with smoke, and\nunable longer to maintain his hold of the branch to which he crept, fell\ninto the flames beneath, and perished.\n\nAttributing its outbreak to supernatural agency, the party gazed on in\nwonder at the fire, and rode round it as closely as their steeds would\nallow them. But though they tarried till the flames had abated, and\nlittle was left of the noble grove but a collection of charred and\nsmoking stumps, nothing was seen of the fiend or of the hapless girl\nhe had carried off. It served to confirm the notion of the supernatural\norigin of the fire, in that it was confined within the mystic circle,\nand did not extend farther into the woods.\n\nAt the time that the flames first burst forth, and revealed the\ncountenances of the lookers--on, it was discovered that the self-styled\nDacre and Cryspyn were no other than the king and the Duke of Suffolk.\n\n\u201cIf this mysterious being is mortal, he must have perished now,\u201d\n observed Henry; \u201cand if he is not, it is useless to seek for him\nfurther.\u201d\n\nDay had begun to break as the party quitted the scene of devastation.\nThe king and Suffolk, with the archers, returned to the castle; but\nWyat, Surrey, and Richmond rode towards the lake, and proceeded along\nits banks in the direction of the forester's hut.\n\nTheir progress was suddenly arrested by the sound of lamentation, and\nthey perceived, in a little bay overhung by trees, which screened it\nfrom the path, an old man kneeling beside the body of a female, which\nhe had partly dragged out of the lake. It was Tristram Lyndwood, and the\nbody was that of Mabel. Her tresses were dishevelled, and dripping with\nwet, as were her garments; and her features white as marble. The old man\nwas weeping bitterly.\n\nWith Wyat, to dismount and grasp the cold hand of the hapless maiden was\nthe work of a moment.\n\n\u201cShe is dead!\u201d he cried, in a despairing voice, removing the dank\ntresses from her brow, and imprinting a reverent kiss upon it.\n\u201cDead!--lost to me for ever!\u201d\n\n\u201cI found her entangled among those water-weeds,\u201d said Tristram, in tones\nbroken by emotion, \u201cand had just dragged her to shore when you came up.\nAs you hope to prosper, now and hereafter, give her a decent burial. For\nme all is over.\u201d\n\nAnd, with a lamentable cry, he plunged into the lake, struck out to a\nshort distance, and then sank to rise no more.\n\n\nTHUS ENDS THE FIFTH BOOK OF THE CHRONICLE OF WINDSOR CASTLE\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VI. JANE SEYMOUR\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n     Of Henry's Attachment to Jane Seymour.\n\n\nON the anniversary of Saint George, 1536, and exactly seven years from\nthe opening of this chronicle, Henry assembled the knights-companions\nwithin Windsor Castle to hold the grand feast of the most noble Order of\nthe Garter.\n\nMany important events had occurred in the wide interval thus suffered\nto elapse. Wolsey had long since sunk under his reverses--for he never\nregained the royal favour after his dismissal--and had expired at\nLeicester Abbey, on the 26th November 1530.\n\nBut the sufferings of Catherine of Arragon were prolonged up to the\ncommencement of the year under consideration. After the divorce and the\nelevation of Anne Boleyn to the throne in her stead, she withdrew to\nKimbolten Castle, where she dwelt in the greatest retirement, under the\nstyle of the Princess Dowager. Finding her end approaching, she sent\na humble message to the king, imploring him to allow her one last\ninterview with her daughter, that she might bestow her blessing upon\nher; but the request was refused.\n\nA touching letter, however, which she wrote to the king on her\ndeath-bed, moved him to tears; and having ejaculated a few expressions\nof his sense of her many noble qualities, he retired to his closet\nto indulge his grief in secret. Solemn obsequies were ordered to be\nperformed at Windsor and Greenwich on the day of her interment, and the\nking and the whole of his retinue put on mourning for her.\n\nWith this arrangement Anne Boleyn cared not to comply. Though she\nhad attained the summit of her ambition; though the divorce had been\npronounced, and she was crowned queen; though she had given birth to a\ndaughter--the Princess Elizabeth, afterwards the illustrious queen of\nthat name two years before; and though she could have no reasonable\napprehensions from her, the injured Catherine, during her lifetime,\nhad always been an object of dread to her. She heard of her death\nwith undisguised satisfaction, clapped her hands, exclaiming to her\nattendants, \u201cNow I am indeed queen!\u201d and put the crowning point to her\nunfeeling conduct by decorating herself and her dames in the gayest\napparel on the day of the funeral.\n\nAlas! she little knew that at that very moment the work of retribution\ncommenced, and that the wrongs of the injured queen, whose memory she\nthus outraged, were soon to be terribly and bloodily avenged.\n\nOther changes had likewise taken place, which may be here recorded. The\nEarl of Surrey had made the tour of France, Italy, and the Empire,\nand had fully kept his word, by proclaiming the supremacy of the Fair\nGeraldine's beauty at all tilts and tournaments, at which he constantly\nbore away the prize. But the greatest reward, and that which he hoped\nwould crown his fidelity--the hand of his mistress--was not reserved for\nhim.\n\nAt the expiration of three years, he returned home, polished by travel,\nand accounted one of the bravest and most accomplished cavaliers of the\nday. His reputation had preceded him, and he was received with marks of\nthe highest distinction and favour by Henry, as well as by Anne Boleyn.\nBut the king was still averse to the match, and forbade the Fair\nGeraldine to return to court.\n\nFinding so much opposition on all sides, the earl was at last brought to\nassent to the wish of the Fair Geraldine, that their engagement should\nbe broken off. In her letters, she assured him that her love had\nundergone no abatement--and never would do so--but that she felt they\nmust give up all idea of an union.\n\nThese letters, probably the result of some manoeuvring on his own part,\nset on foot by the royal mandate, were warmly seconded by the Duke of\nNorfolk, and after many and long solicitations, he succeeded in wringing\nfrom his son a reluctant acquiescence to the arrangement.\n\nThe disappointment produced its natural consequences on the ardent\ntemperament of the young earl, and completely chilled and blighted his\nfeelings. He became moody and discontented; took little share in the\namusement and pastimes going forward; and from being the blithest\ncavalier at court, became the saddest. The change in his demeanour did\nnot escape the notice of Anne Boleyn, who easily divined the cause, and\nshe essayed by raillery and other arts to wean him from his grief. But\nall was for some time of no avail. The earl continued inconsolable. At\nlast, however, by the instrumentality of the queen and his father, he\nwas contracted to the Lady Frances Vere, daughter of the Earl of Oxford,\nand was married to her in 1535.\n\nLong before this the Duke of Richmond had been wedded to the Lady Mary\nHoward.\n\nFor some time previous to the present era of this chronicle, Anne Boleyn\nhad observed a growing coolness towards her on the part of the king,\nand latterly it had become evident that his passion for her was fast\nsubsiding, if indeed it had not altogether expired.\n\nThough Anne had never truly loved her royal consort, and though at that\nvery time she was secretly encouraging the regards of another, she\nfelt troubled by this change, and watched all the king's movements\nwith jealous anxiety, to ascertain if any one had supplanted her in his\naffections.\n\nAt length her vigilance was rewarded by discovering a rival in one\nof the loveliest of her dames, Jane Seymour. This fair creature, the\ndaughter of Sir John Seymour, of Wolff Hall, in Wiltshire, and who was\nafterwards, it is almost needless to say, raised to as high a dignity\nas Anne Boleyn herself, was now in the very pride of her beauty. Tall,\nexquisitely proportioned, with a complexion of the utmost brilliancy and\ndelicacy, large liquid blue eyes, bright chestnut tresses, and lovely\nfeatures, she possessed charms that could not fall to captivate the\namorous monarch. It seems marvellous that Anne Boleyn should have such\nan attendant; but perhaps she felt confident in her own attractions.\n\nSkilled in intrigue herself, Anne, now that her eyes were opened,\nperceived all the allurements thrown out by Jane to ensnare the king,\nand she intercepted many a furtive glance between them. Still she did\nnot dare to interfere. The fierceness of Henry's temper kept her in awe,\nand she knew well that the slightest opposition would only make him the\nmore determined to run counter to her will. Trusting, therefore, to get\nrid of Jane Seymour by some stratagem, she resolved not to attempt to\ndismiss her, except as a last resource.\n\nA slight incident occurred, which occasioned a departure from the\nprudent course she had laid down to herself.\n\nAccompanied by her dames, she was traversing the great gallery of the\npalace at Greenwich, when she caught the reflection of Jane Seymour,\nwho was following her, in a mirror, regarding a jewelled miniature.\nShe instantly turned round at the sight, and Jane, in great confusion,\nthrust the picture into her bosom.\n\n\u201cAh I what have you there?\u201d cried Anne.\n\n\u201cA picture of my father, Sir John Seymour,\u201d replied Jane, blushing\ndeeply.\n\n\u201cLet me look at it,\u201d cried Anne, snatching the picture from her. \u201cAh!\ncall you this your father? To my thinking it is much more like my royal\nhusband. Answer me frankly, minion--answer me, as you value your life!\nDid the king give you this?\u201d\n\n\u201cI must decline answering the question,\u201d replied Jane, who by this time\nhad recovered her composure.\n\n\u201cAh! am I to be thus insolently treated by one of my own dames?\u201d cried\nAnne.\n\n\u201cI intend no disrespect to your majesty,\u201d replied Jane, \u201cand I will,\nsince you insist upon it, freely confess that I received the portrait\nfrom the king. I did not conceive there could be any harm in doing so,\nbecause I saw your majesty present your own portrait, the other day, to\nSir Henry Norris.\u201d\n\nAnne Boleyn turned as pale as death, and Jane Seymour perceived that she\nhad her in her power.\n\n\u201cI gave the portrait to Sir Henry as a recompense for an important\nservice he rendered me,\u201d said Anne, after a slight pause.\n\n\u201cNo doubt,\u201d replied Jane; \u201cand I marvel not that he should press it so\nfervently to his lips, seeing he must value the gift highly. The king\nlikewise bestowed his portrait upon me for rendering him a service.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what was that?\u201d asked Anne.\n\n\u201cNay, there your majesty must hold me excused,\u201d replied the other. \u201cIt\nwere to betray his highness's confidence to declare it. I must refer you\nto him for explanation.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you are in the right to keep the secret,\u201d said Anne, forcing a\nlaugh. \u201cI dare say there is no harm in the portrait--indeed, I am\nsure there is not, if it was given with the same intent that mine was\nbestowed upon Norris. And so we will say no more upon the matter, except\nthat I beg you to be discreet with the king. If others should comment\nupon your conduct, I may be compelled to dismiss you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty shall be obeyed,\u201d said Jane, with a look that intimated\nthat the request had but slight weight with her.\n\n\u201cCatherine will be avenged by means of this woman,\u201d muttered Anne as\nshe turned away. \u201cI already feel some of the torments with which she\nthreatened me. And she suspects Norris. I must impress more caution\non him. Ah! when a man loves deeply, as he loves me, due restraint is\nseldom maintained.\u201d\n\nBut though alarmed, Anne was by no means aware of the critical position\nin which she stood. She could not persuade herself that she had\nentirely lost her influence with the king; and she thought that when his\nmomentary passion had subsided, it would return to its old channels.\n\nShe was mistaken. Jane Seymour was absolute mistress of his heart; and\nAnne was now as great a bar to him as she had before been an attraction.\nHad her conduct been irreproachable, it might have been difficult to\nremove her; but, unfortunately, she had placed herself at his mercy, by\nyielding to the impulses of vanity, and secretly encouraging the passion\nof Sir Henry Norris, groom of the stole.\n\nThis favoured personage was somewhat above the middle Size, squarely and\nstrongly built. His features were regularly and finely formed, and he\nhad a ruddy complexion, brown curling hair, good teeth, and fine eyes\nof a clear blue. He possessed great personal strength, was expert in all\nmanly exercises, and shone especially at the jousts and the manege. He\nwas of an ardent temperament, and Anne Boleyn had inspired him with so\ndesperate a passion that he set at nought the fearful risk he ran to\nobtain her favour.\n\nIn all this seemed traceable the hand of fate--in Henry's passion for\nJane Seymour, and Anne's insane regard for Norris--as if in this way,\nand by the same means in which she herself had been wronged, the injured\nCatherine of Arragon was to be avenged.\n\nHow far Henry's suspicions of his consort's regard for Norris had been\nroused did not at the time appear. Whatever he felt in secret, he took\ncare that no outward manifestation should betray him. On the contrary he\nloaded Norris, who had always been a favourite with him, with new marks\nof regard, and encouraged rather than interdicted his approach to the\nqueen.\n\nThings were in this state when the court proceeded to Windsor, as before\nrelated, on Saint George's day.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n     How Anne Boleyn received Proof of Henry's Passion for Jane\n     Seymour.\n\n\nOn the day after the solemnisation of the Grand Feast of the Order of\nthe Garter, a masqued fete of great splendour and magnificence was held\nwithin the castle. The whole of the state apartments were thrown open to\nthe distinguished guests, and universal gaiety prevailed. No restraint\nwas offered to the festivity by the king, for though he was known to be\npresent, he did not choose to declare himself.\n\nThe queen sat apart on a fauteuil in the deep embrasure of a window; and\nas various companies of fantastic characters advanced towards her,\nshe more than once fancied she detected amongst them the king, but the\nvoices convinced her of her mistake. As the evening was wearing, a mask\nin a blue domino drew near her, and whispered in a devoted and familiar\ntone, \u201cMy queen!\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it you, Norris?\u201d demanded Anne, under her breath.\n\n\u201cIt is,\u201d he replied. \u201cOh, madam! I have been gazing at you the whole\nevening, but have not dared to approach you till now.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sorry you have addressed me at all, Norris,\u201d she rejoined. \u201cYour\nregard for me has been noticed by others, and may reach the king's ears.\nYou must promise never to address me in the language of passion again.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I may not utter my love I shall go mad,\u201d replied Norris. \u201cAfter\nraising me to the verge of Paradise, do not thrust me to the depths of\nTartarus.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have neither raised you nor do I cast you down,\u201d rejoined Anne.\n\u201cThat I am sensible of your devotion, and grateful for it, I admit, but\nnothing more. My love and allegiance are due to the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue,\u201d replied Norris bitterly; \u201cthey are so, but he is wholly\ninsensible to your merits. At this very moment he is pouring his\nlove-vows in the ear of Jane Seymour.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! is he so?\u201d cried Anne. \u201cLet me have proof of his perfidy, and I may\nincline a more favourable ear to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will instantly obtain you the proof, madam,\u201d replied Norris, bowing\nand departing.\n\nScarcely had he quitted the queen, and mixed with the throng of dancers,\nthan he felt a pressure upon his arm, and turning at the touch, beheld\na tall monk, the lower part of whose face was muffled up, leaving only a\npair of fierce black eyes and a large aquiline nose visible.\n\n\u201cI know what you want, Sir Henry Norris,\u201d said the tall monk in a\nlow deep voice; \u201cyou wish to give the queen proof of her royal lord's\ninconstancy. It is easily done. Come with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d demanded Norris doubtfully.\n\n\u201cWhat matters it who I am?\u201d rejoined the other; \u201cI am one of the\nmasquers, and chance to know what is passing around me. I do not inquire\ninto your motives, and therefore you have no right to inquire into\nmine.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not for my own satisfaction that I desire this proof,\u201d said\nNorris, \u201cbecause I would rather shield the king's indiscretions than\nbetray them. But the queen has conceived suspicions which she is\ndetermined to verify.\u201d\n\n\u201cThink not to impose upon me,\u201d replied the monk with a sneer. \u201cBring the\nqueen this way, and she shall be fully satisfied.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can run no risk in trusting you,\u201d said Norris, \u201cand therefore I\naccept your offer.\u201d\n\n\u201cSay no more,\u201d cried the monk disdainfully, \u201cI will await you here.\u201d\n\nAnd Norris returned to the queen.\n\n\u201cHave you discovered anything?\u201d she cried.\n\n\u201cCome with me, madam,\u201d said Norris, bowing and taking her hand.\n\nProceeding thus they glided through the throng of dancers, who\nrespectfully cleared a passage for them as they walked along until they\napproached the spot where the tall monk was standing. As they drew near\nhim he moved on, and Norris and the queen followed in silence. Passing\nfrom the great hall in which the crowd of dancers were assembled, they\ndescended a short flight of steps, at the foot of which the monk paused,\nand pointed with his right hand to a chamber, partly screened by the\nfolds of a curtain.\n\nAt this intimation the queen and her companion stepped quickly on, and\nas she advanced, Anne Boleyn perceived Jane Seymour and the king seated\non a couch within the apartment. Henry was habited like a pilgrim,\nbut he had thrown down his hat, ornamented with the scallop-shell, his\nvizard, and his staff, and had just forced his fair companion to unmask.\n\nAt the sight, Anne was transfixed with jealous rage, and was for the\nmoment almost unconscious of the presence of Norris, or of the monk, who\nremained behind the curtain, pointing to what was taking place.\n\n\u201cYour majesty is determined to expose my blushes,\u201d said Jane Seymour,\nslightly struggling with her royal lover.\n\n\u201cNay, I only want to be satisfied that it is really yourself,\nsweetheart,\u201d cried Henry passionately. \u201cIt was in mercy to me, I\nsuppose, that you insisted upon shrouding those beauteous features from\nmy view.\n\n\u201cHear you that, madam?\u201d whispered Norris to Anne.\n\nThe queen answered by a convulsive clasp of the hand.\n\n\u201cYour majesty but jests with me,\u201d said Jane Seymour. \u201cJests!\u201d cried\nHenry passionately. \u201cBy my faith! I never understood the power of beauty\ntill now. No charms ever moved my heart like yours; nor shall I know a\nmoment's peace till you become mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am grieved to hear it, my liege,\u201d replied Jane Seymour, \u201cfor I never\ncan be yours, unless as your queen.\u201d\n\nAgain Norris hazarded a whisper to Anne Boleyn, which was answered by\nanother nervous grasp of the hand.\n\n\u201cThat is as much as to say,\u201d pursued Jane, seeing the gloomy reverie\ninto which her royal lover was thrown, \u201cI can give your majesty no hopes\nat all.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have been schooled by Anne Boleyn, sweetheart,\u201d said Henry.\n\n\u201cHow so, my liege?\u201d demanded Jane Seymour.\n\n\u201cThose are the very words she used to me when I wooed her, and which\ninduced me to divorce Catherine of Arragon,\u201d replied Henry. \u201cNow they\nmay bring about her own removal.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust Heaven!\u201d murmured Anne.\n\n\u201cI dare not listen to your majesty,\u201d said Jane Seymour, in a tremulous\ntone; \u201cand yet, if I dared speak--\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak on, fearlessly, sweetheart,\u201d said Henry.\n\n\u201cThen I am well assured,\u201d said Jane, \u201cthat the queen no longer loves\nyou; nay, that she loves another.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is false, minion!\u201d cried Anne Boleyn, rushing forward, while Norris\nhastily retreated, \u201cit is false! It is you who would deceive the king\nfor your own purposes. But I have fortunately been brought hither to\nprevent the injury you would do me. Oh, Henry! have I deserved this of\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have chanced to overhear part of a scene in a masquerade,\nmadam--that is all,\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cI have chanced to arrive most opportunely for myself,\u201d said Anne. \u201cAs\nfor this slanderous and deceitful minion, I shall dismiss her from my\nservice. If your majesty is determined to prove faithless to me, it\nshall not be with one of my own dames.\u201d\n\n\u201cCatherine of Arragon should have made that speech,\u201d retorted Jane\nSeymour bitterly. \u201cShe had reason to complain that she was supplanted by\none much beneath her. And she never played the king falsely.\u201d\n\n\u201cNor have I!\u201d cried Anne fiercely. \u201cIf I had my will, I should strike\nthee dead for the insinuation. Henry, my lord--my love--if you have any\nregard for me, instantly dismiss Jane Seymour.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may not be, madam,\u201d replied Henry in a freezing tone; \u201cshe has done\nnothing to deserve dismissal. If any one is to blame in the matter, it\nis myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd will you allow her to make these accusations against me without\npunishment?\u201d cried Anne.\n\n\u201cPeace, madam!\u201d cried the king sternly; \u201cand thank my good-nature that\nI go no further into the matter. If you are weary of the masque, I pray\nyou retire to your own apartments. For myself, I shall lead Jane Seymour\nto the bransle.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if your majesty should need a partner,\u201d said Jane, walking up to\nAnne and speaking in a low tone, \u201cyou will doubtless find Sir Henry\nNorris disengaged.\u201d\n\nThe queen looked as if stricken by a thunderbolt. She heard the\ntriumphant laugh of her rival; she saw her led forth, all smiles and\nbeauty and triumph, by the king to the dance, and she covered her face\nin agony. While she was in this state, a deep voice breathed in her\nears, \u201cThe vengeance of Catherine of Arragon begins to work!\u201d\n\nLooking up, she beheld the tall figure of the monk retreating from the\nchamber.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n     What passed between Norris and the Tall Monk.\n\n\nTottering to the seat which Henry and Jane had just quitted, Anne\nsank into it. After a little time, having in some degree recovered\nher composure, she was about to return to the great hall, when Norris\nappeared.\n\n\u201cI did not deceive you, madam,\u201d he said, \u201cwhen I told you the king was\ninsensible to your charms; he only lives for Jane Seymour.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould I could dismiss her!\u201d cried Anne furiously.\n\n\u201cIf you were to do so, she would soon be replaced by another,\u201d rejoined\nNorris. \u201cThe king delights only in change. With him, the last face is\never the most beautiful.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak fearful treason, sir!\u201d replied Anne; \u201cbut I believe it to be\nthe truth.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, then, madam!\u201d pursued Norris, \u201csince the king is so regardless of\nyou, why trouble yourself about him? There are those who would sacrifice\na thousand lives, if they possessed them, for your love.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear it is the same with all men,\u201d rejoined Anne. \u201cA woman's heart is\na bauble which, when obtained, is speedily tossed aside.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty judges our sex too harshly,\u201d said Norris. \u201cIf I had the\nsame fortune as the king, I should never change.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king himself once thought so--once swore so,\u201d replied Anne\npetulantly. \u201cIt is the common parlance of lovers. But I may not listen\nto such discourse longer.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, madam!\u201d cried Norris, \u201cyou misjudge me greatly. My heart is\nnot made of the same stuff as that of the royal Henry. I can love\ndeeply--devotedly--lastingly.\u201d\n\n\u201cKnow you not that by these rash speeches you place your head in\njeopardy?\u201d said Anne.\n\n\u201cI would rather lose it than not be permitted to love you,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cBut your rashness endangers me,\u201d said the queen. \u201cYour passion\nhas already been noticed by Jane Seymour, and the slightest further\nindiscretion will be fatal.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, if that be so,\u201d cried Norris, \u201cand your majesty should be placed\nin peril on my account, I will banish myself from the court, and from\nyour presence, whatever the effort cost me.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Anne, \u201cI will not tax you so hardly. I do not think,\u201d she\nadded tenderly, \u201cdeserted as I am by the king, that I could spare you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou confess, then, that I have inspired you with some regard?\u201d he cried\nrapturously.\n\n\u201cDo not indulge in these transports, Norris,\u201d said Anne mournfully.\n\u201cYour passion will only lead to your destruction--perchance to mine. Let\nthe certainty that I do love, content you, and seek not to tempt your\nfate further.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, madam! you make me the happiest of men by the avowal,\u201d he cried. \u201cI\nenvy not now the king, for I feel raised above him by your love.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must join the revel, Norris,\u201d said Anne; \u201cyour absence from it will\nbe observed.\u201d\n\nAnd extending her hand to him, he knelt down and pressed it passionately\nto his lips.\n\n\u201cAh! we are observed,\u201d she cried suddenly, and almost with a shriek.\n\u201cRise, sir!\u201d\n\nNorris instantly sprang to his feet, and, to his inexpressible dismay,\nsaw the figure of a tall monk gliding away. Throwing a meaning look at\nthe almost sinking queen, he followed the mysterious observer into\nthe great hall, determined to rid himself of him in some way before he\nshould have time to make any revelations.\n\nAvoiding the brilliant throng, the monk entered the adjoining corridor,\nand descending the great staircase, passed into the upper quadrangle.\nFrom thence he proceeded towards the cloisters near St. George's Chapel,\nwhere he was overtaken by Norris, who had followed him closely.\n\n\u201cWhat would you with me, Sir Henry Norris?\u201d cried the monk, halting.\n\n\u201cYou may guess,\u201d said Norris, sternly and drawing his sword. \u201cThere are\nsecrets which are dangerous to the possessor. Unless you swear never to\nbetray what you have seen and heard, you die.\u201d\n\nThe tall monk laughed derisively.\n\n\u201cYou know that your life is in my power,\u201d he said, \u201cand therefore you\nthreaten mine. Well, e'en take it, if you can.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke, he drew a sword from beneath his robe, and stood upon his\ndefence. After a few passes, Norris's weapon was beaten from his grasp.\n\n\u201cYou are now completely at my mercy,\u201d said the monk, \u201cand I have nothing\nto do but to call the guard, and declare all I have heard to the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would rather you plunged your sword into my heart,\u201d said Norris.\n\n\u201cThere is one way--and only one--by which my secrecy may be purchased,\u201d\n said the monk.\n\n\u201cName it,\u201d replied Norris. \u201cWere it to be purchased by my soul's\nperdition, I would embrace it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have hit the point exactly,\u201d rejoined the monk drily. \u201cCan you not\nguess with whom you have to deal?\u201d\n\n\u201cPartly,\u201d replied Norris \u201cI never found such force in mortal arm as you\nhave displayed.\u201d\n\n\u201cProbably not,\u201d laughed the other: \u201cmost of those who have ventured\nagainst me have found their match. But come with me into the park, and\nyou shall learn the condition of my secrecy.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot quit the castle,\u201d replied Norris; \u201cbut I will take you to my\nlodgings, where we shall be wholly unobserved.\u201d\n\nAnd crossing the lower ward, they proceeded to the tower on the south\nside of it, now appropriated to the governor of the alms knights.\n\nAbout an hour after this Norris returned to the revel. His whole\ndemeanour was altered, and his looks ghastly. He sought the queen, who\nhad returned to the seat in the embrasure.\n\n\u201cWhat has happened?\u201d said Anne, in a low tone, as he approached her.\n\u201cHave you killed him?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he replied; \u201cbut I have purchased our safety at a terrible price.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou alarm me, Norris; what mean you?\u201d she cried. \u201cI mean this,\u201d he\nanswered, regarding her with passionate earnestness: \u201cthat you must love\nme now, for I have perilled my salvation for you. That tall monk was\nHerne the Hunter.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n     Of the Secret Interview between Norris and Anne Boleyn, and\n     of the Dissimulation practised by the King.\n\n\nHenry's attentions to Jane Seymour at the masqued fete were so marked,\nthat the whole court was made aware of his passion. But it was not\nanticipated that any serious and extraordinary consequences would result\nfrom the intoxication--far less that the queen herself would be removed\nto make way for her successful rival. It was afterwards, however,\nremembered that at this time Henry held frequent, long, and grave\nconferences with the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk, and appeared to be\nengrossed in the meditation of some project.\n\nAfter the scene at the revel, Anne did not make another exhibition of\njealousy; but it was not that she was reconciled to her situation, or in\nany way free from uneasiness. On the contrary, the unhappy Catherine of\nArragon did not suffer more in secret; but she knew, from experience,\nthat with her royal consort all reproaches would be unavailing.\n\nOne morning, when she was alone within her chamber, her father, who was\nnow Earl of Wiltshire, obtained admittance to her.\n\n\u201cYou have a troubled look, my dear lord,\u201d she said, as she motioned him\nto a seat.\n\n\u201cAnd with good reason,\u201d he replied. \u201cOh, Anne! words cannot express my\nanxiety at the present state of things.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will speedily pass by, my lord,\u201d she replied; \u201cthe king will soon be\ntired of his new idol.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot before he has overthrown the old one, I fear,\u201d rejoined the earl.\n\u201cJane Seymour's charms have usurped entire sovereignty over him. With\nall her air of ingenuousness and simplicity, the minion is artful and\ndangerous She has a high mark, I am persuaded--no less than the throne.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Henry cannot wed her--he cannot divorce me,\u201d said Anne.\n\n\u201cSo thought Catherine of Arragon,\u201d replied her father; \u201cand yet she was\ndivorced. Anne, I am convinced a plot is hatching against you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do not fear for my life, father?\u201d she cried, trembling.\n\n\u201cI trust there are no grounds for charges against you by which it might\nbe brought in jeopardy,\u201d replied the earl gravely.\n\n\u201cNone, father--none!\u201d she exclaimed.\n\n\u201cI am glad of it,\u201d rejoined the earl; \u201cfor I have heard that the king\nsaid to one who suggested another divorce to him, 'No, if the queen\ncomes within the scope of the divorce, she also comes within the pale of\nthe scaffold.'\u201d\n\n\u201cA pledge was extorted from him to that effect,\u201d said Anne, in a hollow\nvoice.\n\n\u201cThat an attempt will be made against you, I firmly believe,\u201d replied\nthe earl; \u201cbut if you are wholly innocent you have nothing to fear.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, father! I know not that,\u201d cried Anne. \u201cInnocence avails little with\nthe stony-hearted Henry.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will prove your best safeguard,\u201d said the earl. \u201cAnd now farewell,\ndaughter! Heaven guard you! Keep the strictest watch upon yourself.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he quitted the apartment, and as soon as she was left alone,\nthe unhappy Anne burst into an agony of tears.\n\nFrom this state of affliction she was roused by hearing her own name\npronounced in low accents, and looking up, she beheld Sir Henry Norris.\n\n\u201cOh, Norris!\u201d she said, in a tone of reproach, \u201cyou have come hither to\ndestroy me.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one knows of my coming,\u201d he said; \u201cat least, no one who will betray\nme. I was brought hither by one who will take care we are not observed.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Herne?\u201d demanded Anne.\n\nNorris answered in the affirmative.\n\n\u201cWould you had never leagued yourself with him!\u201d she cried; \u201cI fear the\nrash act will bring destruction upon us both.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is too late to retract now,\u201d he replied; \u201cbesides, there was no\nhelp for it. I sacrificed myself to preserve you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut will the sacrifice preserve me?\u201d she cried. \u201cI fear not. I have\njust been told that the king is preparing some terrible measure against\nme--that he meditates removing me, to make way for Jane Seymour.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have heard the truth, madam,\u201d replied Norris, \u201che will try to bring\nyou to the block.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd with him, to try is to achieve,\u201d said Anne. \u201cOh, Norris! it is a\nfearful thing to contemplate such a death!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut why contemplate it, madam?\u201d said Norris; \u201cwhy, if you are satisfied\nthat the king has such designs against you--why, if you feel that he\nwill succeed, tarry for the fatal blow? Fly with me--fly with one who\nloves you, and will devote his whole life to you--who regards you,\nnot as the queen, but as Anne Boleyn. Relinquish this false and hollow\ngrandeur, and fly with me to happiness and peace.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd relinquish my throne to Jane Seymour?\u201d rejoined Anne \u201cNever! I feel\nthat all you assert is true--that my present position is hazardous--that\nJane Seymour is in the ascendant, while I am on the decline, if not\nwholly sunk--that you love me entirely, and would devote your life\nto me--still, with all these motives for dread, I cannot prevail upon\nmyself voluntarily to give up my title, and to abandon my post to a\nrival.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do not love me, then, as I love you, Anne,\u201d said Norris. \u201cIf I were\na king, I would abandon my throne for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think so now, Norris, because you are not king,\u201d she replied. \u201cBut\nI am queen, and will remain so, till I am forced to abandon my dignity.\u201d\n\n\u201cI understand, madam,\u201d rejoined Norris gloomily. \u201cBut oh I bethink\nyou to what risks you expose yourself. You know the king's terrible\ndetermination--his vindictiveness, his ferocity.\u201d\n\n\u201cFull well,\u201d she replied--\u201cfull well; but I will rather die a queen than\nlive disgrace and ruined. In wedding Henry the Eighth, I laid my account\nto certain risks, and those I must brave.\u201d\n\nBefore Norris could urge anything further, the door was suddenly opened,\nand a tall dark figure entered the chamber, and said hastily--\u201cThe king\nis at hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne word more, and it is my last,\u201d said Norris to Anne. \u201cWill you fly\nwith me to-night?--all shall be ready.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot,\u201d replied Anne.\n\n\u201cAway!\u201d cried Herne, dragging Norris forcibly behind the tapestry.\n\nScarcely had they disappeared when Henry entered the chamber. He was in\na gayer mood than had been usual with him of late.\n\n\u201cI am come to tell you, madam,\u201d he said, \u201cthat I am about to hold jousts\nin the castle on the first of May, at which your good brother and mine,\nthe Lord Rochford, will be the challenger, while I myself shall be the\ndefendant. You will adjudge the prize.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not make Jane Seymour queen of the jousts?\u201d said Anne, unable to\nresist the remark.\n\n\u201cShe will be present at them,\u201d said Henry, \u201cbut I have my own reasons,\u201d\n he added significantly, \u201cfor not wishing her to appear as queen on this\noccasion.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhatever may be your reasons, the wish is sufficient for me,\u201d said\nAnne. \u201cNay, will you tarry a moment with me? It is long since we have\nhad any converse in private together.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am busy at this moment,\u201d replied Henry bluffly; \u201cbut what is it you\nwould say to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would only reproach you for some lack of tenderness, and much\nneglect,\u201d said Anne. \u201cOh, Henry! do you remember how you swore by your\nlife--your crown--your faith--all that you held sacred or dear--that you\nwould love me ever?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd so I would, if I could,\u201d replied the king; \u201cbut unfortunately the\nheart is not entirely under control. Have you yourself, for instance,\nexperienced no change in your affections?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Anne. \u201cI have certainly suffered severely from your\ntoo evident regard for Jane Seymour; but, though deeply mortified and\ndistressed, I have never for a moment been shaken in my love for your\nmajesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cA loyal and loving reply,\u201d said Henry. \u201cI thought I had perceived some\nslight diminution in your regard.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did yourself grievous injustice by the supposition,\u201d replied Anne.\n\n\u201cI would fain believe so,\u201d said the king; \u201cbut there are some persons\nwho would persuade me that you have not only lost your affection for me,\nbut have even cast eyes of regard on another.\u201d\n\n\u201cThose who told you so lied!\u201d cried Anne passionately. \u201cNever woman was\nfreer from such imputation than myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever woman was more consummate hypocrite,\u201d muttered Henry.\n\n\u201cYou do not credit me, I see,\u201d cried Anne.\n\n\u201cIf I did not, I should know how to act,\u201d replied the king. \u201cYou\nremember my pledge?\u201d\n\n\u201cFull well,\u201d replied Anne; \u201cand if love and duty would not restrain me,\nfear would.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I felt,\u201d rejoined the king; \u201cbut there are some of your sex upon\nwhom nothing will operate as a warning--so faithless and inconstant are\nthey by nature. It has been hinted to me that you are one of these;\nbut I cannot think it. I can never believe that a woman for whom I\nhave placed my very throne in jeopardy--for whom I have divorced my\nqueen-whose family I have elevated and ennobled--and whom I have placed\nupon the throne would play me false. It is monstrous-incredible!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is--it is!\u201d replied Anne.\n\n\u201cAnd now farewell,\u201d said Henry. \u201cI have stayed longer than I intended,\nand I should not have mentioned these accusations, which I regard as\nwholly groundless, unless you had reproached me.\u201d\n\nAnd he quitted the chamber, leaving Anne in a strange state of\nperplexity and terror.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\n     What happened at the Jousts.\n\n\nThe first of May arrived; and though destined to set in darkness and\ndespair, it arose in sunshine and smiles.\n\nAll were astir at an early hour within the castle, and preparations\nwere made for the approaching show. Lists were erected in the upper\nquadrangle, and the whole of the vast area was strewn with sand. In\nfront of the royal lodgings was raised a gallery, the centre of which,\nbeing set apart for the queen and her dames, was covered with cloth\nof gold and crimson velvet, on which the royal arms were gorgeously\nemblazoned. The two wings were likewise richly decorated, and adorned\nwith scutcheons and pennons, while from the battlements of the eastern\nside of the court were hung a couple of long flags.\n\nAs soon as these preparations were completed, a throng of pages,\nesquires, armourers, archers, and henchmen, entered it from the Norman\ngateway, and took up positions within the barriers, the space without\nthe pales being kept by a double line of halberdiers. Next came the\ntrumpeters, mounted on richly caparisoned horses, and having their\nclarions decorated with silken bandrols, fringed with gold. Stationing\nthemselves at the principal entrance of the lists, they were speedily\njoined by the heralds, pursuivants, and other officers of the tilt-yard.\n\nPresently afterwards, the Duke of Suffolk, who was appointed judge of\nthe lists, appeared, and rode round the arena to see that all was in\norder. Apparently well satisfied with the survey, he dismounted, and\nproceeded to the gallery.\n\nMeanwhile, the crowd within the court was increased by a great influx\nof the different members of the household, amongst whom were Shoreditch,\nPaddington, and Hector Cutbeard.\n\n\u201cMarry, this promises to be a splendid sight!\u201d said the clerk of the\nkitchen; \u201cthe king will, no doubt, do his devoir gallantly for the sake\nof the bright eyes that will look upon him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean the queen's, of course?\u201d said Shoreditch.\n\n\u201cI mean hers who may be queen,\u201d replied Cutbeard; \u201cMistress Jane\nSeymour.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay be queen!\u201d exclaimed Shoreditch. \u201cYou surely do not think the king\nwill divorce his present consort?\u201d\n\n\u201cStranger things have happened,\u201d replied Cutbeard significantly. \u201cIf\nI am not greatly out of my reckoning,\u201d he added, \u201cthese are the last\njousts Queen Anne will behold.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe saints forefend!\u201d cried Shoreditch; \u201cwhat reason have you for\nthinking so?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I may not declare,\u201d replied Cutbeard; \u201cbut before the jousts are\nover you will see whether I have been rightly informed or not.\u201d\n\n\u201cHush!\u201d exclaimed Shoreditch. \u201cThere is a tall monk eyeing us strangely;\nand I am not certain that he has not overheard what you have said.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is welcome to the intelligence,\u201d replied Cutbeard; \u201cthe end will\nprove its truth.\u201d\n\nThough this was uttered in a confident tone, he nevertheless glanced\nwith some misgiving at the monk, who stood behind Paddington. The object\nof the investigation was a very tall man, with a cowl drawn over his\nbrow. He had a ragged black beard, fierce dark eyes, and a complexion\nlike bronze. Seeing Cutboard's glance anxiously fixed upon him, he\nadvanced towards him, and said in a low tone--\u201cYou have nothing to fear\nfrom me; but talk not so loud if you value your head.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo saying he proceeded to another part of the lists.\n\n\u201cWho is that tall monk?\u201d asked Paddington.\n\n\u201cDevil knows!\u201d answered Cutbeard; \u201cI never saw him before. But he has a\nvillainous cut-throat look.\u201d\n\nSoon afterwards a flourish of trumpets was heard, and amid their joyous\nbruit the queen, sumptuously arrayed in cloth of gold and ermine, and\nhaving a small crown upon her brow, entered the gallery, and took her\nseat within it. Never had she looked more beautiful than on this fatal\nmorning, and in the eyes of all the beholders she completely eclipsed\nher rival, Jane Seymour. The latter, who stood on her right hard, and\nwas exquisitely attired, had a thoughtful and anxious air, as if some\ngrave matter weighed upon her.\n\nWhile the queen's attendants were taking their places, Lord Rochford,\naccompanied by Sir Henry Norris and the Earls of Surrey and Essex,\nentered the lists. The four knights were completely armed, and mounted\non powerful steeds barded with rich cloth of gold, embroidered with\nsilver letters. Each had a great crimson plume in his helmet. They rode\nsingly round the arena, and bowed as they passed the royal gallery,\nNorris bending almost to his saddle-bow while performing his salutation\nto the queen.\n\nThe field being thus taken by the challengers, who retired to the upper\nend of the court, a trumpet was thrice sounded by a herald, and an\nanswer was immediately made by another herald stationed opposite Henry\nthe Seventh's buildings. When the clamour ceased, the king fully armed,\nand followed by the Marquis of Dorset, Sir Thomas Wyat, and the Lord\nClifford, rode into the lists.\n\nHenry was equipped in a superb suit of armour, inlaid with gold, and\nhaving a breastplate of the globose form, then in vogue; his helmet was\ndecorated with a large snow-white plume. The trappings of his steed were\nof crimson velvet, embroidered with the royal arms, and edged with great\nletters of massive gold bullion, full of pearls and precious stones.\nHe was attended by a hundred gentlemen, armourers, and other officers,\narrayed in white velvet.\n\nHaving ridden round the court like the others, and addressed his\nsalutation exclusively to Jane Seymour, Henry took his station with his\ncompanions near the base of the Round Tower, the summit of which was\ncovered with spectators, as were the towers and battlements around.\n\nA trumpet was now sounded, and the king and the Lord Rochford having\neach taken a lance from his esquire, awaited the signal to start from\nthe Duke of Suffolk, who was seated in the left wing of the royal\ngallery. It was not long delayed. As the clarion sounded clearly and\nloudly for the third time, he called out that the champions might go.\n\nNo sooner were the words uttered, than the thundering tramp of the\nsteeds resounded, and the opponents met midway. Both their lances were\nshivered; but as the king did not, in the slightest degree, change his\nposition, he was held to have the best of it. Courses were then run by\nthe others, with varied success, the Marquis of Dorset being unhorsed\nby Sir Henry Norris, whose prowess was rewarded by the plaudits of the\nassemblage, and what was infinitely more dear to him, by the smiles of\nthe queen.\n\n\u201cYou have ridden well, Norris,\u201d cried Henry, advancing towards him.\n\u201cPlace yourself opposite me, and let us splinter a lance together.\u201d\n\nAs Norris reined back his steed, in compliance with the injunction, the\ntall monk stepped from out the line, and drawing near him, said, \u201cIf you\nwish to prove victorious, aim at the upper part of the king's helmet.\u201d\n And with these words he withdrew.\n\nBy the time Norris had placed his lance in the rest, the trumpet\nsounded. The next moment the word was given, and the champions started.\nHenry rode with great impetuosity, and struck Norris in the gorget with\nsuch good will that both he and his steed were shaken.\n\nBut Norris was more fortunate. Following the advice of the monk, he made\nthe upper part of the king's helmet his mark, and the blow was so well\ndealt, that, though he did not dislodge the royal horseman, it drove\nback his steed on its haunches.\n\nThe success was so unequivocal that Norris was at once declared the\nvictor by the judge. No applause, however, followed the decision, from a\nfear of giving offence to the king.\n\nNorris dismounted, and committing his steed to the care of an esquire,\nand his lance to a page, took off his helmet and advanced towards the\nroyal gallery, near which the Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wyat were\nstanding talking with the other dames. As Norris drew near, Anne leaned\nover the edge of the gallery, and smiled at him tenderly, and, whether\nby design or accident, let fall her embroidered handkerchief.\n\nNorris stooped to pick it up, regarding her as he did so with a glance\nof the most passionate devotion. A terrible gaze, however, was fixed\non the unfortunate pair at that moment. It was that of the king. While\nHenry was careering in front of the gallery to display himself before\nJane Seymour, a tall monk approached him, and said, \u201cLook at Sir Henry\nNorris!\u201d\n\nThus addressed, Henry raised his beaver, that he might see more\ndistinctly, and beheld Norris take up the embroidered handkerchief,\nwhich he recognised as one that he had given, in the early days of his\naffection, to the queen.\n\nThe sight stung him almost to madness, and he had great difficulty\nin repressing his choler. But if this slight action, heightened to\nimportance, as it was, by the looks of the parties, roused his ire,\nit was nothing to what followed. Instead of restoring it to the queen,\nNorris, unconscious of the danger in which he stood, pressed the\nhandkerchief fervently to his lips.\n\n\u201cI am hitherto the victor of the jousts,\u201d he said; \u201cmay I keep this as\nthe prize?\u201d\n\nAnne smiled assent.\n\n\u201cIt is the proudest I ever obtained,\u201d pursued Norris. And he placed it\nwithin his helmet.\n\n\u201cDoes your majesty see that?\u201d cried the tall monk, who still remained\nstanding near the king.\n\n\u201cDeath of my life!\u201d exclaimed Henry, \u201cit is the very handkerchief I gave\nher before our union! I can contain myself no longer, and must perforce\nprecipitate matters. What ho!\u201d he cried, riding up to that part of\nthe gallery where the Duke of Suffolk was seated--\u201clet the jousts be\nstopped!\u201d\n\n\u201cWherefore, my dear liege?\u201d said Suffolk. \u201cThe Earl of Surrey and Sir\nThomas Wyat are about to run a course.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them he stopped I say!\u201d roared Henry, in a tone that admitted of\nno dispute. And wheeling round his charger, he dashed into the middle of\nthe barriers, shouting in loud, authoritative accents, \u201cThe jousts are\nat an end! Disperse!\u201d\n\nThe utmost consternation was occasioned by the announcement. The Duke of\nSuffolk instantly quitted his seat, and pressed through the crowd to the\nking, who whispered a few hasty words in his ear. Henry then called to\nthe Earl of Surrey, the Marquis of Dorset, the Lord Clifford, Wyat, and\nsome others, and bidding them attend him, prepared to quit the court.\nAs he passed the royal gallery, Anne called to him in an agonised\nvoice--\u201cOh, Henry! what is the matter?--what have I done?\u201d\n\nBut without paying the slightest attention to her, he dashed through the\nNorman Gate, galloped down the lower quadrangle, and quitted the castle.\n\nThe confusion that ensued may be imagined. All saw that something\nextraordinary and terrible had taken place, though few knew precisely\nwhat it was. Dismay sat in every countenance, and the general anxiety\nwas heightened by the agitation of the queen, who, uttering a piercing\nscream, fell back, and was borne off in a state of insensibility by her\nattendants.\n\nUnable to control himself at the sight, Norris burst through the guard,\nand rushing up the great staircase, soon gained the apartment to which\nthe queen had been conveyed. Owing to the timely aid afforded her, she\nwas speedily restored, and the first person her eyes fell upon was her\nlover. At the sight of him a glance of affection illumined her features,\nbut it was instantly changed into an expression of alarm.\n\nAt this juncture the Duke of Suffolk, who, with Bouchier and a party\nof halberdiers, had entered the room, stepped up to the queen, and\nsaid-\u201cWill it please you, madam, to retire to an inner apartment? I\ngrieve to say you are under arrest.\u201d\n\n\u201cArrest!\u201d exclaimed Anne; \u201cfor what crime, your grace?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are charged with incontinency towards the king's highness,\u201d replied\nSuffolk sternly.\n\n\u201cBut I am innocent!\u201d cried Anne--\u201cas Heaven shall judge me, I am\ninnocent!\u201d\n\n\u201cI trust you will be able to prove yourself so, madam,\u201d said Suffolk.\n\u201cSir Henry Norris, your person is likewise attached.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I am lost indeed!\u201d exclaimed Anne distractedly.\n\n\u201cDo not let these false and malignant accusations alarm you, madam,\u201d said\nNorri. \u201cYou have nothing to fear. I will die protesting your innocence.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir Henry Norris,\u201d said the duke coldly, \u201cyour own imprudence has\nbrought about this sad result.\u201d\n\n\u201cI feel it,\u201d replied Norris; \u201cand I deserve the worst punishment that\ncan be inflicted upon me for it. But I declare to you as I will\ndeclare upon the rack, if I am placed upon it--that the queen is wholly\ninnocent. Let her not suffer for my fault.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou hear what Sir Henry says,\u201d cried Anne; \u201cand I call upon you to\nrecollect the testimony he has borne.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall not fail to do so, madam,\u201d replied Suffolk. \u201cYour majesty will\nhave strict justice.\u201d\n\n\u201cJustice!\u201d echoed Anne, with a laugh of bitter incredulity. \u201cJustice\nfrom Henry the Eighth?\u201d\n\n\u201cBeseech you, madam, do not destroy yourself,\u201d said Norris, prostrating\nhimself before her. \u201cRecollect by whom you are surrounded. My folly and\nmadness have brought you into this strait, and I sincerely implore your\npardon for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are not to blame, Norris,\u201d said Anne; \u201cit is fate, not you, that\nhas destroyed me. The hand that has dealt this blow is that of a queen\nwithin the tomb.\u201d\n\n\u201cCaptain Bouchier,\u201d said the Duke of Suffolk, addressing that officer,\nwho stood near him, \u201cyou will convey Sir Henry Norris to the strong-room\nin the lower gateway, whence he will be removed to the Tower.\u201d\n\n\u201cFarewell for ever, Norris!\u201d cried Anne. \u201cWe shall meet no more on\nearth. In what has fallen on me I recognise the hand of retribution. But\nthe same measure which has been meted to me shall be dealt to others. I\ndenounce Jane Seymour before Heaven! She shall not long retain the crown\nshe is about to snatch from me!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat imprecation had better have been spared, madam,\u201d said the duke.\n\n\u201cBe advised, my gracious mistress,\u201d cried Norris, \u201cand do not let your\ngrief and distraction place you in the power of your enemies. All may\nyet go well.\u201d\n\n\u201cI denounce her!\u201d persisted Anne, wholly disregarding the caution; \u201cand\nI also denounce the king. No union of his shall be happy, and other\nblood than mine shall flow.\u201d\n\nAt a sign from the duke she was here borne, half suffocated with\nemotion, to an inner apartment, while Norris was conveyed by Bouchier\nand a company of halberdiers to the lower gateway, and placed within the\nprison chamber.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\n     What passed between Anne Boleyn and the Duke of Suffolk, and\n     how Herne the Hunter appeared to her in the Oratory.\n\n\nFor some hours Anne Boleyn's attendants were alarmed for her reason,\nand there seemed good grounds for the apprehension, so wildly and\nincoherently did she talk, and so violently comport herself--she who\nwas usually so gentle now weeping as if her soul would pass away in\ntears--now breaking into fearful hysterical laughter. It was a piteous\nsight, and deeply moved all who witnessed it. But towards evening\nshe became calmer, and desired to be left by herself. Her wish\nbeing complied with, she fell upon her knees, and besought Heaven's\nforgiveness for her manifold offences.\n\n\u201cMay my earthly sufferings,\u201d she cried, \u201cavail me here--after, and\nmay my blood wash out my guilt. I feel the enormity of my offence,\nand acknowledge the justice of my punishment. Pardon me, O injured\nCatherine--pardon me, I implore thee! Thou seest in me the most\nabject pitiable woman in the whole realm! Overthrown, neglected,\ndespised--about to die a shameful death--what worse can befall me? Thine\nanguish was great, but it was never sharpened by remorse like mine. Oh!\nthat I could live my life over again. I would resist all the dazzling\ntemptations I have yielded to--above all, I would not injure thee. Oh!\nthat I had resisted Henry's love--his false vows--his fatal lures!\nBut it is useless to repine. I have acted wrongfully and must pay the\npenalty of my crime. May my tears, my penitence, my blood operate as an\natonement, and procure me pardon from the merciful Judge before whom I\nshall shortly appear.\u201d\n\nIn such prayers and lamentations she passed more than an hour, when her\nattendants entered to inform her that the Duke of Suffolk and the\nLords Audley and Cromwell were without, and desired to see her. She\nimmediately went forth to them.\n\n\u201cWe are come to acquaint you, madam,\u201d said Suffolk, \u201cthat you will be\nremoved at an early hour tomorrow morning, to the Tower, there to abide\nduring the king's pleasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the king will have it so, my lords,\u201d she replied, \u201cI must needs go;\nbut I protest my innocence, and will protest it to the last. I have ever\nbeen a faithful and loyal consort to his highness, and though I may not\nhave demeaned myself to him so humbly and gratefully as I ought to have\ndone--seeing how much I owe him--yet I have lacked nothing in affection\nand duty. I have had jealous fancies and suspicions of him, especially\nof late, and have troubled him with them; but I pray his forgiveness for\nmy folly, which proceeded from too much regard, and if I am acquitted of\nmy present charge, I will offend him so no more.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will report what you say to the king,\u201d rejoined Suffolk gravely;\n\u201cbut we are bound to add that his highness does not act on mere\nsuspicion, the proofs of your guilt being strong against you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere can be no such proofs,\u201d cried Anne quickly. \u201cWho are my accusers?\nand what do they state?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are charged with conspiring against the king's life, and\ndishonouring his bed,\u201d replied Suffolk sternly. \u201cYour accusers will\nappear in due season.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are base creatures suborned for the purpose!\u201d cried Anne. \u201cNo\nloyal person would so forswear himself.\u201d\n\n\u201cTime will show you who they are, madam,\u201d said Suffolk.\n\n\u201cBut having now answered all your questions, I pray you permit us to\nretire.\u201d\n\n\u201cShall I not see the king before I am taken to the Tower?\u201d said Anne,\nupon whom the terror of her situation rushed with new force.\n\n\u201cHis highness has quitted the castle,\u201d replied Suffolk, \u201cand there is no\nlikelihood of his return to-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou tell me so to deceive me,\u201d cried Anne. \u201cLet me see him--let me\nthrow myself at his feet! I can convince him of my innocence and move\nhim to compassion! Let me see him, I implore of you--I charge you!\u201d\n\n\u201cI swear to you, madam, that the king has departed for Hampton Court,\u201d\n replied Suffolk.\n\n\u201cThen take me to him there, under strong guard, or as secretly as you\nplease,\u201d she cried passionately; \u201cI will return with you instantly, if I\nam unsuccessful.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere I to comply with your request it would be fruitless, madam,\u201d\n replied Suffolk; \u201cthe king would not see you.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Suffolk!\u201d cried Anne, prostrating herself before him, \u201cI have shown\nyou many kindnesses in my season of power, and have always stood your\nfriend with the king. Do me this favour now; I will never forget it.\nIntroduce me to the king. I am sure I can move his heart, if I can only\nsee him.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would cost me my head, madam,\u201d said the duke in an inexorable tone.\n\u201cRise, I pray you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are more cruel than the king,\u201d said Anne, obeying. \u201cAnd now, my\nlords,\u201d she continued with more composure and dignity, \u201csince you refuse\nmy last request, and plainly prove to me the sort of justice I may\nexpect, I will not detain you longer. I shall be ready to attend you to\nthe Tower tomorrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe barge will proceed an hour before dawn,\u201d said Suffolk.\n\n\u201cMust I, then, go by water?\u201d asked Anne.\n\n\u201cSuch are the king's commands,\u201d replied Suffolk.\n\n\u201cIt is no matter,\u201d she rejoined; \u201cI shall be ready when you will, for I\nshall not retire to rest during the night.\u201d\n\nUpon this Suffolk and the others slowly withdrew, and Anne again retired\nto the oratory.\n\nShe remained alone, brooding, in a state of indescribable anguish, upon\nthe probable fate awaiting her, when all at once, raising her eyes, she\nbeheld a tall dark figure near the arras.\n\nEven in the gloom she recognised Herne the Hunter, and with difficulty\nrepressed a scream.\n\n\u201cBe silent!\u201d cried Herne, with an emphatic gesture. \u201cI am come to\ndeliver you.\u201d\n\nAnne could not repress a joyful cry.\n\n\u201cNot so loud,\u201d rejoined Herne, \u201cor you will alarm your attendants. I\nwill set you free on certain conditions.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! conditions!\u201d exclaimed Anne, recoiling; \u201cif they are such as will\naffect my eternal welfare, I cannot accept them.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will repent it when it is too late,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cOnce removed\nto the Tower I can no longer aid you. My power extends only to the\nforest and the castle.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you take me to the king at Hampton Court?\u201d said Anne.\n\n\u201cIt would be useless,\u201d replied Herne. \u201cI will only do what I have\nstated. If you fly with me, you can never appear again as Anne Boleyn.\nSir Henry Norris shall be set free at the same time, and you shall both\ndwell with me in the forest. Come!\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot go,\u201d said Anne, holding back; \u201cit were to fly to a worse\ndanger. I may save my soul now; but if I embrace your offer I am lost\nfor ever.\u201d\n\nHerne laughed derisively.\n\n\u201cYou need have no fear on that score,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI will not trust you,\u201d replied Anne. \u201cI have yielded to temptation\nalready, and am now paying the penalty of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are clinging to the crown,\u201d said Herne, \u201cbecause you know that by\nthis step you will irrecoverably lose it. And you fancy that some change\nmay yet operate to your advantage with the king. It is a vain\ndelusive hope. If you leave this castle for the Tower, you will perish\nignominiously on the block.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat will be, must be!\u201d replied Anne. \u201cI will not save myself in the\nway you propose.\u201d\n\n\u201cNorris will say, and with reason, that you love him not,\u201d cried Herne.\n\n\u201cThen he will wrong me,\u201d replied Anne; \u201cfor I do love him. But of what\naccount were a few years of fevered happiness compared with endless\ntorture?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will befriend you in spite of yourself,\u201d vociferated Herne, seizing\nher arm; \u201cyou shall go with me!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not,\u201d said Anne, falling on her knees. \u201cOh, Father of Mercy!\u201d\n she cried energetically, \u201cdeliver me from this fiend!\u201d\n\n\u201cTake your fate, then!\u201d rejoined Herne, dashing her furiously backwards.\n\nAnd when her attendants, alarmed by the sound, rushed into the chamber,\nthey found her stretched on the floor in a state of insensibility.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\n     How Herne appeared to Henry In the Home Park.\n\n\nOn that same night, at a late hour, a horseman, mounted on a powerful\nsteed, entered the eastern side of the home park, and stationed himself\nbeneath the trees. He had not been there long, when the castle clock\ntolled forth the hour of midnight, and ere the deep strokes died away, a\nsecond horseman was seen galloping across the moonlit glade towards him.\n\n\u201cHas all been done as I directed, Suffolk?\u201d he demanded, as the newcomer\napproached him.\n\n\u201cIt has, my liege,\u201d replied the duke. \u201cThe queen is imprisoned within\nher chamber, and will be removed, at early dawn, to the Tower.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou had better start in an hour from this time,\u201d said the king. \u201cIt is\na long passage by water, and I am anxious to avoid all chance of attempt\nat rescue.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour wishes shall be obeyed,\u201d replied the duke. \u201cPoor soul! her grief\nwas most agonizing, and I had much ado to maintain my composure. She\nimplored, in the most passionate manner, to be allowed to see your\nhighness before her removal. I told her it was impossible; and that even\nif you were at the castle, you would not listen to her supplications.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did right,\u201d rejoined Henry; \u201cI will never see her more--not that\nI fear being moved by her prayers, but that, knowing how deceitful and\nfaithless she is, I loathe to look upon her. What is expressed upon the\nmatter by the household? Speak frankly.\u201d\n\n\u201cFrankly then,\u201d replied the duke, \u201cyour highness's proceedings are\nregarded as harsh and unjustifiable. The general opinion is, that you\nonly desire to remove Anne to make way for Mistress Jane Seymour.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! they talk thus, do they?\u201d cried the king. \u201cI will silence their\nsaucy prating ere long. Tell all who venture to speak to you on the\nsubject that I have long suspected the queen of a secret liking for\nNorris, but that I determined to conceal my suspicions till I found I\nhad good warrant for them. That occurred, as you know, some weeks ago.\nHowever, I awaited a pretext for proceeding against them, and it was\nfurnished by their own imprudence to-day. Convinced that something would\noccur, I had made my preparations; nor was I deceived. You may add,\nalso, that not until my marriage is invalidated, Anne's offspring\nillegitimatised, and herself beheaded, shall I consider the foul blot\nupon my name removed.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas your majesty any further commands?\u201d said Suffolk. \u201cI saw Norris in\nhis prison before I rode forth to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet him be taken to the Tower, under a strong escort, at once,\u201d said\nHenry. \u201cLord Rochford, I suppose, has already been removed there?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has,\u201d replied the duke. \u201cShall I attend your majesty to your\nfollowers?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is needless,\u201d replied the king. \u201cThey are waiting for me, close at\nhand, at the foot of Datchet Bridge. Fare well, my good brother; look\nwell to your prisoners. I shall feel more easy when Anne is safely\nlodged within the Tower.\u201d\n\nSo saying he wheeled round, and striking spurs into his steed, dashed\nthrough the trees, while the duke rode back to the castle.\n\nHenry had not proceeded far, when a horseman, mounted on a sable steed,\nemerged from the thicket, and galloped up to him. The wild attire and\nantlered helm of this personage proclaimed the forest fiend.\n\n\u201cAh! thou here, demon!\u201d cried the king, his lion nature overmastered by\nsuperstitious fear for a moment. \u201cWhat wouldst thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are on the eve of committing a great crime,\u201d replied Herne; \u201cand I\ntold you that at such times I would always appear to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo administer justice is not to commit crime,\u201d rejoined the king. \u201cAnne\nBoleyn deserves her fate.\u201d\n\n\u201cThink not to impose on me as you have imposed on Suffolk!\u201d cried Herne,\nwith a derisive laugh. \u201cI know your motives better; I know you have no\nproof of her guilt, and that in your heart of hearts you believe her\ninnocent. But you destroy her because you would wed Jane Seymour! We\nshall meet again ere long--ho! ho! ho!\u201d\n\nAnd giving the rein to his steed, he disappeared among the trees.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\n     The Signal Gun.\n\n\nAnne Boleyn's arraignment took place in the great hall of the White\nTower, on the 16th of May, before the Duke of Norfolk, who was created\nlord high steward for the occasion, and twenty-six peers. The duke had\nhis seat under a canopy of state, and beneath him sat the Earl of Surrey\nas deputy earl-marshal.\n\nNotwithstanding an eloquent and impassioned defence, Anne was found\nguilty; and having been required to lay aside her crown and the other\ninsignia of royalty, was condemned to be burned or beheaded at the\nking's pleasure.\n\nOn the following day, she was summoned to the archiepiscopal palace at\nLambeth, whither she was privately conveyed; and her marriage with the\nking was declared by Cranmer to be null and void, and to have always\nbeen so. Death by the axe was the doom awarded to her by the king, and\nthe day appointed for the execution was Friday the 19th of May, at the\nhour of noon.\n\nLeaving the conduct of the fatal ceremony to the Duke of Suffolk, who\nhad orders to have a signal gun fired from the summit of the White\nTower, which was to be answered from various points, when all was over,\nHenry repaired to Windsor Castle on the evening of Thursday. Before\nthis, he had formally offered his hand to Jane Seymour; and while the\nunfortunate queen was languishing within the Tower, he was basking in\nthe smiles of his new mistress, and counting the hours till he could\nmake her his own. On the Tuesday before the execution, Jane Seymour\nretired to her father's mansion, Wolff Hall, in Wiltshire, where\npreparations were made for the marriage, which it was arranged should\ntake place there in private on the Saturday.\n\nOn arriving at the castle, Henry gave out that he should hunt on the\nfollowing morning in the great park, and retired to his closet. But he\ndid not long remain there, and putting on the garb of a yeoman of the\nguard, descended by the narrow flight of steps (already mentioned as\noccupying the same situation as the existing Hundred Steps) to the town,\nand proceeded to the Garter, where he found several guests assembled,\ndiscussing the affairs of the day, and Bryan Bowntance's strong ale\nat the same time. Amongst the number were the Duke of Shoreditch,\nPaddington, Hector Cutbeard, and Kit Coo. At the moment of the king's\nentrance, they were talking of the approaching execution.\n\n\u201cOh, the vanity of worldly greatness!\u201d exclaimed Bryan, lifting up his\nhands. \u201cOnly seven years ago, last Saint George's Day, this lovely queen\nfirst entered the castle with the king, amid pomp and splendour and\npower, and with a long life--apparently--of happiness before her. And\nnow she is condemned to die.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if she has played the king false she deserves her doom,\u201d replied\nShoreditch. \u201cI would behead my own wife if she served me the same\ntrick--that is, if I could.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do right to say 'if you could,'\u201d rejoined Paddington. \u201cThe\nbeheading of a wife is a royal privilege, and cannot be enjoyed by a\nsubject.\u201d\n\n\u201cMarry, I wonder how the king could prefer Mistress Jane Seymour, for my\npart!\u201d said Hector Cutbeard. \u201cTo my thinking she is not to be compared\nwith Queen Anne.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has a lovely blue eye, and a figure as straight as an arrow,\u201d\n returned Shoreditch. \u201cHow say you, master?\u201d he added, turning to the\nking; \u201cwhat think you of Mistress Jane Seymour?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat she is passably fair, friend,\u201d replied Henry.\n\n\u201cBut how as compared with the late--that is, the present queen, for,\npoor soul! she has yet some hours to live,\u201d rejoined Shoreditch. \u201cHow,\nas compared with her?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I think Jane Seymour the more lovely, Undoubtedly,\u201d replied Henry.\n\u201cBut I may be prejudiced.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot in the least, friend,\u201d said Cutbeard. \u201cYou but partake of your\nroyal master's humour. Jane Seymour is beautiful, no doubt, and so was\nAnne Boleyn. Marry! we shall see many fair queens on the throne. The\nroyal Henry has good taste and good management. He sets his subjects\na rare example, and shows them how to get rid of troublesome wives.\nWe shall all divorce or hang our spouses when we get tired of them. I\nalmost wish I was married myself, that I might try the experiment-ha!\nha!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, here's the king's health!\u201d cried Shoreditch, \u201cand wishing him as\nmany wives as he may desire. What say you, friend?\u201d he added, turning to\nHenry. \u201cWill you not drink that toast?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will I,\u201d replied Henry; \u201cbut I fancy the king will be content for\nthe present with Mistress Jane Seymour.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor the present, no doubt,\u201d said Hector Cutbeard; \u201cbut the time will\ncome--and ere long--when Jane will be as irksome to him as Anne is now.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, God's death, knave! darest thou say so?\u201d cried Henry furiously.\n\n\u201cWhy, I have said nothing treasonable, I hope?\u201d rejoined Cutbeard,\nturning pale; \u201cI only wish the king to be happy in his own way. And as\nhe seems to delight in change of wives, I pray that he may have it to\nhis heart's content.\u201d\n\n\u201cA fair explanation,\u201d replied Henry, laughing.\n\n\u201cLet me give a health, my masters!\u201d cried a tall archer, whom no one had\nhitherto noticed, rising in one corner of the room. \u201cIt is--The headsman\nof Calais, and may he do his work featly tomorrow!\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! ha! ha! a good toast!\u201d cried Hector Cutbeard.\n\n\u201cSeize him who has proposed it!\u201d cried the king, rising; \u201cit is Herne\nthe Hunter!\u201d\n\n\u201cI laugh at your threats here as elsewhere, Harry,\u201d cried Herne. \u201cWe\nshall meet tomorrow.\u201d\n\nAnd flinging the horn cup in the face of the man nearest him, he sprang\nthrough an open window at the back, and disappeared.\n\nBoth Cutbeard and Shoreditch were much alarmed lest the freedom of their\nexpressions should be taken in umbrage by the king; but he calmed their\nfears by bestowing a good humoured buffet on the cheek of the latter of\nthem, and quitting the hostel, returned to the castle by the same way he\nhad left it.\n\nOn the following morning, about ten o'clock, he rode into the great\npark, attended by a numerous train. His demeanour was moody and stern,\nand a general gloom pervaded the company. Keeping on the western side\nof the park, the party crossed Cranbourne chase; but though they\nencountered several fine herds of deer, the king gave no orders to\nuncouple the hounds.\n\nAt last they arrived at that part of the park where Sandpit Gate is now\nsituated, and pursuing a path bordered by noble trees, a fine buck was\nsuddenly unharboured, upon which Henry gave orders to the huntsmen and\nothers to follow him, adding that he himself should proceed to Snow\nHill, where they would find him an hour hence.\n\nAll understood why the king wished to be alone, and for what purpose he\nwas about to repair to the eminence in question, and therefore, without\na word, the whole company started off in the chase.\n\nMeanwhile, the king rode slowly through the woods, often pausing to\nlisten to the distant sounds of the hunters, and noticing the shadows\non the greensward as they grew shorter, and proclaimed the approach of\nnoon. At length he arrived at Snow Hill, and stationed himself beneath\nthe trees on its summit.\n\nFrom this point a magnificent view of the castle, towering over its\npomp of woods, now covered with foliage of the most vivid green, was\ncommanded. The morning was bright and beautiful, the sky cloudless,\nand a gentle rain had fallen over night, which had tempered the air and\nfreshened the leaves and the greensward. The birds were singing blithely\nin the trees, and at the foot of the hill crouched a herd of deer. All\nwas genial and delightful, breathing of tenderness and peace, calculated\nto soften the most obdurate heart.\n\nThe scene was not without its effect upon Henry; but a fierce tumult\nraged within his breast. He fixed his eyes on the Round Tower, which\nwas distinctly visible, and from which he expected the signal, and then\ntried to peer into the far horizon. But he could discern nothing. A\ncloud passed over the sun, and cast a momentary gloom over the smiling\nlandscape. At the same time Henry's fancy was so powerfully excited,\nthat he fancied he could behold the terrible tragedy enacting at the\nTower.\n\n\u201cShe is now issuing forth into the green in front of Saint Peter's\nChapel,\u201d said Henry to himself. \u201cI can see her as distinctly as if I\nwere there. Ah, how beautiful she looks! and how she moves all hearts to\npity! Suffolk, Richmond, Cromwell, and the Lord Mayor are there to meet\nher. She takes leave of her weeping attendants--she mounts the steps of\nthe scaffold firmly--she looks round, and addresses the spectators. How\nsilent they are, and how clearly and musically her voice sounds! She\nblesses me.--I hear It!--I feel it here! Now she disrobes herself, and\nprepares for the fatal axe. It is wielded by the skilful executioner\nof Calais, and he is now feeling its edge. Now she takes leave of her\ndames, and bestows a parting gift on each. Again she kneels and\nprays. She rises. The fatal moment is at hand. Even now she retains her\ncourage--she approaches the block, and places her head upon it. The axe\nis raised--ha!\u201d\n\nThe exclamation was occasioned by a flash of fire from the battlements\nof the Round Tower, followed by a volume of smoke, and in another second\nthe deep boom of a gun was heard.\n\nAt the very moment that the flash was seen, a wild figure, mounted on a\ncoal-black steed, galloped from out the wood, and dashed towards Henry,\nwhose horse reared and plunged as he passed.\n\n\u201cThere spoke the knell of Anne Boleyn!\u201d cried Herne, regarding Henry\nsternly, and pointing to the Round Tower. \u201cThe bloody deed is done, and\nthou art free to wed once more. Away to Wolff Hall, and bring thy new\nconsort to Windsor Castle!\u201d\n\n\nTHUS ENDS THE SIXTH AND LAST BOOK OF THE CHRONICLE OF WINDSOR CASTLE","title":"Windsor Castle","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":115445}