VI.
How the Fair Geraldine bestowed a Relic upon her Lover--How Surrey and Richmond rode in the Forest at Midnight--And where they found the Body of Mark Fytton, the Butcher.
Surrey and Richmond agreed to say nothing for the present of theirmysterious adventure in the forest; but their haggard looks, as theypresented themselves to the Lady Anne Boleyn in the reception-chamber onthe following morning, proclaimed that something had happened, and theyhad to undergo much questioning from the Fair Geraldine and the LadyMary Howard.
"I never saw you so out of spirits, my lord," remarked the FairGeraldine to Surrey; "you must have spent the whole night in study--orwhat is more probable, you have again seen Herne the Hunter. Confessnow, you have been in the forest."
"I will confess anything you please," replied Surrey evasively.
"And what have you seen?--a stranger vision than the first?" rejoinedthe Fair Geraldine.
"Since your ladyship answers for me, there is no need for explanation onmy part," rejoined Surrey, with a faint laugh. "And know you not, thatthose who encounter super natural beings are generally bound to profoundsecrecy?"
"Such, I hope, is not your case, Henry?" cried the Lady Mary Howard, inalarm;--"nor yours, my lord?" she added to the Duke of Richmond.
"I am bound equally with Surrey," returned the duke mysteriously
"You pique my curiosity, my lords," said the Fair Geraldine; "and sincethere is no other way of gratifying it, if the Lady Mary Howard willaccompany me, we will ourselves venture into the forest, and try whetherwe cannot have a meeting with this wild huntsman. Shall we go to-night?
"Not for worlds," replied the Lady Mary, shuddering; "were I to seeHerne, I should die of fright."
"Your alarm is groundless," observed Richmond gallantly. "The presenceof two beings, fair and pure as yourself and the Lady ElizabethFitzgerald, would scare away aught of evil."
The Lady Mary thanked him with a beaming smile, but the Fair Geraldinecould not suppress a slight laugh.
"Your grace is highly flattering," she said. "But, with all faithin beauty and purity, I should place most reliance in a relic Ipossess--the virtue of which has often been approved against evilspirits. It was given by a monk--who had been sorely tempted by a demon,and who owed his deliverance to it--to my ancestor, Luigi Geraldi ofFlorence; and from him it descended to me."
"Would I had an opportunity of proving its efficacy!" exclaimed the Earlof Surrey.
"You shall prove it, if you choose," rejoined the Fair Geraldine. "Iwill give you the relic on condition that you never part with it tofriend or foe."
And detaching a small cross of gold, suspended by a chain from her neck,she presented it to the Earl of Surrey.
"This cross encloses the relic," she continued; "wear it, and may itprotect you from all ill!"
Surrey's pale cheek glowed as he took the gift. "I will never pastwith it but with life," he cried, pressing the cross to his lips, andafterwards placing it next his heart.
"I would have given half my dukedom to be so favoured," said Richmondmoodily.
And quitting the little group, he walked towards the Lady Anne. "Henry,"said the Lady Mary, taking her brother aside, "you will lose yourfriend."
"I care not," replied Surrey.
"But you may incur his enmity," pursued the Lady Mary. "I saw the glancehe threw at you just now, and it was exactly like the king's terriblelook when offended."
"Again I say I care not," replied Surrey. "Armed with this relic, I defyall hostility."
"It will avail little against Richmond's rivalry and opposition,"rejoined his sister.
"We shall see," retorted Surrey. "Were the king himself my rival, Iwould not resign my pretensions to the Fair Geraldine."
"Bravely resolved, my lord," said Sir Thomas Wyat, who, having overheardthe exclamation, advanced towards him. "Heaven grant you may never beplaced in such jeopardy!"
"I say amen to that prayer, Sir Thomas," rejoined Surrey "I would notprove disloyal, and yet under such circumstances--"
"What would you do?" interrupted Wyat.
"My brother is but a hasty boy, and has not learned discretion, SirThomas," interposed the Lady Mary, trying by a significant glance toimpose silence on the earl.
"Young as he is, he loves well and truly," remarked Wyat, in a sombretone.
"What is all this?" inquired the Fair Geraldine, who had been gazingthrough the casement into the court below.
"I was merely expressing a wish that Surrey may never have a monarch fora rival, fair lady," replied Wyat.
"It matters little who may be his rival," rejoined Geraldine, "providedshe he loves be constant."
"Right, lady, right," said Wyat, with great bitterness. At this momentWill Sommers approached them. "I come to bid you to the Lady Anne'spresence, Sir Thomas, and you to the king's, my lord of Surrey," saidthe jester. "I noticed what has just taken place," he remarked to thelatter, as they proceeded towards the royal canopy, beneath which Henryand the Lady Anne Boleyn were seated; "but Richmond will not relinquishher tamely, for all that."
Anne Boleyn had summoned Sir Thomas Wyat, in order to gratify her vanityby showing him the unbounded influence she possessed over his royalrival; and the half-suppressed agony displayed by the unfortunate loverat the exhibition afforded her a pleasure such as only the most refinedcoquette can feel.
Surrey was sent for by the king to receive instructions, in his qualityof vice-chamberlain, respecting a tilting-match and hunting-party to beheld on successive days--the one in the upper quadrangle of the castle,the other in the forest.
Anxious, now that he was somewhat calmer, to avoid a rupture withRichmond, Surrey, as soon as he had received the king's instructions,drew near the duke; and the latter, who had likewise reasoned himselfout of his resentment, was speedily appeased, and they became, to allappearance, as good friends as ever.
Soon afterwards the Lady Anne and her dames retired, and the courtbreaking up, the two young nobles strolled forth to the stately terraceat the north of the castle, where, while gazing at the glorious view itcommanded, they talked over the mysterious event of the previous night.
"I cannot help suspecting that the keeper we beheld with the demonhunter was Morgan Fenwolf," remarked the earl. "Suppose we make inquirywhether he was at home last night. We can readily find out his dwellingfrom Bryan Bowntance, the host of the Garter."
Richmond acquiesced in the proposal, and they accordingly proceededto the cloisters of Saint George's Chapel, and threading some tortuouspassages contrived among the canons' houses, passed through a smallporch, guarded by a sentinel, and opening upon a precipitous andsomewhat dangerous flight of steps, hewn out of the rock and leading tothe town.
None except the more important members of the royal household wereallowed to use this means of exit from the castle, but, of course, theprivilege extended to Richmond and Surrey. Here in later times, and whenthe castle was not so strictly guarded, a more convenient approachwas built, and designated, from the number of its stairs, "The HundredSteps."
Having accomplished the descent in safety, and given the password to thesentinel at the foot of the steps, the two young nobles emerged into thestreet, and the first object they beheld was the body of the miserablebutcher swinging from the summit of the Curfew Tower, where it was leftby order of the king.
Averting their gaze from this ghastly spectacle, they took their way upThames Street, and soon reached the Garter. Honest Bryan was seated on abench before the dwelling, with a flagon of his own ale beside him,and rising as he saw the others approach, he made them a profoundsalutation.
Upon leaning what they sought, he told them that Morgan Fenwolf dweltin a small cottage by the river-side not far from the bridge, and ifit pleased them, he would guide them to it himself--an offer which theygladly accepted.
"Do you know anything of this Fenwolf?" asked Surrey, as they proceededon their way.
"Nothing particular," replied Bryan, with some hesitation. "There
aresome strange reports about him, but I don't believe 'em."
"What reports are they, friend?" asked the Duke of Richmond.
"Why, your grace, one ought to be cautious what one says, for fear ofbringing an innocent man into trouble," returned the host. "But if thetruth must be spoken, people do say that Morgan Fenwolf is in leaguewith the devil--or with Herne the Hunter, which is the same thing."
Richmond exchanged a look with his friend.
"Folks say strange sights have been seen in the forest of late," pursuedBryan--"and it may be so. But I myself have seen nothing--but then, tobe sure, I never go there. The keepers used to talk of Herne theHunter when I was a lad, but I believe it was only a tale to frightendeer-stealers; and I fancy it's much the same thing now."
Neither Surrey nor Richmond made any remark, and they presently reachedthe keeper's dwelling.
It was a small wooden tenement standing, as the host had stated, on thebank of the river, about a bow-shot from the bridge. The door was openedby Bryan, and the party entered without further ceremony. They foundno one within except an old woman, with harsh, wrinkled features, and aglance as ill-omened as that of a witch, whom Bryan Bowntance told themwas Fenwolf's mother. This old crone regarded the intruders uneasily.
"Where is your son, dame?" demanded the duke.
"On his walk in the forest," replied the old crone bluntly.
"What time did he go forth?" inquired Surrey.
"An hour before daybreak, as is his custom," returned the woman, in thesame short tone as before.
"You are sure he slept at home last night, dame?" said Surrey.
"As sure as I am that the question is asked me," she replied. "I canshow you the very bed on which he slept, if you desire to see it. Heretired soon after sunset--slept soundly, as he always sleeps--and aroseas I have told you. I lighted a fire, and made him some hot pottagemyself."
"If she speaks the truth, you must be mistaken," observed Richmond in awhisper to his friend.
"I do not believe her," replied Surrey, in the same tone. "Show us hischamber, dame."
The old crone sullenly complied, and, throwing open a side door,disclosed an inner apartment, in which there was a small bed. Therewas nothing noticeable in the room except a couple of fishing-nets, ahunting-spear, and an old cross-bow. A small open casement looked uponthe river, whose clear sparkling waters flowed immediately beneath it.
Surrey approached the window, and obtained a fine view of the Brocasmeads on the one hand, and the embowered college of Eton on the other.His attention, however, was diverted by a fierce barking without, andthe next moment, in spite of the vociferations of the old woman, a largeblack staghound, which Surrey recognised as Fenwolf's dog, Bawsey, burstthrough the door, and rushed furiously towards him. Surrey drew hisdagger to defend himself from the hound's attack, but the precautionwas needless. Bawsey's fierceness changed suddenly to the most abjectsubmission, and with a terrified howl, she retreated from the room with'her tail between her legs. Even the old woman uttered a cry of surprise.
"Lord help us!" exclaimed Bryan; "was ever the like o' that seen? Yourlordship must have a strange mastery over dogs. That hound," he added,in a whisper, "is said to be a familiar spirit."
"The virtue of the relic is approved," observed Surrey to Richmond, inan undertone.
"It would seem so," replied the duke.
The old woman now thought proper to assume a more respectful demeanourtowards her visitors, and inquired whether her son should attend uponthem on his return from the forest, but they said it was unnecessary.
"The king is about to have a grand hunting-party the day afterto-morrow," observed Surrey, "and we wished to give your son someinstructions respecting it. They can, however, be delivered to anotherkeeper."
And they departed with Bryan, and returned to the castle. At midnightthey again issued forth. Their steeds awaited them near the upper gate,and, mounting, they galloped across the greensward in the direction ofHerne's Oak. Discerning no trace of the ghostly huntsman, they shapedtheir course towards the forest.
Urging their steeds to their utmost speed, and skirting the long avenue,they did not draw the rein till they reached the eminence beyond it;having climbed which, they dashed down the farther side at the sameswift pace as before. The ride greatly excited them, but they sawnothing of the wild huntsman; nor did any sound salute their ears exceptthe tramp of their own horses, or the occasional darting forth of astartled deer.
Less than a quarter of an hour brought them to the haunted beech-tree;but all was as silent and solitary here as at the blasted oak. In vainSurrey smote the tree. No answer was returned to the summons; and,finding all efforts to evoke the demon fruitless, they quitted thespot, and, turning their horses' heads to the right, slowly ascended thehill-side.
Before they had gained the brow of the hill the faint blast of a hornsaluted their ears, apparently proceeding from the valley near thelake. They instantly stopped and looked in that direction, but couldsee nothing. Presently, however, the blast was repeated more loudly thanbefore, and, guided by the sound, they discerned the spectral huntsmanriding beneath the trees at some quarter of a mile's distance.
Striking spurs into their steeds, they instantly gave him chase; butthough he lured them on through thicket and over glade--now climbinga hill, now plunging into a valley, until their steeds began to showsymptoms of exhaustion--they got no nearer to him; and at length, asthey drew near the Home Park, to which he had gradually led them, hedisappeared from view.
"I will take my station near the blasted oak," said Surrey, gallopingtowards it: "the demon is sure to revisit his favourite tree beforecock-crowing."
"What is that?" cried the Earl of Surrey, pointing to a strange andghastly-looking object depending from the tree. "Some one has hangedhimself! It may be the caitiff, Morgan Fenwolf."
With one accord they dashed forward, and as they drew nearer the tree,they perceived that the object that had attracted their attention wasthe body of Mark Fytton, the butcher, which they had so recently seenswinging from the summit of the Curfew Tower. It was now suspended froman arm of the wizard oak.
A small scroll was stuck upon the breast of the corpse, and, taking itoff, Surrey read these words, traced in uncouth characters--"Mark Fyttonis now one of the band of Herne the Hunter."
"By my fay, this passes all comprehension," said Richmond, after a fewmoments' silence. "This castle and forest seem under the sway of thepowers of darkness. Let us return. I have had enough of adventure forto-night."
And he rode towards the castle, followed more slowly by the earl.
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