Part 9 (1/2)
”I have seen some one very like you, master,” replied Tristram, ”and one whom it is no light honour to resemble.”
”You mean the king,” returned Harry, laughing. ”You are not the first person who has thought me like him.”
”You are vain of the likeness, I see, master,” replied Tristram, joining in the laugh. ”How say you, Mab?” he added to his granddaughter, who at that moment returned with a jug and a couple of drinking-horns. ”Whom does this gentleman resemble?”
”No one,” returned Mabel, without raising her eyes.
”No one,” echoed Harry, chucking her under the chin. ”Look me full in the face, and you will find out your mistake. Marry, if I were the royal Henry, instead of what I am, a plain Guildford merchant, I should prefer you to Anne Boleyn.”
”Is that said in good sooth, sir?” asked Mabel, slightly raising her eyes, and instantly dropping them before the ardent gaze of the self-styled merchant.
”In good sooth and sober truth,” replied Henry, rounding his arm and placing his hand on his l.u.s.ty thigh in true royal fas.h.i.+on.
”Were you the royal Henry, I should not care for your preference,” said Mabel more confidently. ”My grandsire says the king changes his love as often as the moon changes-nay, oftener.”
”G.o.d's death!-your grandsire is a false knave to say so! cried Harry.
”Heaven help us! you swear the king's oaths,” said Mabel. ”And wherefore not, sweetheart?” said Harry, checking himself. ”It is enough to make one swear, and in a royal fas.h.i.+on too, to hear one's liege lord unjustly accused. I have ever heard the king styled a mirror of constancy. How say you, Charles Brandon?-can you not give him a good character?”
”Oh! an excellent character,” said Brandon. ”He is constancy itself-while the fit lasts,” he added, aside.
”You hear what my friend says, sweetheart,” observed Harry; ”and I a.s.sure you he has the best opportunities of judging. But I'll be sworn you did not believe your grand-sire when he thus maligned the king.”
”She contradicted me flatly,” said Tristram. ”But pour out the mead, girl; our guests are waiting for it.”
While Mabel, in compliance with her grandsire's directions, filled the horn, the door of the cottage was noiselessly opened by Morgan Fenwolf, who stepped in, followed by Bawsey. He stared inquisitively at the strangers, but both were so much occupied by the damsel that he remained unnoticed. A sign from the old forester told him he had better retire: jealous curiosity, however, detained him, and he tarried till Harry had received the cup from Mabel, and drained it to her health. He then drew back, closed the door softly, and joined a dark and mysterious figure, with hideous lineaments and an antlered helm upon its brows, lurking outside the cottage.
Meanwhile, a cup of mead having been offered to Brandon, he observed to his companion, ”We must now be setting forth on our journey. Night is advancing, and we have five long miles to traverse across the great park.”
”I would stay where I am,” rejoined Harry, ”and make a bench near the fire serve me in lieu of a couch, but that business requires our presence at the castle to-night. There is payment for our meal, friend,” he added, giving a mark to Tristram, ”and as we shall probably return to-morrow night, we will call and have another supper with you. Provide us a capon, and some fish from the lake.”
”You pay as you swear, good sir, royally,” replied Tristram. ”You shall have a better supper to-morrow night.”
”You have a dangerous journey before you, sir,” said Mabel. ”They say there are plunderers and evil spirits in the great park.”
”I have no fear of any such, sweetheart,” replied Harry. ”I have a strong arm to defend myself, and so has my friend Charles Brandon. And as to evil spirits, a kiss from you will s.h.i.+eld me from all ill.”
And as he spoke, he drew her towards him, and clasping her in his arms, imprinted a score of rapid kisses on her lips.
”Hold! hold, master!” cried Tristram, rising angrily; ”this may not be. 'Tis an arrant abuse of hospitality.”
”Nay, be not offended, good friend,” replied Harry, laughing. ”I am on the look-out for a wife, and I know not but I may take your granddaughter with me to Guildford.”
”She is not to be so lightly won,” cried Tristram; ”for though I am but a poor forester, I rate her as highly as the haughtiest n.o.ble can rate his child.”
”And with reason,” said Harry. ”Good-night, sweet-heart! By my crown, Suffolk!” he exclaimed to his companion, as he quitted the cottage, ”she is an angel, and shall be mine.”
”Not if my arm serves me truly,” muttered Fenwolf, who, with his mysterious companion, had stationed himself at the window of the hut.
”Do him no injury,” returned the other; ”he is only to be made captive-mark that. And now to apprise Sir Thomas Wyat. We must intercept them before they reach their horses.”
IV.
How Herne the Hunter showed the Earl of Surrey the Fair Geraldine in a Vision.
On the third day after Surrey's imprisonment in the keep, he was removed to the Norman Tower. The chamber allotted him was square, tolerably lofty, and had two narrow-pointed windows on either side, looking on the one hand into the upper quadrangle, and on the other into the middle ward. At the same time permission was accorded him to take exercise on the battlements of the Round Tower, or within the dry and gra.s.sy moat at its foot.
The Fair Geraldine, he was informed, had been sent to the royal palace at Greenwich; but her absence occasioned him little disquietude, because he knew, if she had remained at Windsor, he would not have been allowed to see her.
On the same day that Surrey was removed to the Norman Tower, the Duke of Richmond quitted the castle without a.s.signing any motive for his departure, or even taking leave of his friend. At first some jealous mistrust that he might be gone to renew his suit to the Fair Geraldine troubled the earl; but he strongly combated the feeling, as calculated, if indulged, to destroy his tranquillity; and by fixing his thoughts sedulously on other subjects, he speedily succeeded in overcoming it.
On that night, while occupied in a translation of the Aeneid which he had commenced, he remained at his task till a late hour. The midnight bell had tolled, when, looking up, he was startled by perceiving a tall figure standing silent and motionless beside him.
Independently of the difficulty of accounting for its presence, the appearance of the figure was in itself sufficiently appalling. It was above the ordinary stature, and was enveloped in a long black cloak, while a tall, conical black cap, which added to its height, and increased the hideousness of its features, covered its head.
For a few minutes Surrey remained gazing at the figure in mute astonishment, during which it maintained the same motionless posture. At length he was able to murmur forth the interrogation, ”Who art thou?”
”A friend,” replied the figure, in a sepulchral tone.
”Are you a man or spirit?” demanded Surrey.
”It matters not-I am a friend,” rejoined the figure.
”On what errand come you here?” asked Surrey.
”To serve you,” replied the figure; ”to liberate you. You shall go hence with me, if you choose.”
”On what condition?” rejoined Surrey.
”We will speak of that when we are out of the castle, and on the green sod of the forest,” returned the figure.
”You tempt in vain,” cried Surrey. ”I will not go with you. I recognise in you the demon hunter Herne.” The figure laughed hollowly-so hollowly that Surrey's flesh crept upon his bones.
”You are right, lord of Surrey,” he said; ”I am Herne the Hunter. You must join me. Sir Thomas Wyat is already one of my band.”
”You lie, false fiend!” rejoined Surrey. ”Sir Thomas Wyat is in France.”
”It is you who lie, lord of Surrey,” replied Herne; ”Sir Thomas Wyat is now in the great park. You shall see him in a few minutes, if you will come with me.”
”I disbelieve you, tempter!” cried Surrey indignantly. ”Wyat is too good a Christian, and too worthy a knight, to league with a demon.”