Part 23 (1/2)
”I will bring half a dozen stout archers,” replied Surrey-”and if you come not, depend upon it, I will either release you or avenge you.”
”I did not intend to prosecute this adventure further,” said Richmond; ”but since you are both resolved to embark in it, I will not desert you.”
Soon after this, the friends separated,-Surrey and Richmond taking horse and returning to the castle, discoursing on the unlooked-for meeting with Wyat, while the latter again entered the skiff, and rowed down the lake. As soon as the hut was clear, two persons descended the steps of a ladder leading to a sort of loft in the roof, and sprang upon the floor of the hut.
”Ho! ho! Ho!” laughed the foremost, whose antlered helm and wild garb proclaimed him to be Herne; ”they little dreamed who were the hearers of their conference. So they think to take me, Fenwolf-ha!”
”They know not whom they have to deal with,” rejoined the latter.
”They should do so by this time,” said Herne; ”but I will tell thee why Sir Thomas Wyat has undertaken this enterprise. It is not to capture me, though that may be one object that moves him. But he wishes to see Mabel Lyndwood. The momentary glimpse he caught of her bright eyes was sufficient to inflame him.”
”Ah!” exclaimed Fenwolf, ”think you so?”
”I am a.s.sured of it,” replied Herne. ”He knows the secret of the cave, and will find her there.”
”But he will never return to tell what he has seen,” said Fenwolf moodily.
”I know not that,” replied Herne. ”I have my own views respecting him. I want to renew my band.”
”He will never join you,” rejoined Fenwolf.
”What if I offer him Mabel as a bait?” said Herne.
”You will not do so, dread master?” rejoined Fenwolf, trembling and turning pale. ”She belongs to me.”
”To thee, fool!” cried Herne, with a derisive laugh. ”Thinkest thou I would resign such a treasure to thee? No, no. But rest easy, I will not give her to Wyat.”
”You mean her for yourself, then?” said Fenwolf.
”Darest thou to question me?” cried Herne, striking him with the hand armed with the iron gyves. ”This to teach thee respect.”
And this to prove whether thou art mortal or rejoined Fenwolf, plucking his hunting-knife from his belt, and striking it with all his force against the other's breast. But though surely and forcibly dealt, the blow glanced off as if the demon were cased in steel, and the intended a.s.sa.s.sin fell back in amazement, while an unearthly laugh rang in his ears. Never had Fenwolf seen Herne wear so formidable a look as he at that moment a.s.sumed. His giant frame dilated, his eyes flashed fire, and the expression of his countenance was so fearful that Fenwolf s.h.i.+elded his eyes with his hands.
”Ah, miserable dog!” thundered Herne; ”dost thou think I am to be hurt by mortal hands, or mortal weapons? Thy former experience should have taught thee differently. But since thou hast provoked it, take thy fate!”
Uttering these words, he seized Fenwolf by the throat, clutching him with a terrific gripe, and in a few seconds the miserable wretch would have paid the penalty of his rashness, if a person had not at the moment appeared at the doorway. Flinging his prey hastily backwards, Herne turned at the interruption, and perceived old Tristram Lyndwood, who looked appalled at what he beheld.
”Ah, it is thou, Tristram?” cried Herne; ”thou art just in time to witness the punishment of this rebellious hound.”
”Spare him, dread master! oh, spare him!” cried Tristram imploringly.
”Well,” said Herne, gazing at the half-strangled caitiff, ”he may live. He will not offend again. But why hast thou ventured from thy hiding-place, Tristram?”
”I came to inform you that I have just observed a person row across the lake in the skiff,” replied the old man. ”He appears to be taking the direction of the secret entrance to the cave.”
”It is Sir Thomas Wyat,” replied Herne, ”I am aware of his proceedings. Stay with Fenwolf till he is able to move, and then proceed with him to the cave. But mark me, no violence must be done to Wyat if you find him there. Any neglect of my orders in this respect will be followed by severe punishment. I shall be at the cave ere long; but, meanwhile, I have other business to transact.”
And quitting the hut, he plunged into the wood.
Meanwhile, Sir Thomas Wyat, having crossed the lake, landed, and fastened the skiff to a tree, struck into the wood, and presently reached the open s.p.a.ce in which lay the secret entrance to the cave. He was not long in finding the stone, though it was so artfully concealed by the brushwood that it would have escaped any uninstructed eye, and removing it, the narrow entrance to the cave was revealed.
Committing himself to the protection of Heaven, Wyat entered, and having taken the precaution of drawing the stone after him, which was easily accomplished by a handle fixed to the inner side of it, he commenced the descent. At first, he had to creep along, but the pa.s.sage gradually got higher, until at length, on reaching the level ground, he was able to stand upright. There was no light to guide him, but by feeling against the sides of the pa.s.sage, he found that he was in the long gallery he had formerly threaded. Uncertain which way to turn, he determined to trust to chance for taking the right direction, and drawing his sword, proceeded slowly to the right.
For some time he encountered no obstacle, neither could he detect the slightest sound, but he perceived that the atmosphere grew damp, and that the sides of the pa.s.sage were covered with moisture. Thus warned, he proceeded with great caution, and presently found, after emerging into a more open s.p.a.ce, and striking off on the left, that he had arrived at the edge of the pool of water which he knew lay at the end of the large cavern.
While considering how he should next proceed, a faint gleam of light became visible at the upper end of the vault. Changing his position, for the pillars prevented him from seeing the source of the glimmer, he discovered that it issued from a lamp borne by a female hand, who he had no doubt was Mabel. On making this discovery, he sprang forwards, and called to her, but instantly repented his rashness, for as he uttered the cry the light was extinguished.
Wyat was now completely at a loss how to proceed. He was satisfied that Mabel was in the vault; but in what way to guide himself to her retreat he could not tell, and it was evident she herself would not a.s.sist him. Persuaded, however, if he could but make himself known, he should no longer be shunned, he entered one of the lateral pa.s.sages, and ever and anon, as he proceeded, repeated Mabel's name in a low, soft tone. The stratagem was successful. Presently he heard a light footstep approaching him, and a gentle voice inquired-”Who calls me?”
”A friend,” replied Wyat.
”Your name?” she demanded.
”You will not know me if I declare myself, Mabel,” he replied, ”but I am called Sir Thomas Wyat.”
”The name is well known to me,” she replied, in trembling tones; ”and I have seen you once-at my grandfather's cottage. But why have you come here? Do you know where you are?
”I know that I am in the cave of Herne the Hunter,” replied Wyat; ”and one of my motives for seeking it was to set you free. But there is nothing to prevent your flight now.”
”Alas! there is,” she replied. ”I am chained here by bonds I cannot break. Herne has declared that any attempt at escape on my part shall be followed by the death of my grandsire. And he does not threaten idly, as no doubt you know. Besides, the most terrible vengeance would fall on my own head. No,-I cannot-dare not fly. But let us not talk in the dark. Come with me to procure a light. Give me your hand, and I will lead you to my cell.”
Taking the small, trembling hand offered him, Wyat followed his conductress down the pa.s.sage. A few steps brought them to a door, which she pushed aside, and disclosed a small chamber, hewn out of the rock, in a recess of which a lamp was burning. Lighting the lamp which she had recently extinguished, she placed it on a rude table.
”Have you been long a prisoner here?” asked Wyat, fixing his regards upon her countenance, which, though it had lost somewhat of its bloom, had gained much in interest and beauty.
”For three months, I suppose,” she replied; ”but I am not able to calculate the lapse of time. It has seemed very-very long. Oh that I could behold the sun again, and breathe the fresh, pure air!
”Come with me, and you shall do so,” rejoined Wyat.
”I have told you I cannot fly,” she answered. ”I cannot sacrifice my grandsire.”
”But if he is leagued with this demon he deserves the worst fate that can befall him,” said Wyat. ”You should think only of your own safety. What can be the motive of your detention?”
”I tremble to think of it,” she replied; ”but I fear that Herne has conceived a pa.s.sion for me.”
”Then indeed you must fly,” cried Wyat; ”such unhallowed love will tend to perdition of soul and body.”
”Oh that there was any hope for me!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.
”There is hope,” replied Wyat. ”I will protect you-will care for you-will love you.”
”Love me!” exclaimed Mabel, a deep blush overspreading her pale features. ”You love another.”
”Absence has enabled me to overcome the vehemence of my pa.s.sion,” replied Wyat, ”and I feel that my heart is susceptible of new emotions. But you, maiden,” he added coldly, ”you are captivated by the admiration of the king.”