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Windsor Castle

W >> William Harrison Ainsworth >> Windsor Castle




"Ah! by our Lady! and who may she be?" asked the king curiously.

"She can boast little in regard to birth, being grandchild to an old
forester," replied Wolsey; "but your majesty saw her at the hunting
party the other day."

"Ah, now I bethink me of her," said Henry. "A comely damsel, in good
sooth."

"I know not where her match is to be found," cried the cardinal. "Would
your majesty had seen her skim over the lake in a fairy boat managed
by herself, as I beheld her this morning. You would have taken her for a
water-sprite, except that no water-sprite was half so beautiful."

"You speak in raptures, cardinal," cried Henry. "I must see this damsel
again. Where does she dwell? I have heard, but it has slipped my
memory."

"In a hut near the great lake," replied Wolsey. "There is some mystery
attached to her birth, which I have not yet fathomed."

"Leave me to unriddle it," replied the king laughingly.

And he turned to talk on other subjects to Campeggio, but Wolsey felt
satisfied that the device was successful. Nor was he mistaken. As
Henry retired from the banquet,he motioned the Duke of Suffolk
towards him, and said, in an undertone -

"I shall go forth at dusk to-morrow even in disguise, and shall require
your attendance."

"On a love affair? " asked the duke, in the same tone.

Perchance," replied Henry; "but I will explain myself more fully anon."

This muttered colloquy was overheard by Patch, and faithfully reported
by him to the cardinal.



III. Of the Visit of the Two Guildford Merchants to the Forester's Hut.


Tristam Lyndwood did not return home till late in the evening; and when
informed of the cardinal's visit, he shook his head gravely.

"I am sorry we went to the hunting party," he observed. "Valentine
Hagthorne said mischief would come of it, and I wish I had attended to
his advice."

I see no mischief in the matter, grandsire," cried Mabel. "On the
contrary, I think I have met with excellent fortune. The good cardinal
promises me a high destiny, and says the king himself noticed me."

"Would his regards had fallen anywhere than on you," rejoined Tristram.
"But I warrant me you told the cardinal your history--all you know of it,
at least."

"I did so," she replied; "nor did I know I was doing any harm."

"Answer no such inquiries in future," said Tristram angrily.

"But, grandfather, I could not refuse to answer the cardinal," she
replied, in a deprecating voice.

"No more excuses, but attend to my injunctions," said Tristram. "Have
you seen Morgan Fenwolf to-day?"

"No; and I care not if I never see him again," she replied pettishly.

"You dislike him strangely, Mab," rejoined her grandfather; "he is the
best keeper in the forest, and makes no secret of his love for you."

"The very reason why I dislike him," she returned.

"By the same rule, if what the cardinal stated be true--though, trust me,
he was but jesting--you ought to dislike the king. But get my supper. I
have need of it, for I have fasted long."

Mabel hastened to obey, and set a mess of hot pottage and other
viands before him. Little more conversation passed between them, for
the old man was weary, and sought his couch early.

That night Mabel did nothing but dream of the king--of stately
chambers, rich apparel, and countless attendants. She awoke, and
finding herself in a lowly cottage, and without a single attendant, was,
like other dreamers of imaginary splendour, greatly discontented.

The next morning her grandsire went again to Bray Wood, and she was
left to muse upon the event of the previous day. While busied about
some trifling occupation, the door suddenly opened, and Morgan
Fenwolf entered the cottage. He was followed by a tall man, with a
countenance of extreme paleness, but a noble and commanding figure.
There was something so striking in the appearance of the latter person,
that it riveted the attention of Mabel. But no corresponding effect was
produced on the stranger, for he scarcely bestowed a look upon her.

Morgan Fenwolf hastily asked whether her grandsire was at home, or
near at hand, and being answered in the negative, appeared much
disappointed. He then said that he must borrow the skiff for a short
while, as he wished to visit some nets on the lake. Mabel readily
assented, and the stranger quitted the house, while Fenwolf lingered to
offer some attention to Mabel, which was so ill received that he was
fain to hurry forth to the boathouse, where he embarked with his
companion. As soon as the plash of oars announced their departure,
Mabel went forth to watch them. The stranger, who was seated in the
stern of the boat, for the first time fixed his large melancholy eyes full
upon her, and did not withdraw his gaze till an angle of the lake hid him
from view.

Marvelling who he could be, and reproaching herself for not questioning
Fenwolf on the subject, Mabel resolved to repair the error when the
skiff was brought back. But the opportunity did not speedily occur.
Hours flew by, the shades of evening drew on, but neither Fenwolf nor
the stranger returned.

Soon after dusk her grandfather came home. He did not express the
least astonishment at Fenwolf's prolonged absence, but said that he
was sure to be back in the course of the evening, and the skiff was not
wanted.

"He will bring us a fine jack or a carp for dinner to-morrow, I'll warrant
me," he said. "If he had returned in time we might have had fish for
supper. No matter. I must make shift with the mutton pie and a rasher
of bacon. Morgan did not mention the name of his companion, you
say?"

"He did not," replied Mabel; "but I hope he will bring him with him. He is
the goodliest gentleman I ever beheld."

"What! a goodlier gentleman than the king!" cried Tristram.

"Nay, they should not be compared," replied Mabel: "the one is stout
and burly; the other slight, long-visaged, and pale, but handsome
withal--very handsome."

Well, I daresay I shall see him anon," said Tristram. "And now for
supper, for I am as sharp-set as a wolf; and so is old Hubert," he added,
glancing affectionately at the hound by which he was attended.

Mabel placed the better part of a huge pie before him, which the old
forester attacked with great zeal. He then fell to work upon some
slices of bacon toasted over the embers by his granddaughter, and
having washed them down with a jug of mead, declared he had supped
famously. While taking care of himself, he did not forget his hound.
From time to time he threw him morsels of the pie, and when he had
done he gave him a large platterful of bones.

"Old Hubert has served me faithfully nigh twenty years," he said, patting
the hound's shaggy neck, "and must not be neglected."

Throwing a log of wood on the fire, he drew his chair into the ingle-
nook, and disposed himself to slumber. Meanwhile, Mabel busied
herself about her household concern, and was singing a lulling melody
to her grandfather, in a voice of exquisite sweetness, when a loud tap
was heard at the door. Tristram roused himself from his doze, and old
Hubert growled menacingly.

"Quiet, Hubert--quiet!" cried Tristram. "It cannot be Morgan Fenwolf,"
he added. "He would never knock thus. Come in, friend, whoever thou
art."

At this invitation two persons darkened the doorway. The foremost
was a man of bulky frame and burly demeanour. He was attired in a
buff jerkin, over which he wore a loose great surcoat; had a flat velvet
cap on his head; and carried a stout staff in his hand. His face was
broad and handsome, though his features could scarcely be discerned
in the doubtful light to which they were submitted. A reddish-coloured
beard clothed his chin. His companion, who appeared a trifle the taller
of the two, and equally robust, was wrapped in a cloak of dark green
camlet.

"Give you good e'en, friend," said the foremost stranger to the forester.
"We are belated travellers, on our way from Guildford to Windsor, and,
seeing your cottage, have called to obtain some refreshment before we
cross the great park. We do not ask you to bestow a meal upon us, but
will gladly pay for the best your larder affords."

You shall have it, and welcome, my masters," replied Tristram,"but I am
afraid my humble fare will scarcely suit you."

"Fear nothing," replied the other; "we have good appetites, and are not
over dainty. Beshrew me, friend," he added, regarding Mabel, "you have
a comely daughter."

"5he is my granddaughter, sir," replied Tristram.

"Well, your granddaughter, then," said the other; "by the mass, a lovely
wench. We have none such in Guildford, and I doubt if the king hath
such in Windsor Castle. What say you, Charles Brandon?"

"It were treason to agree with you, Harry La Roy," replied Brandon,
laughing, "for they say the king visits with the halter all those who
disparage the charms of the Lady Anne Boleyn. But, comparisons
apart, this damsel is very fair."

"You will discompose her, my masters, if you praise her thus to her
face," said Tristram somewhat testily. " Here, Mab, bring forth all my
scanty larder affords, and put some rashers of bacon on the fire."

"Cold meat and bread will suffice for us," said Harry: "we will not trouble
the damsel to play the cook."

With this Mabel, who appeared a good deal embarrassed by the
presence of the strangers, spread a cloth of snow-white linen on the
little table, and placed the remains of the pie and a large oven cake
before them. The new-comers sate down, and ate heartily of the
humble viands, he who had answered to the name of Harry frequently
stopping in the course of his repast to compliment his fair attendant.

"By our Lady, I have never been so waited on before," he added, rising
and removing his stool towards the fire, while his companion took up a
position, with his back against the wall, near the fireplace. "And now,
my pretty Mabel, have you never a cup of ale to wash down the pie?"

"I can offer you a draught of right good mead, master," said Tristram;
"and that is the only liquor my cottage can furnish."

"Nothing can be better," replied Harry. "The mead, by all means,"

While Mabel went to draw the liquor, Tristram fixed his eyes on Harry,
whose features were now fully revealed by the light of the fire.

"Why do you look at me so hard, friend?" demanded Harry bluffly.

"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 lusty thigh in true royal fashion.

"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."

"God'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 fashion 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
assure 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 shield 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 noble 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 grassy 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 assigning 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."

Again Herne laughed bitterly.

Sir Thomas Wyat told you he would seek me out," said the demon. "He
did so, and gave himself to me for Anne Boleyn."

"But you have no power over her, demon?" cried Surrey, shuddering.

"You will learn whether I have or not, in due time," replied Herne. "Do
you refuse to go with me?"

I refuse to deliver myself to perdition," rejoined the earl.

"An idle fear," rejoined Herne. " I care not for your soul--you will destroy
it without my aid. I have need of you. You shall be back again in this
chamber before the officer visits it in the morning, and no one shall be
aware of your absence. Come, or I will bear you hence."

"You dare not touch me," replied Surrey, placing his hand upon his
breast; "I am armed with a holy relic."

"I know it," said Herne; "and I feel its power, or I would not have trifled
with you thus long. But it cannot shield you from a rival. You believe
the Fair Geraldine constant--ha?"

"I know her to he so," said Surrey.

A derisive laugh broke from Herne.

"Peace, mocking fiend!" cried Surrey furiously.

I laugh to think how you are deceived," said Herne. "Would you behold
your mistress now?--would you see how she conducts herself during
your absence?"

"If you choose to try me, I will not oppose the attempt," replied Surrey;
"but it will be futile."

"Remove the relic from your person," rejoined Herne. "Place it upon the
table, within your grasp, and you shall see her."

Surrey hesitated; but he was not proof against the low mocking laugh
of the demon.

"No harm can result from it," he cried at length, detaching the relic from
his neck, and laying it on the table.

"Extinguish the light!" cried Herne, in a commanding voice.

Surrey instantly sprang to his feet, and dashed the lamp off the table.
"Behold!" cried the demon.

And instantly a vision, representing the form and lineaments of the Fair
Geraldine to the life, shone forth against the opposite wall of the
chamber. At the feet of the visionary damsel knelt a shape resembling
the Duke of Richmond. He was pressing the hand extended to him by
the Fair Geraldine to his lips, and a smile of triumph irradiated his
features.

" Such is man's friendship--such woman's constancy!" cried Herne. "Are
you now satisfied?"

"I am, that you have deceived me, false spirit!" cried the earl. "I would
not believe the Fair Geraldine inconstant, though all hell told me so."

A terrible laugh broke from the demon, and the vision faded away. All
became perfect darkness, and for a few moments the earl remained
silent. He then called to the demon, but receiving no answer, put forth
his hand towards the spot where he had stood. He was gone.

Confounded, Surrey returned to the table, and searched for the relic,
but, with a feeling of indescribable anguish and self-reproach, found
that it had likewise disappeared.



V. What befell Sir Thomas Wyat in the Sandstone Cave--And how he
drank a maddening Potion.


THE cave in which Sir Thomas Wyat found himself, on the removal of
the bandage from his eyes, was apparently--for it was only lighted by a
single torch--of considerable width and extent, and hewn out of a bed of
soft sandstone. The roof, which might be about ten feet high, was
supported by the trunks of three large trees rudely fashioned into
pillars. There were several narrow lateral passages within it,
apparently communicating with other caverns; and at the farther end,
which was almost buried in obscurity, there was a gleam seemingly
occasioned by the reflection of the torchlight upon water. On the right
hand stood a pile of huge stones, disposed somewhat in the form of a
Druidical altar, on the top of which, as on a throne, sat the demon
hunter, surrounded by his satellites--one of whom, horned and bearded
like a satyr, had clambered the roughened sides of the central pillar,
and held a torch over the captive's head.

Half-stifled by the noxious vapour he had inhaled, and blinded by the
tightness of the bandage, it was some time before Wyat fully recovered
his powers of sight and utterance.

"Why am I brought hither, false fiend?" he demanded at length.

"To join my band," replied the demon harshly and imperiously.

"Never!" rejoined Wyat. "I will have nought to do with you, except as
regards our compact."

" What I require from you is part of our compact," rejoined the demon.
"He who has once closed hands with Herne the Hunter cannot retreat.
But I mean you fairly, and will not delude you with false expectation.
What you seek cannot he accomplished on the instant. Ere three days
Anne Boleyn shall be yours."

"Give me some proof that you are not deceiving me, spirit," said Wyat.

"Come, then! " replied Herne. So saying, he sprang from the stone, and,
taking Wyat's hand, led him towards the lower end of the cave, which
gradually declined till it reached the edge of a small but apparently
deep pool of water, the level of which rose above the rock that formed
its boundary.

"Remove the torch!" thundered the demon to those behind. "Now
summon your false love, Sir Thomas Wyat," he added, as his orders
were obeyed, and the light was taken into one of the side passages, so
that its gleam no longer fell upon the water.

"Appear, Anne Boleyn!" cried Wyat.

Upon this a shadowy resemblance of her he had invoked flitted over the
surface of the water, with hands outstretched towards him. So moved
was Wyat by the vision, that he would have flung himself into the pool
to grasp it if he had not been forcibly detained by the demon. During
the struggle the figure vanished, and all was buried in darkness.

"I have said she shall be yours," cried Herne; "but time is required for
the accomplishment of my purpose. I have only power over her when
evil is predominant in her heart. But such moments are not
unfrequent," he added, with a bitter laugh. "And now to the chase. I
promise you it will be a wilder and more exciting ride than you ever
enjoyed in the king's company. To the chase!--to the chase, I say!"

Sounding a call upon his horn, the light instantly reappeared. All was
stir and confusion amid the impish troop--and presently afterwards a
number of coal-black horses, and hounds of the same hue, leashed in
couples, were brought out of one of the side passages. Among the
latter were two large sable hounds of Saint Hubert's breed, whom
Herne summoned to his side by the names of Saturn and Dragon.

A slight noise, as of a blow dealt against a tree, was now heard
overhead, and Herne, imposing silence on the group by a hasty gesture,
assumed an attitude of fixed attention. The stroke was repeated a
second time.

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