Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth (digital book reader txt) 📖

“Far be it from me to thwart your majesty's generous impulses,” rejoined Suffolk. “It is true that Wyat has saved your life; and if he had been disposed to take it, you have this moment exposed yourself to him.”

“Sir Thomas Wyat,” said the king, turning to him, “you have my full and free pardon. Quit this forest instantly, and make your way to Paris. If you are found within it to-morrow you will be lodged in the Tower.”

Wyat knelt down, and would have pressed Henry's hand to his lips, but the latter pushed him aside.

“No—no! Not now—on your return.”

Thus rebuffed, Wyat strode away, and as he passed the tree he heard a voice exclaim, “You have escaped him, but think not to escape me!”

“And now, sweetheart,” said Henry, turning to Mabel, “since you are so far on the way, you shall go with me to the castle.”

“On no account, my liege,” she returned; “my grandsire will wonder what has become of me. He must already be in great alarm.”

“But I will send an attendant to quiet his fears,” urged Henry.

“That would only serve to increase them,” she rejoined. “Nay, I must go.”

And breaking from him, she darted swiftly down the hill, and glanced across the marsh like a moonbeam.

“Plague on it!” cried Henry, “I have again forgotten to question her about her birth.”

“Shall I despatch this knave, my liege?” cried Suffolk, pointing with his sword to Fenwolf.

“By no means,” said the king; “something may be learnt from him. Hark thee, thou felon hound; if thou indeed servest the fiend, thou seest he deserts thee, as he does all who put faith in him.”

“I see it,” replied Fenwolf, who, finding resistance vain, had folded his hands doggedly upon his breast.

“Then confess thy evil practices,” said the king.

“Give me my life, and I will,” replied Fenwolf. And as he uttered the words, he caught sight of the dark figure of Herne, stationed at the side of the oak, with its right arm raised menacingly.

“What seest thou?” cried Henry, remarking his fixed gaze towards the tree, and glancing in that direction.

Fenwolf made no reply.

Henry went up to the tree, and walked round it, but he could see nothing.

“I will scour the forest to-morrow,” he muttered, “and hang every knave I find within it who cannot give a good account of himself.”

“Ho! ho! ho!” laughed a voice, which seemed to proceed from the branches of the tree. Henry looked up, but no one was visible.

“God's death—derided!” he roared. “Man or devil, thou shalt feel my wrath.”

“Ho! ho! ho!” again laughed the voice.

Stamping with rage, Henry swore a great oath, and smote the trunk of the tree with his sword.

“Your majesty will search in vain,” said Suffolk; “it is clearly the fiend with whom you have to deal, and the aid of holy priests must be obtained to drive him from the forest.”

“Ho! ho! ho!” again laughed the voice.

A party of horsemen now appeared in view. They proved to be the royal attendants, who had ridden forward in search of the king, and were instantly hailed by Henry and Suffolk. They were headed by Captain Bouchier, who at a sign from the king instantly dismounted.

“Give me your horse, Bouchier,” said Henry, “and do you and half-a-dozen of your men remain on guard at this tree till I send a troop of arquebusiers to relieve you. When they arrive, station them near it, and let them remain here till I return in the morning. If any one appears, make him a prisoner.”

“Your majesty's orders shall be faithfully obeyed,” replied Bouchier.

Bound hand and foot, Fenwolf was thrown upon the back of a horse, and guarded by two halberdiers, who were prepared to strike him dead on the slightest movement. In this way he was conveyed to the castle, and placed in the guard-chamber of the lower gate till further orders should be issued respecting him.