Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth (digital book reader txt) 📖
- Author: William Harrison Ainsworth
Book online «Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth (digital book reader txt) 📖». Author William Harrison Ainsworth
Viewed from a recess which has been partly closed, the appearance of this chamber is equally picturesque and singular; and it is scarcely possible to pass beneath its huge beams or to gaze at the fantastic yet striking combinations they form in connection with the deep embrasures, the steep staircases and trap-doors, and not feel that the whole place belongs to romance, and that a multitude of strange and startling stories must be connected with it. The old architects were indeed great romancers, and built for the painter and the poet.
Bouchier and his companion crept about under the great meshwork of beams-peered into all the embrasures, and beneath the carriages of the culverins. There was a heap of planks and beams lying on the floor between the two staircases, but no one was near it.
The result of their investigations did not tend to decrease their alarm. Bouchier would fain have had the man keep watch in the chamber, but neither threats nor entreaties could induce him to remain there. He was therefore sent below, and the captain returned to the roof. He had scarcely emerged upon the leads when the hammering recommenced more violently than before. In vain Bouchier ordered his men to go down. No one would stir; and superstitious fear had by this time obtained such mastery over the captain, that he hesitated to descend alone. To add to his vexation, the arquebusier had taken the torch with him, so that he should have to proceed in darkness.
At length he mustered up courage to make the attempt; but he paused between each step, peering through the gloom, and half fancying he could discern the figure of Herne near the spot where the pile of wood lay. Certain it was that the sound of diabolical laughter, mingled with the rattling of the chain and the sharp blows of the hammer, smote his ears. The laughter became yet louder as Bouchier advanced, the hammering ceased, and the clanking of the chain showed that its mysterious wearer was approaching the foot of the steps to meet him. But the captain had not nerve enough for the encounter. Invoking the protection of the saints, he beat a precipitate retreat, and closed the little door at the head of the steps after him.
The demon was apparently satisfied with the alarm he had occasioned, for the hammering was not renewed at that time.
VIII. Showing the Vacillations of the King between Wolsey and Anne Boleyn.
Before returning to the state apartments, Henry took a turn on the ramparts on the north side of the castle, between the Curfew Tower and the Winchester Tower, and lingered for a short time on the bastion commanding that part of the acclivity where the approach, called the Hundred Steps, is now contrived. Here he cautioned the sentinels to be doubly vigilant throughout the night, and having gazed for a moment at the placid stream flowing at the foot of the castle, and tinged with the last rays of the setting sun, he proceeded to the royal lodgings, and entered the banquet chamber, where supper was already served.
Wolsey sat on his right hand, but he did not vouchsafe him a single word, addressing the whole of his discourse to the Duke of Suffolk, who was placed on his left. As soon as the repast was over, he retired to his closet. But the cardinal would not be so repulsed, and sent one of his gentlemen to crave a moment's audience of the king, which with some reluctance was accorded.
“Well, cardinal,” cried Henry, as Wolsey presented himself, and the usher withdrew. “You are playing a deep game with me, as you think; but take heed, for I see through it.” “I pray you dismiss these suspicions from your mind, my liege,” said Wolsey. “No servant was ever more faithful to his master than I have been to you.”
“No servant ever took better care of himself,” cried the king fiercely. “Not alone have you wronged me to enrich yourself, but you are ever intriguing with my enemies. I have nourished in my breast a viper; but I will cast you off—will crush you as I would the noxious reptile.”
And he stamped upon the floor, as if he could have trampled the cardinal beneath his foot.
“Beseech you calm yourself, my liege,” replied Wolsey, in the soft and deprecatory tone which he had seldom known to fail with the king. “I have never thought of my own aggrandisement, but as it was likely to advance your power. For the countless benefits I have received at your hands, my soul overflows with gratitude. You have raised me from the meanest condition to the highest. You have made me your confidant, your adviser, your treasurer, and with no improper boldness I say it, your friend. But I defy the enemies who have poisoned your ears against me, to prove that I have ever abused the trust placed in me. The sole fault that can be imputed to me is, that I have meddled more with temporal matters than with spiritual, and it is a crime for which I must answer before Heaven. But I have so acted because I felt that I might thereby best serve your highness. If I have aspired to the papal throne—which you well know I have—it has been that I might be yet a more powerful friend to your majesty, and render you what you are entitled to be, the first prince in Christendom.”
“Tut, tut!” exclaimed the king, who was, nevertheless, moved by the artful appeal.
“The gifts I have received from foreign princes,” pursued Wolsey, seeing the effect he had produced, “the wealth I have amassed, have all been with a view of benefiting your majesty.” “Humph!” exclaimed the king.
“To prove that I speak the truth, sire,” continued the wily cardinal, “the palace at Hampton Court, which I have just completed—”
“And at a cost more lavish than I myself should have expended on it,” interrupted the king angrily.
“If I had destined it for myself, I should not have spent a tithe of what I have done,” rejoined Wolsey. “Your highness's unjust accusations force me to declare my intentions somewhat prematurely. Deign,” he cried, throwing at the king's feet, “deign to accept that palace and all within it. You were pleased, during your late residence there, to express your approval of it. And I trust it will find equal favour in your eyes, now that it is your own.”
“By holy Mary, a royal gift!” cried Henry. “Rise, You are not the grasping, selfish person you have been represented.”
“Declare as much to my enemies, sire, and I shall be more content. You will find the palace better worth acceptance than at first sight might
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