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

“Then there is little doubt what your grace's decision will be,” laughed Surrey. “To speak truth, it was the fear of your consulting her that made me bring you here. What say you to a ride in the forest to-morrow night?”

“I have little fancy for it,” replied Richmond; “and if you will be ruled by me, you will not attempt the enterprise yourself.”

“My resolution is taken,” said the earl; “but now, since we have reached the brow of the hill, let us push forward to the lake.”

A rapid ride of some twenty minutes brought them to the edge of the lake, and they proceeded along the verdant path leading to the forester's hut. On arriving at the dwelling, it appeared wholly deserted, but they nevertheless dismounted, and tying their horses to the trees at the back of the cottage, entered it. While they were examining the lower room, the plash of oars reached their ears, and rushing to the window, they descried the skiff rapidly approaching the shore. A man was seated within it, whose attire, though sombre, seemed to proclaim him of some rank, but as his back was towards them, they could not discern his features. In another instant the skiff touched the strand, and the rower leaping ashore, proved to be Sir Thomas Wyat. On making this discovery they both ran out to him, and the warmest greetings passed between them. When these were over, Surrey expressed his surprise to Wyat at seeing him there, declaring he was wholly unaware of his return from the court of France.

“I came back about a month ago,” said Wyat. “His majesty supposes me at Allington; nor shall I return to court without a summons.”

“I am not sorry to hear it,” said Surrey; “but what are you doing here?”

“My errand is a strange and adventurous one,” replied Wyat. “You may have heard that before I departed for France I passed some days in the forest in company with Herne the Hunter. What then happened to me I may not disclose; but I vowed never to rest till I have freed this forest from the weird being who troubles it.”

“Say you so?” cried Surrey; “then you are most fortunately encountered, Sir Thomas, for I myself, as Richmond will tell you, am equally bent upon the fiend's expulsion. We will be companions in the adventure.”

“We will speak of that anon,” replied Wyat. “I was sorry to find this cottage uninhabited, and the fair damsel who dwelt within it, when I beheld it last, gone. What has become of her?

“It is a strange story,” said Richmond. And he proceeded to relate all that was known to have befallen Mabel.

Wyat listened with profound attention to the recital, and at its close, said, “I think I can find a clue to this mystery, but to obtain it I must go alone. Meet me here at midnight to-morrow, and I doubt not we shall be able to accomplish our design.”

“May I not ask for some explanation of your scheme?” said Surrey.

“Not yet,” rejoined Wyat. “But I will freely confess to you that there is much danger in the enterprise—danger that I would not willingly any one should share with me, especially you, Surrey, to whom I owe so much. If you do not find me here, therefore, to-morrow night, conclude that I have perished, or am captive.”

“Well, be it as you will, Wyat,” said Surrey; “but I would gladly accompany you, and share your danger.”

“I know it, and I thank you,” returned Wyat, warmly grasping the other's hand; “but much—nay, all—may remain to be done to-morrow night. You had better bring some force with you, for we may need it.”

“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 assured 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 assassin 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 assumed. His giant frame dilated, his eyes flashed fire, and the expression of his countenance was so fearful that Fenwolf shielded 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