Windsor Castle, Book 6 — Chapter II

The next morning betimes, it being the day of the Patron Saint of the Order of the Garter, a numerous cavalcade assembled in the upper ward of the castle, to conduct the king to hear matins in Saint George's Chapel.

In order to render the sight as imposing as possible, Henry had arranged that the procession should take place on horseback, and the whole of the retinue were accordingly mounted.

The large quadrangle was filled with steeds and their attendants, and the castle walls resounded with the fanfares of trumpets and the beating of kettledrums.

The most attractive feature of the procession in the eyes of the beholders was the Lady Anne, who, mounted on a snow-white palfrey richly trapped, rode on the right of the king.

She was dressed in a rich gown of raised cloth of gold; and had a coronet of black velvet, decorated with orient pearls, on her head.

Never had she looked so lovely as on this occasion, and the king's passion increased as he gazed upon her.

Henry himself was more sumptuously attired than on the preceding day.

He wore a robe of purple velvet, made somewhat like a frock, embroidered with flat damask gold, and small lace intermixed.

His doublet was very curiously embroidered, the sleeves and breast being lined with cloth of gold, and fastened with great buttons of diamonds and rubies.

His sword and girdle were adorned with magnificent emeralds, and his bonnet glistened with precious stones.

His charger was trapped in cloth of gold, traversed lattice-wise, square, embroidered with gold damask, pearled on every side, and having buckles and pendants of fine gold.

By his side ran ten footmen, richly attired in velvet and goldsmith's work.

They were followed by the pages of honour, mounted on great horses, trapped in crimson velvet embroidered with new devices and knots of gold.

In this state Henry and his favourite proceeded to the great western door of Saint George's Chapel.

Here twelve gentlemen of the privy-chamber attended with a canopy of cloth of gold, which they bore over the king's bead, and that of the Lady Anne, as she walked beside him to the entrance of the choir, where they separated--he proceeding to his stall, and she to a closet at the north-east corner of the choir over the altar, while her ladies repaired to one adjoining it.

Matins then commenced, and at the appointed part of the service the dean of the college took a silver box, containing the heart of Saint George, bestowed upon King Henry the Fifth by the Emperor Sigismund, and after incense had been shed upon it by one of the canons, presented it to the king and the knights-companions to kiss.

After the offertory, a carpet was spread on the steps before the altar, the alms-knights, pursuivants, and heralds stationing themselves on either side of it.

The Garter then descended from his seat, and waving his rod, the knights-companions descended likewise, but remained before their stalls.

The black-rod next descended, and proceeding towards the altar, a groom of the wardrobe brought him a small carpet of cloth of gold, and a cushion of the same stuff, which were placed on the larger carpet, the cushion being set on the head of the steps.

Taking a large gilt bason to receive the offerings, the prelate stationed himself with one of the prebends in the midst of the altar.

The king then rose from his stall, and making a reverence as before, proceeded to the altar, attended by the Garter, register, and chancellor, together with the Duke of Richmond bearing the sword; and having reached the upper step, prostrated himself on the cushion, while the black-rod bending the knee delivered a chain of gold, intended afterwards to be redeemed, to the Duke of Suffolk, who was appointed to make the royal offering, and who placed it in the bason held by the prelate.

This ceremony over, the king got up, and with similar reverences returned to his stall.

Then the two provincial kings, Clarenceux and Norroy, proceeded along the choir, and making due reverences to the altar and the sovereign, bowed to the two senior knights; who thereupon advanced towards the altar, and kneeling down, made their offering.

The other imitated their example, coming forward according to their seniority.

The service ended, the officers and knights-companions quitted the chapel in the same order they had entered it, the king being received under the canopy at the door of the choir, and passing through the west entrance of the chapel, where he waited for the Lady Anne.

On her arrival they both mounted their steeds, and rode up to the royal lodgings amid flourishes of trumpets and acclamations.

Dismounting at the great gate, Henry proceeded to the presence-chamber, where the knights-companions had assembled, and having received their salutations, retired to his closet.

Here he remained in deep consultation with the Duke of Suffolk for some hours, when it having been announced to him that the first course of the banquet was served, he came forth, and proceeded to the presence-chamber, where he greeted the knights-companions, who were there assembled, and who immediately put themselves in order of procession.

After this, the alms-knights, prebends, and officers-of-arms passed on through the guard-chamber into Saint George's Hall.

They were followed by the knights-companions, who drew up in double file, the seniors taking the uppermost place; and through these lines the king passed, his train borne up as before, until reaching the table set apart for him beneath a canopy, he turned round and received the knights' reverences.

The Earl of Oxford, as vice-chamberlain, then brought him a ewer containing water, the Earl of Surrey a bason, and Lord Rochford a napkin.

Henry having performed his ablutions, grace was said by the prelate, after which the king seated himself beneath the canopy in an ancient chair with a curiously carved back representing the exploit of Saint George, which had once belonged to the founder, King Edward the Third, and called up the two cardinals, who by this time had entered the hall, and who remained standing beside him, one on either hand, during the repast.

As soon as the king was seated, the knights-companions put on their caps, and retired to the table prepared for them on the right side of the hall, where they seated themselves according to their degree--the Duke of Richmond occupying the first place, the Duke of Suffolk the second, and the Duke of Norfolk the third.

On the opposite side of the hall was a long beaufet covered with flasks of wine, meats, and dishes, for the service of the knights' table.

Before this stood the attendants, near whom were drawn up two lines of pensioners bearing the second course on great gilt dishes, and headed by the sewer.

In front of the sewer were the treasurer and comptroller of the household, each bearing a white wand; next them stood the officers-of-arms in two lines, headed by the Garter.

The bottom of the hall was thronged with yeomen of the guard, halberdiers, and henchmen.

In a gallery at the lower end were stationed a band of minstrels, and near them sat the Lady Anne and her dames to view the proceedings.

The appearance of the hall during the banquet was magnificent, the upper part being hung with arras representing the legend of Saint George, placed there by Henry the Sixth, and the walls behind the knights-companions adorned with other tapestries and rich stuffs.

The tables groaned with the weight of dishes, some of which may be enumerated for the benefit of modern gastronomers.

There were Georges on horseback, chickens in brewis, cygnets, capons of high grease, carpes of venison, herons, calvered salmon, custards planted with garters, tarts closed with arms, godwits, peafowl, halibut engrailed, porpoise in armour, pickled mullets, perch in foyle, venison pasties, hypocras jelly, and mainemy royal.

Before the second course was served, the Garter, followed by Clarenceux and Norroy, together with the heralds and pursuivants, advanced towards the sovereign's canopy, and cried thrice in a loud voice, “Largesse!

” Upon this, all the knights-companions arose and took off their caps.

The Garter then proceeded to proclaim the king's titles in Latin and French, and lastly in English, as follows:--“Of the most high, most excellent, and most mighty monarch, Henry the Eighth, by the grace of God King of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of the most noble Order of the Garter.

” This proclamation made, the treasurer of the household put ten golden marks into the Garter's cap, who making a reverence to the sovereign, retired from the hall with his followers.

“Come, my lord legate,” said Henry, when this ceremony was at an end, “we will drink to my future queen.

What ho!

wine!

” he added to the Earl of Surrey, who officiated as cup-bearer.

“Your highness is not yet divorced from your present consort,” replied Campeggio.

“If it please you, I should prefer drinking the health of Catherine of Arragon.

” “Well, as your eminence pleases,” replied the king, taking the goblet from the hand of Surrey; “I shall not constrain you.

” And looking towards the gallery, he fixed his eyes on the Lady Anne and drained the cup to the last drop.

“Would it were poison,” muttered Sir Thomas Wyat, who stood behind the Earl of Surrey, and witnessed what was passing.

“Give not thy treasonable thoughts vent, gossip,” said Will Sommers, who formed one of the group near the royal table, “or it may chance that some one less friendly disposed towards thee than myself may overhear them.

I tell thee, the Lady Anne is lost to thee for ever.

Think'st thou aught of womankind would hesitate between a simple knight and a king?

My lord duke,” he added sharply to Richmond, who was looking round at him, “you would rather be in yonder gallery than here.

” “Why so, knave?

” asked the duke.

“Because the Fair Geraldine is there,” replied the jester.

“And yet your grace is not the person she would most desire to have with her.

” “Whom would she prefer?

” inquired the duke angrily.

The jester nodded at Surrey, and laughed maliciously.

“You heard the health given by the king just now, my lord,” observed the Duke of Suffolk to his neighbour the Duke of Norfolk; “it was a shrewd hint to the lord legate which way his judgment should decline.

Your niece will assuredly be Queen of England.

” “I did not note what was said, my lord,” replied Norfolk; “I pray you repeat it to me.

” Suffolk complied, and they continued in close debate until the termination of the banquet, when the king, having saluted the company, returned to the presence-chamber.

V.

Of the Ghostly Chase beheld by the Earl of Surrey and the Duke of Richmond in Windsor Forest.

On that same night, and just as the castle clock was on the stroke of twelve, the Earl of Surrey and the Duke of Richmond issued from the upper gate, and took their way towards Herne's Oak.

The moon was shining brightly, and its beams silvered the foliage of the noble trees with which the park was studded.

The youthful friends soon reached the blasted tree; but nothing was to be seen near it, and all looked so tranquil, so free from malignant influence, that the Duke of Richmond could not help laughing at his companion, telling him that the supposed vision must have been the offspring of his over-excited fancy.

Angry at being thus doubted, the earl walked off, and plunged into the haunted dell.

The duke followed, but though they paused for some time beneath the gnarled oak-tree, the spirit did not appear.

“And thus ends the adventure of Herne the Hunter!

” laughed the duke, as they emerged from the brake.

“By my halidom, Surrey, I am grievously disappointed.

You must have mistaken some large stag, caught by its antlers in the branches of the oak-tree, for the demon.

” “I have told you precisely what occurred,” replied Surrey angrily.

“Ha!

there he is--look!

look!

” And he pointed to a weird figure, mounted on a steed as weird-looking as itself, galloping through the trees with extraordinary swiftness, at a little distance from them.

This ghostly rider wore the antlered helmet described by Surrey, and seemed to be habited in a garb of deer-skins.

Before him flew a large owl, and a couple of great black dogs ran beside him.

Staring in speechless wonder at the sight, the two youths watched the mysterious being scour a glade brightly illumined by the moon, until, reaching the pales marking the confines of the Home Park, he leaped them and disappeared.

“What think you of that?

” cried Surrey, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise, glancing triumphantly at the duke.

“Was that the offspring of my fancy?

” “It was a marvellous sight, truly!

” exclaimed Richmond.

“Would we had our steeds to follow him.

” “We can follow him on foot,” replied the earl--“he is evidently gone into the forest.

” And they set off at a quick pace in the direction taken by the ghostly rider.

Clambering the park pales, they crossed the road leading to Old Windsor, and entered that part of the forest which, in more recent times, has been enclosed and allotted to the grounds of Frogmore.

Tracking a long vista, they came to a thick dell, overgrown with large oaks, at the bottom of which lay a small pool.

Fleeter than his companion, and therefore somewhat in advance of him, the Earl of Surrey, as he approached this dell, perceived the spectral huntsman and his dogs standing at the edge of the water.

The earl instantly shouted to him, and the horseman turning his head, shook his hand menacingly, while the hounds glared fiercely at the intruder, and displayed their fangs, but did not bark.

As Surrey, however, despite this caution, continued to advance, the huntsman took a strangely shaped horn that hung by his side, and placing it to his lips, flames and thick smoke presently issued from it, and before the vapour had cleared off, he and his dogs had disappeared..

The witnesses of this marvellous spectacle crossed themselves reverently, and descended to the brink of the pool; but the numerous footprints of deer, that came there to drink, prevented them from distinguishing any marks of the steed of the ghostly hunter.

“Shall we return, Surrey?

” asked the duke.

“No,” replied the earl.

“I am persuaded we shall see the mysterious huntsman again.

You can return, if you think proper.

I will go on.

” “Nay, I will not leave you,” rejoined Richmond.

And they set off again at the same quick pace as before.

Mounting a hill covered with noble beeches and elms, a magnificent view of the castle burst upon them, towering over the groves they had tracked, and looking almost like the work of enchantment.

Charmed with the view, the young men continued to contemplate it for some time.

They then struck off on the right, and ascended still higher, until they came to a beautiful grove of beeches cresting the hill where the equestrian statue of George the Third is now placed.

Skirting this grove, they disturbed a herd of deer, which started up, and darted into the valley below.

At the foot of two fine beech-trees lay another small pool, and Surrey almost expected to see the spectral huntsman beside it.

From this spot they could discern the whole of the valley beyond, and they scanned it in the hope of perceiving the object of their search.

Though not comparable to the view on the nearer side, the prospect was nevertheless exceedingly beautiful.

Long vistas and glades stretched out before them, while in the far distance might be seen glittering in the moonbeams the lake or mere which in later days has received the name of Virginia Water.

While they were gazing at this scene, a figure habited like a keeper of the forest suddenly emerged from the trees at the lower end of one of the glades.

Persuaded that this person had some mysterious connection with the ghostly huntsman, the earl determined to follow him, and hastily mentioning his suspicions and design to Richmond, he hurried down the hill.

But before he accomplished the descent, the keeper was gone.

At length, however, on looking about, they perceived him mounting the rising ground on the left, and immediately started after him, taking care to keep out of sight.

The policy of this course was soon apparent.

Supposing himself no longer pursued, the keeper relaxed his pace, and the others got nearer to him.

In this way both parties went on, the keeper still hurrying forward, every now and then turning his head to see whether any one was on his track, until he came to a road cut through the trees that brought him to the edge of a descent leading to the lake.

Just at this moment a cloud passed over the moon, burying all in comparative obscurity.

The watchers, however, could perceive the keeper approach an ancient beech-tree of enormous growth, and strike it thrice with the short hunting-spear which he held in his grasp.

The signal remaining unanswered, he quitted the tree, and shaped his course along the side of a hill on the right.

Keeping under the shelter of the thicket on the top of the same hill, Surrey and Richmond followed, and saw him direct his steps towards another beech-tree of almost double the girth of that he had just visited.

Arrived at this mighty tree, he struck it with his spear, while a large owl, seated on a leafless branch, began to hoot; a bat circled the tree; and two large snakes, glistening in the moonlight, glided from its roots.

As the tree was stricken for the third time, the same weird figure that the watchers had seen ride along the Home Park burst from its riften trunk, and addressed its summoner in tones apparently menacing and imperious, but whose import was lost upon the listeners.

The curiosity of the beholders was roused to the highest pitch, but an undefinable awe prevented them from rushing forward.

Suddenly the demon hunter waved a pike with which he was armed, and uttered a peculiar cry, resembling the hooting of an owl.

At this sound, and as if by magic, a couple of steeds, accompanied by the two hounds, started from the brake.

In an instant the demon huntsman vaulted upon the hack of the horse nearest to him, and the keeper almost as quickly mounted the other.

The pair then galloped off through the glen, the owl flying before them, and the hounds coursing by their side.

The two friends gazed at each other, for some time, in speechless wonder.

Taking heart, they then descended to the haunted tree, but could perceive no traces of the strange being by whom it had been recently tenanted.

After a while they retraced their course towards the castle, hoping they might once more encounter the wild huntsman.

Nor were they disappointed.

As they crossed a glen, a noble stag darted by.

Close at its heels came the two black hounds, and after them the riders hurrying forward at a furious pace, their steeds appearing to breathe forth flame and smoke.

In an instant the huntsmen and hounds were gone, and the trampling of the horses died away in the distance.

Soon afterwards a low sound, like the winding of a horn, broke upon the ear, and the listeners had no doubt that the buck was brought down.

They hurried in the direction of the sound, but though the view was wholly unobstructed for a considerable distance, they could see nothing either of horsemen, hounds, or deer.

VI.

How the Fair Geraldine bestowed a Relic upon her Lover--How Surrey and Richmond rode in the Forest at Midnight--And where they found the Body of Mark Fytton, the Butcher.

Surrey and Richmond agreed to say nothing for the present of their mysterious adventure in the forest; but their haggard looks, as they presented themselves to the Lady Anne Boleyn in the reception-chamber on the following morning, proclaimed that something had happened, and they had to undergo much questioning from the Fair Geraldine and the Lady Mary Howard.

“I never saw you so out of spirits, my lord,” remarked the Fair Geraldine to Surrey; “you must have spent the whole night in study--or what is more probable, you have again seen Herne the Hunter.

Confess now, you have been in the forest.

” “I will confess anything you please,” replied Surrey evasively.

“And what have you seen?

--a stranger vision than the first?

” rejoined the Fair Geraldine.

“Since your ladyship answers for me, there is no need for explanation on my part,” rejoined Surrey, with a faint laugh.

“And know you not, that those who encounter super natural beings are generally bound to profound secrecy?

” “Such, I hope, is not your case, Henry?

” cried the Lady Mary Howard, in alarm;--“nor yours, my lord?

” she added to the Duke of Richmond.

“I am bound equally with Surrey,” returned the duke mysteriously “You pique my curiosity, my lords,” said the Fair Geraldine; “and since there is no other way of gratifying it, if the Lady Mary Howard will accompany me, we will ourselves venture into the forest, and try whether we cannot have a meeting with this wild huntsman.

Shall we go to-night?

“Not for worlds,” replied the Lady Mary, shuddering; “were I to see Herne, I should die of fright.

” “Your alarm is groundless,” observed Richmond gallantly.

“The presence of two beings, fair and pure as yourself and the Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald, would scare away aught of evil.

” The Lady Mary thanked him with a beaming smile, but the Fair Geraldine could not suppress a slight laugh.

“Your grace is highly flattering,” she said.

“But, with all faith in beauty and purity, I should place most reliance in a relic I possess--the virtue of which has often been approved against evil spirits.

It was given by a monk--who had been sorely tempted by a demon, and who owed his deliverance to it--to my ancestor, Luigi Geraldi of Florence; and from him it descended to me.

” “Would I had an opportunity of proving its efficacy!

” exclaimed the Earl of Surrey.

“You shall prove it, if you choose,” rejoined the Fair Geraldine.

“I will give you the relic on condition that you never part with it to friend or foe.

” And detaching a small cross of gold, suspended by a chain from her neck, she presented it to the Earl of Surrey.

“This cross encloses the relic,” she continued; “wear it, and may it protect you from all ill!

” Surrey's pale cheek glowed as he took the gift.

“I will never past with it but with life,” he cried, pressing the cross to his lips, and afterwards placing it next his heart.

“I would have given half my dukedom to be so favoured,” said Richmond moodily.

And quitting the little group, he walked towards the Lady Anne.

“Henry,” said the Lady Mary, taking her brother aside, “you will lose your friend.

” “I care not,” replied Surrey.

“But you may incur his enmity,” pursued the Lady Mary.

“I saw the glance he threw at you just now, and it was exactly like the king's terrible look when offended.

” “Again I say I care not,” replied Surrey.

“Armed with this relic, I defy all hostility.

” “It will avail little against Richmond's rivalry and opposition,” rejoined his sister.

“We shall see,” retorted Surrey.

“Were the king himself my rival, I would not resign my pretensions to the Fair Geraldine.

” “Bravely resolved, my lord,” said Sir Thomas Wyat, who, having overheard the exclamation, advanced towards him.

“Heaven grant you may never be placed in such jeopardy!

” “I say amen to that prayer, Sir Thomas,” rejoined Surrey “I would not prove disloyal, and yet under such circumstances--” “What would you do?

” interrupted Wyat.

“My brother is but a hasty boy, and has not learned discretion, Sir Thomas,” interposed the Lady Mary, trying by a significant glance to impose silence on the earl.

“Young as he is, he loves well and truly,” remarked Wyat, in a sombre tone.

“What is all this?

” inquired the Fair Geraldine, who had been gazing through the casement into the court below.

“I was merely expressing a wish that Surrey may never have a monarch for a rival, fair lady,” replied Wyat.

“It matters little who may be his rival,” rejoined Geraldine, “provided she he loves be constant.

” “Right, lady, right,” said Wyat, with great bitterness.

At this moment Will Sommers approached them.

“I come to bid you to the Lady Anne's presence, Sir Thomas, and you to the king's, my lord of Surrey,” said the jester.

“I noticed what has just taken place,” he remarked to the latter, as they proceeded towards the royal canopy, beneath which Henry and the Lady Anne Boleyn were seated; “but Richmond will not relinquish her tamely, for all that.

” Anne Boleyn had summoned Sir Thomas Wyat, in order to gratify her vanity by showing him the unbounded influence she possessed over his royal rival; and the half-suppressed agony displayed by the unfortunate lover at the exhibition afforded her a pleasure such as only the most refined coquette can feel.

Surrey was sent for by the king to receive instructions, in his quality of vice-chamberlain, respecting a tilting-match and hunting-party to be held on successive days--the one in the upper quadrangle of the castle, the other in the forest.

Anxious, now that he was somewhat calmer, to avoid a rupture with Richmond, Surrey, as soon as he had received the king's instructions, drew near the duke; and the latter, who had likewise reasoned himself out of his resentment, was speedily appeased, and they became, to all appearance, as good friends as ever.

Soon afterwards the Lady Anne and her dames retired, and the court breaking up, the two young nobles strolled forth to the stately terrace at the north of the castle, where, while gazing at the glorious view it commanded, they talked over the mysterious event of the previous night.

“I cannot help suspecting that the keeper we beheld with the demon hunter was Morgan Fenwolf,” remarked the earl.

“Suppose we make inquiry whether he was at home last night.

We can readily find out his dwelling from Bryan Bowntance, the host of the Garter.

” Richmond acquiesced in the proposal, and they accordingly proceeded to the cloisters of Saint George's Chapel, and threading some tortuous passages contrived among the canons' houses, passed through a small porch, guarded by a sentinel, and opening upon a precipitous and somewhat dangerous flight of steps, hewn out of the rock and leading to the town.

None except the more important members of the royal household were allowed to use this means of exit from the castle, but, of course, the privilege extended to Richmond and Surrey.

Here in later times, and when the castle was not so strictly guarded, a more convenient approach was built, and designated, from the number of its stairs, “The Hundred Steps.

” Having accomplished the descent in safety, and given the password to the sentinel at the foot of the steps, the two young nobles emerged into the street, and the first object they beheld was the body of the miserable butcher swinging from the summit of the Curfew Tower, where it was left by order of the king.

Averting their gaze from this ghastly spectacle, they took their way up Thames Street, and soon reached the Garter.

Honest Bryan was seated on a bench before the dwelling, with a flagon of his own ale beside him, and rising as he saw the others approach, he made them a profound salutation.

Upon leaning what they sought, he told them that Morgan Fenwolf dwelt in a small cottage by the river-side not far from the bridge, and if it pleased them, he would guide them to it himself--an offer which they gladly accepted.

“Do you know anything of this Fenwolf?

” asked Surrey, as they proceeded on their way.

“Nothing particular,” replied Bryan, with some hesitation.

“There are some strange reports about him, but I don't believe 'em.

” “What reports are they, friend?

” asked the Duke of Richmond.

“Why, your grace, one ought to be cautious what one says, for fear of bringing an innocent man into trouble,” returned the host.

“But if the truth must be spoken, people do say that Morgan Fenwolf is in league with the devil--or with Herne the Hunter, which is the same thing.

” Richmond exchanged a look with his friend.

“Folks say strange sights have been seen in the forest of late,” pursued Bryan--“and it may be so.

But I myself have seen nothing--but then, to be sure, I never go there.

The keepers used to talk of Herne the Hunter when I was a lad, but I believe it was only a tale to frighten deer-stealers; and I fancy it's much the same thing now.

” Neither Surrey nor Richmond made any remark, and they presently reached the keeper's dwelling.

It was a small wooden tenement standing, as the host had stated, on the bank of the river, about a bow-shot from the bridge.

The door was opened by Bryan, and the party entered without further ceremony.

They found no one within except an old woman, with harsh, wrinkled features, and a glance as ill-omened as that of a witch, whom Bryan Bowntance told them was Fenwolf's mother.

This old crone regarded the intruders uneasily.

“Where is your son, dame?

” demanded the duke.

“On his walk in the forest,” replied the old crone bluntly.

“What time did he go forth?

” inquired Surrey.

“An hour before daybreak, as is his custom,” returned the woman, in the same short tone as before.

“You are sure he slept at home last night, dame?

” said Surrey.

“As sure as I am that the question is asked me,” she replied.

“I can show you the very bed on which he slept, if you desire to see it.

He retired soon after sunset--slept soundly, as he always sleeps--and arose as I have told you.

I lighted a fire, and made him some hot pottage myself.

” “If she speaks the truth, you must be mistaken,” observed Richmond in a whisper to his friend.

“I do not believe her,” replied Surrey, in the same tone.

“Show us his chamber, dame.

” The old crone sullenly complied, and, throwing open a side door, disclosed an inner apartment, in which there was a small bed.

There was nothing noticeable in the room except a couple of fishing-nets, a hunting-spear, and an old cross-bow.

A small open casement looked upon the river, whose clear sparkling waters flowed immediately beneath it.

Surrey approached the window, and obtained a fine view of the Brocas meads on the one hand, and the embowered college of Eton on the other.

His attention, however, was diverted by a fierce barking without, and the next moment, in spite of the vociferations of the old woman, a large black staghound, which Surrey recognised as Fenwolf's dog, Bawsey, burst through the door, and rushed furiously towards him.

Surrey drew his dagger to defend himself from the hound's attack, but the precaution was needless.

Bawsey's fierceness changed suddenly to the most abject submission, and with a terrified howl, she retreated from the room with' her tail between her legs.

Even the old woman uttered a cry of surprise.

“Lord help us!

” exclaimed Bryan; “was ever the like o' that seen?

Your lordship must have a strange mastery over dogs.

That hound,” he added, in a whisper, “is said to be a familiar spirit.

” “The virtue of the relic is approved,” observed Surrey to Richmond, in an undertone.

“It would seem so,” replied the duke.

The old woman now thought proper to assume a more respectful demeanour towards her visitors, and inquired whether her son should attend upon them on his return from the forest, but they said it was unnecessary.

“The king is about to have a grand hunting-party the day after to-morrow,” observed Surrey, “and we wished to give your son some instructions respecting it.

They can, however, be delivered to another keeper.

” And they departed with Bryan, and returned to the castle.

At midnight they again issued forth.

Their steeds awaited them near the upper gate, and, mounting, they galloped across the greensward in the direction of Herne's Oak.

Discerning no trace of the ghostly huntsman, they shaped their course towards the forest.

Urging their steeds to their utmost speed, and skirting the long avenue, they did not draw the rein till they reached the eminence beyond it;

having climbed which, they dashed down the farther side at the same swift pace as before.

The ride greatly excited them, but they saw nothing of the wild huntsman; nor did any sound salute their ears except the tramp of their own horses, or the occasional darting forth of a startled deer.

Less than a quarter of an hour brought them to the haunted beech-tree;

but all was as silent and solitary here as at the blasted oak.

In vain Surrey smote the tree.

No answer was returned to the summons; and, finding all efforts to evoke the demon fruitless, they quitted the spot, and, turning their horses' heads to the right, slowly ascended the hill-side.

Before they had gained the brow of the hill the faint blast of a horn saluted their ears, apparently proceeding from the valley near the lake.

They instantly stopped and looked in that direction, but could see nothing.

Presently, however, the blast was repeated more loudly than before, and, guided by the sound, they discerned the spectral huntsman riding beneath the trees at some quarter of a mile's distance.

Striking spurs into their steeds, they instantly gave him chase; but though he lured them on through thicket and over glade--now climbing a hill, now plunging into a valley, until their steeds began to show symptoms of exhaustion--they got no nearer to him; and at length, as they drew near the Home Park, to which he had gradually led them, he disappeared from view.

“I will take my station near the blasted oak,” said Surrey, galloping towards it: “the demon is sure to revisit his favourite tree before cock-crowing.

” “What is that?

” cried the Earl of Surrey, pointing to a strange and ghastly-looking object depending from the tree.

“Some one has hanged himself!

It may be the caitiff, Morgan Fenwolf.

” With one accord they dashed forward, and as they drew nearer the tree, they perceived that the object that had attracted their attention was the body of Mark Fytton, the butcher, which they had so recently seen swinging from the summit of the Curfew Tower.

It was now suspended from an arm of the wizard oak.

A small scroll was stuck upon the breast of the corpse, and, taking it off, Surrey read these words, traced in uncouth characters--“Mark Fytton is now one of the band of Herne the Hunter.

” “By my fay, this passes all comprehension,” said Richmond, after a few moments' silence.

“This castle and forest seem under the sway of the powers of darkness.

Let us return.

I have had enough of adventure for to-night.

” And he rode towards the castle, followed more slowly by the earl.

VII.

How the Earl of Surrey and the Fair Geraldine plighted their troth in the Cloisters of Saint George's Chapel.

Barriers were erected on the following day in the upper ward of the castle, and the Lady Anne and her dames assembled in the balcony in front of the royal lodgings, which was decorated with arras, costly carpets, and rich stuffs, to view the spectacle.

Perfect in all manly accomplishments, Henry splintered several lances with his brother-in-law, the Duke of Suffolk, who formed an admirable match for him in point of weight and strength; and at last, though he did not succeed in unhorsing the duke, he struck off his helmet, the clasp of which, it was whispered, was left designedly unfastened; and being thereupon declared the victor, he received the prize--a scarf embroidered by her own hands--from the fair Anne herself.

He then retired from the lists, leaving them free for the younger knights to run a course at the ring.

The first to enter the arena was Sir Thomas Wyat; and as he was known to be a skilful jouster, it was expected he would come off triumphantly.

But a glance from the royal balcony rendered his arm unsteady, and he missed the mark.

Next came the Duke of Richmond, superbly accoutred.