Windsor Castle Part 17

V.

Of the Combat between Will Sommers and Patch-And how it terminated.

Mabel's heart fluttered violently at the usher's announcement, and for a moment the colour deserted her cheek, while the next instant she was covered with blushes. As to poor Patch, feeling that his indiscretion might place him in great jeopardy and seriously affect his master, to whom he was devotedly attached, he cast a piteous and imploring look at his antagonist, but was answered only by a derisive laugh, coupled with an expressive gesture to intimate that a halter would be his fate. Fearful that mischief might ensue, the good-natured Simon Quanden got out of his chair and earnestly besought Will not to carry matters too far; but the jester remained implacable.

It was not unusual with Henry to visit the different offices of the castle and converse freely and familiarly with the members of his household, but it was by no means safe to trust to the continuance of his good humour, or in the slightest degree to presume upon it. It is well known that his taste for variety of character often led him, like the renowned Caliph Haroun Al Raschid, to mix with the lower cla.s.ses of his subjects in disguise, at which times many extraordinary adventures are said to have befallen him. His present visit to the kitchen, therefore, would have occasioned no surprise to its occupants if it had not occurred so soon after the cardinal's arrival. But it was this circ.u.mstance, in fact, that sent him thither. The intelligence brought by Wolsey of the adjournment of the court for three days, under the plea of giving the queen time for her allegations, was so unlooked for by Henry that he quitted the cardinal in high displeasure, and was about to repair to Anne Boleyn, when he encountered Bouchier, who told him that Mabel Lyndwood had been brought to the castle, and her grandsire arrested. The information changed Henry's intentions at once, and he proceeded with Bouchier and some other attendants to the kitchen, where he was given to understand he should find the damsel.

Many a furtive glance was thrown at the king, for no one dared openly to regard him as he approached the forester's fair granddaughter. But he tarried only a moment beside her, chucked her under the chin, and, whispering a word or two in her ear that heightened her blushes, pa.s.sed on to the spot where the two jesters were standing.

"What dost thou here, knave?" he said to Will Sommers.

"I might rather ask that question of your majesty," replied Will; "and I would do so but that I require not to be told."

"I have come to see what pa.s.seth in my household," replied the king, throwing himself into the chair lately occupied by the chief cook. "Ah, Hob and n.o.b, my merry rascals," he cried, patting the turnspits, who ran towards him and thrust their noses against his hand, "ye are as gamesome and loving as ever, I see. Give me a manchet for them, Master Cook, and let not the proceedings in the kitchen be stayed for my presence. I would not have my supper delayed, or the roasts spoiled, for any false ceremony. And now, Will, what hast thou to say that thou lookest so hard at me?"

"I have a heavy charge to bring against this knave, an' please your majesty," replied Will Sommers, pointing to Patch.

"What! hath he retorted upon thee too sharply?" replied the king, laughing. "If so, challenge him to the combat, and settle the grievance with thy lathen dagger. But refer not the matter to me. I am no judge in fools' quarrels."

"Your own excepted," muttered Will. "This is not a quarrel that can be so adjusted," he added aloud. "I charge this rascal Patch with speaking disrespectfully of your highness in the hearing of the whole kitchen. And I also charge his master the cardinal with having secreted in his cellars at Hampton a vast amount of treasure, obtained by extortion, privy dealings with foreign powers, and other iniquitous practices, and which ought of right to find its way to your royal exchequer."

"'And which shall find its way thither, if thou dost not avouch a fable," replied the king.

"Your majesty shall judge," rejoined Will. And he repeated the story which he had just before related.

"Can this be true?" exclaimed Henry at its close.

"It is false, your highness, every word of it," cried Patch, throwing himself at the king's feet, "except so far as relates to our visits to the cellar, where, I shame to speak it, we drank so much that our senses clean forsook us. As to my indiscreet speech touching your majesty, neither disrespect nor disloyalty were intended by it. I was goaded to the rejoinder by the sharp sting of this hornet."

"The matter of the treasure shall be inquired into without delay," said Henry. "As to the quarrel, it shall be settled thus. Get both of you upon that table. A flour-bag shall be given to each; and he who is first knocked off shall be held vanquished."

The king's judgment was received with as much applause as dared be exhibited by the hearers; and in an instant the board was cleared, and a couple of flour-bags partly filled delivered to the combatants by Simon Quanden, who bestirred himself with unwonted activity on the occasion.

Leaping upon the table, amid the smothered mirth of the a.s.semblage, the two jesters placed themselves opposite each other, and grinned such comical defiance that the king roared with laughter. After a variety of odd movements and feints on either side, Patch tried to bring down his adversary by a tremendous two-handed blow; but in dealing it, the weight of the hag dragged him forward, and well-nigh pitched him head foremost upon the floor. As it was, he fell on his face upon the table, and in this position received several heavy blows upon the prominent part of his back from Will Sommers. Ere long, however, he managed to regain his legs, and, smarting with pain, attacked his opponent furiously in his turn. For a short s.p.a.ce fortune seemed to favour him. His bag had slightly burst, and the flour, showering from it with every blow, well-nigh blinded his adversary, whom he drove to the very edge of the table. At this critical juncture Will managed to bring down his bag full upon his opponent's sconce, and the force of the blow bursting it, Patch was covered from crown to foot with flour, and blinded in his turn. The appearance of the combatants was now so exquisitely ridiculous, that the king leaned back in his chair to indulge his laughter, and the mirth of the spectators could no longer be kept within decorous limits. The very turnspits barked in laughing concert.

"Well fought on both sides!" cried Henry; "it were hard to say which will prove the victor. Now, knaves, to it again-ha! ha!-to it again!"

Once more the bags were wielded, descended, and the blows were so well directed on either side, that both combatants fell backwards. Again the king's laughter rose loud and long. Again the merriment of the other beholders was redoubled. Again Hob and n.o.b barked joyously, and tried to spring on to the table to take part in the conflict. Amid the general glee, the combatants rose and renewed the fight, dealing blows thick and fast-for the bags were now considerably lightened of their contents-until they were completely hidden from view by a cloud of white dust.

"We cannot see the fray," remarked Henry; "but we can hear the din of battle. Which will prove the victor, I marvel?"

"I am for Will Sommers," cried Bouchier.

"And I for Patch," said Simon Quanden. "Latterly he hath seemed to me to have the advantage."

"It is decided!" cried the king, rising, as one of the combatants was knocked off the table, and fell to the floor with a great noise. "Who is it?"

"Patch," replied a faint voice. And through the cloud of dust struggled forth the forlorn figure of the cardinal's jester, while Will Sommers leaped triumphantly to the ground.

"Get thee to a wash-tub, knave, and cleanse thyself," said Henry, laughing. "In consideration of the punishment thou hast undergone, I pardon thee thy treasonable speech."

So saying, he rose, and walked towards Mabel, who had been quite as much alarmed as amused by the scene which had just taken place.

"I hope you have been as well cared for, damsel," he said, "since your arrival at the castle, as you cared for the Duke of Suffolk and myself when we visited your cottage?

"I have had everything I require, my liege," replied Mabel timidly.

"Dame Quanden will take charge of you till to-morrow," rejoined the king, "when you will enter upon the service of one of our dames."

"Your majesty is very considerate," said Mabel, "but I would rather go back at early dawn to my grandsire."

"That is needless," rejoined the king sternly. "Your grandsire is in the castle."

"I am glad to hear it!" exclaimed Mabel. And then, altering her tone, for she did not like the expression of the king's countenance, she added, "I hope he has not incurred your majesty's displeasure."

"I trust he will be able to clear himself, Mabel," said Henry, "but he labours under the grave suspicion of leaguing with lawless men."

Mabel shuddered, for the thought of what she had witnessed on the previous night during the storm rushed forcibly to her recollection. The king noticed her uneasiness, and added, in a gentler tone, "If he makes such confession as will bring the others to justice, he has nothing to fear. Dame Quanden, I commit this maiden to your charge. To-morrow she will take her place as attendant to the Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald."

So saying, he moved off with Bouchier and the rest of his attendants, leaving Mabel to the care of the cook's good humoured spouse, who seeing her eyes filled with tears, strove to cheer her, and led her towards a small side-table, where she pressed wine and cates upon her.

"Be of good cheer, sweetheart," she said, in a soothing tone; "no harm will befall your grandfather. You are much too high in favour with the king for that."

"I liked the king much better as I saw him at our cottage, good dame," replied Mabel, smiling through her tears, "in the guise of a Guildford merchant. He seemed scarcely to notice me just now."

"That was because so many eyes were upon you, sweet-heart," replied Deborah; "but sooth to say, I should be better pleased if he did not notice you at all."

Mabel blushed, and hung her head.

"I am glad you are to be an attendant on the Lady Fitzgerald," pursued Deborah, "for she is the fairest young lady at court, and as good and gentle as she is fair, and I am sure you will find her a kind mistress. I will tell you something about her. She is beloved by the king's son, the Duke of Richmond, but she requites not his pa.s.sion, for her heart is fixed on the youthful Earl of Surrey. Alack-a-day! the n.o.ble rivals quarrelled and crossed swords about her; but as luck would have it, they were separated before any mischief was done. The king was very wroth with Lord Surrey, and ordered him to be imprisoned for two months in the Round Tower, in this castle, where he is now, though his term has very nearly expired."

"How I pity him, to be thus harshly treated!" remarked Mabel, her eyes swimming with tears, "and the Lady Elizabeth too! I shall delight to serve her."

"I am told the earl pa.s.ses the whole of his time in poring over books and writing love-verses and sonnets," said Deborah. "It seems strange that one so young should be a poet; but I suppose he caught the art from his friend Sir Thomas Wyat."

"Is he a friend of Sir Thomas Wyat?" asked Mabel quickly.

"His close friend," replied Deborah; "except the Duke of Richmond, now his rival, he had none closer. Have you ever seen Sir Thomas, sweetheart?"

"Yes, for a few moments," replied Mabel confusedly.

"I heard that he lingered for a short time in the forest before his departure for Paris," said Dame Quanden. "There was a strange rumour that he had joined the band of Herne the Hunter. But that must have been untrue."

"Is he returned from France?" inquired Mabel, without heeding the remark.

"I fancy not," replied the good dame. "At all events, he is not come to the castle. Know you not," she added, in a low confidential tone, "that the king is jealous of him? He was a former suitor to the Lady Anne Boleyn, and desperately in love with her; and it is supposed that his mission to France was only a pretext to get him out of the way."

"I suspected as much," replied Mabel. "Alas! for Sir Thomas; and alas! for the Earl of Surrey."

"And alas! for Mabel Lyndwood, if she allows her heart to be fixed upon the king," said Deborah.

While this was pa.s.sing the business of the kitchen, which had been interrupted by the various incidents above related, and especially by the conflict between the two jesters, was hurried forward, and for some time all was bustle and confusion.

But as soon as the supper was served, and all his duties were fully discharged, Simon Quanden, who had been bustling about, sat down in his easy-chair, and recruited himself with a toast and a sack posset. Hob and n.o.b had their supper at the same time, and the party at the table, which had been increased by the two archers and Nicholas Clamp, attacked with renewed vigour a fresh supply of mead and ale, which had been provided for them by Jack of the Bottles.

The conversation then turned upon Herne the Hunter; and as all had heard more or less about him, and some had seen him, while few knew the legend connected with him, Hector Cutbeard volunteered to relate it; upon which all the party gathered closer together, and Mabel and Deborah left off talking, and drew near to listen.

VI.

The Legend of Herne the Hunter.

"Nearly a century and a half ago," commenced Cutbeard, about the middle of the reign of Richard the Second, there was among the keepers of the forest a young man named Herne. He was expert beyond his fellows in all matters of woodcraft, and consequently in great favour with the king, who was himself devoted to the chase. Whenever he stayed at the castle, King Richard, like our own royal Harry, would pa.s.s his time in hunting, hawking, or shooting with the long-bow; and on all these occasions the young keeper was his constant attendant. If a hart was to be chased, Herne and his two black hounds of Saint Hubert's breed would hunt him down with marvellous speed; if a wild boar was to be reared, a badger digged out, a fox unkennelled, a marten bayed, or an otter vented, Herne was chosen for the task. No one could fly a falcon so well as Herne-no one could break up a deer so quickly or so skilfully as him. But in proportion as he grew in favour with the king, the young keeper was hated by his comrades, and they concerted together how to ruin him. All their efforts, however, were ineffectual, and rather tended to his advantage than injury.

"One day it chanced that the king hunted in the forest with his favourite, the Earl of Oxford, when a great deer of head was unharboured, and a tremendous chase ensued, the hart leading his pursuers within a few miles of Hungerford, whither the borders of the forest then extended. All the followers of the king, even the Earl of Oxford, had by this time dropped off, and the royal huntsman was only attended by Herne, who kept close behind him. At last the hart, driven to desperation, stood at bay, and gored the king's horse as he came up in such a manner that it reared and threw its rider. Another instant, and the horns of the infuriated animal would have been plunged into the body of the king, if Herne had not flung himself between the prostrate monarch and his a.s.sailant, and received the stroke intended for him. Though desperately wounded, the young hunter contrived slightly to raise himself, and plunged his knife into the hart's throat, while the king regained his feet.

"Gazing with the utmost concern at his unfortunate deliverer, King Richard demanded what he could do for him.

"'Nothing, sire-nothing,' replied Herne, with a groan. I shall require nothing but a grave from you, for I have received a wound that will speedily bring me to it.'

"'Not so, I trust, good fellow,' replied the king, in a tone meant to be encouraging, though his looks showed that his heart misgave him; 'my best leech shall attend you.'

"'No skill will avail me now,' replied Herne sadly. 'A hurt from hart's horn bringeth to the bier.'

"'I hope the proverb will not be justified in thy case,' rejoined the king; 'and I promise thee, if thou dost recover, thou shalt have the post of head keeper of the forest, with twenty n.o.bles a year for wages. If, unhappily, thy forebodings are realised, I will give the same sum to be laid out in ma.s.ses for thy soul.'

"'I humbly thank your highness,' replied the young man, 'and I accept the latter offer, seeing it is the only one likely to profit me.'

"With this he put his horn to his lips, and winding the dead mot feebly, fell back senseless. Much moved, the king rode off for succour; and blowing a l.u.s.ty call on his bugle, was presently joined by the Earl of Oxford and some of his followers, among whom were the keepers. The latter were secretly rejoiced on hearing what had befallen Herne, but they feigned the greatest affliction, and hastened with the king to the spot where the body was lying stretched out beside that of the hart.

"'It is almost a pity his soul cannot pa.s.s away thus,' said King Richard, gazing compa.s.sionately at him, 'for he will only revive to anguish and speedy death.'"

"'Your highness is right,' replied the chief keeper, a grim old man named Osmond Crooke, kneeling beside him, and half drawing his hunting-knife; 'it were better to put him out of his misery.'

"'What! slay the man who has just saved my own life!' cried the king. 'I will consent to no such infamous deed. I would give a large reward to any one who could cure him.'

"As the words were uttered, a tall dark man, in a strange garb, and mounted on a black wild-looking steed, whom no one had hitherto observed, sprang to the ground and advanced towards the king.

"'I take your offer, sire,' said this personage, in a harsh voice. I will cure him.'

"'Who art thou, fellow?' demanded King Richard doubtfully.

"'I am a forester,' replied the tall man, 'but I understand somewhat of chirurgery and leechcraft.'

"'And woodcraft, too, I'll be sworn, fellow,' said the king 'Thou hast, or I am mistaken, made free with some of my venison.'

"'He looks marvellously like Arnold Sheafe, who was outlawed for deer-stealing,' said Osmond Crooke, regarding him steadfastly.

"'I am no outlaw, neither am I called Arnold Sheafe,' replied the other. 'My name is Philip Urswick, and I can render a good account of myself when it shall please the king's highness to interrogate me. I dwell on the heath near Bagshot, which you pa.s.sed today in the chase, and where I joined you.'

"'I noted you not,' said Osmond.

"'Nor I-nor I!' cried the other keepers.

"'That may be; but I saw you,' rejoined Urswick contemptuously; 'and I tell you there is not one among you to be compared with the brave hunter who lies there. You have all p.r.o.nounced his case hopeless. I repeat I can cure him if the king will make it worth my while.'

"'Make good thy words, fellow,' replied the king; 'and thou shalt not only be amply rewarded, but shalt have a free pardon for any offence thou mayest have committed.'

"'Enough,' replied Urswick. And taking a large, keen-edged hunting-knife from his girdle, he cut off the head of the hart close to the point where the neck joins the skull, and then laid it open from the extremity of the under-lip to the nuke. 'This must be bound on the head of the wounded man,' he said.

"The keepers stared in astonishment. But the king commanded that the strange order should be obeyed. Upon which the bleeding skull was fastened upon the head of the keeper with leathern thongs.

"'I will now answer for his perfect cure in a month's time,' said Urswick to the king; 'but I shall require to watch over him myself till all danger is at an end. I pray your highness to command these keepers to transport him to my hut.'

"'You hear what he says, knaves?' cried the king; 'do his bidding, and carefully, or ye shall answer to me with your lives.'

"Accordingly a litter was formed with branches of trees, and on this the body of Herne, with the hart's head still bound to it, was conveyed by the keepers to Urswick's hut, a small dwelling, situated in the wildest part of Bagshot Heath. After placing the body upon a bed of dried fern, the keepers were about to depart, when Osmond Crooke observed to the forester, 'I am now certain thou art Arnold Sheafe.'

"'It matters not who I am, since I have the king's pardon,' replied the other, laughing disdainfully.

"'Thou hast yet to earn it,' said Osmond.

"'Leave that to me,' replied Urswick. 'There is more fear that thou wilt lose thy post as chief keeper, which the king has promised to Herne, than that I shall fail.'

"'Would the deer had killed him outright!' growled Osmond.

"And the savage wish was echoed by the other keepers. "'I see you all hate him bitterly,' said Urswick. 'What will you give me for revenge?'

"'We have little to give, save a fat buck on occasions,'replied Osmond; 'and, in all likelihood, thou canst help thyself to venison.'

"'Will you swear to grant the first request I may make of you-provided it shall be in your power?' demanded Urswick.

"'Readily' they replied.

"'Enough' said Urswick. 'I must keep faith with the king. Herne will recover, but he will lose all his skill as an archer, all his craft as a hunter.'