Ainsworth William Harrison - Windsor Castle стр 16.

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 miles distance.

Striking spurs into their steeds, they instantly gave him chase; but though he lured them on through thicket and over gladenow climbing a hill, now plunging into a valley, until their steeds began to show symptoms of exhaustionthey 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 charactersMark 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 Georges 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 prizea scarf embroidered by her own handsfrom 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. Laughing at Wyats ill success, he bowed to the Fair Geraldine, and taking a lance from his esquire, placed it in the rest, and rode gallantly forward. But he was equally unsuccessful, and retired, looking deeply chagrined.

The third knight who presented himself was Surrey. Mounted on his favourite black Arabiana steed which, though of fiery temper, obeyed his slightest movementhis light symmetrical figure was seen to the greatest advantage in his close-fitting habiliments of silk and velvet. Without venturing a look at the royal balcony, the earl couched his lance, and bounding forward, bore away the ring on its point.

Amid the plaudits of the spectators, he then careered around the arena, and approaching the royal balcony, raised his lance, and proffered the ring to the Fair Geraldine, who blushingly received it. Henry, though by no means pleased with Surreys success, earned as it was at the expense of his son, complimented him upon his skill, and Anne Boleyn joined warmly in his praises.

The lists were then closed, and the royal party retired to partake of refreshments; after which they proceeded to the butts erected in the broad mead at the north of the castle, where the Duke of Shoreditch and his companions shot a well-contested match with the long-bow.

During these sports, Surrey placed himself as near as he could to the Fair Geraldine, and though but few opportunities occurred of exchanging a syllable with her, his looks spoke a sufficiently intelligible language. At last, just as they were about to return to the palace, he breathed in an imploring tone in her ear

You will attend vespers at Saint Georges Chapel this evening. Return through the cloisters. Grant me a moments interview alone there.

I cannot promise, replied the Fair Geraldine. And she followed in the train of the Lady Anne.

The earls request had not been unheard. As the royal train proceeded towards the castle, Will Sommers contrived to approach the Duke of Richmond, and said to him, in a jeering tone You ran but indifferently at the ring to-day, gossip. The galliard Surrey rode better, and carried off the prize.

Pest on thee, scurril knavebe silent! cried Richmond angrily; failure is bad enough without thy taunts.

If you had only missed the ring, gossip, I should have thought nothing of it, pursued Will Sommers; but you lost a golden opportunity of ingratiating yourself with your lady-love. All your hopes are now at an end. A word in your earthe Fair Geraldine will meet Surrey alone this evening.

Thou liest, knave! cried the duke fiercely.

Your grace will find the contrary, if you will be at Wolseys tomb-house at vesper-time, replied the jester.

I will be there, replied the duke; but if I am brought on a bootless errand, not even my royal father shall save thee from chastisement.

I will bear any chastisement your grace may choose to inflict upon me, if I prove not the truth of my assertion, replied Sommers. And he dropped into the rear of the train.

The two friends, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other during the rest of the daySurrey feeling he could not unburden his heart to Richmond, and Richmond brooding jealously over the intelligence he had received from the jester.

At the appointed hour the duke proceeded to the lower ward, and stationed himself near Wolseys tomb-house. Just as he arrived there, the vesper hymn arose from the adjoining fane, and its solemn strains somewhat soothed his troubled spirit. But they died away; and as the jester came not, Richmond grew impatient, and began to fear he had been duped by his informant. At length the service concluded, and, losing all patience, he was about to depart, when the jester peered round the lower angle of the tomb-house, and beckoned to him. Obeying the summons, the duke followed his conductor down the arched passage leading to the cloisters.

Tread softly, gossip, or you will alarm them, said Sommers, in a low tone.

They turned the corner of the cloisters; and there, near the entrance of the chapel, stood the youthful pairthe Fair Geraldine half reclining upon the earls breast, while his arm encircled her slender waist.