CHAPTER X
Of the Mysterious Disappearance of Herne the Hunter in the Lake.
Unable to procure any mitigation of Surrey's sentence, the
Duke of Richmond proceeded to the Round Tower, where he found his friend in a
small chamber, endeavouring to beguile his captivity by study.
Richmond endeavoured to console him, and was glad to find him in better
spirits than he expected. Early youth is seldom long dejected, and
misfortunes, at that buoyant season, seem lighter than they appear later on
in life. The cause for which he suffered, moreover, sustained Surrey, and
confident of the Fair Geraldine's attachment, he cared little for the
restraint imposed upon him. On one point he expressed some
regret—namely, his inability to prosecute the adventure of Herne the
Hunter with the duke.
"I grieve that I cannot accompany you, Richmond," he said; "but since that
is impossible, let me recommend you to take the stout archer who goes by the
name of the Duke of Shoreditch with you. He is the very man you require."
After some consideration the duke assented, and, promising to return on
the following day and report what had occurred he took his leave, and went in
search of the archer in question. Finding he had taken up his quarters at the
Garter, he sent for him and proposed the matter.
Shoreditch heard the duke's relation with astonishment, but expressed the
greatest willingness to accompany him, pledging himself, as Richmond
demanded, to profound secrecy on the subject.
At the appointed hour—namely, midnight—the duke quitted the
castle, and found Shoreditch waiting for him near the upper gate. The latter
was armed with a stout staff, and a bow and arrows.
"If we gain sight of the mysterious horseman to-night," he said, "a cloth-
yard shaft shall try whether he is of mortal mould or not. If he be not a
demon, I will warrant he rides no more."
Quitting the Home Park, they shaped their course at once towards the
forest. It was a stormy night, and the moon was obscured by thick clouds.
Before they reached the hill, at the end of the long avenue, a heavy
thunderstorm came on, and the lightning, playing among the trees, seemed to
reveal a thousand fantastic forms to their half-blinded gaze. Presently the
rain began to descend in torrents, and compelled them to take refuge beneath
a large beech-tree.
It was evident, notwithstanding his boasting, that the courage of
Shoreditch was waning fast, and he at last proposed to his leader that they
should return as soon as the rain abated. But the duke indignantly rejected
the proposal.
While they were thus sheltering themselves, the low winding of a horn was
heard. The sound was succeeded by the trampling of horses' hoofs, and the
next moment a vivid flash of lightning showed a hart darting past, followed
by a troop of some twenty ghostly horsemen, headed by the demon hunter.
The Duke of Richmond bade his companion send a shaft after them; but the
latter was so overcome by terror that he could scarcely fix an arrow on the
string, and when he bent the bow, the shaft glanced from the branches of an
adjoining tree.
The storm continued with unabated fury for nearly an hour, at the
expiration of which time it partially cleared off, and though it was still
profoundly dark, the duke insisted upon going on. So they pressed forward
beneath the dripping trees and through the wet grass. Ever and anon the moon
broke through the rifted clouds, and shed a wild glimmer upon the scene.
As they were tracking a glade on the farther side of the hill, the
spectral huntsmen again swept past them, and so closely that they could
almost touch their horses. To the duke's horror, he perceived among them the
body of the butcher, Mark Fytton, sitting erect upon a powerful black
steed.
By this time, Shoreditch, having somewhat regained his courage, discharged
another shaft at the troop. The arrow struck the body of the butcher, and
completely transfixed it, but did not check his career; while wild and
derisive laughter broke from the rest of the cavalcade.
The Duke of Richmond hurried after the band, trying to keep them in sight;
and Shoreditch, flinging down his bow, which he found useless, and grasping
his staff, endeavoured to keep up with him. But though they ran swiftly down
the glade, and tried to peer through the darkness, they could see nothing
more of the ghostly company.
After a while they arrived at a hillside, at the foot of which lay the
lake, whose darkling waters were just distinguishable through an opening in
the trees. As the duke was debating with himself whether to go on or retrace
his course, the trampling of a horse was heard behind them, and looking in
the direction of the sound, they beheld Herne the Hunter, mounted on his
swarthy steed and accompanied only by his two black hounds, galloping
furiously down the declivity. Before him flew the owl, whooping as it sailed
along the air.
The demon hunter was so close to them that they could perfectly discern
his horrible lineaments, the chain depending from his neck, and his antlered
helm. Richmond shouted to him, but the rider continued his headlong course
towards the lake, heedless of the call.
The two behoIders rushed forward, but by this time the huntsman had gained
the edge of the lake. One of his sable hounds plunged into it, and the owl
skimmed over its surface. Even in the hasty view which the duke caught of the
flying figure, he fancied he perceived that it was attended by a fantastic
shadow, whether cast by itself or arising from some supernatural cause he
could not determine.
But what followed was equally marvellous and incomprehensible. As the wild
huntsman reached the brink of the lake, he placed a horn to his mouth, and
blew from it a bright blue flame, which illumined his own dusky and hideous
features, and shed a wild and unearthly glimmer over the surrounding
objects.
While enveloped in this flame, the demon plunged into the lake, and
apparently descended to its abysses, for as soon as the duke could muster
courage to approach its brink, nothing could be seen of him, his steed, or
his hounds.
