Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth
BOOK II — HERNE THE HUNTER
CHAPTER VI
How Sir Thomas Wyat hunted with Herne.
Accompanied by Wyat, and followed by the whole cavalcade,
Herne dashed into the glen, where Fenwolf awaited him. Threading the hollow,
the troop descried the hart flying swiftly along a sweeping glade at some two
hundred yards distance. The glade was passed—a woody knoll
skirted—a valley traversed—and the hart plunged into a thick
grove clothing the side of Hawk's Hill. But it offered him no secure retreat.
Dragon and Saturn were close upon him, and behind them came Herne, crashing
through the branches of the trees, and heedless of all impediments. By-and-by
the thicket became more open, and they entered Cranbourne Chase. But the hart
soon quitted it to return to the great park, and darted down a declivity
skirted by a line of noble oaks. Here he was so hotly pressed by his fierce
opponents, whose fangs he could almost feel within his haunches, that he
suddenly stopped and stood at bay, receiving the foremost of his assailants,
Saturn, on the points of his horns. But his defence, though gallant, was
unavailing. In another instant Herne came up, and, dismounting, called off
Dragon, who was about to take the place of his wounded companion. Drawing a
knife from his girdle, the hunter threw himself on the ground, and, advancing
on all fours towards the hart, could scarcely be distinguished himself from
some denizen of the forest. As he approached the hart snorted and bellowed
fiercely, and dashed its horns against him; but the blow was received by the
hunter upon his own antlered helm, and at the same moment his knife was
thrust to the hilt into the stag's throat, and it fell to the ground.
Springing to his feet, Herne whooped joyfully, placed his bugle to his
lips, and blew the dead mot. He then shouted to Fenwolf to call away and
couple the hounds, and, striking off the deer's right forefoot with his
knife, presented it to Wyat. Several large leafy branches being gathered and
laid upon the ground, the hart was placed upon them, and Herne commenced
breaking him up, as the process of dismembering the deer is termed in the
language of woodcraft. His first step was to cut off the animal's head, which
he performed by a single blow with his heavy trenchant knife.
"Give the hounds the flesh," he said, delivering the trophy to Fenwolf; "
but keep the antlers, for it is a great deer of head."
Placing the head on a hunting-pole, Fenwolf withdrew to an open space
among the trees, and, halloing to the others, they immediately cast off the
hounds, who rushed towards him, leaping and baying at the stag's head, which
he alternately raised and lowered until they were sufficiently excited, when
he threw it on the ground before them.
While this was going forward the rest of the band were occupied in various
ways—some striking a light with flint and steel—some gathering
together sticks and dried leaves to form a fire—others producing
various strange-shaped cooking utensils—while others were assisting
their leader in his butcherly task, which he executed with infinite skill and
expedition.
As soon as the fire was kindled, Herne distributed certain portions of the
venison among his followers, which were instantly thrown upon the embers to
broil; while a few choice morsels were stewed in a pan with wine, and
subsequently offered to the leader and Wyat.
This hasty repast concluded, the demon ordered the fire to be
extinguished, and the quarters of the deer to be carried to the cave. He then
mounted his steed, and, attended by Wyat and the rest of his troop, except
those engaged in executing his orders, galloped towards Snow Hill, where he
speedily succeeded in unharbouring another noble hart.
Away then went the whole party—stag, hounds, huntsmen, sweeping like
a dark cloud down the hill, and crossing the wide moonlit glade, studded with
noble trees, on the west of the great avenue.
For a while the hart held a course parallel with the avenue; he then
dashed across it, threaded the intricate woods on the opposite side, tracked
a long glen, and leaping the pales, entered the home park. It almost seemed
as if he designed to seek shelter within the castle, for he made straight
towards it, and was only diverted by Herne himself, who, shooting past him
with incredible swiftness, turned him towards the lower part of the park.
Here the chase continued with unabated ardour, until, reaching the banks
of the Thames, the hart plunged into it, and suffered himself to be carried
noiselessly down the current. But Herne followed him along the banks, and
when sufficiently near, dashed into the stream, and drove him again
ashore.
Once more they flew across the home park—once more they leaped its
pales—once more they entered the great park—but this time the
stag took the direction of Englefield Green. He was not, however, allowed to
break forth into the open country; but, driven again into the thick woods, he
held on with wondrous speed till the lake appeared in view. In another
instant he was swimming across it.
Before the eddies occasioned by the affrighted animal's plunge had
described a wide ring, Herne had quitted his steed, and was cleaving with
rapid strokes the waters of the lake. Finding escape impossible, the hart
turned to meet him, and sought to strike him with his horns, but as in the
case of his ill-fated brother of the wood, the blow was warded by the
antlered helm of the swimmer. The next moment the clear water was dyed with
blood, and Herne, catching the gasping animal by the head, guided his body to
shore.
Again the process of breaking up the stag was gone through; and when Herne
had concluded his task, he once more offered his gourd to Sir Thomas Wyat.
Reckless of the consequences, the knight placed the flask to his lips, and
draining it to the last drop, fell from his horse insensible.