V.
What befell Sir Thomas Wyat in the Sandstone Cave--And how he drank a maddening Potion.
THE cave in which Sir Thomas Wyat found himself, on the removal of thebandage from his eyes, was apparently--for it was only lighted by asingle torch--of considerable width and extent, and hewn out of a bedof soft sandstone. The roof, which might be about ten feet high, wassupported by the trunks of three large trees rudely fashioned intopillars. There were several narrow lateral passages within it,apparently communicating with other caverns; and at the farther end,which was almost buried in obscurity, there was a gleam seeminglyoccasioned by the reflection of the torchlight upon water. On the righthand stood a pile of huge stones, disposed somewhat in the form of aDruidical altar, on the top of which, as on a throne, sat the demonhunter, surrounded by his satellites--one of whom, horned and beardedlike a satyr, had clambered the roughened sides of the central pillar,and held a torch over the captive's head.
Half-stifled by the noxious vapour he had inhaled, and blinded by thetightness of the bandage, it was some time before Wyat fully recoveredhis powers of sight and utterance.
"Why am I brought hither, false fiend?" he demanded at length.
"To join my band," replied the demon harshly and imperiously.
"Never!" rejoined Wyat. "I will have nought to do with you, except asregards our compact."
"What I require from you is part of our compact," rejoined the demon."He who has once closed hands with Herne the Hunter cannot retreat. ButI mean you fairly, and will not delude you with false expectation. Whatyou seek cannot be accomplished on the instant. Ere three days AnneBoleyn shall be yours."
"Give me some proof that you are not deceiving me, spirit," said Wyat.
"Come, then!" replied Herne. So saying, he sprang from the stone, and,taking Wyat's hand, led him towards the lower end of the cave, whichgradually declined till it reached the edge of a small but apparentlydeep pool of water, the level of which rose above the rock that formedits boundary.
"Remove the torch!" thundered the demon to those behind. "Now summonyour false love, Sir Thomas Wyat," he added, as his orders were obeyed,and the light was taken into one of the side passages, so that its gleamno longer fell upon the water.
"Appear, Anne Boleyn!" cried Wyat.
Upon this a shadowy resemblance of her he had invoked flitted over thesurface of the water, with hands outstretched towards him. So moved wasWyat by the vision, that he would have flung himself into the pool tograsp it if he had not been forcibly detained by the demon. During thestruggle the figure vanished, and all was buried in darkness.
"I have said she shall be yours," cried Herne; "but time is required forthe accomplishment of my purpose. I have only power over her when evilis predominant in her heart. But such moments are not unfrequent," headded, with a bitter laugh. "And now to the chase. I promise you it willbe a wilder and more exciting ride than you ever enjoyed in the king'scompany. To the chase!--to the chase, I say!"
Sounding a call upon his horn, the light instantly reappeared. All wasstir and confusion amid the impish troop--and presently afterwards anumber of coal-black horses, and hounds of the same hue, leashed incouples, were brought out of one of the side passages. Among the latterwere two large sable hounds of Saint Hubert's breed, whom Herne summonedto his side by the names of Saturn and Dragon.
A slight noise, as of a blow dealt against a tree, was now heardoverhead, and Herne, imposing silence on the group by a hasty gesture,assumed an attitude of fixed attention. The stroke was repeated a secondtime.
"It is our brother, Morgan Fenwolf," cried the demon.
Catching hold of a chain hanging from the roof, which Wyat had nothitherto noticed, he swung himself into a crevice above, and disappearedfrom view. During the absence of their leader the troop remainedmotionless and silent.
A few minutes afterwards Herne reappeared at the upper end of the cave.He was accompanied by Fenwolf, between whom and Wyat a slight glance ofrecognition passed.
The order being given by the demon to mount, Wyat, after an instant'shesitation, seized the flowing mane of the horse nearest him--for it wasfurnished neither with saddle nor bridle-and vaulted upon its back. Atthe same moment Herne uttered a wild cry, and plunging into the pool,sunk within it. Wyat's steed followed, and swam swiftly forward beneaththe water.
When Wyat rose to the surface, he found himself in the open lake, whichwas gleaming in the moonlight. Before him he beheld Herne clambering thebank, accompanied by his two favourite hounds, while a large whiteowl wheeled round his head, hooting loudly. Behind came the grislycavalcade, with their hounds, swimming from beneath a bank covered bythick overhanging trees, which completely screened the secret entranceto the cave. Having no control over his steed, Wyat was obliged tosurrender himself to its guidance, and was soon placed by the side ofthe demon hunter.
"Pledge me, Sir Thomas Wyat," said Herne, unslinging a gourd-shapedflask from his girdle, and offering it to him. "'Tis a rare wine, andwill prevent you from suffering from your bath, as well as give youspirits for the chase."
Chilled to the bone by the immersion he had undergone, Wyat did notrefuse the offer, but placing the flask to his lips took a deep draughtfrom it. The demon uttered a low bitter laugh as he received back theflask, and he slung it to his girdle without tasting it.
The effect of the potion upon Wyat was extraordinary. The whole sceneseemed to dance around him;-the impish figures in the lake, or upon itsbank, assumed forms yet more fantastic; the horses looked like monstersof the deep; the hounds like wolves and ferocious beasts; the branchesof the trees writhed and shot forward like hissing serpents;--and thoughthis effect speedily passed off, it left behind it a wild and maddeningfeeling of excitement.
"A noble hart is lying in yon glen," said Morgan Fenwolf, advancingtowards his leader; "I tracked his slot thither this evening."
"Haste, and unharbour him," replied Herne, "and as soon as you rousehim, give the halloa." Fenwolf obeyed; and shortly afterwards a cry washeard from the glen.
"List halloa! list halloa!" cried Herne, "that's he! that's he! hyke!Saturn! hyke, Dragon--Away!--away, my merry men all."
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