WHO STRUCK THE STAG?
"It was a stag, a stag of ten,
Bearing his branches sturdily."
We left the grandson of the recluse setting forth in quest of the stag.
Forth he and his dog bounded from the thick covert in which their
cottage was concealed, and emerging from the tall reeds which bordered
the brook, they stood beneath the shade of the mighty beech-trees, whose
trunks upbore the dense foliage, as pillars in the solemn aisles of
cathedrals support the superstructure; for the woods were God's first
temples, and the inhabitants of such regions drew from them the
inspiration from which sprang the various orders of Gothic architecture.
Here Osric, for such was his name, paused and hid in a thicket of hazel,
for he spied the stag coming down the glade towards him, he restrained
the dog by the leash: and the two lay in ambush.
The hunted creature, quite unsuspecting any new foes, came down the
glen, bearing his branches loftily, for doubtless he was elate, poor
beast, with the victory which his heels had given him over his human and
canine foes. And now he approached the ambush: the boy had fitted an
arrow to his bow but hesitated, it seemed almost a shame to lay so noble
an animal low; but hunger and want are stern masters, and men must eat
if they would live.
Just then the creature snuffed the tainted air, an instant, and he would
have escaped; but the bow twanged, and the arrow buried itself in its
side, the stag bounded in the death agony towards the very thicket
whence the fatal dart had come; when Osric met it, and drawing his keen
hunting-knife across its throat, ended its struggles and its life
together.
He had received a woodland education, and knew what to do; he soon
quartered the stag, whose blood the dog was lapping, and taking one of
the haunches on his shoulders, entered the tangled maze of reeds and
water wherein lay his island-home.
"Here, grandfather, here is one of the haunches, what a capital fat one
it is! truly it will be a toothsome morsel for thee, and many tender
bits will there be to suit thy aged teeth; come, Judith, come and help
me hang it on the tree; then I will go and fetch the rest, joint by
joint."
"But stop, Osric, what sound, what noise is that?" and the old man
listened attentively--then added--
"Huntsmen have driven that stag hitherwards, and are following on its
trail."
The breeze brought the uproarious baying of dogs and cries of men down
the woods. It was at that moment, that, as stated in our last chapter,
the fox had crossed the track, and baffled them for the moment.
Alas for poor Osric, only for the moment, for the huntsmen had succeeded
in getting some of the older and wiser hounds to take up the lost trail,
and the scent of their former enemy again greeting their olfactory
organs, they obeyed the new impulse--or rather the old one renewed, and
were off again after the deer.
And as we see a flock of sheep, stopped by a fence, hesitating where to
go, until one finds a gap and all follow; so the various undecided dogs
agreed that venison was better than carrion, and the stag therefore a
nobler quarry than the fox; so, save a few misguided young puppies, they
resumed the legitimate chase.
The huntsmen followed as fast as the trees and bushes allowed them,
until, after a mile or two, they all came to a sudden stand, where the
object of the chase had already met its death at the hands of Osric.
Meanwhile the unhappy youth had heard them drawing nearer and nearer. He
knew that it would be impossible to escape discovery, unless the
intricacies of their retreat should baffle the hunters, whom they heard
drawing nearer and nearer. The dogs, they knew, would not pursue the
chase beyond the place of slaughter. Oh! if they had but time to mangle
it before the men arrived, so that the manner in which it had met its
death might not be discovered--but that was altogether unlikely. And in
truth clamorous human cries mingled with wild vociferous barkings,
howlings, bayings, and other canine clamour, showed that the hunt was
already assembled close by.
"I will go forth and own the deed: then perhaps they will not inquire
further----"
"Nay, my son, await God's Will here."
And the old man restrained the youth.
At length they heard such words as these--
"He cannot be far off."
"He is hidden amongst the reeds."
"Turn in the dogs."
"They have tasted blood and are useless."
"Fire the reeds."
"Nay, grandfather, I must go, the reeds are dry, they will burn us all
together. They may show me mercy if I own it bravely."
"Nay, they love their deer too well; they will hang thee on the nearest
beech."
"Look! they have fired the reeds."
"It may be our salvation: they cannot penetrate them when burning, and
see, if the smoke stifle us not, the fire will not reach us; there is
too much green and dank vegetation around the brook between us and the
reeds."
"Ah! the wind blows it the other way; nay, it eddies--see that tongue of
flame darting amongst the dry fuel--now another: that thick smoke--there
it is changed to flame. Oh, grandfather, let us get off by the other
side--at once--at once."
"Thou forgettest I am a cripple; but there may be time for you and
Judith to save yourselves."
"Nay," said Osric, proudly, "we live or die together."
"Judith will stay with her old master," said the poor thrall, "and with
her young lord too."
They were yet "lords" in her eyes, bereft although they were of their
once vast possessions.
"Perhaps we are as safe here; their patience will wear out before they
can penetrate the island. See, they are firing the reeds out yonder.
Normans love a conflagration," said the old man.
In fact, it was as much with that inherent love of making a blaze, which
had marked the Normans and the Danes from the beginning, when church,
homestead, barn, and stack, were all kindled as the fierce invaders
swept through the land; that the mischievous and vindictive men-at-arms
had fired the reeds, wherein they thought the slayer of the deer had
taken refuge, when they found that the dogs would not enter after him.
There was little fear of any further harm than the clearing of a few
acres. The trees were too damp to burn, or indeed to take much harm from
so hasty and brief a blaze: so they thought, if they thought at all.
But the season had been dry, the material was as tinder, and the blaze
reached alarming proportions--several wild animals ran out, and were
slain by the bystanders, others were heard squeaking miserably in the
flames; but that little affected the hardened folk of the time, they had
to learn mercy towards men, before the time came to start a society for
the prevention of cruelty to animals.
"He cannot be there or he would have run out by this time."
"He has escaped the other side."
"Nay, Alain and his men have gone round there to look out."
"But they cannot cross the brook on foot, and even a horse would get
stuck in the mire."
"They will do their best."
The three in the cottage saw the flames rise and crackle all round them,
and the dense clouds of smoke were stifling. Osric got water from the
brook and dashed it all over the roof and the more inflammable portions
of their dwelling, lest a spark should kindle them, and worked hard at
his self-imposed task, in the intense heat.
But the conflagration subsided almost as rapidly as it arose from sheer
want of fuel, and with the cessation of the flames came the renewal of
the danger of discovery.
Other voices were now heard, one loud and stern as befitted a leader:--
"What meaneth this? Who hath kindled the reeds without my order?"
"The deer-slayer lurketh within."
"What deer-slayer? Who struck the stag?"
"We know not. It could not have been many minutes before we arrived; the
carcase was still warm."
"He must be caught; thou shalt not suffer a poacher to live, is the
royal command, and mine too; but did you not set the dogs after him?"
"They had tasted blood, my lord."
"But if he were hidden herein, he must have come forth. If the bed of
reeds were properly encircled--it seems to cover some roods of forest."
"A shame for so fine a beast to be so foully murdered."
"It was a stag of ten branches."
"And he gave us good sport."
"We will hang his slayer in his honour."
"A fine acorn for a lusty oak."
"When we catch him."
"He shall dance on nothing, and we will amuse ourselves by his
grimaces."
"Nothing more laughable than the face a _pendu_ makes with the rope
round his neck."
"Has anybody got a rope?"
"Has anybody found the poacher?"
A general laugh.
"Silence, listen."
A dry old oak which had perhaps seen the Druids, and felt the keen knife
bare its bosom of the hallowed mistletoe, had kindled and fallen; as it
fell sending forth showers upon showers of sparks.
The fall of the tree opened a sort of vista in the flames, and
revealed----
"Look," said the Baron, "I see something like the roof of a hut just
beyond the opening the tree has made."
"I think so too," said Sir Milo of Gloucester.
"Very well, wait here awhile, my men; these reeds are all burnt, and the
ground will soon cool, then you may go in and see what that hut
contains: reserve them for my judgment. Here, Tristam, here, Raoul, hold
our horses."
Two sprightly-looking boy pages took the reins, and Brian and Milo, if
we may presume to call them by such familiar appellations, walked
together in the glade.
Deep were their cogitations, and how much the welfare of England
depended upon them, would hardly be believed by our readers. We would
fain reveal what they said, but only the half can be told.
"It can be endured no longer!"
"Soon no one but he will be allowed to build a castle!"
"But to lay hands upon two anointed prelates."
"The Bishops of Sarum and Lincoln."
"Arrested just when they were trusting to his good faith."
"The one in the king's own ante-chamber, the other in his lodgings
eating his dinner."
"The Bishop of Ely only escaped by the skin of his teeth."
"And he, too, was forced to surrender his castle, for the king vowed
that the Bishop of Salisbury should have no food until his nephew of
Ely surrendered, and led poor Roger, pale and emaciated, stretching
forth his skinny hands, and entreating his nephew to save him from
starvation, to and fro before the walls, until he gained his ends, and
the castle was yielded."
"He is not our true king, but a foul usurper."
"Well, my good cousin, a few hours may bring us news. But, listen; can
our folk have caught the deer-slayers? let us return to them."
In the absence of their leaders, the men-at-arms, confiding in the
goodness of their boots and leggings, had trodden across the smoking
soil in the direction where their leader had pointed out the roof of a
hut amidst leafy trees, and had quickly discovered their victims,
crossed the brook, and surrounded the house.
"Come forth, Osric, my son," said the old man, "whatever befalls, let us
not disgrace our ancestry; let nothing become us in life more than the
mode of leaving it, if die we must."
"But must we die? what have we done?"
"Broken their tyrannical laws. Judith, open the door."
A loud shout greeted the appearance of the old man, his beard descending
to his waist, as he issued forth, leading Osric by the hand.
"What seek ye, Normans? wherefore have ye surrounded my humble home,
whither tyranny has driven me?"
A loud shout of exultation.
"The deer--give up the deer--confess thy guilt."
"Search for it"--"a haunch was gone"--"if in the house, we need no
further trial"--"to the nearest tree."
The house was rudely entered--but the haunch, which had been removed
from the tree and hidden by Judith, could not be found.
"Ye have no proof that we have offended."
They searched a long while in vain, they opened cupboard and chest, but
no haunch appeared.
"Examine them by torture: try the knotted cord."
"One should never go out without thumbscrews in this vile country; they
would fit that young poacher's thumbs well."
Just then the Baron was seen returning from his stroll with his guest.
"Bring them to the Baron! bring them to the Baron!"
"And meanwhile fire the house."
"Nay, not till we have orders; our master is stern and strict."