THE DEER STEALERS.
The Lucy family we have already had occasion to notice as descended from
an ancient and honourable house. They might indeed say with Christopher
Sly--"We came in with Richard Conqueror," since they have in truth,
occupied an important position in England for many centuries.
The mansion of Charlecote, at the period of our story, stood in the
midst of a park or chase much greater in extent than at the present
time.
The ground plan of the building forms in shape the Roman capital letter
E, perhaps in compliment to the virgin Queen, with whose arms it is
decorated. The soft and gentle Avon gliding at the base, and the park,
which immediately surrounded the building, was shadowed by oaks of great
age, which gradually gave place to brake and thicket, almost
impenetrable in some parts to aught save the hound or the game he
followed. This again was relieved at intervals by open spaces of great
beauty, in which the fern grew in wild luxuriance, and hundreds of brood
short-stemmed oaks, at distant intervals, threw their huge branches over
the green surface, as if rejoicing in their unconfined luxuriance. In
such spots, so bright and fresh in the pale light of the moon, the fern
decked with liquid dew, and the branches of the trees glittering with
bright drops, the fairies might well be imagined to hold their
sequestered revels.
Every glade and bosky bourne, every tree and fern-clad undulation, was a
scene peculiarly adapted to the elfin and the fay. They seemed to tell,
in their sweetness, and their unmolested seclusion, of the innocent
ages of an early world, when faun and satyr, and nymph and dryad,
revelled in the open glade, or reposed on the mossed bank beneath the
sheltering boughs.
Stealthily, and with the utmost caution, not a word even whispered, but
communicating to each other by signs as they advanced, young Shakespeare
and Diccon Snare slowly emerged from the more thick cover upon one of
these picturesque glades, and took their stand behind a huge oak--
"An oak whose boughs were moss'd with age,
And big top bald with dry antiquity."
"We near the herd," said Shakespeare, in a gentle whisper to his
companion.
"We do so," said Snare, "a few yards more and we shall get within shot,
thanks to our care in gaming the wind, and, look, ye, there they be! You
can just see their antlered heads above the long white grass in yonder
open space."
"We must be wary in our approach," said Shakespeare, in a whisper;
"tread softly, that the blind mole may not hear a footfall."
"'Twere best to lay along and drag ourselves to yonder blasted oak,"
said Snare. "Be careful and keep where the fern is less thick. The
slightest unnatural movement of the herbage, and they are off."
So saying, Snare lay flat on the ground, and began to worm himself
towards the tree he had mentioned, Shakespeare doing the same and
following close in his wake; and so quietly and cautiously did they
continue their serpent-like course, that a looker-on would hardly have
discovered the track they took except by the occasional movements of the
long grass and fern.
Every now and then the crafty Snare lay perfectly quiet for a few
moments, and then cautiously raising his bare head, looked forth to see
if the herd were still unconscious of their approach.
Nothing could be more lovely than the entire scene, as it was looked
upon by Shakespeare. Before and around him lay the wild chase, the deer
couched "in their own confines," and nearly hidden in the long thick
grass of ages--himself in a spot which, except under the peculiar
circumstance in which he sought it, he could scarce have beheld the game
so near,--those magnificent and antlered monarchs of waste, be it
remembered. For in Elizabeth's day, and in the extensive parks of the
great, the stag was a wilder and fiercer creature than the same animal
domesticated as they are, from the confined space in which they are
necessarily kept.
The danger attendant on the situation also lent its charm to one of his
bold and ardent spirit. As his eye glanced amidst the magnificent
scenery, his imagination was instantly carried back to the days of the
early English kings, when Britain was one entire forest, waste or wold;
and when, even at an after period, the conquering Norman had lain waste
whole districts to give room for the chase. Then again, with the
shifting change of thought, his imagination bodied forth the fabled
beings of an earlier age. The mossed carpet on which he stood, the
venerable trees around, the sweet scent of the fern, and the perfumed
air of the fresh forest, as the dews of summer night fell around him,
suggested those magnificent thoughts, peculiar to himself, and which in
after life produced descriptions unequalled for beauty in any age. He
was
"With Hercules and Cadmus,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
With hounds of Sparta.
Besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seemed all one mutual cry."
Meantime whilst the mind of Shakespeare was impressed with the beauty of
the situation, as well as interested in the sport, the less imaginative
Snare, with his whole soul intent upon slaughter, and with all the
cunning of his craft, his body flattened against the huge tree, one hand
keeping his companion back, the other grasping his cross-bow, again
cautiously peered out into the glade before him.
This was a moment of intense interest to the deer-stealers. They found
themselves so close upon the wild and magnificent animals that they
could see their slightest movement.
There is indeed, something inexpressibly exciting to the hunter or the
deer stalker in thus finding himself in the midst of the herd, a spy
upon them in their security, conscious at the same time that the
slightest movement or mistake on his own part will ruin the hours of
toil he has previously spent in gaining his position.
A magnificent stag lay a little to the right, and nearest to
Shakespeare; he touched his companion lightly on the shoulder, and by a
sign signified that he meant to fire at it.
Snare stretched his neck and peeped over his shoulder. As he did so,
Shakespeare saw, that with the instinctive knowledge and jealousy of
their nature, the herd were becoming aware that danger was in their
close vicinity.
In an instant their heads were thrown back, the next moment Snare heard
at some distance that short guttural noise, so peculiar to the deer at
particular seasons of the year, and as the splendid animal upon which
Shakespeare had fixed his eye caught the sound, it leaped to its feet
and bounded from the spot, the whole herd in an instant also flying like
the wind towards the cover, seemed to vanish into the mists of night;
but ere his companion could stay his hand, Shakespeare had raised his
bow to his shoulder and fired. The shot struck the deer just behind the
shoulder, and the animal bounding into the air, fell struggling amongst
the fern.
"Hark!" said Snare, as the same guttural sounds were again heard in the
woods. "You should not have fired. 'Tis the signal from our comrades.
The keepers are at hand."
"May the fiend take them," said Shakespeare.
"So say I," returned Snare; "but an we take not especial care, they will
take us; for look ye, the startled herd will sweep by them yonder, and
they will be upon us anon; and see, that huge beast is kicking and
struggling like a dying ox,--quick, good William, strike roundly in and
cut his throat."
So saying, Snare gave all his attention to the direction in which the
sounds came, whilst Shakespeare, dashing upon the stag, seized the
animal by the horns. There was then a short and desperate struggle, and
with his sharp dagger he cut the creature's throat. He then as swiftly
rejoined his companion. Scarcely had he done so ere they were both aware
of the approach of the keepers, who having observed the affrighted herd,
and at the same time noticed the peculiar sounds given by the watchers,
and which were somewhat out of season, came directly upon them.
"We might easily shew them a clean pair of heels, and join the bulky
Froth without the palings," whispered Snare; "but we must have yonder
beast at all hazards; and we can but make a fight of it if it come to
the worst. Down with thee, good Will, flat in the fern. Here they
come--I see them plainly in yonder glade." So saying, Snare threw
himself on the ground close beside Shakespeare, and immediately
divesting himself of his jerkin and hat, rose up again a most grisly
object--neither more nor less than Mors, or Dreary Death. Meanwhile the
rangers came quickly on, four in number, and each armed with cross-bows
and a short barbed, spear.
They advanced to within about a bow-shot from the tree behind which
Snare and Shakespeare were concealed, when the former, slowly gliding
from behind its stern, advanced directly upon them.
The first sight of such an apparition, seen but indistinctly amongst the
huge boughs, brought the whole party to a stand. They but half made out
its hideous outline, when it emerged into the clear moonlight, and
seemed gliding upon them, "a bare-ribbed death, horrible to sight." To
say the keepers were frightened would be to say little. They were at
first paralysed, and then turning, they fled like the wind; whilst Snare
immediately again threw himself flat on his face, and was lost to sight
amongst the fern; so that, as the keepers looked back whilst they fled,
the apparition had apparently vanished into the earth.
Rejoining Shakespeare, Snare now resumed his outward garment; and taking
advantage of the panic, both hastily approached the deer, and securing
its legs, fastened them on a quarter-staff which they had supported on
their shoulders, they then hastened across the glade.
So soon as they had gained the park palings, and which at this period,
and at this part, ran across a deep sandy lane, they threw down their
burden; and casting themselves on the ground to regain breath after
their rapid flight, listened attentively. In a few moments a huge
broad-backed countryman, clad in the loose frock of a miller's man,
mounted upon a strong-jointed horse, and carrying an empty sack on the
pommel of the saddle, rode past.
"You ride late, Master Miller," said Shakespeare, as he clambered over
the palings.
"Nay; rather I ride early, Master Forester," returned the other. "Hast
anything for the mill to-night?"
"I have, good Froth," said Shakespeare; "but is there a clear coast?"
"By the mass! I think there be. Be quick, however, for three of Sir
Thomas's fellows have passed this spot not a quarter of an hour back."
"Good!" said Shakespeare. "Then hand me thy meal bag." And the horseman
threw his sack to Shakespeare, as Snare at the same moment heaved the
carcase of the deer over the paling, and then following himself, the
sack was quickly drawn over the body of the deer, and it was thrown
across the horse, the trio making the best of their way along the deep
sandy lane towards Stratford.
As they emerged from the lane upon a rushy mead, and left the boundary
of the park, a low whistle was heard, which they answered. Soon
afterwards they were joined by their companions, and enveloped in mists
of the swampy ground they traversed.
It was about the hour when "night is at odds with morning which is
which" that the party we have before seen assembled at the Lucy Arms
once more entered its hospitable doors. Quietly, and with considerable
caution, however, they stole in, one of them bearing upon his shoulders,
nay, round his neck as it were, with the hind and fore legs protruding
before him, the carcase of a goodly stag. This latter bent his tall
form, as he was ushered into the kitchen of the hostel, and threw his
heavy burthen upon the floor, whilst his companions and mine host, by
the light of the fire, and in great glee, proceeded to examine it.
"By 'ur Lady, a fine beast," said the host. "Why, Will Shakespeare, this
is even a better night's work than when you shot that beast in
Fulbrook."
"A stag of ten, my masters all," said Froth. "'Fore gad, I am well nigh
exhausted with long fasting and sharp watching. A cup of wine, mine
host, a cup of wine to Sir Thomas Lucy's health."
Whilst the host produced his wine, and Froth and Careless seated
themselves on the settle beneath the chimney, Snare and Shakespeare were
busily engaged in skinning the stag, which having quickly accomplished,
they as speedily cut it up, and disposed of the several portions in such
places of security and concealment us the host pointed out. After which,
the skin and the antlered head were thrust into the meal-bag, and
carried into the orchard, where Shakespeare dug a hole and buried it.
That done they returned to the kitchen, and mine host having spread a
table and furnished it with liquors, some rashers were cut from the
carcase of the door, and fried, and eaten with a relish only known to
men who had spent a night in the forest glades watching and killing the
stag from which they were taken.
"By 'ur Lady, my lads," said Froth, as he washed down these delicious
morsels, hot from the fire, with large draughts of mine host's best ale,
"this is the best part of the night's work. I like not that lonely
watching beneath the moon's rays. Give me the tankard and a savoury
collop after the deed is done, and spare me the toil of the action. And
yet, lads, an I had met yonder caitiff-keepers, I should have found them
in work, I promise ye."
"No doubt," said Caliver; "it would have taken them all four to have
carried thy fat paunch to the cage."
"I taken to the cage!" said Froth, "I would have cudgelled them to
mummy."
"Ha, Cavaliere," said the host, "thou would'st have smote, thou would'st
have feined, thou would'st have traversed, eh, ere limbo should have
held thy portly body? And that reminds me, Lawyer Grasp, with two imps
of the evil one, was here to-night inquiring for thee."
"Ah!" said Froth, turning rather blank, and setting down the tankard.
"The peaking knave, then, hath entered the action against me for Master
Doubletongue's debt. Would I had been at home, my lads, we would have
tossed the caitiff in a blanket."
"Nay, Host," said Pierce Caliver, "I had rather myself not come in
contact with that Grasp; by the same token, I owe moneys too. Therefore
keep fast your doors while I am within them."
"My hand upon it," said the host; "I will keep all fast till noon; and
none shall have egress or regress. Said I well, lads, eh?"
"You did, Host," said Careless, "for I, too, would as lief walk with the
receipt of fernseed by daylight."
"And now, my lads all," said Snare, "let us have one song, and then a
nap; after that to seek our several destinations. I am for Warwick when
day breaks."
"And I for Monkspath," said Careless.
"And I for Stoneleigh," said Caliver.
"And I for home," said Shakespeare, with a look of mock solemnity,
"where----"
"Where thou wilt be finely clapper-clawed for being out all night," said
the host. "Such it is to be a married man--ha! ha! A young man married
is a man that's marred. But truly, Will, thou art not yet married; thou
canst hit a buck by moonlight with the best of us; so, I pry'thee, give
us that song of thine about the horns, and we'll all join in chorus."
Shakespeare accordingly commenced the following glee. Snare and the
others taking part, and joining chorus:--
_Shak._ What shall he have that killed the deer?[15]
_Snare._ His leather skin and horns to wear.
_Shak._ Then sing him home.
_Chorus._ Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn,
It was a crest ere thou wast born,
_Shak._ Thy father's father wore it.
_Snare._ And thy own father bore it.
_Chorus._ The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
[Footnote 15: "As you like it."]
The first faint light of the breaking dawn, as it gradually appeared
through the diamond-paned window, found the entire party wrapped in
slumber.
The fat and jovial Froth, with his huge legs stretched out before him,
his portly body thrown back, and the tankard fast-clutched in his hand,
showed by his apoplectic breathing, the heaviness of his slumbers.
Shakespeare, somewhat fatigued by the night's exertions, sat opposite,
with his head on his folded arms.
Snare was down full length before the expired fire upon the hearth; and
the others were disposed on either side.
Not a sound was heard, except the prolonged chorus of the sleepers, and
the chirping of the cricket; when from beneath a large table at the
farther end of the kitchen, and where he had lain concealed, the head of
Pouncet Grasp was protruded. Stealthily, and with the greatest caution,
he listened to the heavy breathing of the sleepers. He then as carefully
emerged from his hiding-place, and stole on tip-toe towards the party,
identifying each individual as he did so, and putting down his name in a
small tablet he drew from the breast of his doublet.
"Oh, oh," he whispered to himself, as he closed the tablets, after
writing down the name of William Shakespeare; "here is a precious nest
of ye."
"Ah! ah!" he continued, as he stepped to the door, and carefully opening
it, looked back ere he departed. "Here's a delicious job for a man to
stumble upon! A good night's work you have made on't, Master William
Shakespeare, have ye? Yes, and a precious piece of work have ye all made
on't. A Star-Chamber matter will Sir Thomas make of this, as sure as my
name is Grasp." So saying, he quietly opened the back door, and stole
out to join the followers whom he had left in the orchard.
"Shall I call the other men, and make the capture, Master Grasp?"
inquired one of his myrmidons in a whisper. "Not to-night, good Giles,"
said the lawyer. "By no means to-night. There is a precious fellowship
within there; and they may capture us! Besides, I have found out a
plot--a monstrous plot--a damnable plot--and yet a lovely plot--a most
sweet piece of villany!"
"A monstrous plot!" said the constable; "What is't, another conspiracy
to murder the Queen?"
"Worse," said Grasp. "Now, listen and perpend. Thou knowest Sir Thomas
Lucy hath of late lost more than one deer?"
"I do," said the constable.
"Well, an he hath lost them, I have found them."
"Where?" eagerly inquired the constable.
"Here, in this veritable inn," said Grasp.
"And when?" inquired the constable.
"Why, now, even now: go to--see what it is to bear a brain."
"Nay, then, Master Grasp," said the constable, "if the case, I also have
a discovery to tell of."
"Ah!" said Grasp, "what is it?"
"Whilst we lay perdue in yonder corner of the orchard. But, stay, dost
see that tree there with the spade against it?"
"I do," said Grasp, eagerly.
"With that spade, and under the third tree in line therewith, did Will
Shakespeare dig a hole this night, and into that hole did Diccon Snare
bury a something concealed in a sack."
"Ha! say'st thou; by my faith the skin of the stolen deer," said Grasp,
"as I'm a lawyer. Let us mark the tree; and now, my lads, I have ye
emmeshed in a lovely web. No noise, ye knaves," he continued to his men,
"but get through the hedge and away."
"Ha! ha! Master William Shakespeare," he said, as he followed his two
ill-looking myrmidons. "Now, will I to Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote,
knight and magistrate, and then will we let the law loose upon ye."