The Legend of Herne
the Hunter.
“Nearly a century and a half
ago,” commenced Cutbeard, about the middle of
the reign of Richard the Second, there was among the
keepers of the forest a young man named Herne.
He was expert beyond his fellows in all matters of
woodcraft, and consequently in great favour with the
king, who was himself devoted to the chase. Whenever
he stayed at the castle, King Richard, like our own
royal Harry, would pass his time in hunting, hawking,
or shooting with the long-bow; and on all these occasions
the young keeper was his constant attendant.
If a hart was to be chased, Herne and his two black
hounds of Saint Hubert’s breed would hunt him
down with marvellous speed; if a wild boar was to be
reared, a badger digged out, a fox unkennelled, a
marten bayed, or an otter vented, Herne was chosen
for the task. No one could fly a falcon so well
as Herne no one could break up a deer so
quickly or so skilfully as him. But in proportion
as he grew in favour with the king, the young keeper
was hated by his comrades, and they concerted together
how to ruin him. All their efforts, however,
were ineffectual, and rather tended to his advantage
than injury.
“One day it chanced that the
king hunted in the forest with his favourite, the
Earl of Oxford, when a great deer of head was unharboured,
and a tremendous chase ensued, the hart leading his
pursuers within a few miles of Hungerford, whither
the borders of the forest then extended. All
the followers of the king, even the Earl of Oxford,
had by this time dropped off, and the royal huntsman
was only attended by Herne, who kept close behind
him. At last the hart, driven to desperation,
stood at bay, and gored the king’s horse as he
came up in such a manner that it reared and threw
its rider. Another instant, and the horns of
the infuriated animal would have been plunged into
the body of the king, if Herne had not flung himself
between the prostrate monarch and his assailant, and
received the stroke intended for him. Though
desperately wounded, the young hunter contrived slightly
to raise himself, and plunged his knife into the hart’s
throat, while the king regained his feet.
“Gazing with the utmost concern
at his unfortunate deliverer, King Richard demanded
what he could do for him.
“‘Nothing, sire nothing,’
replied Herne, with a groan. I shall require
nothing but a grave from you, for I have received a
wound that will speedily bring me to it.’
“‘Not so, I trust, good
fellow,’ replied the king, in a tone meant to
be encouraging, though his looks showed that his heart
misgave him; ’my best leech shall attend you.’
“‘No skill will avail
me now,’ replied Herne sadly. ’A hurt
from hart’s horn bringeth to the bier.’
“‘I hope the proverb will
not be justified in thy case,’ rejoined the
king; ’and I promise thee, if thou dost recover,
thou shalt have the post of head keeper of the forest,
with twenty nobles a year for wages. If, unhappily,
thy forebodings are realised, I will give the same
sum to be laid out in masses for thy soul.’
“‘I humbly thank your
highness,’ replied the young man, ’and
I accept the latter offer, seeing it is the only one
likely to profit me.’
“With this he put his horn to
his lips, and winding the dead mot feebly, fell back
senseless. Much moved, the king rode off for succour;
and blowing a lusty call on his bugle, was presently
joined by the Earl of Oxford and some of his followers,
among whom were the keepers. The latter were
secretly rejoiced on hearing what had befallen Herne,
but they feigned the greatest affliction, and hastened
with the king to the spot where the body was lying
stretched out beside that of the hart.
“‘It is almost a pity
his soul cannot pass away thus,’ said King Richard,
gazing compassionately at him, ’for he will only
revive to anguish and speedy death.’”
“‘Your highness is right,’
replied the chief keeper, a grim old man named Osmond
Crooke, kneeling beside him, and half drawing his
hunting-knife; ‘it were better to put him out
of his misery.’
“‘What! slay the man who
has just saved my own life!’ cried the king.
’I will consent to no such infamous deed.
I would give a large reward to any one who could cure
him.’
“As the words were uttered,
a tall dark man, in a strange garb, and mounted on
a black wild-looking steed, whom no one had hitherto
observed, sprang to the ground and advanced towards
the king.
“‘I take your offer, sire,’
said this personage, in a harsh voice. I will
cure him.’
“‘Who art thou, fellow?’
demanded King Richard doubtfully.
“‘I am a forester,’
replied the tall man, ’but I understand somewhat
of chirurgery and leechcraft.’
“‘And woodcraft, too,
I’ll be sworn, fellow,’ said the king ’Thou
hast, or I am mistaken, made free with some of my
venison.’
“’He looks marvellously
like Arnold Sheafe, who was outlawed for deer-stealing,’
said Osmond Crooke, regarding him steadfastly.
“‘I am no outlaw, neither
am I called Arnold Sheafe,’ replied the other.
’My name is Philip Urswick, and I can render
a good account of myself when it shall please the
king’s highness to interrogate me. I dwell
on the heath near Bagshot, which you passed today
in the chase, and where I joined you.’
“‘I noted you not,’ said Osmond.
“‘Nor I nor I!’ cried
the other keepers.
“‘That may be; but I saw
you,’ rejoined Urswick contemptuously; ’and
I tell you there is not one among you to be compared
with the brave hunter who lies there. You have
all pronounced his case hopeless. I repeat I
can cure him if the king will make it worth my while.’
“‘Make good thy words,
fellow,’ replied the king; ’and thou shalt
not only be amply rewarded, but shalt have a free
pardon for any offence thou mayest have committed.’
“‘Enough,’ replied
Urswick. And taking a large, keen-edged hunting-knife
from his girdle, he cut off the head of the hart close
to the point where the neck joins the skull, and then
laid it open from the extremity of the under-lip to
the nuke. ’This must be bound on the head
of the wounded man,’ he said.
“The keepers stared in astonishment.
But the king commanded that the strange order should
be obeyed. Upon which the bleeding skull was
fastened upon the head of the keeper with leathern
thongs.
“‘I will now answer for
his perfect cure in a month’s time,’ said
Urswick to the king; ’but I shall require to
watch over him myself till all danger is at an end.
I pray your highness to command these keepers to transport
him to my hut.’
“‘You hear what he says,
knaves?’ cried the king; ’do his bidding,
and carefully, or ye shall answer to me with your
lives.’
“Accordingly a litter was formed
with branches of trees, and on this the body of Herne,
with the hart’s head still bound to it, was conveyed
by the keepers to Urswick’s hut, a small dwelling,
situated in the wildest part of Bagshot Heath.
After placing the body upon a bed of dried fern, the
keepers were about to depart, when Osmond Crooke observed
to the forester, ‘I am now certain thou art
Arnold Sheafe.’
“‘It matters not who I
am, since I have the king’s pardon,’ replied
the other, laughing disdainfully.
“‘Thou hast yet to earn it,’ said
Osmond.
“‘Leave that to me,’
replied Urswick. ’There is more fear that
thou wilt lose thy post as chief keeper, which the
king has promised to Herne, than that I shall fail.’
“‘Would the deer had killed
him outright!’ growled Osmond.
“And the savage wish was echoed
by the other keepers. “’I see you all
hate him bitterly,’ said Urswick. ‘What
will you give me for revenge?’
“’We have little to give,
save a fat buck on occasions,’replied Osmond;
‘and, in all likelihood, thou canst help thyself
to venison.’
“’Will you swear to grant
the first request I may make of you provided
it shall be in your power?’ demanded Urswick.
“‘Readily’ they replied.
“‘Enough’ said Urswick.
’I must keep faith with the king. Herne
will recover, but he will lose all his skill as an
archer, all his craft as a hunter.’
“‘If thou canst accomplish
this thou art the fiend himself’ cried Osmond,
trembling.
“‘Fiend or not,’
replied Urswick, with a triumphant laugh, ’ye
have made a compact with me, and must fulfil it.
Now begone. I must attend to the wounded man.’
“And the keepers, full of secret misgiving,
departed.
“At the precise time promised,
Herne, attended by Urswick, presented himself to the
king. He looked thin and pale, but all danger
was past. King Richard gave the forester a purse
full of nobles, and added a silver bugle to the gift.
He then appointed Herne his chief keeper, hung a chain
of gold round his neck, and ordered him to be lodged
in the castle.
“About a week after this, Herne,
having entirely regained his strength, accompanied
the king on a hunting expedition to the forest, and
they had scarcely entered it when his horse started
and threw him. Up to that moment such an accident
had never happened to him, for he was an excellent
horseman, and he arose greatly discomfited, while the
keepers eyed each other askance. Soon after this
a buck was started, and though Herne was bravely mounted
on a black steed bestowed on him on account of its
swiftness by the king, he was the last in the chase.
“‘Thou art out of practice,’
said the king, laughing, as he came up.
“‘I know not what ails me,’ replied
Herne gloomily.
“‘It cannot be thy steed’s
fault,’ said the king, ’for he is usually
as fleet as the wind. But I will give thee an
opportunity of gaining credit in another way.
Thou seest yon buck. He cannot be seventy yards
off, and I have seen thee hit the mark at twice the
distance. Bring him down.’
“Herne raised his crossbow,
and let fly the bolt; but it missed its mark, and
the buck, startled by the noise, dashed down the brake
wholly uninjured.
“King Richard’s brow grew
dark, and Herne uttered an exclamation of rage and
despair.
“‘Thou shalt have a third
and yet easier trial,’ said the king. Old
Osmond Crooke shall lend thee his bow, and thy quarry
shall be yon magot-pie.’
“As he spoke, the arrow sped.
But it quivered in the trunk of the tree, some yards
from the bird. The unfortunate shooter looked
distracted; but King Richard made no remark, until,
towards the close of the day, he said to him, ’Thou
must regain thy craft, friend Herne, or I cannot continue
thee as my chief keeper.’
“The keepers congratulated each
other in secret, for they felt that their malice was
about to be gratified.
“The next day Herne went forth,
as he thought, alone, but he was watched by his enemies.
Not a shaft would go true, and he found that he had
completely lost his mastery over hound and horse.
The day after that he again rode forth to hunt with
the king, and his failures made him the laughing-stock
of the party. Richard at length dismissed him
with these words, ’Take repose for a week, and
then thou shalt have a further trial. If thou
dost not then succeed, I must perforce discharge thee
from thy post.’
“Instead of returning to the
castle, Herne rode off wildly into the forest, where
he remained till eventide. He then returned with
ghastly looks and a strange appearance, having the
links of a rusty chain which he had plucked from a
gibbet hanging from his left arm, and the hart’s
antlered skull, which he had procured from Urswick,
fixed like a helm upon his head. His whole demeanour
showed that he was crazed; and his condition, which
might have moved the compassion of his foes, only
provoked their laughter. After committing the
wildest extravagances, he burst from all restraint,
and disappeared among the trees of the home park.
“An hour after this a pedlar,
who was crossing the park from Datchet, found him
suspended by a rope from a branch of the oak-tree which
you have all seen, and which bears his name.
Despair had driven him to the dreadful deed.
Instead of cutting him down, the pedlar ran to the
castle to relate what he had witnessed; and the keepers,
satisfied that their revenge was now fully accomplished,
hastened with him to the tree. But the body was
gone; and all that proclaimed it had been there, was
the rope hanging from the branch. Search was
everywhere made for the missing body, but without
effect. When the matter was related to the king
he was much troubled, and would fain have had masses
said for the repose of the soul of the unfortunate
keeper, but the priests refused to perform them, alleging
that he had ’committed self-destruction, and
was therefore out of the pale of the Church.
“On that night, a terrible thunderstorm
occurred as terrible, it may be, as that
of last night and during its continuance,
the oak on which Herne had hanged himself was blasted
by the lightning.
“Old Osmond was immediately
reinstated in his post of chief keeper; but he had
little time for rejoicing, for he found that the same
spell that had bound Herne had fallen upon him.
His bolts and arrows went wide of their mark, his
hounds lost their scent, and his falcon would not be
lured back. Half frantic, and afraid of exposing
himself to the taunts of his companions, he feigned
illness, and left his comrade, Roger Barfoot, to take
his place. But the same ill-luck befell Barfoot,
and he returned in woeful plight, without a single
head of game. Four others were equally unfortunate,
and it was now clear that the whole party were bewitched.
“Luckily, the king had quitted
the castle, but they felt certain they should be dismissed
on his return, if not more severely punished.
At last, after taking counsel together, they resolved
to consult Urswick, who they doubted not could remove
the spell. Accordingly, they went to Bagshot
Heath, and related their story to him. When they
had done, he said, ’The curse of Herne’s
blood is upon you, and can only be removed in one
way. As you return to the castle, go to the tree
on which he destroyed himself, and you may learn how
to act.’
“The keepers would have questioned
him further, but he refused to answer, and dismissed
them.
“The shades of evening had fallen
as they quitted Bagshot; and it was midnight as they
entered the home park, and proceeded towards the fatal
oak. It was pitchy dark, and they could only distinguish
the tree by its white, scathed trunk. All at
once, a blue flame, like a will-o’-the-wisp,
appeared, flitted thrice round the tree, and then
remained stationary, its light falling upon a figure
in a wild garb, with a rusty chain hanging from its
left arm, and an antlered helm upon its head.
They knew it to be Herne, and instantly fell down before
him, while a burst of terrible laughter sounded in
their ears.
“Without heeding them further,
the spirit darted round the tree, rattling its chain,
and uttering appalling imprecations. It then
stopped, and turning to the terrified beholders, bade
them, in a hollow voice, bring hounds and horses as
for the chase on the following night and vanished.
“Filled with dread, the keepers
returned home, and the next day Old Osmond again sought
the forester, and told him what had occurred.
“’You must obey the spirit’s
injunctions, or worse mischief will befall you,’
said Urswick. ’Go to the tree, mounted as
for a hunting-party, and take the black steed given
to Herne by the king, and the two black hounds with
you. You will see what will ensue.’
And without another word he dismissed him.
“Osmond told his comrades what
the forester had said, and though they were filled
with alarm, they resolved upon compliance. At
midnight, therefore, they rode towards the tree with
the black hounds in leash, and leading Herne’s
favourite horse, saddled and bridled. As they
drew near, they again saw the terrible shape stalking
round the tree, and heard the fearful imprecations.
“His spells ended, Herne called
to Osmond to bring him his steed; and the old man
tremblingly obeyed. In an instant the mysterious
being vaulted on its back, and in a voice of resistless
authority cried, ’To the forest! to
the forest!’ With this, he dashed forward, and
the whole party, hounds and men, hurried after him.
“They rode at a furious pace
for five or six miles over the great park, the keepers
wondering where their unearthly leader was taking them,
and almost fancying they were hurrying to perdition,
when they descended a hillside leading to the marsh,
and halted before a huge beech-tree, where Herne dismounted
and pronounced certain mystic words, accompanying
them with strange gestures.
“Presently, he became silent
and motionless. A flash of fire then burst from
the roots of the tree, and the forester Urswick stood
before him. But his aspect was more terrible
and commanding than it had seemed heretofore to the
keepers.
“‘Welcome, Herne,’
he cried; ’welcome, lord of the forest.
And you his comrades, and soon to be his followers,
welcome too. The time is come for the fulfilment
of your promise to me. I require you to form a
band for Herne the Hunter, and to serve him as leader.
Swear to obey him, and the spell that hangs over you
shall be broken. If not, I leave you to the king’s
justice.’
“Not daring to refuse compliance,
the keepers took the oath proposed and
a fearful one it was! As soon as it was Urswick
vanished, as he came, in a flash of fire. Herne,
then commanded the others to dismount, and made them
prostrate themselves before him, and pay him homage.
“This done, he blew a strike
on his horn, rode swiftly up the hillside, and a stag
being unharboured, the chase commenced. Many a
fat buck was hunted and slaughtered that night; and
an hour before daybreak, Herne commanded them to lay
the four finest and fattest at the foot of the beech-tree,
and then dismissed them, bidding them meet him at midnight
at the scathed oak in the home park.
“They came as they were commanded;
but fearful of detection, they adopted strange disguises,
not unlike those worn by the caitiffs who were put
to death, a few weeks ago, by the king in the great
park. Night after night they thus went forth,
thinning the herds of deer, and committing other outrages
and depredations. Nor were their dark proceedings
altogether unnoticed. Belated travellers crossing
the forest beheld them, and related what they had
seen; others watched for them, but they were so effectually
disguised that they escaped detection.
“At last, however, the king
returned to the castle, and accounts of the strange
doings in the forest were instantly brought to him.
Astonished at what he heard, and determined to ascertain
the truth of the statement, he ordered the keepers
to attend him that night in an expedition to the forest,
when he hoped to encounter the demon huntsman and
his hand. Much alarmed, Osmond Crooke, who acted
as spokesman, endeavoured, by representing the risk
he would incur, to dissuade the king from the enterprise;
but he would not be deterred, and they now gave themselves
up for lost.
“As the castle clock tolled
forth the hour of midnight, Richard, accompanied by
a numerous guard, and attended by the keepers, issued
from the gates, and rode towards the scathed oak.
As they drew near the tree, the figure of Herne, mounted
on his black steed, was discerned beneath it.
Deep fear fell upon all the beholders, but chiefly
upon the guilty keepers, at the sight. The king,
however, pressed forward, and cried, ‘Why does
thou disturb the quietude of night, accursed spirit?’
“Because I desire vengeance!’
replied Herne, in a hollow voice. ’I was
brought to my present woeful condition by Osmond Crooke
and his comrades.’
“‘But you died by your
own hand, did you not?’ demanded King
Richard.
“‘Yea,’ replied
Herne; ’but I was driven to the deed by an infernal
spell laid upon me by the malice of the wretches I
have denounced. Hang them upon this tree, and
I will trouble these woods no longer whilst thou reignest!’
“The king looked round at the
keepers. They all remained obdurate, except Roger
Barfoot, who, falling on his knees, confessed his guilt,
and accused the others.
“It is enough,’ cried
the king to Herne; ’they shall all suffer for
their offence.’
“Upon this a flash of fire enveloped
the spirit and his horse, and he vanished.
“The king kept his word.
Osmond and his comrades were all hanged upon the scathed
tree, nor was Herne seen again in the forest while
Richard sat upon the throne. But he reappeared
with a new band at the commencement of the rule of
Henry the Fourth, and again hunted the deer at night.
His band was destroyed, but he defied all attempts
at capture; and so it has continued to our own time,
for not one of the seven monarchs who have held the
castle since Richard’s day have been able to
drive him from the forest.”
“Nor will the present monarch
be able to drive him thence,” said a deep voice.
“As long as Windsor Forest endures, Herne the
Hunter will haunt it.”
All turned at the exclamation and
saw that it proceeded from a tall dark man, in an
archer’s garb, standing behind Simon Quanden’s
chair.
“Thou hast told thy legend fairly
enough, good clerk of the kitchen,” continued
this personage; “but thou art wrong on many material
points.”
“I have related the story as
it was related to me,” said Cutbeard somewhat
nettled at the remark; “but perhaps you will
set me right where I have erred.”
“It is true that Herne was a
keeper in the reign of Richard the Second,”
replied the tall archer. “It is true also
that he was expert in all matters of woodcraft, and
that he was in high favour with the king; but he was
bewitched by a lovely damsel, and not by a weird forester.
He carried off a nun and dwelt with her in a cave
in the forest where he assembled his brother keepers,
and treated them to the king’s venison and the
king’s wine.
“A sacreligious villain and
a reprobate!” exclaimed Launcelot Rutter.
“His mistress was fair enough,
I will warrant her,” said Kit Coo.
“She was the very image of this
damsel,” rejoined the tall archer, pointing
to Mabel, “and fair enough to work his ruin,
for it was through her that the fiend tempted him.
The charms that proved his undoing were fatal to her
also, for in a fit of jealousy he slew her. The
remorse occasioned by this deed made him destroy himself.”
“Well, your version of the legend
may be the correct one, for aught I know, worthy sir,”
said Cutbeard; “but I see not that it accounts
for Herne’s antlers so well as mine, unless
he were wedded to the nun, who you say played him
false. But how came you to know she resembled
Mabel Lyndwood?”
“Ay, I was thinking of that
myself,” said Simon Quanden. “How
do you know that, master?”
“Because I have seen her picture,”
replied the tall archer.
“Painted by Satan’s chief
limner, I suppose?” rejoined Cutbeard.
“He who painted it had seen
her,” replied the tall archer sternly. “But,
as I have said, it was the very image of this damsel.”
And as he uttered the words, he quitted the kitchen.
“Who is that archer?”
demanded Cutbeard, looking after him. But no one
could answer the question, nor could any one tell when
he had entered the kitchen.
“Strange!” exclaimed Simon
Quanden, crossing himself. “Have you ever
seen him before, Mabel?”
“I almost think I have,”
she replied, with a slight shudder.
“I half suspect he is Herne
himself,” whispered the Duke of Shoreditch to
Paddington.
“It may be,” responded
the other; “his glance made my blood run cold.”
“You look somewhat fatigued,
sweetheart,” said Deborah, observing Mabel’s
uneasiness. “Come with me and I will show
you to a chamber.”
Glad to escape Mabel followed the
good dame out of the kitchen, and they ascended a
winding staircase which brought them to a commodious
chamber in the upper part of Henry the Seventh’s
buildings, where Deborah sat down with her young charge
and volunteered a great deal of good advice to her,
which the other listened to with becoming attention,
and promised to profit by it.