Of the Mysterious Noise
heard in the Curfew Tower.
On quitting the kitchen, Henry, having
been informed by Bouchier that Tristram Lyndwood was
lodged in the prison-chamber in the lower gateway,
proceeded thither to question him. He found the
old man seated on a bench, with his hands tied behind
him; but though evidently much alarmed at his situation,
he could not be brought either by threats or proffers
to make any confession.
Out of patience, at length, the king
ordered him to be conveyed to the dungeon beneath
the Curfew Tower, and personally superintended his
removal.
“I will find a means of shaking
his obstinacy,” said Henry, as he quitted the
vault with Bouchier. “If I cannot move him
by other means, I may through his granddaughter I
will interrogate him in her presence to-night.”
“To-night, sire!” exclaimed Bouchier.
“Ay, to-night,” repeated
the king. “I am resolved, even if it should
cost the life of this maiden, whose charms have moved
me so, to break the infernal machinery woven around
me. And now as I think it not unlikely the miscreant
Herne may attempt the prisoner’s deliverance,
let the strictest watch be kept over the tower.
Station an arquebusier throughout the night at
the door of the dungeon, and another at the entrance
to the chamber on the ground floor. Your own post
must be on the roof of the fortification, that you
may watch if any attempt is made to scale it from
the town side, or to get in through the loopholes.
Keep a sharp lookout Bouchier, for I shall hold you
responsible if any mischance occurs.”
“I will do my best, my liege,”
replied Bouchier; “and were it with a mortal
foe I had to contend, I should have no fear. But
what vigilance can avail against a fiend?”
“You have heard my injunctions,
and will attend to them,” rejoined the king
harshly. “I shall return anon to the examination.”
So saying, he departed.
Brave as a lion on ordinary occasions,
Bouchier entered upon his present duty with reluctance
and misgiving; and he found the arquebusiers by
whom he was attended, albeit stout soldiers, equally
uneasy. Herne had now become an object of general
dread throughout the castle; and the possibility of
an encounter with him was enough to daunt the boldest
breast. Disguising his alarm, Bouchier issued
his directions in an authoritative tone, and then
mounted with three arquebusiers to the summit
of the tower. It was now dark, but the moon soon
arose, and her beams rendered every object as distinguishable
as daylight would have done, so that watch was easily
kept. But nothing occurred to occasion alarm,
until all at once, a noise like that of a hammer stricken
against a board, was heard in the chamber below.
Drawing his sword, Bouchier hurried
down the steps leading into this chamber, which was
buried in darkness, and advanced so precipitately
and incautiously into the gloom, that he struck his
head against a crossbeam. The violence of the
blow stunned him for a moment, but as soon as he recovered,
he called to the guard in the lower chamber to bring
up a torch. The order was promptly obeyed; but,
meanwhile, the sound had ceased, and, though they
searched about, they could not discover the occasion
of it.
This, however, was not so wonderful
for the singular construction of the chamber, with
its numerous crossbeams, its deep embrasures and
recesses, its insecure and uneven floor, its steep
ladder-like staircases, was highly favourable to concealment,
it being utterly impossible, owing to the intersections
of the beams, for the searchers to see far before
them, or to move about quickly. In the midst of
the chamber was a large wooden compartment enclosing
the cumbrous and uncouth machinery of the castle clock,
and through the box ran the cord communicating with
the belfry above. At that time, pieces of ordnance
were mounted in all the embrasures, but there
is now only one gun, placed in a porthole commanding
Thames Street, and the long thoroughfare leading to
Eton. The view from this porthole of the groves
of Eton, and of the lovely plains on the north-west,
watered by the river, is enchanting beyond description.
Viewed from a recess which has been
partly closed, the appearance of this chamber is equally
picturesque and singular; and it is scarcely possible
to pass beneath its huge beams or to gaze at the fantastic
yet striking combinations they form in connection
with the deep embrasures, the steep staircases
and trap-doors, and not feel that the whole place
belongs to romance, and that a multitude of strange
and startling stories must be connected with it.
The old architects were indeed great romancers, and
built for the painter and the poet.
Bouchier and his companion crept about
under the great meshwork of beams-peered into all
the embrasures, and beneath the carriages of
the culverins. There was a heap of planks and
beams lying on the floor between the two staircases,
but no one was near it.
The result of their investigations
did not tend to decrease their alarm. Bouchier
would fain have had the man keep watch in the chamber,
but neither threats nor entreaties could induce him
to remain there. He was therefore sent below,
and the captain returned to the roof. He had
scarcely emerged upon the leads when the hammering
recommenced more violently than before. In vain
Bouchier ordered his men to go down. No one would
stir; and superstitious fear had by this time obtained
such mastery over the captain, that he hesitated to
descend alone. To add to his vexation, the arquebusier
had taken the torch with him, so that he should have
to proceed in darkness.
At length he mustered up courage to
make the attempt; but he paused between each step,
peering through the gloom, and half fancying he could
discern the figure of Herne near the spot where the
pile of wood lay. Certain it was that the sound
of diabolical laughter, mingled with the rattling
of the chain and the sharp blows of the hammer, smote
his ears. The laughter became yet louder as Bouchier
advanced, the hammering ceased, and the clanking of
the chain showed that its mysterious wearer was approaching
the foot of the steps to meet him. But the captain
had not nerve enough for the encounter. Invoking
the protection of the saints, he beat a precipitate
retreat, and closed the little door at the head of
the steps after him.
The demon was apparently satisfied
with the alarm he had occasioned, for the hammering
was not renewed at that time.