CHAPTER III.
Under some circumstances, and upon some conditions, there are fewthings fairer on this earth than a walk through a wild forest bymoonlight. It must not be, however, one of those deep unbrokenprimeval forests, which are found in many parts of the new world,where the wilderness of trees rises up, like a black curtain, on everyside, shutting out the view, and almost excluding the light of dayfrom the face of the earth. But a forest in old England, at the periodof which I speak, was a very different thing. Tall trees there were,and many, and in some places they were crowded close together; but inothers the busy woodman's axe, and the more silent but more incessantstrokes of time, had opened out wide tracts, where nothing was to beseen but short brushwood, stunted oak, beech tree and ash, rising upin place of the forest monarchs long passed away, like the pigmyefforts of modern races appearing amidst the ruins of those giganticempires, which have left memorials that still defy the power of time.Indeed, I never behold a wide extent of old forest land, covered withshrubby wood, with here and there a half-decayed trunk rising grandlyabove the rest, without imagination flying far away to those lands ofmarvel, where the wonders of the world arose and perished--the land ofthe Pharaohs, of the Assyrians, and of the Medes; ay, and of theRomans too--those lands in which the power and genius of the onlymighty European empire displayed themselves more wonderfully than evenin the imperial city, the land of Bolbec and Palmyra. The Arab's hut,built amongst the ruins of the temple of the sun, is a fit type ofmodern man, contrasted with the races that have passed. True, theRoman empire was destroyed by the very tribes from which we spring;but it was merely the dead carcase of the Behemoth eaten up by ants.
Be all that as it may, an English forest scene is very beautiful bymoonlight, and especially when the air has been cleared by a lightfrost, as was the case when the woodman took his way back towards hiscottage, after his visit to the abbey. The road was broad andopen--one of the highroads of the country, indeed--sandy enough, inall conscience, and not so smooth as it might have been; but still itserved its purpose; and people in those days called it a good road.Here, an old oak eighteen or twenty feet in girth, which might haveseen the noble ill-fated Harold, stretched its long limbs across theturfy waste ground at its feet, and over the yellow track of the roadbeaten by horses' feet. In other places the eye might wander far overa wide scantily-covered track of ground, with here and there a talltree starting up and casting its broad shadow upon the white andglistening expanse of bushes below. A vague sort of mysteriousuncertainty hung about the dells and dingles of the wood,notwithstanding the brightness of the moonlight; and a faint blueishmist prevented the eye from penetrating into the deeper valleys, andsearching their profundity. To the left, the ground sloped away with agentle descent. To the right, it rose somewhat more abruptly; and,peeping over the leafless trees in the latter direction, appeared hereand there a square wall and tower, cutting sharp and defined upon therounded forms of the forest. Above all stretched out the wide deepsky, with the moon nearly at the full, flooding the zenith with light,while to, the north and west shone out many bright and twinklingstars, not yet hidden by the beams of earth's bright satellite.
With a slow and a firm step, the woodman trudged upon his way, pausingevery now and then to gaze around him, more, apparently, as a matterof habit than with any purpose; for he seemed full of busy thoughts;and even when he stopped and let his eye roam around, it is probablethat his mind was on other things, once or twice, murmuring a fewwords to himself, which had certainly no reference to the scene. "Ah,Mary, Mary," he said, and then added: "Alas! Alas!"
There was something deeply melancholy in his tone. The words werespoken low and softly; and a sigh followed them, the echo of memory tothe voice of joys passed.
Onward he walked again, the road somewhat narrowing as he proceeded,till at length the tall trees, pressing forward on either side, shutout the light of the moon, except where, here and there, the raysstole through the leafless branches and chequered the frosty turf.
As he was passing through one of the darkest parts of the wood,keeping a good deal to the left of the road, the sound of a horse'sfeet was heard coming fast down from the top of the hill. Withoutchange of pace or look, however, the stout woodman walked on, seemingto pay little attention to the measured beating of the ground by thestrong hoofs, as they came on at a quick trot. Nearer and nearer,however, they approached, till at length they suddenly stopped, justas the horse and rider were passing the man on foot, and a voiceexclaimed, "Who goes there?"
"A friend," replied the woodman. "You must have sharp eyes, whoeveryou be."
"Sharp eyes and sharp ears too," replied the horseman. "Stand out, andtell us who you are, creeping along there under the boughs."
"Creeping along!" answered the woodman, advancing into the more openroad and placing himself in front of the rider. "I will soon tell youwho I am, and show you who I am too, master, when I know who it isthat asks the question. Since it comes to that, I bid you stand andtell me who you are who ride the wood so late. You are none of KingRichard's posts, or you would know me;" and, at the same time, he laidhis hand upon the man's bridle.
"You are a liar," replied the horseman, "for I am one of KingRichard's posts, coming from Scotland, with news of moment, andletters from the princess countess of Arran. Let go my bridle then,and say who and what you are, or, by the Lord, I'll drub you in such away as you have seldom been drubbed before."
"Ha! Say you so?" cried the woodman, still retaining his hold of thebridle. "I must have more satisfactory knowledge of you, ere I let youpass; and, as for drubbing me, methinks with a green willow and a yardor two of rope, I'd give thee that which thou hast not tasted sincethou wert a boy."
"So, so," said the man, "thou art a robber, doubtless. These woods arefull of them, they say; but thou shalt find me a tougher morsel thanoften falls within thy teeth. Take that for thy pains."
As he spoke, he suddenly drew his sword from the sheath, and aimed arapid and furious stroke at the woodman's head. His adversary,however, was wary; and, springing on one side, he escaped the descentof the blade. The other instantly spurred his horse forward; but,before he could pass, the woodman had pulled his axe from his belt,and, with a full sweep of his arm, struck a blow at the back of thehorseman's head, which cast him at once out of the saddle. It was theback of the axe which he used, and not the sharp side; but the effectseemed equally fatal, for the man neither moved nor spoke, and hishorse, freed from the pressure of the rein, dashed down the lane forsome way, then stopped, paused for a moment, and trotted quietly backagain.
In the meantime, the woodman approached the prostrate body of themessenger, murmuring to himself, "Ah, caitiff, I know thee, thoughthou hast forgotten me. Thou pitiful servant of treachery andingratitude, thou hireling serviceable knave, I would not have hurtthee, even for thy master's sake, hadst thou not assailed mefirst--Methinks he is dead," he continued, stirring the body with hisfoot. "I hit thee harder than I thought; but it is well as it is. Thydeath could not come from a fitter hand than mine, were it not thehangman's--I will see what thou hast about thee, however; for theremay be news of value indeed, if for once in thy life thou hast found atongue to speak truth with. But I will not believe it. The news wastoo sure, the tale too sad to be false."
He stood a moment or two by the corpse, gazing upon it in silence, butwithout the slightest sign of sorrow or remorse. Those were bloody andbarbarous times, it is true, when men slew each other in cold bloodafter battles were over, when brother spared not brother, and thecompanions of infancy and boyhood dyed their daggers in each other'sgore. Human life, as in all barbarous states of society, was held asnought; and men hesitated as little to spill the blood of a fellowcreature as to spill their own. But yet it must surely always be aterrible thing to take a life, to extinguish that light which we cannever reillume, to fix the fatal barrier which renders every foolishand every dark act, every sin and every crime, irretrievable, to leaveno chance of penitence, no hope of repentance, and to s
end the erringand burdened spirit into the presence of its God without one darkrecord against it uncancelled. Heavy must be the offence indeed, anddeep the injury, which leaves no sorrow in the heart of the slayer.
None seemed to be felt by the woodman. He stood and gazed, as I havesaid, for a moment; but it was--as he had gazed over the prospectbelow--without a change of countenance; and then he stooped down andwith calm and patient investigation searched every part of the deadman's apparel. He found, amongst other things, a purse well suppliedwith gold, at least so its weight seemed to indicate; but that he putback again at once. He found some papers too, and those he kept; but,not satisfied with that, after some trouble he caught the horse,examined the saddle, unloosed the girths, and between the saddle clothand the leather found a secret pocket from which he took more papers.These too he kept, and put them in his wallet. Everything else, suchas trinkets, of which there were one or two, a pouncet-box, some largecuriously-shaped keys and other trifles, he carefully replaced wherehe had found them. Then, taking up the dead man's hand, he raised itand let it fall, as if to make sure that life was extinct; and thenonce more he addressed the corpse, saying--
"Ay, thou art dead enough! I could find in my heart to spurn thee evennow--but no, no. It is but the clay. The demon is departed," andpicking up his axe, which he had laid down for a moment, he carefullyreplaced the saddle on the horse's back, fastened up the girths, andcast loose the rein. When this was done he resumed his walk,proceeding with the same quiet steady pace with which he had beenwending his way towards his cottage, the moment before this adventurebefell him. All remained calm and still on the spot which he had left,for somewhat more than an hour. The moon reached her highest point,travelled a little to the westward, and poured her rays under thebranches of the trees where before it had been dark. The dead bodystill lay upon the road. The horse remained cropping the forest grassat the side, occasionally entangling its foot in the bridle, and onceplunging to get free so as to bring itself upon its knees. At the endof the time I have mentioned, the woodman reappeared, coming down thehill at the same quiet rate at which he had gone away. When heapproached the place he stopped and looked around; and then, stoopingdown by the side of the dead man, he placed some of the papers in thepocket, saying with a sort of bitter smile, which looked wild andstrange in the moonlight--
"Thy comings and goings are over; but others may carry these at leastto their destination. Oh, thou double-dealing fiend, thou hast died inthe midst of one of thy blackest deeds before it was consummated. Themessenger of the dove, thou wert but the agent of the hawk which waswatching for her as a prey, and would have betrayed her into all thehorrors of faithlessness and guilt. May God pardon thee, bad manand--"
Again there was the sound of horses' feet coming; but this time it wasmingled with that of voices, talking with loud and somewhat boisterousmerriment.
"Some of the king's runners," said the woodman; and, with a slow step,he retreated under the trees, and was soon lost to sight amidst thethick brushwood. The next moment two men might be seen riding down thehill and laughing as they came.
"'Twill be pleasant tidings to bear," said one to the other; "and mycounsel is, Jago, instead of giving them to the next post, as thyfool's head would have it, that we turn away through the by-road tothe abbey, and carry our good news ourselves. Why, that Richmond hasput back again to France, is worth fifty broad pieces to each of us."
"But our orders were strict," answered the other; "and we have noexcuse.--But mercy have us! What is here? Some one either drunk ordead upon the road. There stands his horse too, under that tree."
"Look to your weapon, Jago," replied his companion. "On my life, thisis that fellow Malcolm Bower, who passed us three hours ago, as proudas a popinjay; and I'll wager a stoup of Canary, that he has met withrobbers in the wood and been murdered."
"Likely, likely," answered the other man, loosening his sword in thesheath; "but if he have, king Richard will burn the forest down buthe'll find them; for this fellow is a great man with those he servesnow-a-days."
"Here, hold my horse," cried the other. "I'll get down and see;" and,dismounting, he stooped over the body, and then proceeded to examineit, commenting in broken sentences, thus--"Ay, it is he, sure enough.Stay, he can't be murdered, I think, either, for here is his purse inhis pocket, and that well filled--and papers too, and a silver box ofcomfits, on my life. Look ye here now, his horse must have thrown himand broken his neck. No, upon my life, it's his head is broken. Here'sa place at the back of his skull as soft as a Norfolk dumpling. Whatshall we do with him?"
A short consultation then ensued, as to how they should dispose of thedead body, till at length it was agreed that the horse should becaught, the corpse flung over it, and thus carried to the neighbouringhamlet. This was effected without much trouble; and the whole scenebecame wild, and silent, and solitary once more.