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John of the Woods, a fiction by Abbie Farwell Brown |
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Chapter 16. The Hunt |
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_ CHAPTER XVI. THE HUNT John found the Hermit sitting as usual beside the door of his hut, reading his book. He was surrounded by his family of pets. Brutus bounded to meet John, but the boy was too excited to give him the usual caress. "Father!" he cried, "have you heard or seen nothing? There are strangers in the forest, wicked strangers who hunt our friends the beasts. I have but now come from such a terrible scene!" He covered his face with his hands. The Hermit started to his feet. "What has happened?" he quavered. "Just now the wolf came leaping into the hut; but I feared nothing. Your clothes are torn. Your face is bloody. Who has been hurting you, my son?" But before John could answer came again the call of a bugle, this time very near, "Tara! Tara! Tara!" "Huntsmen!" cried the Hermit. "Send Brutus into the hut." John drove the dog inside, and some of the house-pets with him. Already the others had taken alarm at the threatening noise and were scattering in every direction. Nearer and nearer came the sound of galloping hoofs, the baying of hounds, the shouts of many men. John and the Hermit stood with pale faces, waiting. Suddenly into the clearing bounded a frightened deer,--a slender dappled creature with brown eyes. Straight to the Hermit she ran, and dropped panting at his feet. "It is our doe!" cried John, his face turning whiter. "O father! They are hunting her!" The old man said nothing, but stooped and threw his mantle over the trembling creature. Hardly had he done so when the hounds burst into the clearing, barking fiercely, rushing towards the spot where the deer lay. The Hermit raised his staff and stepped forward with a quick word. Instantly the dogs paused, cringing. They snarled and snapped their teeth, but made no motion to draw nearer. There was another loud bugle-blast, and a group of horsemen burst into the open space. "Hola! Hola! The stand!" cried the foremost rider, flourishing his sword. The others clustered about this leader. He was a tall, oldish man, red-faced and fierce-eyed. Like the stranger whom John had met, he was magnificently dressed in green velvet, with a gold chain about his neck, and a star blazing on his breast. He wore also a green cap bound with a gold band, from which a golden feather drooped to his shoulder. The gloves which he wore, the baldric of his bugle, and the hilt of the sword which he brandished aloft, glittered with jewels. When he spied the Hermit standing with upraised staff over the deer, while the dogs cowered at his feet, he drew up his horse and gave a shout of wonder. Then once more there was a moment of intense silence in that spot whose quiet had been broken by such a din. Thereafter the splendid leader of the hunt spoke in a brutal voice. "Ho! Who are you who interrupt our hunt and stand between us and our quarry? Stand aside, old man, whoever you are. This is no place for you. The deer is ours." He flourished his jeweled sword eagerly. "I shall not stand aside," said the Hermit. "This doe is mine, my friend and companion. Her milk has nourished me many a day, and she shall not die in this place which is my home." "Shall not die?" cried the huntsman hoarsely. "Do you know to whom you speak?" "I can guess," said the Hermit quietly. "From his cruelty and his free speech I judge it must be he who calls himself king of the realm beyond this forest." "King of this forest and lord of all that dwell therein," shouted the huntsman ferociously. "And who are you who dare oppose me?" "I am a hermit," said the old man simply. "My service is to God, whom you dishonor. My friends are the creatures whom you hunt. My study is to save life, which you would destroy. Depart, and leave in peace this place where life is sacred." "Depart!" roared the King, while his nobles crowded around him, murmuring and bending threatening looks upon the Hermit and the lad. "Not till yonder animal is slain. Ho, have at her!" With prick of spur he urged his horse forward. But quick as thought the Hermit with his staff drew a circle around himself and John and the doe, which still lay panting at his feet, wrapped in the gray mantle. "Dare not to cross this line!" he cried. "This ground is holy. Years ago in the Father's name I consecrated it. 'Tis holy as any cathedral, and 'tis sanctuary for man and beast. Hear what the Lord says to you: 'They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain.'" The Hermit raised his hand and spoke a word to the horses that were being urged forward. With a shrill whinny they rose on their hind legs, pawing the air, and refused to advance. "What witchcraft is this!" cried the King, spurring his steed cruelly. But the animal, like the dogs, obeyed the Hermit's will rather than the King's. "No witchcraft," said the Hermit, still guarding the deer with his upraised staff. "It is the Lord's will. You, who have ever disobeyed His holy word, perhaps know not how dear to Him were the birds and beasts. His first companions. His childhood friends. And to this day, for He Himself hath said it, not a sparrow falleth without His knowledge and pity. O wicked man! How then can you delight to kill?" The King gazed at the Hermit like one in a dream. "How dare you say such things to me, your King?" he said at last. "You are no king of mine, thank God!" said the Hermit. "I am an exile. I am of no land. This forest is my domain, my animal kingdom. Depart, I beg, without more bloodshed. O King, already in time past the hunt has cost you dear. Will you not take heed lest the Lord punish you further for your sins?" The King turned pale. "This is certainly witchcraft!" he muttered. "What know you of the past?" he cried, almost as if against his will. "I know much," said the Hermit calmly. "I know that hunting cost the life of your eldest son. Will you not heed that warning, lest more ill befall?" There was a stir among the nobles, and John saw the young man with whom he had wrestled a short time before spur his horse forward to the King's side. His face was black and angry. "Sire--father," he said. "Will you not end this parley and slay them all? I would have a hand in it for the sake of that young cub there!" and he shook his fist toward John. But more he did not say; perhaps he was ashamed to tell how the wood-boy had got the best of him. "Ay," said the Hermit, pointing a finger at him and shaking it sadly. "The second son follows in the footsteps of his brother, and like his father is cruel, bloodthirsty, revengeful. Beware, O King! Beware, King's son! For happiness was never yet distilled from innocent blood, nor life from death." The King shuddered, as all could see. "I hunt," he said,--and it was strange to see how he was almost apologetic,--"I hunt all animals mercilessly, because through them the Prince my son was slain. I will hunt them out of my kingdom, until not one remains. I will slay them until the ground is soaked with their blood! Not an animal, save such as are of use, shall exist in all my land. I will have no pets--no singing birds. I hate them all!" "Ay," said the Hermit, shaking his head sadly, "you hate them all! But I love them all. And here they come to me. 'The sparrow hath found a house and the swallow a nest where she may lay her young.' I will protect them with my life. You dare not kill me, O King! Godless though you are, once you were a Christian, and you know the meaning of the words I spoke when I said that this was holy ground." He drew from his bosom the iron Cross which he wore, and held it up before the King. The monarch shrank back and seemed to hesitate. Suddenly he wheeled his horse and blew a blast upon his bugle. "Back!" he cried somewhat bitterly. "We will not linger here for a paltry doe. Let us leave this cursed wood and this crusty hermit. Back to our own demesne, where we shall find sport enough, I dare say." Once more he blew his horn and bounded forward out of the clearing; the nobles after him, and the cowed, disappointed dogs trailing at the rear with tails between their legs. John could not help feeling sorry for them. Poor things! They at least knew no better. John was just stooping to pet the frightened deer, when an arrow whizzed over his shoulder and struck the creature in the haunch. The poor animal gave a cry of pain, and blood dyed the gray mantle of the Hermit, the first blood shed in that place of peace. With a shout of anger John leaped up and looked over his shoulder. A familiar wicked face grinned back at him, as a horse and rider galloped into the forest. The King's son had skulked behind to shoot that shaft. "My son!" cried the Hermit, laying trembling hands on John's shoulder. "It was meant for you. You would have died had you not stooped at that moment to caress the doe." "Poor doe!" said John, kneeling beside her and busying himself with the arrow. "You have saved my life. Now we must save yours. My father, I think she is not badly hurt." And he began to stanch the blood and bind up the wound with the skill which the Hermit had taught him. But the old man stood for a long time gazing into the forest after the party of huntsmen. "A murderer and a coward," he said. "In sanctuary he has shed innocent blood. For many evil deeds the price will surely be paid. And the price is heavy." _ |
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