On the right
hand stood a pile of huge stones, disposed somewhat in the form of a
Druidical altar, on the top of which, as on a throne, sat the demon
hunter, surrounded by his satellites--one of whom, horned and bearded
like a satyr, had clambered the roughened sides of the central pillar,
and held a torch over the captive's head.
Half-stifled by the noxious vapour he had inhaled, and blinded by the
tightness of the bandage, it was some time before Wyat fully recovered
his powers of sight and utterance.
"Why am I brought hither, false fiend?" he demanded at length.
"To join my band," replied the demon harshly and imperiously.
"Never!" rejoined Wyat. "I will have nought to do with you, except as
regards our compact."
" What I require from you is part of our compact," rejoined the demon.
"He who has once closed hands with Herne the Hunter cannot retreat.
But I mean you fairly, and will not delude you with false expectation.
What you seek cannot he accomplished on the instant. Ere three days
Anne Boleyn shall be yours."
"Give me some proof that you are not deceiving me, spirit," said Wyat.
"Come, then! " replied Herne. So saying, he sprang from the stone, and,
taking Wyat's hand, led him towards the lower end of the cave, which
gradually declined till it reached the edge of a small but apparently
deep pool of water, the level of which rose above the rock that formed
its boundary.
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