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.
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