The Truce of God | Page 7

a fearful howl rang in the distance, and the hunter's bugle sounded a merry blast. On he went, faster than before, and now as if he sought his mortal foe. The boar was at bay; monarch of the wood, he had turned to defend his realm, and his white tusks were soon red with the blood of the noble hounds who fearlessly disputed his right. The youth leaped from his horse with the speed of thought. Bred to the chase, the well-trained animal stood firm while his master cautiously, but with the calmness of the victor of a hundred frays, advanced against the bristling monster. Quitting the dogs for this new assailant, the boar came madly on; the huntsman sank upon one knee, and so true was his eye, and so firm his hand, that the heart of the savage was cloven by the spear. The youth rose to his feet, dizzy from the shock, and, springing nimbly upon the grim body of his prostrate victim, his fine form swelling with the rapture of his recent triumph, brought his horn to his lips, and again its notes went ringing merrily through the woods.
Echoes, like fading memories, growing fainter and fainter as they receded, gave the only response.
"Where can they be?" said the youth, "their steeds were fleet. Out of sight and out of hearing! How completely I have beaten them."
He laughed triumphantly as he said this, and, sitting down upon the long grass, began to caress an enormous hound that panted at his feet, as unconcernedly as though the forest now contained nothing more formidable than doves or lambs. His horse, thoroughly domesticated, strayed a little from the dead boar, feeding as it went.
The youth took off his plumed bonnet, and, flinging back his long black hair, fell into one of those light, smiling day-dreams which belong only to the young and innocent. He built fifteen air-castles in as many minutes. But at last he grew impatient; he sounded blast after blast; still no answer came. The trees kept up their sleepy sigh, and the sapless branches creaked, but no human voice, no human foot save his own, broke the silence.
"Thou hast given me a goodly chase," exclaimed the youth, springing up and addressing the boar, "and I shall wear this in remembrance of thee."
He drew his hunting-knife, and soon uprooted one of the monster's tusks. Depositing the precious relic in a hunting pouch he wore at his side, he mounted his horse, rather puzzled where to go.
"It is easier to get in this oaken field than to get out of it," said our hunter, "but if the forest have an end, I'll find it. Now, my dear loitering friends, we hunt each other."
Giving his horse the spur, and allowing the creature to choose its course, he called on the lagging hounds, and dashed away as rapidly as he had come. The wood was light as ever, and here and there sunbeam lay, like a golden spear, along the ground yet the rich lustre of the sky, wherever it was visible the hum of numberless insects, the fresh flight of the awakened bird, and the freer and cooler breeze, warned the youth that sunset was near. On went the noble steed, with steady step and trembling nostril while his finely veined ears spoke so rapidly that the rider could scarcely understand their language. They passed through long lines of trees that opened into other lines, from one limited horizon to another, yet all was green before and behind, to the right and to the left, one interminable emerald. The light turned from a rich gold to a golden red, and yet it played only on whispering leaves and on the long grass at their feet. Still the youth felt no fear, but hummed some old ballad, or drew a lively peal from his horn. He dismounted to refresh himself at a spring that had nestled among some rocks, and was murmuring there like a spoiled child. Having cared for the gallant animal which had borne him so well, he stretched himself a moment upon the green bank.
"Ha! what is that!" he exclaimed, bending forward to listen; "a horseman? Let him come; friend or foe, I shall be glad to see him."
He was on his horse in a moment. As he turned to look behind, he saw a gentleman, richly dressed, and admirably mounted, coming at full speed from another quarter of the wood. The stranger was quite young, perhaps a year or two older than our hunter, but certainly not over twenty-three. The youth knit his brows as the horseman approached, and eyed him keenly and sternly. When within a few yards of the spring, the stranger dismounted and drew his sword. The youth did the same. His handsome features