of ftftlltam &ufu*. 169 



gazing steadfastly at the creature, raised his bridle-hand 

 above his eyes, that he might shade them from the 

 glare of the sun, which now shone almost horizontally 

 through the forest, and being unprovided with a second 

 bow, he called out " Shoot Walter, shoot away ! "* Tyrrel 

 drew his bow, but the arrow went not forth in a straight 

 line, it glanced against a tree, and struck the king in its 

 side-course against his breast, which was left exposed 

 by the raised arm. The fork-head pierced his heart, and in 

 an instant he expired. No words were spoken, no 

 prayer passed his lips ; one dismal groan alone was 

 heard, and the red king lay extended on the grass, f Sir 

 Walter flew to his side, but he saw that his master was 

 beyond all human aid, and mounting his horse he has- 

 tened to the sea-coast, from whence he embarked for 

 Normandy. He was heard of soan after, as having fled 

 into the dominions of the French king, and the next 

 account of him was, that he had gone to the Holy Land. 

 Popular superstition had long darkened the New 

 Forest with awful spectres ; it was even said that words 

 were heard in its deepest solitudes, of awful import, 

 denouncing vengeance on the Norman and his evil 

 counsellors. This was not strange, for men could still 

 remember the driving out of the unoffending population ; 

 the traces of their dwellings might be seen at intervals, 

 and many a broken cross denoted where a church had 



* Hen. Knyghton. 



f A small silver cross of beautiful workmanship was found buried 

 a few years since, near the fatal tree. 



