ked
deeds that had been done to make it; and no man save the King and his
Courtiers and Huntsmen, liked to stray there. But, in reality, it was
like any other forest. In the spring, the green leaves broke out of the
buds; in the summer, flourished heartily, and made deep shades; in the
winter, shrivelled and blew down, and lay in brown heaps on the moss.
Some trees were stately, and grew high and strong; some had fallen of
themselves; some were felled by the forester's axe; some were hollow, and
the rabbits burrowed at their roots; some few were struck by lightning,
and stood white and bare. There were hill-sides covered with rich fern,
on which the morning dew so beautifully sparkled; there were brooks,
where the deer went down to drink, or over which the whole herd bounded,
flying from the arrows of the huntsmen; there were sunny glades, and
solemn places where but little light came through the rustling leaves.
The songs of the birds in the New Forest were pleasanter to hear than the
shouts of fighting men outside; and even when the Red King and his Court
came hunting through its solitudes, cursing loud and riding hard, with a
jingling of stirrups and bridles and knives and daggers, they did much
less harm there than among the English or Normans, and the stags died (as
they lived) far easier than the people.

Upon a day in August, the Red King, now reconciled to his brother, Fine-
Scholar, came with a great train to hunt in the New Forest. Fine-Scholar
was of the party. They were a merry party, and had lain all night at
Malwood-Keep, a hunting-lodge in the forest, where they had made good
cheer, both at supper and breakfast, and had drunk a deal of wine. The
party dispersed in various directions, as the custom of hunters then was.
The King took with him only SIR WALTER TYRREL, who was a famous
sportsman, and to whom he had given, before they mounted horse that
morning, two fine arrows.

The last time the King was ever seen alive, he was riding with Sir Walter
Tyrrel, and their dogs were hunting together.

It was almost night, when a poor charcoal-burner, passing through the
forest with his cart, came upon the solitary body of a dead man, shot
with an arrow in the breast, and still bleeding. He got it into his
cart. It was the body of the King. Shaken and tumbled, with its red
beard all whitened with lime and clotted with blood, it was driven in the
cart by the charcoal-burner next day to Winchester Cathedra