ABSTRACT
We are most of us aware that our Norman kings were consumed with a passion for the chase. The schoolboy learns that the first William " loved the tall deer as though he had been their father," and that his son and successor met in their pursuit his death. But less familiar is the fact that the last of our English kings 1 was as ardent as themselves in sport. For, in Freeman's words, it is "the pastime which seems least suited to the character of a saint." Never did he fail to attend mass ; but, as soon as mass was over, it was Edward's greatest joy to hear the cry of hounds or to watch his hawks in flight. 2 If one of his Berkshire squires should die, the hawks and hounds he left had to be offered to the king. 3
tapestry, dear to the Professor's heart. After taking leave of his sovereign, we see him riding to Bosham, the hawk as ever on his wrist. Before him go his hounds, deserving more attention than they have, I think, received. For here again the famous stitchwork contrives to set before us minute and accurate detail. As for centuries after, the hounds are a mixed pack. In front are a couple of the small hounds (canes currentes) duly giving tongue; behind them a leash of the great hounds (leporarii or valtrarii), distinguished by their long legs, their powerful hind quarters and the collars about their necks. 1 We shall meet with them repeatedly in these pages as forming part of the medireval pack, and no one who compares the tapestry, for instance, with that illuminated picture of an early king hunting the deer in Cott. MS. Claudius D. II. 2 can doubt that the designer of the stitchwork sought to indicate a mixed pack. Although for convenience the larger hounds have to be described as greyhounds (leporarii), they were a more powerful breed, built on coarser lines, and with a dash of the mastiff. 3
We are further shown in the ' Tapestry ' Harold going on board, still with his hawk on his hand, a hound under his arm, while another hound is held
by the man who follows him. 1 When captured and brought to William, he has still his hawk.
