Part 7 (1/2)
”'A great G.o.d, Andrew Arnold, and a pure, though His followers are few in the world as yet. But do you think that He can save you from Me, as you were asking Him to do?'
”'He can save my soul,' I replied, plucking up courage, who would not deny the Lord even in a devil's den.
”'Ah! your soul. Well, I have nothing to do with souls, except to count them as they pa.s.s through my dominion, and you are quite right to pray to one of the lords of that into which you go. Now, man, what is your business with me, and why do you visit one of whom you are so much afraid?'
”'O Murgh!' I began, then ceased, for I knew not what to answer.
”'So they have told you my name? Now I will tell you one of its meanings. It is ”Gate of the G.o.ds.” Why did you dare to visit Gate of the G.o.ds? You fear to answer. Listen! You came forth to see some painted idol, or some bedizened priest muttering rites he does not understand to that which is not; and lo! you have found that which is behind all idols and all priests. You sought an incensed and a golden shrine and you have found only the black and iron portals which every man must pa.s.s but which few desire to enter until they are called. Well, you are young and strong, come try a fall with Murgh, and when he has thrown you, rise and choose which of those ways you will,' and he swept his hand toward the doors around him. 'Then forget this world and enter into that which you have chosen.'
”Now, because I could not help myself, I rose from my knees and advanced, or was drawn toward that dreadful man. As I came he, too, rose from his chair, stretching out his arms as a wrestler does, and I knew that within the circle of those arms lay my death. Still I, who in my youth was held brave, went on and rushed, striving to clasp him. Next moment, before ever I touched him--oh, well was it for me that I touched him not!--some strength seized me and whirled me round and round as a dead leaf is whirled by the wind, and tossed me up and cast me down and left me p.r.o.ne and nerveless.
”'Rise,' said the cold voice above me, 'for you are unhurt.'
”So I rose, and felt even then that I who thought that every bone in my body must be broken, was stronger than I had ever been before. It was as though the lamp which had burnt low was filled suddenly with a new and purer oil.
”'Man,' said mine adversary, and I thought that in his cold eyes there was something like a smile, 'did you think to touch Murgh and live? Did you think to wrestle with him as in a book of one of your prophets a certain Jacob wrestled with an angel, and conquered--until it was his turn to pa.s.s the Gate of the G.o.ds?'
”Now I stared at this dweller in Cathay, who spoke my tongue and knew the tale of Jacob in the ancient Book, then answered:
”'Sir Murgh, or Sir Gate, or whatever your name may be, I thought to do nothing. You drew me to you, you challenged me and, since by the rule of my Order I may refuse no challenge from one who is not a Christian, I came on to do my best. But before ever I laid hand on you I was cast down by a wind. That is all the story, save that it has pleased you to let me live, who evidently could have slain me, for which I thank you.'
”'You are wrong, Sir Andrew,' he answered, 'I did not draw you to me.
Men come to Murgh at their appointed hour; Murgh does not come to them.
You sought him before your hour, and therefore he refused you. Yet you will meet him again, as all flesh must when its hour comes, and because you are bold and have not cringed before my strength, for your comfort I will show you when and how. Stand by me, but lay no hand on me or my robe, and look into my gla.s.s while for a moment, for your sake, I stay the stream of time and show you what lies beneath its foam that blinds the eyes of men.'
”He waved his arms and the black doves and the white doves ceased to appear and disappear, and the eternal soughings of their wings was silent. He pointed to the water at his feet and I saw, not a picture, but a scene so real that I could have sworn it was alive about me. Yes, those who took part in it stood in front of me as though the pool were solid ground that their feet pressed. _You_ were one of them, son, _you_ were one of them,” and the old knight paused, supporting himself against the mantel-shelf as though that recollection overcame him.
”What did you see?” whispered Hugh.
”By G.o.d's holy name, I saw the Blythburgh Marshes deep in snow that was red, blood-red with the light of sunrise. Oh! I could not be mistook, and there ran the wintry river, there the church tower soared, there were the frowning, tree-clad banks. There was the rough moorland over which the east wind piped, for the dead bracken bent before it, and not twenty paces from me leaped a hare, disturbed suddenly from its form by a hungry fox, whose red head peeped through the reeds. Yes, yes, I saw the brute's white teeth gleam as it licked its disappointed lips, and I felt glad that its prey had beaten it! When you look upon that scene, Hugh, as one day you shall, remember the hare and the head of the hungry fox, and by these judge my truth.”
”A fox and a hare!” broke in Hugh. ”I'd show you such to-morrow; was there no more?”
”Ay, much. For instance, a hollow in the Marsh, an open grave, and an axe; yes, an axe that had delved it where the bog was soft beneath the snow. Grey d.i.c.k held the axe in one hand and his black bow in the other, while Red Eve, your Eve, stood at its edge and stared into it like one in a dream. Then at the head of the grave an old, old man clad in mail beneath his priestly robes, and that man _myself_, Hugh, grown very ancient, but still myself, and no other.
”And at the foot of the grave _you_, Hugh de Cressi, you and no other, wayworn and fierce, but also clad in mail, and wearing a knight's crest upon your s.h.i.+eld. You with drawn sword in hand, and facing you, also with drawn sword, rage and despair on his dark face, a stately, foreign-looking man, whom mine eyes have never seen, but whom I should know again midst a million, a man who, I think, was doomed to fill the grave.
”Lastly, standing on a little mound near to the bank of the swirling river, where jagged sheets of ice ground against each other like the teeth of the wicked in h.e.l.l, strangely capped and clad in black, his arms crossed upon his breast and a light smile in his cold eyes, he who was called Murgh in Cathay, he who named himself Gateway of the G.o.ds!
”For a moment I saw, then all was gone, and I found myself--I know not why--walking toward the mighty arch whereon sat the iron dragons. In its shadow I turned and looked back. There at the head of the pool the man was seated in his chair, and to right and to left of him came the black doves and the white doves in countless mult.i.tudes, all the thousands of them that had been stayed in their flight pouring down upon him at once--or so I thought. They wheeled about his head, they hid his face from me, and I--I departed into the shadow of the arch, and I saw him and them no more.”
CHAPTER IV
THE PENANCE
The tale was done, and these two stood staring at one another from each side of the glowing hearth, whose red light illumined their faces. At length the heavy silence was broken by Sir Andrew.
”I read your heart, Hugh,” he said, ”as Murgh read mine, for I think that he gave me not only strength, but something of his wisdom also, whereby I was able to win safe back to England and to this hour to walk unharmed by many a pit. I read your heart, and in its book is written that you think me mad, one who pleases his old age with tales of marvel that others told him, or which his own brain fas.h.i.+oned.”
”Not so, Father,” answered Hugh uneasily, for in truth some such thoughts were pa.s.sing through his mind. ”Only--only the thing is very strange, and it happened so long ago, before Eve and I were born, before those that begot us were born either, perchance.”