Presently all that stair and the crowded hall below, black as the mouth of the pit, for such lights as still burned soon were swept away, rang with the screams and curses and stifled groans of the trodden down or dying.  In the pitchy darkness brother smote brother, friend trampled out the life of friend, till the steep steps were piled high and the doorways blocked with dead.  So hideous were the sounds indeed, that Hugh and Grey Dick crossed themselves, thinking that hell had come to Avignon, or Avignon sunk down to hell.  But Murgh only folded his white-gloved hands upon his breast and smiled.

At length, save for the moaning of those hurt men who still lived, the dreadful tumult sank to silence.  Then Murgh turned and spoke in his slow and icy voice: 

“You were about to seek me in the fosse of this high tower, were you not, Hugh de Cressi and Richard Archer?  A foolish thought, in truth, and a sinful, so sinful that it would have served you well if I had let you come.  But your strait was sore and your faith was weak, and I had no such command.  Therefore I have come to others whose names were written in my book.  Ay, and being half human after all—­for does not your creed tell you that I was born of Sin?  I rejoice that it is given to me to protect those who would have protected me when I seemed to stand helpless in the hands of cruel men.  Nay, thank me not.  What need have I of your thanks, which are due to God alone!  And question me not, for why should I answer your questions, even if I know those answers?  Only do my bidding.  This night seek whom you will in Avignon, but to-morrow ere the dawn ride away, for we three must meet again at a place appointed before this winter’s snows are passed.”

“O dread lord of Death, one thing, only one,” began Hugh.

But Murgh held up his white-gloved hand and replied: 

“Have I not said that I answer no questions?  Now go forth and follow the promptings of your heart till we meet again.”

Then gliding to the head of the stair he vanished in the shadow.

“Say, what shall we do?” asked Hugh in amazed voice.

“It matters little what we do or leave undone, master, seeing that we are fore-fated men whom, as I think, none can harm until a day that will not dawn to-morrow nor yet awhile.  Therefore let us wash ourselves and eat and borrow new garments, if we can find any that are not soiled, and then, if the horses are still unharmed, mount and ride from this accursed Avignon for England.”

“Nay, Dick, since first we must learn whether or no we leave friends behind us here.”

“Ay, master, if you will.  But since yonder Murgh said nothing of them, it was in my mind that they are either dead or fled.”

“Not dead, I pray, Dick.  Oh, I am sure, not dead, and I left living!  When Red Eve and I met, Murgh had been with her and promised that she would recover and be strong,” answered Hugh bravely, although there was a note of terror in his voice.