“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 glass 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 God’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 Dick 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.