Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 39: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Murkwood Spears proper to be used save in great peril. There can scarce be another man in England who knows their use, nor do I mean to give in- struction. Therefore I shall not tell you how I have compounded the elements that make that fierce flame nor the means by which it is driven from the tubes, save that the gases given off by its ingredients explode it forth. It is called ‘Greek Fire,’ and I learned of it in Sicily, when I served King Robert there. ‘‘A wizened Greek admiral, one Hera- clides, brought the secret from Constanti- nople. Before he perished, he confided it to an Arab, who told it tome. It is hell’s own brew, but there is no magic in it. It isa pity to destroy good men in such a way; yet had we not used it, we should have suffered a breach, and yonder rascals would have put us to the sword. “No ordinary fire will burn through green hide nor could we man the walls sufficiently in the face of their archery to smash the carts with stones. Well, they have had their fill. It will soon be our turn.” “Then shall we striker”? Bermond asked eagerly. “Aye, tonight. They will not expect a sortie so soon. It is not held wise for be- sieged men to sally forth against odds until hunger forces them; wherefore the Rotten Reiver will not expect attack. So I shall show the greater wisdom by an act of seeming folly.” “But—why attack Sir Richard’s force?” Bermond questioned, a puzzled frown crinkling his forehead. “We have shaken Umfraville; we have shaken de Born. Would it not be well to follow up our ad- vantage against them rather than charge the unweakened camp of the Reiver?”’ “An attack against the Reiver is the last thing they dream of, therefore we attack the Reiver. Also the Reiver has now a credit among his allies which we must shake. Look you, both his fellows have launched against us blows that have failed and cost them dear. Weaker in men, they are weaker yet in influence. If Sir Richard has the prestige of saving his men, while the others imperil theirs, the whole host will de- mand him for their leader. “Then his councils will prevail, and that will be bad for us. He will persuade them to sit quietly and starve us out. Against starvation we have no weapon, save the hope that Henry of Anjou comes speedily.” 33 Bermond nodded humble acquiescence. “With a wise lord,” he said, ‘‘even fools may win the day.” SUPPORTED by soft cushions, Geoffrey sat upright for the first time since his happy ride to High Tower. His cheeks were still pale and thin; his blue eyes seemed unnaturally large, and the muscles of his bare forearms seemed greatly wasted. But his wounds were closed, though not fully healed. Time would bring him strength again. “Ah, that I could wield a sword!” he cried. “That I had my strength! No woman is weaker than I, no human more void of glory. Never have I struck a blow in anger; and now, when every sword is precious, every idle mouth a menace, I lie here helpless, a burden to you whom I love.” Margaret met his impatience with her old, gay smile. Her love had been brought back from the very jaws of death, and neither swords without nor the diminishing supply of food within could dim her spirit. “Fret thyself not, sweetheart; there is no danger,” she lied cheerfully. Geoffrey’s mood responded readily to hers. “True,” he admitted, ‘“‘the peril can not be great, with my uncle to help you. Yet I would I could do my man’s part! But surely my uncle can see me now. He loves me dearly. Will you not ask him to * come?” Her slender fingers softly ruffled his yel- low hair. She bent over and kissed him. “He can not come, oh foolish one!” she crooned tenderly. ‘The siege is close. Um- fraville and de Born press us hard. His constant presence among the men is all that keeps the issue balanced.” As this lie of mercy left her lips, she turned away, unable to meet Geoffrey’s eyes. ‘Your man’s part now, my dear,” she went on, touching her lips to his hair, “‘is to be patient and of good cheer, which is better medicine than all the good physician has in his chest.” “But he will come when the danger is Tey the boy urged. “I am weary to see im.” “Ah, I see,” said Margaret, placing her- self before him, a mischievous taunt in her eyes. “You are weary of me!” But seeing the hurt look come into his face, she hastened to him and kissed him again, saying: Comicbook CO