Adventure Magazine Cover — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

76 “Then tell your troubles otherwhere,”’ interrupted the Italian bruskly. ‘I voyage for my profit, youth, and not to supply charity to beardless, begging knaves.”’ ‘“‘A pox on you!” shouted Matteo, and tugged at his sword-hilt, but Ali seized him by the arm. ‘“‘Have a care, Messer Matteo!’ beseeched the old Turcople. ‘“The scoundrel hath a score of his mariners within call. If we brawl with them, they will lay us by the heels and turn us over to their viscount for punishment. They are ill folk to fall out with, and the.king lets them have their own way, forasmuch as their trade is vital to the kingdom.” So, with his tongue between his teeth, Matteo returned ashore, and tried his luck at the next wharf, where lay a mighty Genoese dromond, with high, bulging, thickly timbered sides, and masts like trees towering above the bulwarks. Here they were treated with still less consideration. “I put not to sea with those I do not know,” the comito, or second in command, told them curtly. ‘We have over-much trouble with the pirates. Return with a passport from the count of the city or a burgess of repute to vouch for you, and we will talk business.” ‘We can not pay much,” warned Matteo. “Then return not at all,” advised the comito witha grin. ‘We are plagued with rich pilgrims and Greek merchants who will pay any price for a comfortable voyage in so vast a ship.” On the wharf Matteo sat down discon- solately upon a stone mooring-bitt. ‘So far we have come with tolerable ease, Ali,” he said. ‘But now it appears our troubles begin. How if I sold this ring the Assassin gave me?”’ He twitched from his finger the heavy silver circlet with the emblem of the triple- bladed dagger held in a clinched fist. “Nay, nay, Messer Matteo,” cried Ali in dismay. “Whatever else you do, part not with that!” ‘“‘Wherefore?” demanded Matteo, hold- ing it up to the light to study the workings. “For that it would be ill luck, and if Sinan heard of it—as hear he must—his anger against you would be unappeased until you were slain.” “You exaggerate, old wolf,” laughed Matteo. “Why should so great a person care for one so humble as I or what I do? Adventure Also, hedidnot givemethering. “"Twas——” ‘‘Whoever gave you the ring was high in Sinan’s counsels,” declared Ali. ‘Nay, lord, be advised. Some day you will be glad of that signet. It may smooth your way when ’tis rougher than today.” “°Tis not likely,” derided Matteo. ‘Ah, well, we will stop in the church this side of the inn and burn a candle to my patron. Mayhap, he will grant us a dispensation.”’ “Good luck will come for that you hold by the ring,” said Ali. “But ’twill do no harm _to burn the candle.” They paid a silver penny to the priest, saw the candle alight, muttered their prayers and returned to the inn. An old knight of the Hospital was seated by the door of the common room, and he hailed them as they entered. “°*Tis told me you are from beyond Jor- dan, young sir,” he said courteously. “T am fresh landed from an embassy to the king of Sicily. Prithee, what news do you bring from the marches?”’ He ordered wine, and motioned for the Turcople to sit with them, listening to Matteo’s story with no interruption other than an occasional interjection of sympathy. “Your father was a good knight,” he said at the end. ‘“ ’I'was my fortune to ride with him in a bicker of the southern march some years gone. I grieve for his death. As for you, young sir, you have a far journey to Antioch. ’Tis an hundred leagues or more. Have you ample funds?” Matteo recounted their experiences by the water-side. “Ha, yes, the Italians are close-fisted folk. How much have you between the twain of you?” Matteo emptied his wallet on the table. “ “Here are two bezants and some silver and copper,” he said. ‘“‘And you, Ali?” The old Turcople dug a meager handful of coins from his waist-pouch. One bezant glinted vellow amid much copper. ‘So much I had on me when I woke for the scream of old Gaspard as the paynims cut his throat,” he grunted. “But ’tis scarce enough—for Antioch,” said the Hospitaler, shaking his head. “Ha, thanks to St. Matteo, my name- saint, I see a way!” exclaimed Matteo. “I remember, now, my father spoke to me of a Genoese, one Messer Gambaglio of Tripoli, who had charge of his moneys. We will go to him first.” COIN Clooolkks (©