Adventure Magazine Cover — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

Nl / = paella beic’ |’ ya had heal The Grand Cham It had been a stormy passage, beset by Turkish pirates in the Levant, and Bearn, thanks to his skill as mariner and his knack of handling men, had been one of the few captains to return without loss. But in spite of this honor Michael’s purse was light and he could not afford to pay a re- tainer, or even to take up his quarters at a good inn. . “Faith,” he thought, “’twould have availed more if the worthy council had given gold ducats instead of this chain, and as for the freedom of the city that they said went with the key—I can not find my way to yonder music.’ He had heard mention of the fate at the council, and also of a renowned voyager who was to be present. Two things had drawn » Michael to the festivity; the hope of good meat and wine—he had not wanted to con- fess to the ceremonious members of the great council that he was penniless—and curiosity. Voyagers from the East were few in that age and Michael wondered whether he would find at the palace Fra Odoric, the priest who had built a church in Tatary or Carlo Zeno, the sea-captain. _ Either one would have information that would serve Michael in his plans. His reflections were interrupted by a light rounding the corner of a building and gliding toward him under his feet. He was sur- prized to see that he was standing on a wooden bridge. The light was in a gondola passing beneath him. “Ho, my friends,” he called cheerfully, “in what quarter lies the palazzo or what- ever it is called of my lord Contarini? I can find it not.” If Michael had dwelt longer in Venice he would not have hailed an occupied gondola in the dark. His shout only caused the rower at the stern to glance up warily and thrust the long craft forward at greater speed. A shutter in the hooded seat was lowered briefly and a face looked out of the aperture. Then the gondola passed under the bridge. Michael grimaced, bowed, and was pass- ing on when he hesitated. The light on the gondola had been put out. - This was not altogether strange, if the people on the vessel had believed that foot- pads, as personified by Michael, were on the bridge. But the keen eyes of the seaman caught a white swirl in the water. He 123 fancied that the gondolier had checked his craft sharply and that it had halted a short distance beyond the bridge. If the occupants of the gondola had been alarmed by his hail, they would not have chosen to remain in the vicinity. So Michael thought and was ready to smile at his own suspicion, when he heard a footfall and the clink of steel upon stones. From the direction in which he imagined the gon- dola had halted a man was coming toward him, feeling his way with drawn sword. Michael planted his feet wide, with his back against a blank wall. Presently he could discern the grayish blur of a face moving toward him over the bridge. There was no sound and Michael knew that the newcomer was taking pains to be silent. This quietude and the rapidity of the other’s approach from the canal were ominous. Then Michael stepped aside. He had heard rather than seen a swift movement toward him in the gloom. Steel clashed against the wall beside him and sparks flew. An oath came to his ears as he snatched out his own sword, hung by its baldric on his right side. Long practise had accustomed Michael to the use of his left arm—had given to that limb the un- usual strength’ possessed. by one-armed men. In the darkness he sought the other’s blade, found it, thrust and when the thrust was parried, lunged again. “By the Pope’s_ head!” stranger. ‘< Amen,” alertly. His weapon had bent against mail on the other’s chest and Michael, who wore no such protection, was fain to risk a leap and come to hand-grips. But even as he tensed his muscles for the spring he heard footsteps and the darkness was dissipated by the light of a lanthorn which rounded a corner behind him. For the first time he saw his antagonist, a tall man, very fashionable in the short mantle and wide velvet sleeves and cloth-of- gold cap that were the fashion of the day in Venice. The man’s olive face was hand- some and composed, his eyes restless, his beard smartly curled. His right hand held the broken half of a sword, his left a long poniard. Michael was rather glad that, after all, he had not made that leap. snarled the (COPNICOOOKSyCO) said Michael, drawing back |