Adventure Magazine Cover — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

> 77e- tue Baw! me os 2 aa ee re - Y . Prisoners of War Homeless men, beaten in battle and re- duced to the status of serfs, can hardly be blamed for disloyalty if offered opportunity to regain independence. ““Tros. began to wonder just to what ex- tent he himself was morally beholden to Caswallon. He even meditated taking the longship, which, having the lighter draught, would be first off the mud, and sailing down- Thames with his Northmen to seek safety on the Belgian coast. His only reason for dismissing the idea was his obligation to bury his father with proper obsequies. He was particularly thoughtful about the young girl Helma. Instinct told him to beware of her, to. give her no chance to: en- snare him, to treat her with less than courtesy ;. intuition—which is as different from instinct as black from white—warned him that she was a friend worth winning, but that nothing could be won by a display of weakness. Tros: was no horseman, but he had picked up British terms from Orwic. “She’s. a finely bred mare that must be broke before she’ll handle,” he reflected, grinning slyly at the smoke emerging through the cook-house window, grinning again as he thought of his lack of experience with women. He wondered to whom he should marry her, the only ultimate solution that occurred to him. fe. AND while he thought of that, a Meee boat came up the river, paddled ai! furiously by eight men, keeping —=—= to the far bank to avoid the flow- ing tide, but crossing on a long slant pres- ently and making straight for the two ships. A man sat in the stern whose features seemed vaguely familiar—a man in a fever of haste, who shifted restlessly and scolded at the straining crew. “Skell!” ‘Fros muttered. infinity—the two are one!”’ He started for the arrow-engine, but thought better of it; he could deal with Skell single-handed, and there was Conops “TImpudence— - to help; the boat’s crew were longshore Bri- tons, of the type that might murder un- armed men, but would scamper away at the first threat of serious fighting, men of the sort that had been serfs for generations. Skell came hand over hand uninvited up the ladder on the bireme’s stern, and stood still on the poop with his back to the rail, i ety oe ee 8s ee ee oe” eh aT Se. ee ° ee ee ae a 2 2 ‘. ¥ ao ae > ~ sees ~ {"*s ie. 29 surveying the scene, his foxy eyes avoiding Tros and his restless hands keeping osten- tatiously clear of the sword and dagger he wore. His fox-red beard was newly trimmed, and he wore good Gaulish clothes. under a smock of dressed brown-stained deer-hide that came to his knees. He would have looked too well dressed if it had not been for the stains of travel. “Tros, he said, meeting his eyes suddenly, “‘you and I should cease enmity. I did you a little harm, and you had revenge. Czesar can employ us both, and I have word for you from Cesar.” ‘Speak it,’” Tros answered. He despised Skell, but he was not fool enough: to shut his ears to news. Skell might be Cesar’s man im theory, but a child could tell by his expression that it was Skell’s advantage he was seeking first and last. He paused, picking words, and Tros. had time to wonder how far such a reader of men’s minds as Cesar actually trusted him. “T heard of these Northmen. They at- tacked Hythe,” Skell said: presently, “and I came overland to the Thames im hope of getting word with them, for I heard they were making for Lunden. I would have persuaded them to cross to Gaul with me and talk with Cesar. Cesar could have used such allies as these.” Tros nodded. Cesar would ally himself with any one to turn an adversary’s flank, and would reduce the ally to subjection afterward. But had Cesar had time to say so much to Skell? Tros thought not; It was likelier that Skell was speculating on his own account. “T met Britons down-river who told me you had sunk Volstrum’s ship and captured this one,” Skell went on, glancing repeatedly at the Northman who lay ten feet away from him clutching with fevered fingers at the haft of his great ax. ‘And I happen to know, Tros, that Caswallon has been turned against you by a new intrigue. Believe me, I know that surely.” “Aye,” Tros answered, “none should know better than the man who managed the intrigue!” Skell laughed; it began like a fox-bark but ended in a cackle like an old hen’s; there was no more mirth in it than comes of greed and insincerity. But there was a note, that had: nothing to do with mirth, Eomicbooks.com