Claws of the Tigress, The Firebrand & The Pearls of Bonfadini (3 Historical Adventures in One Edition). Max Brand
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the guards on either side checked Tizzo by the arms.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked.
“You are Mateo Marozzo, I suppose,” answered Tizzo.
“Have you ever seen me before?”
“With your visor down, Messer Mateo,” said Tizzo.
“You know it was I that you faced that day?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” said Marozzo, stepping back with a smile of infinite satisfaction, “you are now in my hands.”
“I am glad of it, Messer Mateo,” said Tizzo.
“Glad of it, did you say?”
“I had rather be in your hands than in those of any other man in Perugia. You at least know that I fight as an honorable man.”
“Ah, you’ve been reading stories about perfect knights. Is that it?” asked Marozzo. “Do you think that the spies and body-snatchers of the Oddi are entitled to be treated like men of honor?”
“I know nothing of the Oddi,” said Tizzo.
“Am I to believe that?”
“I hope so,” said Tizzo, frankly.
“On the contrary,” said Marozzo, “I know that you are one of their men of greatest trust.”
“I have never seen one of their faces,” said Tizzo.
Marozzo laughed in his face in return. “Perhaps you never have seen the mad Englishman, Lord Melrose?” he asked.
“Yes. I know him. I am in his service.”
“And he in that of the Oddi. In fact, my friend, I know that you are one of their most prized hirelings, in spite of your youth. Shall give you the proof?”
“That you cannot do.”
“Presently. When I have sent off to Astorre Baglioni himself a letter from Lord Melrose in which he offers anything for your release. Anything up to his own life!”
“His life?” exclaimed Tizzo, hoarsely.
“If that devil of a Melrose offers so much, you are worth a high price; you stand among the first of the servants of the Oddi. Admit that, my friend, and talk to me freely concerning whatever you know of the Oddi now—their location, their position, their plans—talk openly, and it may be that I shall be able to give you what I have a right to take—your life!”
His glance went hungrily over Tizzo as he spoke. It was plain that he hardly wished to surrender personal revenge to statecraft, no matter how he might be advanced in the eyes of the all-powerful Baglioni.
“Messer Mateo,” said Tizzo, “I only repeat what I have said to you before; I know nothing about the Oddi.”
“Well,” said Marozzo, “then I shall have to see if I can persuade you to talk.”
Tizzo knew what that meant. Torture would be used now, in order to force him to confess things of which he knew nothing. A fine sweat covered his body, gleamed on his face; and his eye looked inward on his soul, wondering how long he would be able to endure the agony without screeching out shamefully. For wild savages would never be able to reproduce the exquisite masterpieces of pain of which the people of Italy were capable.
But before another move was made, a servant came in haste, carrying a letter on a tray.
“A message from Signor Bardi!”
CHAPTER 12
The very name of Bardi filled Tizzo with a sudden hope, but Marozzo cried out in horror to throw the letter into fire without touching it. The plague might be carried even in the ink with which it was written.
“Antonio Bardi,” said the servant, “is pronounced by the doctors free and clean of the plague. This morning the house of the Bardi was broken open. It was thought that everyone must be dead of disease or of the plague, but by a miracle, Messer Antonio has lived and fresh food was found beside him. The terrible house is now being cleansed with wine and vinegar; and the first care of Messer Antonio was to send this letter to you.”
“Read it to me,” said Marozzo, his glance impatiently seeking his prisoner again, as though he was in haste to start a congenial work.
The seal of the letter was broken, and the secretary read:
Mateo, my dear friend:
By the grace of God and the charity of a stranger I have returned from the dead to the living. I was recovering from the disease by dying slowly of the famine when Tizzo, the Firebrand, brought to me food; my house is now open and life begins again. I hear that Tizzo is now in your hands. I know you will use him kindly for my sake until I am strong enough to come to you and tell you with my own mouth how great he is of heart.
(Signed in haste),
Antonio Bardi
Young Marozzo hesitated only a moment. His malignancy was too much roused to permit him to give up his cruel plan. He said: “Send word to Antonio Bardi that you found me engaged and that at my first leisure I shall read his letter; in the meantime I send congratulations on his wonderful escape. And now we shall test the greatness of the heart of this Tizzo. Is that rare swordsman of mine prepared with armor in the court? Is he ready to put the question to this man?”
The answer was that Guido, the swordsman, was waiting; so the entire assembly adjourned at once to the courtyard of the palace. Here the superior servants of the household were ranged around the open colonnade; the female servants leaned from the upper windows of the house; and there were at hand half a dozen crossbowmen with quarrels ready on the string. In addition, Tizzo saw a tall man armed in complete steel from head to foot, the visor raised to show a lean face except for the bulge of the wide jaws.
“Where is that woodsman’s ax?” demanded Marozzo. It was brought at once. “Set the prisoner free. And now, Tizzo, I have seen your tricks with an ax; I have felt one of them. You shall show them to me once more. Perhaps I shall learn from you something that will be worth knowing, Guido, there, will test your skill. And if his sword begins to enter you, remember that you have only to confess what you know of the Oddi in order to escape from more punishment. If you try to escape, the arbalests will send their bolts through you.”
* * * * *
Tizzo, feet and hands free, grasped the ax and saw that in fact was such a weapon as he had learned to use. And he answered: “Messer Mateo, the ax is for striking blows, and the sword is both a weapon and a shield. I have no armor, but even without it, if you put a sword in my hand, I’ll try my fortune against your champion.”
“Do you begin to whine, you redheaded dog?” burst out Marozzo. “I should have you in the torture room, pulled by ropes and broken on the rack. Instead, I give you a chance to fight like a man. If you beat Guido fairly, you are a free man!”
Tizzo, running his eyes over the bright steel armor of Guido—whose visor was now closed and whose sword was drawn, with a dagger in the left hand—felt that his chance was smaller than that of a naked child against a mounted knight. But yet this was a far better way to die than to lie stretched in the torture chamber. And there was that ghost of a chance that he might escape, after all, to the promised freedom.
He flexed his knees, stretched his muscles as carefully and elaborately as a cat, and then said: “Guido, you have the advantage of weapons and armor; you would not be chosen for this part if you were not a good fighter; but God and luck fight on the side of the underdog. If you’re ready, come on!”
Guido made no speech at all. He merely laughed through the holes of his visor, which was long and pointed like the muzzle of a dog. Then he strode forward with his sword