Adventure Magazine Cover — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

A Son of Strife life. This is well enough, but you must have more than a sword and a shield to make your way withal.” “What?” asked Matteo. “Knowledge—and friends. See you, Matteo, there is a Genoese of Tripoli, Messer Gambaglio, who hath charge of my moneys. To him shall vou go, and he will dispatch you to Antioch by one of his ships.” “Nay, I must speak first with your mother. This is enough for tonight. The hour grows late.” A varlet stole up from the shadows as they left, and pinched out the rush-lights, one by one, until only a single cresset, burning in its iron holder, illumined the empty reaches of the great hall. Sir Gui parted with his son in the corridor whence branched the stairs that led to Horazahde’s bower in the topmost story of Gui’s Tower; Matteo climbed a corkscrew stair in the main structure of the inner ward to his own chamber which fronted the rear of the castle defenses. fyi} HE STRIPPED off his garments Mafe rapidly, thinking of the events of the day, surely the most eventful he had ever known. And now he was to go out into the world, to Tripoli, the big city in the north which men said rivaled Jerusalem and was surpassed only by the fabulous richness of Byzantium! He lay down on his couch, and turned this thought in his mind—and slept. But it seemed to him he had been sleeping no time at all when a hand clutched at his shoulder and began shaking him and an imperative voice resounded in his ear. ‘““Messer Matteo! Messer Matteo! Wake! Prithee, wake! For your life, Messer Matteo!’ He threw off the hand, and struggled to a sitting position, digging his knuckles into his eyes. Beside him crouched Ali Ma’- akwaa, a dripping sword in one hand. Through the windows hummed a chorus of yells and screams. The roof was crimsoned by huge gusts of flame outside. “What is it?” gasped Matteo. Ali snatched up clothing and the boy’s hauberk. “The Saracens are upon us! We shall be slain!” Matteo scrambled into hose and jerkin, Haste! 67 suffered Ali’s practised fingers to draw the hauberk over head and shoulders. ‘How chanced it?” he panted, clapping on his helmet and buckling his sword-belt. “That cursed Greek, lordling! Ah, I knew him for a traitor when I first saw his evil face! Why did I not speak to the master—hefore it was too late?” “Too late!” echoed Matteo. ‘Never, Ali! We shall drive them forth. Why, they will be caught in the castle like so many rats.” Ali shook his head. “You should have seen them swarming over the Squire’s Curtain. They are a vast host. And the Greek will conduct them through the castle. No, lordling, we may be able to hold the keep, but I fear not. Come, we must find Lord Gui.” The captain of the Turcoples opened the door cautiously, and led the way into the corridor. Flickering torches of resin-wood burned at intervals. Panic-stricken ser- vants darted here and there. Once, as they crossed a place where two corridors came together, they heard the clatter of blades and the shrill war-cry of the Saracens. They descended the corkscrew stair, and from a loophole Matteo saw the pent-sheds and stables in the courtyard blazing to the battlements and fighting going on between isolated groups of the garrison and the invaders. The stair gave upon another corridor, and this, in turn, ended in a second flight of stairs descending to the level of the great hall. Ali took them three at a bound, but he brought up short at the foot as a mob of Saracens in dirty white surcoats poured into the lower corridor. “Back! Back!” he shouted. too late!’ The pursuers were after them in full cry. They ran down the length of the upper cor- ridor, and hurled themselves through a door which gaped wide. It was a cumbrous, iron-bound affair of oak, and Ali set his shoulder to it and slammed the bolts into place in time to make good their retreat. They were in a long, low-roofed room, lined on one side by a series of parapeted arches, the gallery overlooking the great hall. “We must try another path, messer—” Ali started to say. a ‘Hark!’ exclaimed Matteo. The clash of steel, a sudden burst of out- cries, sounded beneath them. Matteo sped “We are GOMIIGooOo S C@