Adventure Magazine Cover — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

The Grand Cham Christian galley was shipwrecked on the Anatolian shore a year ago. The Turks who took them had said that this dog was khan of the galley, that he was a caphar magician who steered his craft by a be- deviled needle that pointed always to the north. “What is your country?” Bayezid. “T have no country. The sea is my home.’ Michael Bearn had been born on the cliffs of Brittany. His mother, an Irish gentlewoman, had landed from his father’s ship for the birth of the boy. When his father, a taciturn Breton, had died Michael had left his mother in a tower on the Brit- tany coast and had taken to the sea. There had been talk of a crusade against the Turk who was master of the Holy Land. Michael’s mother had pleaded with the boy to wait and join one of the bands of warrior-pilgrims to Rome. But Michael had no yearning for the cassocked priests. The sea called him and his father’s blood urged him to strange coasts. It was the way of women, he had told the Irish mother, in his young intolerance of belief, to seek comfort of priests and to covet the insignia of the cross. His mother had hid her tears and Michael did not know how he had hurt her. Following the bent of that time, a few years had brought him to the Levant and the glamor of trade with the Orient. He had been master mariner of the galley wrecked on the Anatolian coast while it was being pursued by Turkish pirates. “And so,” mused Bayezid, “a slave without rank, without race and an unbe- liever dares to disobey a command of mine? So be it. You have strength in your arms and pride. It pleases me to put both to the test.” - It was part of the secret of the Thunder- bolt’s achievement that he enforced cruel discipline among his followers. Michael Bearn’s eye lighted and he lifted his head. “Set a simitar in my hand,” he said quickly. ‘‘My lord, choose one of your skilled swordsmen and let him wear his mail. With a simitar—his weapon, not mine—I will stand against him in my shirt.” The stubborn pride of the Breton that had not let him prostrate himself under the foot of, a Turk flared at the chance to = : demanded 113 % strike a blowwith a weapon. He had en- “dured captivity doggedly, seeking for a chance to escape to the hills to the east where were tribesmen who did not owe alle- giance to the sultan. But he had not been willing to demean himself, to gain time for a further chance at liberty with his five comrades. seamen of the age, he was experienced in the use of sword and mace. A swift death was better than months of running beside the horse or litter of a Turkish master. “Shall a dog be given a sword?” growled the aged sheikh, quenching Michael’s new hope. This time Bayezid glauced at his follower approvingly. “Bring this man,” he ordered, ‘‘with the five caphars, his comrades, before my tent. Bring a sword, and’”—he nodded thought- fully—‘‘the iron sleeve.” AT MENTION of this instrument of torture which broke the bones of a man’s arm as easily as glass, the slaves who understood Bayezid’s words shivered and stared at Michael. lowed, however, after the white cap of the swaggering Janissery, to = the torment inflicted. The dark face of the T emacibioas soft- ened in pleasant expectancy as he knelt on a ° priceless carpet under the open portico of his tent and scanned the six Christians. He was accustomed to play with his vic- tims. Disdaining further to address the captives openly, he/whispered to the Sheikh of Rum, who stood in the half-circle of cour- tiers behind the sultan. ‘Know, O ill-omened ones,” translated the old Moslem in bastard Greek, your leader has offended against the Ma- jesty, the Splendor. Torture will be the lot of your khan unless ie With an eye to dramatic effect he paused, nodding to the master of the slaves who advanced from the group of watching Janisseries, a spear’s cast away. rior carried a misshapen thing of iron resting on a wooden.table. The rusty metal was formed in the semblance of a lion with an enormous mouth, lying prone on the table. Twin bars projected on either side from the ribs of the beast. ‘‘__unless,”” resumed the sheikh, you five caphars will offer to fight in defense of the body of your friend.” oO (EOMICLOOO wD Like all They fol- “that The war- “one of Saco sf