Adventure Magazine Cover — page 173: what you’re looking at

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

172 the noyan who had been called a prince of Eblis by Bembo. The armor of the noble was cut and hacked away and one hand held together his nearly severed abdomen. He was seated on a heap of sprawling Si- pahis, and he was smiling. The dead lay thick about him, for the Sheikh of Rum had penetrated here into the center of Tamer- lane’s host. The Chatagais were galloping now, en- veloping and sweeping over detachments of white-capped Janisseries. The remnants of a regiment of Turkomans, kin to the Tatars, threw down their arms and were spared. “Bayezid is in flight to Angora with his grandees,” cried Mirza Rustem, “We must not return without him.” The grandson of Tamerlane staggered in his saddle as an arrow embedded itself in his mailed chest. He dropped his shield to break off the end of the shaft. Michael slew the archer who had sent the arrow, and presently found himself riding alone through the dust clouds. There he turned aside to follow a horse- man who had entered a rocky defile at a headlong pace. The aspect of the man was familiar. “Rudolfo!’’;he cried. He had known some hours before that the condotuere had escaped from the guard of Tatar boys, slaying one in his flight to the river: But Michael had not thought until informed by Mirza Rustem that Rudolfo had sought protection and reward from the sultan. Rudolfo, an fact, had been kept beside the retinue of Bayezid until there were no longer any to guard him. Then with Gian he had cireled the remnants of the Turkish regiments to seek safety in flight. He knew that his life was forfeited to the Tatars. Itseemed incomprehensible to him that Bayezid should be routed. It was part of the ill fortune.that had dogged him since the Gate of Shadows. So panic—the panic that had seized him at Nicopolis—claimed him, and he turned into the first ravine that offered shelter. Michael’s shout caused him to glance back swiftly. He saw that the Breton rode alone. In the fear that beset him, Rudolfo felt that his only chance of life lay in slaying Mi- chael. The issue between the two had been long in coming to a head. Now, Rudolfo Adventure The condottiere checked his horse and flung his javelin deftly. The spear missed the Breton but struck his mount, causing the beast to rear and plunge. Michael jumped to earth and hurled his mace. It crashed against Rudolfo’s round shield of rhinoceros hide, and the man winced as he dropped the crushed target from an in- | jured arm. He reached for his sword, but Michael was on him, had grasped him about the waist and hauled him from his saddle. “Now may we settle the issue of our duel,” muttered Michael, stepping back and drawing his weapon. They had, in‘ iact, strange weapons. Both had been deprived of the swords they had .brought from Venice. The curved simitars felt strange in their hands. Ru- dolfo hung back, shaking the sweat from his eyes and gazing sidelong at the rocky defile in which they stood. “Gian!” he cried. “1 > mei’’ Michael waited for no more but leaped forward, slashing at the other’s head. Rudolfo parried skilfully, calling again for his follower. Out of the corner of his eye Michael saw the tall figure of the man-at-arms on a pant- ing horse. Gian had been following them. At this Michael set his back to a rock, warding off the counter-thrust of Rudolfo, who pressed the attack, certain now of the presence of his ally. Gian plucked forth a long knife and held it by the tip, reining his horse nearer for an opportunity to cast his favorite weapon. Michael heard rapid hoof-beats approach- ing down the ravine. He caught the flash © of the dagger as it flew toward him, only to rattle harmlessly off the rock at his*back. Gian grunted and flung up both arms, reeled in the saddle and tumbled to the ground. But Michael had not seen the thing that struck him down.’ ““Habei!”’ a shrill voice chanted. “Goliath is dead! Stand aside, Cousin Michael, and let the other devil have his due.” By now Michael was aware of Bembo on his mule-ass, waving something about his head. “Nay,” the Breton growled; “this is my affair.” The fall of Gian had brought a scowl to Rudolfo’s olive face. He pressed Michael desperately, cursing under his breath. The : | lee thought, it was at hand. two simitars clashed and the helmet was Eomichbooks: _ Cor