Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

122 “A sword, sir. Your men stopped me.on . the road and I seek their master. I pray you choose your ground. There is light enough yet for us to prove ourselves.” Gilbert laughed. “T like that. That is the nght stuff. But no thank you I will not fight you, not I. Dog does not hunt dog. We are French- men both.” “Sir, I am sorry for it.” ‘Peace, lad, peace. Here is no fair fight- ing. Silvain de St. Lo is a better sword than I. I know it and the —— knows I am in no haste to die. But look you, if you make an end of me, here are men enough who will have your blood for mine. No, child. I will not let you run upon death. “Come, what is your quarrel with me? They stopped you on the road? It is their trade, the dogs. Why, they took you for one of these Italian city soldiers who are all money and no sword. What are we here for but to shear the sheep of Italy? But the —— burn me, the lads were blind not to know a knight of France. I ask your pardon, Silvain, and there is an end.” He held out his hand. “Tf you please,” Silvain said and took it and Messire Thibaut was heard to give a t sigh. “Good fellow,” Gilbert cried. ‘Come on with me and I will show you merry cheer. ——! it warns my heart to have Silvain de St. Lo of our company.” In this manner Silvain met Gilbert du Marais who brought him to Philibert de la Vire which made for him the best day of his life and the worst. WHERE the hills rise toward the mountains they came in the twilight to the ruins of a castle. From a shapeless mound of fallen stone the black walls rose broken and jagged. But Gilbert kept his word. He had good quarters and good cheer. Though the castle hall was covered with a low roof of planks and shut in by a patchwork of curtains, something between a hut and a tent, it had rich furni- ture and plate and the tables were laden with spiced meats and all the wines of Lombardy. “Do we not live like kings, brother?” Gilbert chuckled with his mouth full of ortolan, and Silvain said that King Charles had no better fare. “He has worse, I swear,” said Philibert Adventure de la Vire. he earns.” Silvain was sitting between them and he looked from one to the other. Gilbert spread himself, a loose-made, careless fel- low, taking his pleasure of the moment and there was nothing to be seen in his red face but sensual good will. His cousin Philibert was a little man, low of brow and cunning of eye, greedy in his ways, but finding no satisfaction, like a peasant driving a bargain, a hard little man and gloomy. Silvain asked him if he had news of the king and the army of France. “—— a word have I heard,” said Gilbert and drank to French swords and King Charles. “And God send him a horse with a good wind,’’ said Philibert. “What sir? Is the army in retreat? I did not know that.” “Nor did I. But I can guess. If aman goes rabbiting where wasps nest, he will soon be running.” “Drink again, cousin,” Gilbert laughed and passed the wine along. ‘See your luck through the wine, it is none so black.” “Nor is the king’s,” said Silvain. ‘He has won many a victory and none stand against him.”’ ‘What has he won?” Philibert growled. “Glory and smoke, poor loon, glory and ‘Well, a man must take what - smoke.”’ Gilbert chuckled. Silvain stared. “Sir, you make me wonder,” he said. “Tf you think the king is in danger why do you linger here? If you fear the venture that he has chosen why did you come so far?” “And you may wonder,” Philibert’s little eyes twinkled. “There are many things you will wonder in this world, Sir Silvain. Men are not all fools.” Gilbert struck in quickly to make peace. Between more wine and gross stories and coarse songs Silvain heard some of Gilbert’s philosophy. Italy was a good country if a man knew how to useit. But that way was not the king’s way of marching with an army. Nothing in that but glory and smoke as Cousin Philibert said. But a brisk company watching the high roads could make a duke’s.ransom every week. No such country as Italy for fat merchants’ caravans and fine lords and ladies who had guards that would not fight. Why then, no such country for lusty Frenchmen. The two cousins and their men, it CoOMmicboolk ) CO 5}