Adventure Magazine Cover — page 142: what you’re looking at

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

F. R. Backley ~ whose stories of Italy you all know 7 ina Modern Serial in a Medieval Setting che WAY of | HUMBLE Brother Simeon, to whose hand the ’ feel of the sword is far more familiar than that of the learned pen, as a penance for two unseemly acts ill-befitting one of my holy station, hereby, in accor- dance with the decree of the good abbot, set down the whole story of my warrior days, the better to feel meet disgust thereat, especially since in contempla- tion of that impious period, I shall realize to the full how fortunate was my saving, and how sweet the life of peace. In first, I sinned mightily by throwing soup at Brother Ambrose for talking ignorantly about artillery. In second, my offense was that of doing violence with sword and fists to a young noble whom I found half-drunk at an inn, and otherwise disporting himself most shamefully. Him I cau- tioned in a fatherly way, but the young blood pre- ferred to take offense, jeering at my monkish garb, and calling me “old woman.”” Then he had the temerity to bare his sword at me, and (mea culpa!) I grew hot-headed as of yore. Ah well, perhaps the youth has learned a lesson that may well serve him in the future... . In my eighteenth year I was apprenticed by my father, a poor musician, to one Messer Porsini, a mercer of good standing in Rometia. Here, my father hoped, I should apply myself faithfully to my task, learn the business, perhaps even marry the squint-eyed daughter of my employer, and in time One night, when the duke was holding a fiesta in honor of a visiting count, I yielded to the tempta- tion, entered the palace grounds, was inveigled by several of the soldiers to partake of the flowing wine-cups. In this condition I saw two armored men dragging a crying girl. One of the men called: “Hence, boy, this is no affair of thine.” However, being hot with wine, I whipped out my sword, pierced one man at the center of his breast- plate and then had at the other till I ran him through likewise. Thereupon I ran home and fell trembling and panting on my bed. Soon I heard a hammering on the door, and the sleeping household was aroused by the deep bellow of: “Open! In the name of the duke, open!” Old Porsini began to quake and ran about fran- tically, looking for a hiding-place, for he was se- cretly conspiring against the person of the duke, and he thought he had been discovered and sent for. But they were after Porsini’s apprentice, myself, and I was marched off between a file of the duke’s guard, headed by a pinkish-bearded sergeant, my hands still stained with the blood of my escapade. When I was brought into the presence of the duke, I found him in converse with his sister, the Countess Anita. He was imperiously telling her that his wish that she marry a certain count was final, and though she appeared highly spirited, she left the room ap- own a little shop of my own. Below my window I often heard of nights the watch-calls and the clang- ing of the armor of the guard of the Duke of Rome- tia, and I felt an irresistible longing to take down my sword from its hook (I had brought it with me had thought both my victims common soldiers. I from home) and stroll by myself in the dark streets. explained to the duke as best I could, and when * This is an Off-the-Trail story. See contents page footnote. 140 parently subdued to his will. The duke then turned to me. “Why didst thou kill the Count of Monterosso?” The Count of Monterosso! I stood paralyzed. I (© INUGOOOK (©