"Foul monster!" a muffled voice shouted. "Now you come to your death!"
"Now we will give your carcass to the wild beasts, your brothers!"
"Let my daughter pass through," bawled old Grangioia; then,
receiving no response, struck clumsily at Lapo.
With a twist of his sword Lapo disarmed the old man, calling out:
"Keep off, kinsman! I will not shed Grangioia blood unless you force
me to it. Let Muti come forward. Or yonder gentleman dressed up in
the white eagles of Este, which should hide their heads with their
wings, so long and faithfully have I served them."
But none was ignorant of Cercamorte's prowess; so, after a moment of
seething, they all came at him together.
The swordblades rose and fell so swiftly that they seemed to be arcs
of light; the deafening clangour was pierced by the howls of the
dying. The dais turned red--men slipped on it; Cercamorte's sword
caught them; they did not rise. He seemed indeed to wield more
swords than one, so terrible was his fighting. At his back stood
Baldo, his helmet caved in, his mail shirt in ribbons, his abdomen
slashed open. Both at once they saw that all their men were down.
Hewing to right and left they broke through, gained the tower
staircase, and locked the door behind them.
Pages:
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537