Evening star., 1921-10-02
Swiftly Moving Tale, by Stephen French Whitman

it: Ceremonies sword caught them:
they did not rise. At his back stood
Baldo. his helmet caved in, his mail
shirt in ribbons. his abdomen slashed
open. All their men were down.
Hewing to right and left they broke
and locked the door behind them.
ON the dark stairway they leaned
against the wall, their helmets
off. gasping for breath. while the
enemy hammered the door.
"How is 1t with vou?' puffed Lapo,
putting his arm round Baldo's neck.
me. l am finished"
+ Lapo Cercamorte hung his head and
sobbed. My old Baldo. my comrade.
1t is my folly that has killed you"
survived too many tussles; then all
at once our Lord recalled my case to
his mind. But we have had some
high times together. eh?'
Lapo weeping aloud from remorse.
parted Baldo's shoulder and kissed
ed the staircase: it was Foresto softly
descending. The rays illuminated
Madonna Gemma. who all the while
had been standing close beside them.
Lduy, Sdlu D6luOs CdA
you spare me a bit of your veil? Be-
fore the door falls l must climb these
steps, and that would be easier if i
could first bind in my entrails."
They led him upstairs. Lapo on one
side. Madonna Gemma on the other
and Foresto lighting the way. They
cf.me to the topmOst chamber in the
high tower--the last room of all.
Here Cercamorte kept his treasures
his scraps of looted fnery. the
e. IL, y,
the garrison's surplus Of arms. He
locked the door and with Foresto's
siow help braced some pike-shafts
az ainSt il.
Baldo vowed that he would die on
his feet and shambled TO the case
world was emerging from the mist:
and at the foot of the hill he OBJ
served a strange sight-the small
figure of a man in tunic and hood:
feylike amid the mist: that danced
ard made gestures Of joy. Baldo.
clinging to the casement-sill on
bending legs, summoned Cercamorte
to look at the dancing figure;
What is it, Lapo? A devii?'
'One of our guests. no doubt, said
Cercamorte, dashing the tears from
his eyes. "Hark: the door at the
foot of the staircase has fallen. Now
we, come to our parting. old friend.
Give me bow and an arrow:
CIleu with III
throat Whoever that zany is, he
shall not dance at our funeral. just
cne more shot, my Lapo. You Shall
see that l still have it in me-"
Cercamore found and strung bow.
and chose a Ghibeiline war arrow
Behind them. young Foresto drew in
his breath with hiss. laid his hand
OF his dagger and turned the color
of clay. Old Baldo raised the bow.
put all his remaining strength into
the draw and uttered a cracking
, shout of bliss. The mannikin no
longer danced; but toward him. from
the hillside. some men in steel were
running Baldo, sinking back into
Cercamorte'S arms. at last allowed
/, himself to be laid down.
Through the door filtered the ris-
ing tumult Of the enemy.
Lapo Ceremonies blood-smeared
visage turned businesslike. Before
! erasping his sword he bent to rub his
palms on the grit Of the pavement.
While he was STOPPING. young Foresto
unsheathed his dagger. made cat
like step and stabbed at his masters
neck. But quicker than Foresto was
Madonna Gemma, who, with deer 8
/ leap. imprisoned his arms from be-
! hind. stand aside.-- Cercamorte said
; to her. and, when he had struck For
este down. Thank you for that. Ma
, donna. Here they come. and this door
, is a fiimsy thing. Get yourself into
the easement niche, away from the
swing Of my blade"
A red trickle was running down his