Free Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1940 by Twice In Time (v1.1) Page B

ladies—then slid into dismayed screams. For, extending
my parry to its conclusion as a riposte, I smote Giuliano smartly on the inside
of the elbow, and he wheezed in pain and sprang back out of reach. Had I followed
and struck again, he might have been forced to drop the sword. But I realized
that I had to do with the second greatest man in Florence ,
and only stood my ground.
    Giuliano laughed again. "God's wounds, what a
tingler!" he praised me. "I'll ward it another time."
    Forward he came again, right foot advanced, his cloaked
left arm brought well up. Again I awaited his thrust, parried it and drove it
out of line, then riposted as before. He, as good as his promise, interposed
the folds of the cloak, taking a muffled tap on his left forearm. But that hurt
him somewhat, and he retreated. This time I followed him, avoided an
engagement, and half struck at his head. But I stopped in time, fearing to
injure him and make dangerous enemies. Instead I diverted the course of the
stroke into a sweeping moulinet, passing over his weapon to my right and his
left, and terminated it in a resounding thwack on Giuliano's velvet-sleeved
sword arm.
    ABSOLUTE silence fell, then a murmur of consternation from
the onlookers. For Giuliano's smile had vanished, and his eyes flashed fire. Plainly
the contest had ceased to be sport with him—my thumps had made him angry. He
snapped out a soft blasphemy, advanced quickly, and sped a slashing cut—not at
me, but at my stick. The edge of his steel, keen as a razor, shore through the
tough wood without effort, and I was left with a mere baton in my hand, a
truncated billet no more than fifteen inches long.
    "No, no, Giuliano, spare him ! "
called out Lorenzo, but too late to balk his brother's murderous stab at my
throat.
    I managed to parry with the short length of wood remaining
to me, causing his point to shoot upward and over my left shoulder. At once I
stepped forward, well within his lunge. Before he could retreat or recover, my free
right hand caught the cross-guard of his weapon, and wrenched. His own right
arm, bruised twice in the previous engagements, had lost some of its strength,
and in a trice I tore the sword away from him.
    At once I dropped my severed stick, fell back and whipped
the captured hilt into my left hand.
    "By your leave, my lord," I panted, "I will
continue the matter with this more suitable equipment."
    But then Lorenzo, Poliziano and Guaracco had sprung
forward and between us. The sorcerer caught me in his arms and wrestled me
farther back, his red beard rasping my ear as he hissed out a warning to take
care. Lorenzo the Magnificent was lecturing Giuliano in the manner of big brothers
in every land and generation. And Giuliano recovered his lost temper.
    "Hark you, Ser Leo, I did amiss," he called out
to me, laughing. "I had no lust to hurt you at the beginning. I meant only
fun. And then—" He broke off, still grinning, and rubbed his injured arm.
"I forgot myself. It is not many who can teach me either swordplay or
manners but, by Saint Michael of the Sword! You have done both."
    It was handsomely said, and I gladly gave him back his
weapon, assuring him that I bore no ill-will. At that, he embraced me in the
impulsive Latin manner, swearing that he would stand my friend forever. The
company subsided to chairs again, happy that no harm had befallen either of us.
    "We wander from the path of our earlier
discourse," reminded Abbot Mariotto tactfully. "Ser Leo was speaking
of a flying machine. Where is it, my son?"
    "It is not yet constructed, Holy Father," I
replied.
    As with so many other things, the principle of flying a
heavier-than-air machine was caught only vaguely in the back of my head. I
could visualize roughly the form, a thin body with a rudder for tail and
outspread wings. And something to stir the air.
    "Belike you would strap wings to your arms,"
suggested Giuliano.
    "Impossible," spoke up Poliziano. "Are not
men's arms too weak for flight? Would