Marbeck and the Double Dealer Read Online Free PDF

jerky, he could not be certain. What was certain was that the next second he found the other’s blunted rapier pressed against his shoulder.
    â€˜Who is Gomez?’
    As fast as he had lunged, the fencing master drew back, his dark eyes fiercely alert. So Marbeck took a breath and told him, or as much as he had told Thomas Saxby. While he spoke, he made several thrusts, allowing each to be warded off. Then, judging his moment, he made a rapid crosswise sweep from left to right which caught the other off guard. To his own surprise, Ottone found his opponent’s sword only an inch from his throat, where it stayed.
    â€˜Well . . . your
mandritta
is better than your
stoccata
,
signor
,’ he breathed. His eyes flicked from the weapon’s point back to Marbeck. ‘If you meant to scare me, you have succeeded.’
    After a moment Marbeck lowered his rapier. But he kept his eyes on the other man’s face, until he flinched. Again his hand shook, and this time Marbeck made a point of noticing.
    â€˜I can see that,’ he said.
    â€˜I ask again,’ Ottone said sharply, his blade trembling. ‘What do you want?’
    â€˜I want to know what you know of Gomez.’
    â€˜Since I never heard this name, I don’t know anything of him,’ came the snapped reply. ‘And you seem to think ill of me,
signor
. To insult me would be most unwise.’
    â€˜I imagine it would,’ Marbeck allowed. ‘Though I’m curious to know what happened to you in France. No insult intended, master, but you strike me as a frightened man. Why so?’
    Ottone did not answer immediately. Unlike Saxby, if this man was angry, he knew how to control it. He crouched again and made a lunge which he permitted Marbeck to parry. Then in a low voice he said: ‘Such details are not important. I did my work, and I came back. What my commission was I would never tell. You know that.’
    â€˜Very well.’ Marbeck lunged himself, keeping his blade well clear of the other’s body. Then, drawing back, he said: ‘Where are you from, master? Genoa, isn’t it?’
    â€˜No . . . Livorno.’ Breathing steadily, Ottone made a thrust, which connected with his opponent’s abdomen. As he did so, he threw him a look, the meaning of which was clear: but for the existence of a tiny lump of cork, Marbeck would be mortally wounded.
    â€˜And before you go further –
si
, I was born of the Roman faith,’ he added. ‘I never hide it. I’m
recusanto
, one who pays his fine every week instead of going to church. Is that where your mind moves?’
    â€˜Do you know what
Morera
means?’ Marbeck asked him.
    Ottone looked puzzled. But Marbeck waited, until at last the other said, ‘In Italian, it is
La Mora
.’ He pronounced it in an exaggerated manner. ‘Yes,
signor
, I know what it means.’
    The two eyed each other again. Then Ottone glanced aside, and Marbeck followed his gaze. A silence had fallen at the other end of the room, where the young fencers were looking curiously at them both.
    â€˜What is it?’ Immediately, the fencing master turned and strode swiftly across the boards. ‘You boys think Ottone has time to waste?’ he shouted. ‘Go on with your exercises –
subito
! To work!’
    The youths needed no further prompting, but fell to their swordplay with gusto. Ottone stood over them, barking criticisms, but his anger was directed at Marbeck, and both of them knew it. The performance lasted minutes, before the master left his pupils and returned to the circle.
    â€˜Your temper is short, sir,’ Marbeck said mildly.
    â€˜Only on occasions,
signor
,’ came the rejoinder. ‘Now, have you further questions for me? About fruits, perhaps – or about Paris? What more can I tell you?’
    â€˜Nothing more, for the present,’ Marbeck replied. ‘I believe I’ve learned all I need to.’ He inclined