Swords From the Desert Read Online Free PDF

beard jutting forward and his eyes narrowed. Renault paused to make certain of what the cellar hid-the two rogues shivering against the wall, and Hugh of Bearn standing motionless, unarmed, with bandaged head and tight-clenched hands.
    "So," quoth Renault, his beard bristling in a grin, "the dead hath come to life. I regret, messire, that necessity compels me to send you back into the grave you have just now quitted."
    He waited to hear the southerner beg for mercy, but he waited in vain. Hugh shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
    "A pity," he said, "that you must strike such a foul blow twice. Give me a sword, and I pledge you there will be no bungling."
    "Nay," Renault grunted, "I swear by the tete-Diou there will be no mistake this time."
    He had left a man to watch the horses, and now-being ever careful in such matters-he called to the other Burgundian: "Slay me those rats by the wall."
    To Giron, who had been watching for a chance to slip up the stair, this was the voice of doom. He roared in fear, and in desperation flung himself at the swordsman with the lantern. Midway in his rush he lowered his head and crashed against the other's chest. Unprepared for this butting, the Burgundian fell heavily, throwing out his arms. The lantern clanked on the floor and went out, while the sword slid over the stones. Before the light vanished, Hugh leaped for the blade and caught it up.
    Then he stepped swiftly aside, hearing as he did so the familiar whistle of steel through the air. Renault had cut at him savagely, and missed. Hugh let himself down quietly on one knee, holding his sword upright, beside his head.
    The cellar was almost in darkness-only a faint light coming down the stair. Giron and the soldier were struggling and cursing on the floor, drowning all other sounds.
    "A moi, Picard!" Renault shouted, and changed his position as he did so. Mailed feet clattered down the stairs as the third soldier hastened to obey. Then there was a crash, a yell of pain, and renewed scuffling.
    Pied-a-Botte had followed the example of his chum, and Hugh judged by the sounds that the two rogues could hold their own at this hand-fighting on the floor. But Renault was slashing about him methodically-knowing that a man without armor would have no chance at matching cuts in the dark with him. And he glanced ever at the gray square of the stairway.
    But Hugh had no mind to try a run for it. "Nay, Renault," he called, "this way!"
    At once the other's sword struck against his uplifted blade, the sparks flying. Hugh's blade yielded and then twisted suddenly around the Bur- gundian's as he rose to his feet. The two swords were in touch now, grinding together.
    And Renault sought to lock hilts-to bear back the slighter man with his greater strength. But the southerner's blade yielded again, and parried deftly when the Burgundian tried to thrust, for at this game of touch in the darkness the skill of the wounded man was a match for the brawn of the lieutenant. Sweat dripped into Renault's eyes and he panted, maddened by the void before him and the elusive, clinging length of steel that quivered against his own.
    He forgot that the southerner's strength must soon give out, and he bethought him of his dagger. His left hand plucked it from his belt and he stepped forward to strike. In that instant the other blade left his own and thrust through the links of his mail. Fire scorched Renault's side, and red flames filled the black void before his eyes. He fell forward into the flames.
    Five minutes later, when Hugh had struck a light and kindled the lantern again, Renault lay unconscious on the stones. At sight of the bloodstained sword above them in the southerner's hand, the two soldiers gave up wrestling with Giron and Pied-a-Botte.
    "Watch over these fellows," Hugh said, "for I have horses waiting above to take me to the St. Pol, and something-" he pointed to the wounded Renault-"that will open the gate to me. Now help me lift him to his saddle."
    They