Harold Lamb

“ Michael saw that the empty saddles bore quivers and bows.
“Well conjured, Brother Michael,” chattered Bembo. “The charm was a mighty charm. I will aid you.”
He started to scramble down from his mount when one of the warriors seized his leg and jerked him to earth, staring at him with ox-like curiosity. Bembo's zeal dwindled.
He skipped away. The Tatar, no taller than the hunchback, made after him with the rolling gait of one better accustomed to a horse's back than the earth.
“I am Gutchluk, a noyan of the White Horde,” growled the leader to Michael. “I heard your bellow. Whom seek you?” ”

“ Soranzi sighed, whereat his meager teeth fell to chattering.
“Do you not see the rest, Master Bearn? The varlets, save his bravi, are dead or will be. Clavijo can not impeach him, for dread of the retribution of the council. You he will first try to bribe, believing that you, like himself, are bent on spoil. If you refuse his offer Gian will handle you till you reveal the way by which we may return to Trebizond.”
“This is no news,” said Michael shortly. “It means merely that Rudolfo knows that be has lost his way and is losing patience.” ”

“ Again Michael shouted to his party:
“Stand back! Sheath your swords if you do not love death. Ah, the cattle—” as the men ran about, seeking their weapons and sending a hasty arrow or two at the riders who swept over them with a quick rush of snorting horses and a red flash of swords in the firelight.
Gian ran close to the fire and wheeled, to cast a javelin at a gnome-like rider. The man went down, but a second Tatar caught the lieutenant's sword-thrust on his small round shield and split Gian's steel cap with a sweep of a heavy curved sword. ”

“ Clavijo had ordered a huge fire to be lighted near the mound of human bones, and the ruddy glare of the flames shone upon a hundred grinning masks that had been men. Nor was it any chance collection of skeletons piled together on a battle-field. The pyramid of skulls was regular in shape and no body-bones were visible. ”

“ The Tatar leader leaped at Rudolfo's head, taking the thrust of the Venetian's sword on his shield.
The weight of the flying body broke the blade like glass and the two men grappled on the ground.
“My left arm for a moment's truce!” thought Michael, turning to face the riders who were trotting up to him. The last of the men-at-arms had been struck down.
“Pax. Oh verily pax! Peace, my gentle dogs. If you are men, bethink you, there has been enough of slaying ”

“ Scarcely less black than their lamb's-wool kaftans were their faces, with slant, hard eyes and thin mustaches.
Their short swords were broader at the end than the hilt, and each had a target of bull's hide on his left arm. ”