"Who the devil are _you_?" called a voice from behind Daoud.
The man addressed his answer to Daoud. "I am Andrea Sordello of Rimini,
Messer David. These three men are my comrades. It would honor us if you
would accept our service."
"Accept his service," Lorenzo said at once from behind Daoud. "We have
nothing to lose."
Daoud made himself decide at once. "If you are willing to help me, I am
grateful."
"Be off with you, Messer Sordello," called one of the original pursuers.
"This is no quarrel of yours."
"And what is _your_ quarrel with these men?" Sordello replied.
"That is no affair of yours, Messere!" It was the voice of a very young
man, intense, passionate.
Daoud turned to face the young voice. At once Sordello moved to take a
position at his side.
Daoud realized that he could see better; the first hint of dawn. And not
only was there more light, but his head was clearer as well. The heat of
his body, aroused to fight, was burning away the intoxicating spirits in
his blood.
The men opposite were spread far apart. The one who spoke for them was
slender and wore a cap that fell over one ear. A silver badge glittered
on the cap.
Sordello spoke again. "Since you will not say, Messere, I will tell
_you_ what your affair is. You are of the famiglia Filippeschi. You saw
these gentlemen leaving the Palazzo Monaldeschi and decided that any
guest of the Monaldeschi must be an enemy of yours. And so you decided
to hunt down and kill these good gentlemen, who have done you no harm
and are not even citizens of Orvieto, for the offense of having enjoyed
the hospitality of your rivals."
Filippeschi. Daoud had been wanting to make contact with them ever since
his arrival in Orvieto. Now he had met them, and--accursed luck--they
wanted to kill him.
"Lorenzo, they are Filippeschi," he muttered. "Talk to them."
"There is no talking to _them_, Messer David," said Sordello. "They are
out for your blood."
"Be still," said Daoud. The man had offered his services. Let him
confine himself to serving, then.
Lorenzo stepped out in front of Daoud, his sword still out before him,
but angled toward the ground.
"Messeres, at least you should know who it is that you have set out to
kill. I am Giancarlo of Naples, and this is my master, David. He is a
merchant from Trebizond, which is very far away. Much too far for him
to have any connection with the quarrels of Orvieto."
One of the Filippeschi bravos, a short man standing to the left of the
slender leader, said, "You spin a tale to try to fool us. Anyone can see
your master is a Frenchman. Too many damned French in Italy. The
Monaldeschi are toadies of the French. Death to the Monaldeschi, and
death to the French!"
What a bitter fate it would be, Daoud thought, if his Frankish looks,
which caused him to be sent here, earned him his death in a stupid
street fight.
"There are six of you," said Lorenzo. "But now that these four men have
joined us, there are six of us. Bad odds for you, because no matter how
much you harm us, you will certainly come out of this quarrel worse off
than you went into it." Lowering his sword even more, he stepped closer
to the young man with the silver badge on his cap. "Signore. Which of
these men are you willing to lose, to pay for the privilege of hurting
us?" With his free hand he pointed from man to man in the circle of six.
"That man? That one? That one? Yourself?"
"We will start with you!" the short man shouted.
He lunged at Lorenzo, his sword thrusting straight for Lorenzo's chest.
Lorenzo's sword was up in an instant, parrying the short man's attack.
At the same moment, out of the corner of his eye Daoud saw Sordello's
arm flash up, then down.
The short man gave a cry and stumbled. He staggered a few steps, then
collapsed in a heap at the feet of one of the other Filippeschi bravos.
Lorenzo stepped back so that he and Sordello flanked Daoud. Sordello's
three men moved up beside them, one to the left, two to the right.
"You may see to the man who is hurt," said Lorenzo. "Unless you want to
continue."
"If he is only hurt, I should retire to a monastery." Sordello laughed.
Indeed, Daoud saw that the man on the ground was not moving.
_I do not like this Sordello_, Daoud thought. _He comes out of nowhere
wanting to work for me. He kills in haste and boasts about it._
The young man with the silver badge on his cap knelt by the fallen
bravo and felt under his cape. "Morte," he said harshly, and stood
again.
"Well, Messeres," said Lorenzo, "we are now six to five. We did not
choose to quarrel. We still do not wish to fight. In fact, we ourselves
are at odds with the Monaldeschi."
"How might that be?" said the young man.
"Are we done fighting? I wish to make a proposal to you."