Stolen from Gypsies by Noble Smith

Author:Noble Smith [Bruno, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781935952275
Publisher: White Cloud Press

19

THE ARGONAUT

During the time that Egelbun, Purvious, and Loutronio were plotting Godfrey’s death, a tall, barrel-chested man in a dust-covered mantle was walking north toward Carthusalem on a lonely dirt road. He stopped and leaned against an ancient oak tree and wiped the sweat from his brow. He had traveled many miles and gone through more adventures than the wily Ulysses to get to this place; he relished the sight of the familiar towers rising from behind the city’s great walls. He was much changed since he had departed from his home three long years ago. Verily, even my children will not recognize me, he mused. For what used to be puffy and pale from leisure was now tanned and chiseled from hard living. In addition to a mustache, he now wore a long forked beard. His body, formerly rotund, was today muscled and lean like a soldier’s.

A very short man wearing a hood strode up to the tree, tripped, spilled the bladder of water he had collected from the river, sighed, and turned back toward the river to try once again.

“Stay,” said Thomas to his servant. “I can wait until we make the public fountain at the great bazaar. Pray, Gurditta Singh, faithful foreign servant. Come and gaze upon my city. It has been many years since I last viewed its fair towers and gilded roofs.” The orange light of dusk illuminated the buildings in an ephemeral glow.

At that moment, the Dim Avenger strode up to the tree. The thief was carrying a large sack over his shoulder. He stopped and stared at Thomas with a nefarious leer.

“Ahoy!” exclaimed Thomas jovially. “What say you, good fellow traveler, on this dusky evening?”

“Your money,” hissed the thief.

“Pardon?” asked Thomas.

“Give me all your money or I’ll kill you.”

“I am sorry, my dear scoundrel,” replied Thomas without fear. “But you have opened an empty chest, stepped into a vacant room, peered up at a starless sky. I am in distress. There is a wolf at my door. I am at low tide. I am broke.”

The Dim Avenger bowed. “Good sir, I believe your words and offer you my service, for it is my habit to steal from the opulent and give to the bereft.”

“Who art thou, Royal Scamp,” asked Thomas, “that I may speak to you as man to man, not cloaked person to cloaked person?”

“It is my custom to first ask of my victim or my recipient his name,” said the Dim Avenger.

“I must tell you that it has been my long-held custom to remain anonymous in my vast wanderings; it is difficult for me to reveal my name to a stranger.” Thomas’ tone was growing more and more annoyed as he spoke. “Especially one who threatens first to rob me, then shortly thereafter to benefit me, and all the while keeps his name from me.”

The Dim Avenger replied peevishly, “It is I who stand in the position to receive your name first since it was I who first asked it.”

“On the

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