“I know not that. He weareth a sword, and can use it. He is young and resolute.”
“Neither will avail him.”
“Are ye so sure of your hand? What are your weapons?”
The bravo showed her a steel gauntlet. “We strike with such force we need must guard our hand. This is our mallet.” He then undid his doublet, and gave her a glimpse of a coat of mail beneath, and finally laid his glittering stiletto on the table with a flourish.
The lady shuddered at first, but presently took it up in her white hand and tried its point against her finger.
“Beware, madam,” said the bravo.
“What, is it poisoned?”
“Saints forbid! We steal no lives. We take them with steel point, not drugs. But 'tis newly ground, and I feared for the Signora's white skin.”
“His skin is as white as mine,” said she, with a sudden gleam of pity. It lasted but a moment. “But his heart is black as soot. Say, do I not well to remove a traitor that slanders me?”
“The signora will settle that with her confessor. I am but a tool in noble hands; like my stiletto.”