"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."