Instinctively I sprang for it, and Fifanti, never suspecting my quest until he saw me with a naked iron in my hand, did nothing to prevent my reaching it.
Seeing me armed, he laughed.

"Ho, ho! The saint-at-arms!" he mocked.
"You'll be as skilled with weapons as with holiness!" And he advanced upon me in long stealthy strides.

The width of the table was between us, and he smote at me across it.

I parried, and cut back at him, for being armed now, I no more feared him than I should have feared a child.
Little he knew of the swordcraft I had learnt from old Falcone, a thing which once learnt is never forgotten though lack of exercise may make us slow.
He cut at me again, and narrowly missed the lamp in his stroke.

And now, I can most solemnly make oath that in the thing that followed there was no intent.