When my story begins I had already had one small adventure, nothing much
out of the ordinary. Agathemer and I were returning from my final
inspection of my estate. As we rode past one of the farmsteads we heard
cries for help. Reining up and turning into the barn-yard, we found the
tenant himself being attacked by his bull. I dismounted and diverted the
animal's attention. After the beast was securely penned up I was riding
homewards more than a little tired, rumpled and heated and very eager for
a bath.
As we approached my villa we saw a runner coming up the road, a big Nubian
in a fantastic livery which when he reached us turned out to be entirely
unknown to me. My grooms were just taking our horses. The grinning black,
not a bit out of breath after his long run, saluted and addressed me.
"My master has sent me ahead to say he is coming to visit you."
"Who is your master?" I asked.
"My master," he said, still grinning goodnaturedly, "enjoined me not to
tell you who he is."
I turned to Agathemer.
"What do you make of this?" I asked.
"There is but one man in Italy," he replied, "who is likely to send you
such a message, and his name is on the tip of your tongue."
"And on the tip of yours, I'll wager," said I.
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