Temple Sword

Chapter 130 Gambling
1321, Month of St. James (July)
Timisoara, Hungary
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"Let me see how many points you can throw, you bastard!" the unkempt man snapped, "Come on, don't dawdle!"

There were two people sitting at the table, Laszlo and his unnamed opponent.A dozen disheveled drunks stood in a circle around the fighting two, so tight that they could barely breathe.

Whenever one of them rolled a 6 or 1, winning or losing a round, they yelled loudly.

The underground tavern was already full of people, and the owner was busy counting the money, and happily lit twice as many candles as usual, so that these rascals could enjoy the game of dice even more.

Candles flickered, illuminating bloodshot eyes, yellowed teeth, and blotchy faces.

On the table where the gambling game had been going on for more than an hour, flames reflected from an object that did not belong here at all: an oriental weapon with a mirror-smooth surface and graceful curves, an ancient Saracen sword, simple and With majesty.This elegant weapon, and its scabbard alone, is worth more than all the furnishings and guests of the tavern.

That was Laszlo's last bet.

"Don't worry, you poor thing!" Laszlo said, putting two clay dice in a small wooden cup, blowing, then covered the mouth of the cup with the palm of his hand, and began to shake slowly.

He threw his head back, opened his mouth, and in an instant someone poured wine down his throat, some on his beard and dirty shirt.No one cares about this, the two sitting at the table are today's heroes, they can drink as much as they want.

"Don't waste time!" shouted his opponent, "Throw the dice! Throw it! You've run out of money, and when I win your sword you'll be dead. But if you want to , we can bet on it in the next round, and you can be my servant!"

"Shut your mouth," Laszlo yelled, "it smells like shit!"

He shook the glass one last time, then turned it upside down on the table.

To achieve effect, he waited a moment longer, staring hard at his opponent's face, then glanced at the people around him, who were waiting excitedly for him to raise his glass.

Laszlo raised his glass, and the count surprised himself: Two 6s were shown on the two clay clods that landed on the table.

"No, no, no, no!" yelled the disheveled-haired opponent, who had been extremely lucky all night and lost everything before it was done.

The value of that sword is so high that he needs to pay back twice the money he won that day. "No, it's not true, you cheated! Yes, that's it, you must have cheated, you bastard, bastard!"

Laszlo also stood up, calmly adjusting his belt, while his opponent was pacing up and down the underground tavern, tearing his hair.

"Give me the money!" Laszlo said in a confident voice he hadn't seen in years. "According to the agreed amount!"

"You cheat!" The man pointed his index finger at him, "I don't pay liars, no!"

"He didn't cheat, you bastard!" several people yelled, "Give him the money, he's clean!"

"Come on, give the money!" Laszlo stretched out his palm, "You can say whatever you want, but now you have to give the money!"

The loser refuses to accept what has happened, still tearing his hair, walking between the tables whimpering, biting his lip in despair and swearing.Finally, he turned sharply and drew a short knife from under his shirt.

"Let me go!" He broke away from the customer who wanted to hold him back. The tavern owner wanted to stop him, but he raised his knife and shook his head, signaling the owner not to do anything stupid.

Laszlo took action without hesitation. He reached out and grabbed the Saracen sword that was still on the table, quickly pulled it out, and then grabbed the opponent's right wrist. The dagger fell to the ground, reflecting The candlelight reflected the man's frightened face.

"Give me the money!" Laszlo ordered confidently, his chest was heaving violently, his heart seemed to be about to jump out, and there was the noise of violent blood flowing in his ears, he had never felt this way in his life, in the afternoon he He wanted to die, but now he was alive, really alive. "Give me your purse, you vile worm!"

"Okay." The man responded, stretched out his hand to untie the money bag hanging on his belt, and handed it to Laszlo tremblingly. The latter weighed it with his hands in satisfaction. It was very heavy, and there must be a lot of money in it.

"Get out of here now!"

Six people grabbed him at the same time and threw him out of the tavern like garbage.Laszlo put the Saracen sword back into its sheath solemnly and slowly, and then shouted, "I'll treat everyone to a jug of wine tonight!"

In the hours that followed, he enjoyed more respect and cheers in the tavern than Charles Anjou himself had in Timisoara.

(End of this chapter)