1 vs 3

He waited. Seconds later he heard rapid footsteps from the passageway to his left. He concealed himself by its mouth. He heard a muffled exchange. A laugh. Remigio emerged from the passage. Behind him, two abreast, came Tasso and Ponti. Only Ponti wore a cuirass. They carried sheathed swords in their hands. Remigio was chewing and Tasso wore a bib, as if they’d been interrupted eating breakfast.

Tannhauser shoved twelve inches of Passau steel through Remigio’s belly and cranked the hilt. Remigio’s hands flew to the blade but it was gone and Tannhauser slashed his throat backhand and opened his neck to the spine and sidestepped as he fell. He lunged at Tasso’s face and the sword slid clean through Tasso’s forearm as he threw it up as a guard and the point split the arm bones and stuck him through the lip below the nose. Tannhauser cleared his sword smartly and closed and stabbed Tasso in the privities with the dagger and took out his legs with a foot sweep. He landed a shallow slash to his chest as he hit the stones. Then he stepped back.

Ponti had retreated to jettison his scabbard but came back into the fray as Tasso fell. Tannhauser parried blows, the attack bold and fierce, head, thigh, arm, head, thigh, and he gave ground toward the center of the lobby to leave Tasso out of range, to give Ponti headlong momentum, then he opened Ponti’s guard up high, quillions locked to blade, and lunged forward and braced him, their breastplates clashing, swords aloft, Tannhauser’s weight gaining the vantage and Ponti winded, his left hand grappling for the throat as Tannhauser dropped a headbutt into his nose. The tip of his dagger sought the armhole in Ponti’s cuirass, and Ponti clenched his elbow to his side and forced the dagger away and abandoned the throat grab, for Tannhauser’s neck was too thick, and he grabbed instead for his balls and Tannhauser stuck the dagger through Ponti’s hand and pricked his own thigh as Ponti jerked back. He threaded his leg between Ponti’s knees and hooked his calf and shoved from the hip and Ponti toppled backward, sword flailing—and here was Tasso charging back in—and as Ponti hit the flagstones Tannhauser stabbed him in the groin and Ponti rolled and Tannhauser sliced him again at the back of the knee, but could find no killing blow. He warded Tasso’s charge with a slash and a turn and he retreated, hacking Ponti a good deep bite through the elbow of his sword arm as he clambered to his knees, then two, three steps across the lobby and Tannhauser turned again and stopped and sucked for breath. Tannhauser stared at the Italians while they all three caught their wind. He sheathed the dagger, drew the pistol left-handed and heeled back the dog. He’d wanted to avoid a shot, as the sound might alert unknown others and endanger Amparo. Ponti swayed in the aftershock of his wounds, his right arm broken, his sword swapped over to his injured left hand. His eyes were hooded with rage. Tasso was more unhinged. He stared at the black stain spreading from his crotch. Blood tumbled from his beard from his half-severed lip.
-TR, pg. 709-10