ly. His charger stood, waiting for the
rider, who would never again--Or would he?

He remembered that he was still carrying the heavy belt that had been so
contemptuously flung at him. When the strap had been thrown, he had
flung a hand up to protect his already aching face. He had caught and
held the belt, and no one had thought to take it from him.

He suddenly swerved his thick shoulders, swinging the heavy strap at the
eyes of one of his guards. With a cry of pain, the man covered his face,
and Flor spun, to swing the strap at the other guard. Before the two men
could recover, he dashed to the side of his mount, swung into the
saddle, and urged the beast into motion.

The wall was low on this side, but Flor remembered it towered high above
the dry moat. And across that moat were the woods, where his men waited.
He urged the beast to full speed, forcing the animal to the top of the
wall and over.

For an almost endless instant, time seemed to stop. The barren moat and
green weeds floated beneath him, and the only reminder of his rapid drop
was the air, which whistled past his ears. Suddenly, motion was restored
again, and they lit with a jarring crash, just at the lip of the moat.

With a cry of agony, the charger pitched forward, pawing at the stones
that had smashed his chest, and throwing his rider over his head. Flor
managed to land uninjured. He picked himself up and ran to the edge of
the forest before he stopped to look back.

Heads were appearing atop the wall. At the edge of the moat, the charger
struggled vainly, then dropped from sight. Flor waved defiantly at the
growing crowd which stared from the high wall.

"The Duke hangs nobody," he shouted, "unless he can catch and hold him."
He turned, to make his way through the trees.

"In fact," he added to himself, "I may yet return to hang the Duke."

He went to the meadow where his escort was encamped.

"We have been betrayed," he shouted. "The Duke plots with the merchants
to destroy Bel Menstal and hang his men. Break camp! We must gather the
forces of the barony."

* * * * *

Baron Bel Orieano looked worried.

"The Duke has sent couriers," he said, "to gather the fighting men of
the duchy. But it will be a long, hard struggle. The serf has gained the
hills of Menstal. He has raised his men, and has dared to attack. Some
say he has enlisted those very hill tribes, from whose depredations he
swore to defend the d