." Flor pressed his advantage. "Now, your garments. Off
with them!"

The swordsman was nearly his size. Both of them had the heavy build of
their mountain stock, and the garments of the free swordsman would do
for Flor's purpose, even though they might not fit him perfectly. Who
expected one of these roving soldiers of fortune to be dressed in the
height of style? They were fighters, not models to show off the tailor's
art.

Flor watched as his prisoner started to disrobe, then pulled off his own
single garment, carefully guiding it through the belt at his waist, so
as not to disturb the talisman's powers.

He threw the long shirt at the man before him.

"Here," he ordered. "Put this on."

He sensed a feeling of deep resentment--of hopeless rebellion. He
repeated his demand, more emphatically.

"Put it on, I say!"

As the man stood before him, dressed in the rough shift of a serf, Flor
smiled grimly.

"And now," he said, "none will worry too much about a mere serf, or look
too closely into his fate. Here."

He slashed out with the sword, awkwardly, but effectively.

"I shall have to find a new name," he told himself as he dressed in the
garments of his victim. "No free swordsman would have a name like Flor.
They all have two names."

He thought of the names he had heard used by the guards of the Earl.
Flor, he thought, could be part of a name. But one of the swordsmen
would make it Floran, or possibly Florel. They would be hunters, or
slayers of elk--not simply elk. He looked at the steel cap in his hands.
An iron hat--_deri kuna_.

[Illustration]

"So," he told himself, "I shall be Florel Derikuna."

He inspected his new garments, being sure they hid the belt, and yet
left the bosses available to easy reach. At last, he put on the iron
cap. It covered the coronet, effectively hiding it.

Taking up the sword, he replaced it in its scabbard and swaggered
through the forest, imitating the man-at-arms' song.

At one stroke, he had improved his status infinitely. Now, he could roam
the land unquestioned, so long as he had money. He smiled to himself.
There was money in his scrip, and there would be but slight problems
involved in getting more. Tonight, he would sleep in a forest house,
instead of huddling in a thicket.

* * * * *

As the days passed, to grow into weeks and then, months, Florel wandered
over the land. Sometimes, he took service with a captain, who would