ng
for?"

He watched the barge crew load, then turned. Lor came from the guard
house.

"All is in order, My Captain."

"Very well." Gerda looked at him approvingly. Then, he swung to the
merchant, fixing him with a stern glare.

"We shall make note of your name, Merchant. See thou that you make
honest and accurate valuation in the future. Another time, we shall not
be so lenient. The dungeon of Menstal is no pleasant place."

He watched till the last of the bargeload was stowed, then nodded
curtly.

"You may shove off," he said. He turned his head toward the tower.

"Down chain," he ordered loudly.

* * * * *

The windlass creaked protestingly and the heavy chain dropped slowly
into the river. The barge steered to the center of the channel,
gathering speed as it passed over the lowered chain.

When the barge had cleared, serfs inside the tower strained at the
windlass in obedience to the commands of their overseer, and the chain
rose jerkily, to regain its former position across the stream.

Gerda watched for a moment, then strode toward the guard house. He went
inside, to look at the bags of coin on the counting table.

"Cattle," he growled, "to think they could cheat the Baron Bel Menstal
of his just tax."

He stepped back out for a moment, to watch the merchant barge enter the
rapids beyond the chain. Then, he swung about and re-entered the tower.

Inside, he sat down at his counting table. He opened the bags, spilling
their contents out on the boards, and checked their count.

There were forty-eight over.

He turned to his clerk.

"What was your count, Lor?"

"Two thousand, one hundred, sir, and forty-eight."

"Very good." Gerda smiled a little. "For once in his thieving life, the
merchant was anxious to give full weight."

Lor spread his hands. "He'll get it back, and more, at Orieano, sir."

"Oh, to be sure." Gerda shrugged indifferently as he scooped the coins
back into the bags. He chose three small scraps of wood, scrawled tally
marks on them, and went over to a heavy chest.

Taking a key from his belt, he unlocked the chest and raised its lid. He
looked at the bags lying within, then tossed the new ones on top of
them. As he locked the chest again, he saw Lor go to his account board,
to enter the new collection.

The Officer of the Guard straightened, stretched for a moment, then
glanced critically in at the windlass room. The serfs had secured the