chant, my lord the baron is fond of
gifts. Aren't we all? Unfortunately, I have received no word of your
group. My instructions are to stop all intruders upon the baron's lands
and, if there is resistance, to slay them and confiscate such properties
as they may be carrying."

The merchant sighed and reached into a small pouch. The eyes of the
sergeant drooped in greed. The hand emerged with two small coins. "As
you say," the merchant muttered bitterly, "we are all fond of gifts.
Will you do me the honor to drink my health at the tavern tonight?"

The sergeant said nothing, but his mouth slackened and he fondled the
hilt of his sword.

The merchant sighed again and dipped once more into the pouch. This time
his hand emerged with half a dozen bits of silver. He handed them down
to the other, complaining, "How can a man profit in his affairs if every
few miles he must pass another outstretched hand?"

The sergeant growled, "You do not seem to starve, city man. Now, on your
way. You are fortunate I am too lazy today to bother going through your
things. Besides," and he grinned widely, "the baron gave me personal
instructions not to bother you."

The merchant snorted, kicked his heels into his beast's sides and led
his half dozen followers toward the city. The soldiers looked after them
and howled their amusement. The money was enough to keep them soused for
days.

When they were out of earshot, Amschel Mayer grinned his amusement back
over his shoulder at Jerome Kennedy. "How'd that come off, Jerry?"

The other sniffed, in mock deprecation. "You're beginning to fit into
the local merchant pattern better than the real thing. However, just for
the record, I had this, ah, grease gun, trained on them all the time."

Mayer frowned. "Only in extreme emergency, my dear Jerry. The baron
would be up in arms if he found a dozen of his men massacred on the
outskirts of Bari, and we don't want a showdown at this stage. It's
taken nearly a year to build this part we act."

At this time of day the gates of the port city were open and the guards
lounged idly. Their captain recognized Amschel Mayer and did no more
than nod respectfully.

They wended their way through narrow, cobblestoned streets, avoiding the
crowds in the central market area. They pulled up eventually before a
house both larger and more ornate than its neighbors. Mayer and Kennedy
dismounted from the horses and left their care to the others.

[Illustration]