ank back,
grateful for the stranger's help. "I'm Giulion Geoffrey of Geoffrion,"
he said, "and indebted to you. Who are you, stranger?"

The darkness rumbled to a deep, rueful laugh. "In these parts, lad, I'm
not called by my proper name. I'm Hodd Savage--The Barbarian. And that
was a fair knock _you_ gave _me_."

Young Geoffrey's silence lasted for a long while. Then he said in a
flat, distant voice: "Why did you give me water, if you're going to kill
me anyway?"

The Barbarian laughed again, this time in pure amusement. "Because I'm
not going to kill you, obviously. You're too good a cannoneer to be
despatched by a belt knife. No--no, lad, I'm not planning to kill anyone
for some time. All I want right now is to get out of here and get home.
I've got another army to raise, to make up for this pasting you
Leaguesmen have just given me."

"Next time, you won't be so lucky," Geoffrey muttered. "We'll see your
hide flapping in the rain, if you're ever foolish enough to raid our
lands again."

The Barbarian slapped his thigh. "By God," he chuckled, "I knew it
wasn't some ordinary veal-fed princeling that outmaneuvered _me_!" He
shook his head. "That other pup had better watch out for you, if you
ever cross his path again. I lost him in the rocks with ease to spare.
Bad luck your shot smashed my fuel tanks, or I'd be halfway home by
now." The rolling voice grew low and bitter. "No sense waiting to pick
up my men. Not enough of 'em left to make a corporal's guard."

"What do you mean, _if_ I ever cross Dugald's path again? I'll have him
called out to trial by combat the day I can ride a tankette once more."

"I wouldn't be too sure, lad," The Barbarian said gently. "What does
that look like, over there?"

Geoffrey turned his head to follow the shadowy pointing arm, and saw a
flicker of light in the distance. He recognized it for what it was; a
huge campfire, with the Leaguesmen's tankettes drawn up around it.
"They're dividing the spoils--what prisoners there are, to work the
mills; whatever of your equipment is still usable; your baggage train.
And so forth. What of it?"

"Ah, yes, my baggage train," The Barbarian muttered. "Well, we'll come
back to that. What else do you suppose they're dividing?"

Geoffrey frowned. "Why--nothing else. Wait!" He sat up sharply, ignoring
his ribs. "The fiefs of the dead nobles."

"Exactly. Your ramshackle little League held together long enough to
whip us for the first time, b