when Angus' troops moved in on the latter duchy, he had escaped
again, this time off-planet. He was now eating the bitter bread of
exile at the court of his wife's uncle, the King of Haulteclere.

The Count of Newhaven, the Duke of Bigglersport, and the Lord of
Northport, all of whom had favored the establishment of a planetary
monarchy, had immediately acknowledged Angus as their sovereign. So,
with a knife at his throat, had the Duke of Didreksburg. Many other
feudal magnates had refused to surrender their sovereignty. That
might mean fighting, but Paytrik, now Baron, Morland, doubted it.

"The _Space Scourge_ stopped that," he said. "When they heard about
the base here, and saw what we'd shipped to Gram, they started
changing their minds. Only subjects of King Angus will be allowed
to invest in the Tanith Adventure."

As for accepting King Angus' annexation of Tanith and accepting his
sovereignty, that would also be advisable. They would need a Sword
World outlet for the loot they took or obtained by barter from other
Space Vikings, and until they had adequate industries of their own,
they would be dependent on Gram for many things which could not be
gotten by raiding.

"I suppose the King knows I'm not out here for my health, or
his profit?" he asked Lord Valpry, during one of the screen
conversations as the _Space Scourge_ was getting into orbit.
"My business out here is Andray Dunnan."

"Oh, yes," the Wardshaven noble replied. "In fact, he told me, in so
many words, that he would be most happy if you sent him his nephew's
head in a block of lucite. What Dunnan did touched his honor, too.
Sovereign princes never see any humor in things like that."

"I suppose he knows that sooner or later Dunnan will try to attack
Tanith?"

"If he doesn't, it isn't because I didn't tell him often enough. When
you see the defense armament we're bringing, you'll think he does."

It was impressive, but nothing to the engineering and industrial
equipment. Mining robots for use on the iron Moon of Tanith, and
normal-space transports for the fifty thousand mile run between
planet and satellite. A collapsed-matter producer; now they could
collapsium-plate their own shielding. A small, fully robotic, steel
mill that could be set up and operated on the satellite. Industrial
robots, and machinery to make machinery. And, best of all, two
hundred engineers and highly skilled technicians.

Quite a few industrial baronies on Gram wo