s your last space adventure,
Simon. You'll have to be a spaceport spaceman from now on."

"I shan't be sorry," Princess Bentrik said. "And if anybody owes
Prince Trask gratitude, I do." She pressed his hands warmly. "Prince
Trask, my son wants to meet you, very badly. He's ten years old, and
he thinks Space Vikings are romantic heroes."

"He should be one, for a while."

He should just see a planet Space Vikings had raided.

Most of the people at the upper end of the table were
diplomats--ambassadors from Odin and Baldur and Isis and Ishtar and
Aton and the other civilized worlds. No doubt they hadn't actually
expected horns and a spiked tail, or even tattooing and a nose ring,
but after all, Space Vikings were just some sort of Neobarbarians,
weren't they? On the other hand, they had all seen views and gotten
descriptions of the _Nemesis_, and had heard about the ship-action
on Audhumla, and this Prince Trask--a Space Viking prince; that
sounded civilized enough--had saved a life with only three other
lives, one almost at an end, between it and the throne. And they had
heard about the screen conversation with King Mikhyl. So they were
courteous through the meal, and tried to get as close as possible to
him in the procession to the throne room.

King Mikhyl wore a golden crown topped by the planetary emblem,
which must have weighed twice as much as a combat helmet, and
fur-edged robes that would weigh more than a suit of space armor.
They weren't nearly as ornate, though, as the regalia of King Angus
I of Gram. He rose to clasp Prince Bentrik's hand, calling him "dear
cousin," and congratulating him on his gallant fight and fortunate
escape. That knocks any court-martial talk on the head, Trask
thought. He remained standing to shake hands with Trask, calling him
"valued friend to me and my house." First person singular; that must
be causing some lifted eyebrows.

Then the King sat down, and the rest of the roomful filed up onto
the dais to be received, and finally it was over and the king rose
and proceeded, followed by his immediate suite between the bowing
and curtsying court and out the wide doors. After a decent interval,
Crown Prince Edvard escorted him and Prince Bentrik down the same
route, the others falling in behind, and across the hall to the
ballroom, where there was soft music and refreshments. It wasn't too
unlike a court reception on Excalibur, except that the drinks and
canapes were being dispens