"This I have to see for myself," Manley, the IRS investigator said to his supervisor, pushing a claims-form on front of him. "How can "Protecting peasants" and "Building curtain wall" be legitimate business expenses as this guy claims?" The supervisor nodded. "Get to Tucker, and talk to this Duke character."

The next morning found Manley being thrown around in the back of a horse drawn cart through the Ohio countryside towards what looked like a newly built medieval style castle. He stared disbelievingly at the mail clad guards at the gate and even more so when he was met at the door of the keep by a broad shouldered man dressed like someone from a Shakespeare play with a silver band round his head.

The immaculately dressed little man standing to one side coughed and spoke up. "You have the pleasure to meet His Grace, Duke Robert II of Tucker, Lord of this Demesne."

Echoing the heralds cough, Manley addressed the Duke. "Mr. Bubba Hartford? I'm Brian Manley from the IRS," he said. "We need to talk." A look of annoyance passed over the Dukes face, but he motioned the investigator inside.

Once inside, he turned to Manley. "I would prefer if you wouldn't use that name in public," he said. "They need to forget I was once just the local football star . Come have a drink and we can talk about why you are here."

Over a goblet of wine, Manley pointed out that he had come to investigate Bubbas tax return, but would settle for an explanation as to what the hell was going on with the town. The Duke fixed his crown and smiled. It was not the friendliest of smiles.

"I suppose it started with government officials like you," he said. "About forty years ago, someone decided to close the railroad. Five years later the Interstate was built further south, and there was no money left over to repair the road into the town. After the storms the following winter it was impassable, and still our plight was ignored. My father saw that the town was on the point of running out of supplies and, having as little faith in outsiders as I do, started carting stuff in by mule. It was because of him Tucker is not just another ghost town. He employed locals, and the town was happy."

"Some people saw their opportunity. The Early family held up one of the mule trains and took everything they could lay their hands on. When they were tracked, they were brought to court. The guy with the gun got five years for armed robbery, but his brother only got two months cause he decided to use a crossbow. Dumb law if you ask me, but it got the Earlys to thinking."

"The very next caravan through was like something out of Robin Hood. Five Earlys held it up with bow and arrows, and one even had a sword. Our town laws just specified guns and knives as weapons. Fortunately my father expected something like this, and had invested in some chainmail from who-knows-where. He and his brother held them off with their walking staffs."

"After that the law got weaker and the gangs got stronger. Vigilante groups sprang up, but often beat up the wrong person. Things were getting desperate, and the only thing that stopped a bloodbath was the fact my father refused to bring in guns and ammunition on his trains. I guess he thought it was dangerous enough with bows and pitchforks. In the end he and his employees started carrying swords too."

"They had plenty of practice guarding the mules from increasingly violent attacks, people trusted them more than the vigilantes. About this time, I came back from Ohio State and was shocked with how things were. I had gone to college to play football, so I majored in something that didn't require much study and was interesting- Military History. My thesis was in the Normans in Palestine, and I admired their tactics."

"So I persuaded my father to lend me some men, and trained them to fight on horseback. We also made up some rough armor. The townspeople paid for all this to be rid of the gangs. We met the Earlys and their backup down by Miller's Creek and overran them easily. It was a miniature Hastings. Brought twelve of them back to face prison and buried three more. "

"The town settled down after that, and my father was elected Mayor that spring. In fact, they gave him to post for life. He had been called the Duke for years, and when he died, I guess people thought the title should stay in the family. I became Robert II, and the place became more and more feudal. I get a portion of everything that grows, is hunted or traded in the area, and give some back if the crops fail, or a disaster happens. I provide protection for the people to live their lives in peace. Everyone's happy and no one has called for the road to the Interstate to be opened for years."

The Duke took a long sip of wine, and examined Manley's reaction. The investigator took a long time to think, and finally reached into his briefcase. He produced a piece of paper. "I find your story fascinating," he said. "But I must pass on this bill for two million dollars in unpaid taxes to the federal government. And insist you stop collecting monies from your fellow citizens, or you are facing serious jail time."

Robert the Seconds face went red with anger. "What has paying your taxes ever gotten the people of Tucker. A washed out road and a weed grown railway?"

"Even so," said Manley. "I must insist..." "Insist!" roared the Duke, cutting him off. "Guards! Take him away to the dungeon where he can insist for mercy once a year for as long as I see fit. Damn government officials"!