Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [203]
Now he wished for any other fate in the universe.
Lady Helena had locked herself in her chambers and ignored the servants who tried to attend her. Leto had never observed much love or affection between his parents, and right now he couldn’t tell if his mother’s grief was sincere or merely an act. The only people she agreed to see were her personal priests and spiritual advisors. Helena clung to the subtle meanings she pried loose from verses of the Orange Catholic Bible.
Leto knew he needed to bring himself out of this morass—he had to reach deep for strength and turn to the business of running Caladan. Duke Paulus would have scorned Leto’s misery and chastised him for not immediately facing the priorities of his new life. “Grieve during your private time, lad,” he would have said, “but never reveal any sign of weakness on the part of House Atreides.”
Silently, Leto vowed to do his best. This would be the first of many sacrifices he would no doubt have to make in his new position.
Prince Rhombur came up beside Leto as he sat in the heavy ducal chair in the empty meeting hall. Leto brooded, his eyes fixed on a large portrait on the opposite wall that showed his father in full matador regalia. Rhombur put a hand on his companion’s shoulder and squeezed. “Leto, have you eaten? You’ve got to maintain your strength.”
Taking a deep breath, Leto turned to look at his comrade from Ix, whose broad face was filled with concern. “No, I haven’t. Would you care to join me for breakfast?” He rose stiffly from the uncomfortable chair. It was time to go about his duties.
Thufir Hawat accompanied them at a morning meal that extended for hours as they laid out plans and strategies for the new regime. During a pause in the discussion, the warrior Mentat bowed his head and met young Leto’s gray-eyed gaze. “If I have not yet made it apparent, my Duke, I give you my utmost loyalty and renew my pledge to House Atreides. I will do everything I can to assist and advise you.” Then his expression hardened. “But you must understand that all decisions are yours and yours alone. My advice may contradict Prince Rhombur’s or your mother’s, or that of any other advisors you choose. You must decide in each case. You are the Duke. You are House Atreides.”
Leto trembled, feeling the responsibility hover over him like a Guild Heighliner ready to crash. “I’m aware of that, Thufir, and I’ll need all the assistance I can get.” He sat up straight and sipped sweet cream from a bowl of warm pundi rice pudding, prepared by one of the chefs who knew it had been his favorite as a boy. Now it didn’t taste the same, though; his taste buds seemed dulled.
“How goes the investigation into my father’s death? Was it truly an accident, as it appears? Or only made to look that way?”
The Mentat frowned, and a troubled expression clouded his leathery face. “I’m hesitant to say this, my Duke, but I fear it was murder. Evidence is mounting of a devious plan, indeed.”
“What?” Rhombur said, pounding his fist on the table. His face flushed. “Who did this to the Duke? How?” He felt affection not only for Leto, but for the Atreides patriarch who had granted sanctuary to him and his sister. A visceral, sinking feeling told Rhombur the motivation might have been to punish Paulus for showing kindness to the Ixian exiles.
“I am the Duke, Rhombur,” Leto said, resting a hand on his friend’s forearm. “I will have to handle this.”
Leto could almost hear the wheels humming inside the Mentat’s complex mind. Hawat said, “Chemical analysis of muscle tissue in the Salusan bull revealed faint traces of two drugs.”
“I thought the beasts were checked before every fight.” Leto narrowed his eyes, but for a moment he could not drive away the memory flashes of his younger days, when he had gone to look at the massive bulls in the stables and puffy-eyed Stablemaster Yresk had let him feed the beasts—to