Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [205]
A rage burned inside him. He was certain that Duke Paulus’s death could have been avoided if someone had only listened to him. The grief struck him sharply, and he agonized over whether he might have done more: Should he have insisted harder or spoken to someone other than Stablemaster Yresk? He wondered if he should reveal what he had tried to do, but for the moment held his tongue.
Looking too small in the ducal chair, Leto Atreides narrowed his gray eyes and skewered Duncan with a gaze. “Boy, I remember when you joined our household.” His face looked thinner, and much older than it had been when Duncan had first stood inside the Castle hall. “It was just after I escaped from Ix with Rhombur and Kailea.”
Both of the Vernius refugees also sat in the main hall, as did Thufir Hawat and a contingent of guards. Duncan glanced over at them, then returned his attention to the young Duke.
“I heard stories of your escape from the Harkonnens, Duncan Idaho,” Leto continued, “of how you were tortured and imprisoned. My father trusted you when he gave you a position here at Castle Caladan. You know how unusual it was for him to do that?” He leaned forward on the dark, wooden chair.
Duncan nodded. “Yes, m’Lord.” He felt a hot flush of guilt on his face at having failed the benefactor who had been so kind to him. “Yes, I know.”
“But someone drugged the Salusan bulls before my father’s last fight—and you were one of those tending the beasts. You had ample opportunity. Why didn’t I see you at the paseo when all the others marched around the arena? I remember looking for you.” His voice became much sharper. “Duncan Idaho, were you sent here, all innocent-looking and indignant, as a secret assassin in the employ of the Harkonnens?”
Duncan stepped back, appalled. “Indeed not, m’Lord Duke!” he cried. “I tried to warn everyone. For days I knew something was wrong with the bulls. I told Stablemaster Yresk again and again, but he wouldn’t do anything. He just laughed at me. I even argued with him. That’s why I wasn’t at the paseo. I was going to go warn the Old Duke myself, but instead the stablemaster locked me in one of the dirty stalls during the fight.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “All the fine clothes your father gave me were ruined. I didn’t even see him fall in the arena.”
Surprised at this, Leto sat up in his father’s large chair. He looked over at Hawat.
“I will find out, m’Lord,” the Mentat said.
Leto scrutinized the boy. Duncan Idaho stood before him showing no fear, only deep sadness. As he studied him, Leto thought he recognized an openness and a heartfelt devotion on the young face. By appearances, this nine-year-old refugee seemed truly glad to be part of Castle Caladan, despite his demeaning, thankless chores as a stableboy.
Leto Atreides did not have many years of experience in judging devious people and weighing the hearts of men, but he had an intuition that he could trust this earnest boy. Duncan was tough and intelligent and fierce—but not treacherous.
Be cautious, Duke Leto, he told himself. There are many tricks in the Imperium, and this could be one of them. Then he thought of the old stablemaster; Yresk had been with Castle Caladan ever since the arranged marriage of Leto’s parents. . . . Could such a plan have been so many years in germination? Yes, he supposed it could. Though he trembled at the implications.
Unaccompanied, the Lady Helena glided into the reception hall, taking furtive steps. Deep shadows hovered around her eyes. Leto watched his mother slip into the empty chair beside his, the one reserved for times when she had sat beside her husband. Straight-backed and without words, she examined the young boy before them.
Moments later, Stablemaster Yresk was unceremoniously brought into the hall by Atreides guards. His shock of white hair was mussed, and his baggy eyes seemed wide and uncertain. When Thufir Hawat finished summarizing the story