Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [269]
With a deep breath and a grunt, Rabban finally backed down. “May I come to the execution at least?” He sounded dangerously close to pouting.
“It depends on the timing.” The Baron stared at his ring-studded fingers and tinkled their metal against the smooth surface of the sphere in his lap in his habitual rhythm. “At the very least I’ll make sure the event is recorded for your enjoyment.”
The Baron got out of his chair with an effort and cinched the sash around his tighter-than-usual lounge robe. With a sigh he circled the elaborate room on bare feet, saw the ornate bathtub with its complicated temperature and massage controls. Since his body continued to be plagued by mysterious pains, he decided to take a long and luxurious bath—if he could find someone to serve him properly here on Kaitain.
Rabban, still displeased, stood on the threshold of the Baron’s opulent guest quarters. “What shall I do, then, Uncle?”
“Take a lighter and board the first available Heighliner. I want you to go to Arrakis and watch over the spice production there. Keep adding to our profits.” The Baron smiled at him, then waggled his fingers to shoo the nephew away. “Oh, don’t look so gloomy. Go hunt a few more Fremen if you like, just to amuse yourself. You’ve already done your part in this plot, and done it well.” He made his voice sound soothing. “But we have to be very careful. Especially now. Just pay attention to what I do and try to learn from it.”
Grabbing something to eat from a sampling tray that hovered by the archway, Rabban departed. Alone at last, the Baron began to contemplate how best to find a young, soft-skinned boy to tend him in his bath. He wanted to be completely relaxed and prepared for the following day.
Tomorrow, he would have nothing to do but observe and enjoy the event as young Leto Atreides found himself caught in more traps than he could begin to understand.
Soon there would be no more House Atreides at all.
What matters more, the form of justice or the actual outcome? No matter how a court may dissect the evidence, the foundation of genuine truth remains unblemished. Unfortunately for many of the accused, such genuine truth is often known only to the victim and the perpetrator. All others must make up their own minds.
—Landsraad Law, codicils and analyses
On the morning of the trial in Landsraad court, Leto Atreides chose his wardrobe carefully. Others in the same situation might have worn their most expensive finery, the grandeur of merh-silk shirts, pendants and earrings, along with whale-fur-lined capes, and stylish caps adorned with feathers and baubles.
Instead, Leto dressed in plain dungarees and a blue-and-white-striped shirt with a navy blue fisherman’s cap—the simple garb he would have to wear if he could no longer be a Duke. In a sash at his waist he carried a pouch of fishing lures and an empty sheath for a knife. He wore no Atreides insignia and no ducal signet ring. An ordinary commoner—which was all he would be if found guilty—Leto showed the Landsraad by his humble demeanor that he would survive, somehow. Even simple things would be enough for him.
Following his father’s example, he had always tried to treat his loyal men well, to such an extreme that many of the servants and soldiers considered Leto one of their number, a comrade-in-arms. Now, as he groomed himself for trial, he began to think of himself as a plain man . . . and discovered that the feeling wasn’t so bad. It made him realize the tremendous burden of responsibility he had shouldered since the death of the Old Duke.
Being a poor fisherman might actually be a relief, in certain ways. He wouldn’t have to worry about plots, shifting alliances, and betrayals in the Imperium. Unfortunately, though, Kailea would never want to be a fisherman’s wife.
And I cannot let my people down.
In a curt letter from Caladan, his mother had expressed her complete disagreement with his demand for a Trial by Forfeiture. To her, the loss of stature associated with the destruction of