Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [270]
With the decline of House Richese, Helena had married into House Atreides as a way to stabilize her family’s waning fortunes, after Emperor Elrood had withdrawn their quasi-fief of Arrakis and turned it over to the Harkonnens.
As for Helena’s dowry, House Atreides had received political power, a CHOAM directorship, Landsraad voting privileges. But Duke Paulus had never brought his wife the fabulous riches she had wanted, and Leto knew she must harbor hopes of returning to the former glories of her family. All of that would be forever impossible if he lost this gambit.
After receiving the early-morning summons, Leto met his legal team in the corridor outside his cell: two brilliant Elaccan lawyers, Clere Ruitt and Bruda Viol—women renowned for their criminal-defense work. They had been offered by the Ixian Ambassador-in-exile, Cammar Pilru, and thoroughly interviewed by Thufir Hawat.
The attorneys wore dark business suits and would follow the legal forms, though in this unusual trial Leto knew it would be primarily up to him and his own personality. He certainly had no hard evidence in his favor.
Clere Ruitt handed him a thin sheet of ridulian crystal that contained a brief legal pronouncement. “I am sorry, Lord Leto. This came to us only moments ago.”
Already feeling dread, Leto scanned the words. Beside him, Hawat’s shoulders sagged, as if he had guessed the document’s contents. Rhombur pressed close, trying to read the etchings on the crystal. “What is it, Leto? Let me see.”
“The tribunal of magistrates has ruled that no Bene Gesserit Truthsayers may speak on my behalf. Such testimony will not even be introduced.”
Rhombur sputtered in indignation. “Vermilion hells! But everything is admissible in a Trial by Forfeiture! They can’t make such a ruling.”
The other Elaccan attorney shook her head, and her expression remained bland. “They have taken the position that the weight of all other Imperial Law argues against it. Numerous rules and statutes explicitly forbid Truthsayer testimony. The requirements of evidence may be loosened in a forfeiture proceeding such as this, but the magistrates have determined that even loose rules must not go too far.”
“So . . . no Truthsayers.” Rhombur scowled, fully sullen now. “That was the best thing we had going for us.”
Leto held his head high. “Then we’ll just have to do this on our own.” He looked at his friend. “Come now, I’m not usually the one to shore up your optimism.”
“On a brighter note,” Bruda Viol said, “the Tleilaxu have removed the pilot of their attacked frigate from the witness list. They provided no explanation.”
Leto heaved a long sigh of relief, but Hawat cautioned him, “We will still hear plenty of damning testimony, my Duke.”
Silently, he accompanied his advisors into the crowded Landsraad courtroom. At the head of a long aisle he took a seat between them at the defense table below a towering bench for the magistrates who would hear the case. Ruitt whispered in his ear, but he didn’t focus on her words. Instead he closely studied the names of the assigned magistrates: seven Dukes, Barons, Earls, Counts, and Lords randomly chosen from among the Great and Minor Houses of the Landsraad.
These men would decide his fate.
Since the Tleilaxu belonged to no royal House and had been spurned for membership even after their takeover of Ix, they were not represented in the Landsraad. In the days preceding the trial, outraged Bene Tleilax dignitaries had shouted in the Palace courtyards, demanding justice—but after the Tleilaxu attempt on Leto’s life, Sardaukar guards had kept them silent.
Now, with a rustle of robes and formal uniforms, the chosen magistrates filed solemnly into the courtroom. They took seats at the curved stonewood bench that loomed over the defense table. The colorful banners and crests of their Houses hung behind each chair.
Having been coached by his attorneys and Thufir Hawat, Leto recognized all of them.