Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [31]
It’s for the best.
Leto knew that theirs had been an arranged marriage, a bargain struck among the Houses of the Landsraad to fulfill the requirements of the important families. It had been a desperate action on the part of crumbling Richese, and House Atreides could always hope the former grandeur of the innovative technological House might rise again. In the meantime, the Old Duke had received substantial concessions and rewards for taking in one of the many daughters of House Richese.
“A noble household has little room for the swooning and romanticism lesser peoples feel when hormones guide their actions,” his mother had once said to him, explaining the politics of marriage. He knew such a fate undoubtedly lay in store for him as well. His father even agreed with her in this regard, and was more adamant about it than she.
“What’s the first rule of the House?” the Old Duke would say, ad nauseam. And Leto would have to repeat it, word for word: “Never marry for love, or it will bring our House down.”
At fourteen, Leto had never been in love himself, though he had certainly felt the fires of lust. His father encouraged him to dally with the village girls, to toy with anyone he found attractive—but never to promise anything. Leto doubted, given his position as heir apparent to House Atreides, that he would ever have much chance to fall in love, especially not with the woman he would eventually take as his wife. . . .
One morning, a week before Leto was scheduled to leave, his father clapped a hand on his shoulder and took him along as he went about his rounds to meet the people, making a point to greet even the servants. The Duke led a small honor guard into the seaside town below the Castle, doing his own shopping, seeing his subjects and being seen. Paulus often went on such outings with his son—and Leto always considered these to be wonderful times.
Out under the pale blue sky, the Old Duke laughed easily, beaming with infectious good nature. The people smiled when the hearty man walked among them. Leto and his father strolled together along the bazaar, past the stalls of vegetables and fresh fish to inspect beautiful tapestries woven from beaten ponji fibers and fire-threads. There Paulus Atreides often bought baubles or keepsakes for his wife, especially after they had quarreled, though the Duke didn’t seem to understand Helena’s interests enough to select anything appropriate for her.
At an oyster stall the Old Duke suddenly paused and gazed up at the cloud-scudded sky, struck by what he considered a brilliant idea. He looked down at his son, and a broad grin split his bushy beard. “Ah, we need to send you off with an appropriate spectacle, lad. Make your leave-taking a memorable event for all of Caladan.”
Leto forced himself not to cringe. He had heard his father’s crazy ideas before, and knew the Old Duke would follow through, regardless of common sense. “What do you have in mind, sir? What do I need to do?”
“Nothing, nothing. I shall announce a celebration in honor of my heir and son.” He grabbed Leto’s hand and raised it up in the air, as if in a triumphant wave, then his voice boomed out, subduing the crowds. “We are going to have a bullfight, an old-fashioned extravaganza for the populace. It will be a day of celebration for Caladan, with holoprojections transmitted around the globe.”
“With Salusan bulls?” Leto asked, picturing in his mind the spine-backed beasts, their black heads studded with multiple horns, their eyes faceted. When he had been a younger boy, Leto had often gone into the stables to look at the monstrous animals. Stablemaster Yresk, one of his mother’s old retainers from Richese, tended the bulls for Paulus’s occasional spectacles.
“Naturally,” the Old Duke said. “And as usual, I’ll fight them