bh.houseatreides-第5部分

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　Newly　installed　in　the　planetary　governorship；　Baron　Harkonnen　was　wrapped　around　the　Emperor's　fingertip；　for　now。　〃We　will　provide　the　items　necessary　for　your　journey。　pile　your　lists　and　give　them　to　my　Chamberlain。　Once　you　reach　Arrakis；　the　Harkonnens　will　be　instructed　to　give　you　whatever　else　you　require。〃
　〃My　needs　are　few；〃　Kynes　said。　〃All　I　require　are　my　eyes　and　my　mind。〃
　〃Yes；　but　see　if　you　can　make　the　Baron　offer　a　few　more　amenities　than　that。〃　Elrood　smiled　again；　then　dismissed　the　Planetologist。　The　Emperor　noticed　a　pronounced　spring　in　Kynes's　step　as　he　was　led　out　of　the　Imperial　audience　chamber。
　Thou　shalt　not　make　a　machine　in　the　likeness　of　a　human　mind。
　…Chief　mandment　resulting　from　the　Butlerian　Jihad；　found　in　the　Orange　Catholic　Bible
　Suffering　is　the　great　teacher　of　men；〃　the　chorus　of　old　actors　said　as　they　stood　on　the　stage；　their　voices　in　perfect　unison。　Though　the　performers　were　simple　villagers　from　the　town　below　Castle　Caladan；　they　had　rehearsed　well　for　the　annual　performance　of　the　official　House　Play。　Their　costumes　were　colorful；　if　not　entirely　authentic。　The　props　　the　facade　of　Agamemnon's　palace；　the　flagstoned　courtyard　　showed　a　realism　based　only　on　enthusiasm　and　a　few　filmbook　snapshots　of　ancient　Greece。
　The　long　play　by　Aeschylus　had　already　gone　on　for　some　time；　and　the　gathered　audience　in　the　theatre　was　warm　and　the　air　was　close。　Glowglobes　lit　the　stage　and　rows　of　seating；　but　the　torches　and　braziers　around　the　performers　added　aromatic　smoke　to　the　building。
　Though　the　background　noises　were　loud　enough；　the　Old　Duke's　snores　threatened　to　carry　all　the　way　forward　to　the　performers。
　〃Father；　wake　up！〃　Leto　Atreides　whispered；　nudging　Duke　Paulus　in　the　ribs。　〃The　play　isn't　even　half…over。〃
　In　the　chair　of　his　private　box；　Paulus　stirred　and　straightened；　brushing　imaginary　crumbs　from　his　broad　chest。　Shadows　played　across　the　creased；　narrow　face　and　the　voluminous　salt…and…pepper　beard。　He　wore　a　black　Atreides　uniform　with　a　red　hawk　crest　on　the　left　breast。　〃It's　all　just　talking　and　standing　anyway；　lad。〃　He　blinked　toward　the　stage；　where　the　old　men　still　hadn't　moved　much。　〃And　we've　seen　it　every　year。〃
　〃That　is　not　the　point；　Paulus；　dear。　People　are　watching。〃　It　was　Leto's　mother；　sitting　on　the　other　side　of　the　Duke。　The　dark…skinned　Lady　Helena；　dressed　in　her　fine　gown；　took　seriously　the　ponderous　words　of　the　Greek　chorus。　〃Pay　attention　to　the　context。　It's　your　family　history；　after　all。　Not　mine。〃　Leto　looked　from　one　parent　to　the　other；　knowing　that　the　family　history　of　his　mother's　House　Richese　carried　just　as　much　grandeur　and　loss　as　that　of　Atreides。　Richese　had　sunk　from　a　highly　profitable　〃golden　age〃　to　its　current　economic　weakness。
　House　Atreides　claimed　to　trace　its　roots　more　than　twelve　thousand　years；　back　to　the　ancient　sons　of　Atreus　on　Old　Terra。　Now　the　family　embraced　its　long　history；　despite　the　numerous　tragic　and　dishonorable　incidents　it　contained。　The　Dukes　had　made　an　annual　tradition　of　performing　the　classic　tragedy　of　Agamemnon；　the　most　famous　son　of　Atreus　and　one　of　the　generals　who　had　conquered　Troy。
　With　black…black　hair　and　a　narrow　face；　Leto　Atreides　strongly　resembled　his　mother；　though　he　had　his　father's　aquiline　nose　and　hawkish　profile。　The　young　man　watched；　dressed　in　unfortable　finery；　vaguely　aware　of　the　off…world　background　of　the　story。　The　author　of　the　ancient　play　had　counted　on　his　audience　understanding　the　esoteric　references。　General　Agamemnon　had　been　a　great　military　mander　in　one　of　human　history's　legendary　wars；　long　before　the　creation　of　thinking　machines　that　had　enslaved　mankind；　long　before　the　Butlerian　Jihad　had　freed　humanity。
　For　the　first　time　in　his　fourteen　years；　Leto　felt　the　weight　of　legends　on　his　shoulders；　he　sensed　a　connection　with　the　faces　and　personalities　of　his　star…crossed　family's　past。　One　day　he　would　succeed　his　father；　and　would　bee　a　part　of　Atreides　history　as　well。　Events　were　chipping　away　at　his　childhood；　transforming　him　into　a　man。　He　saw　it　clearly。
　〃The　unenvied　fortune　is　best；〃　the　old　men　chimed　together　to　say　their　lines。　〃Preferable　to　sacking　cities；　better　than　following　the　mands　of　others。〃
　Before　sailing　to　Troy；　Agamemnon　had　sacrificed　his　own　daughter　to　guarantee　favorable　winds　from　the　gods。　His　distraught　wife；　Clytemnestra；　had　spent　the　ten　years　of　her　husband's　absence　plotting　revenge。　Now；　after　the　final　battle　of　the　Trojan　War；　a　chain　of　signal　fires　had　been　lit　along　the　coast；　sending　back　home　word　of　the　victory。
　〃All　of　the　action　occurs　offstage；〃　Paulus　muttered；　though　he　had　never　been　much　of　a　reader　or　literary　critic。　He　lived　life　for　the　moment；　squeezing　every　drop　of　experience　and　acplishment。　He　preferred　spending　time　with　his　son；　or　his　soldiers。　〃Everybody　just　stands　in　front　of　the　sets；　waiting　for　Agamemnon　to　arrive。〃
　Paulus　abhorred　inaction；　always　telling　his　son　that　even　the　wrong　decision　was　better　than　no　decision　at　all。　In　the　play；　Leto　thought　the　Old　Duke　sympathized　most　with　the　great　general；　a　man　after　his　own　heart。
　The　chorus　of　old　men　droned　on；　Clytemnestra　stepped　out　of　the　palace　to　deliver　a　speech；　and　the　chorus　continued　again。　A　herald；　pretending　to　have　disembarked　from　a　ship；　came　onto　the　stage；　kissed　the　ground；　and　recited　a　long　soliloquy。
　〃Agamemnon；　glorious　king！　How　you　deserve　our　joyous　wele；　for　annihilating　Troy　and　the　Trojan　homeland。　Our　enemy's　shrines　lie　in　ruins；　nevermore　forting　their　gods；　and　their　soils　are　barren。〃
　Warfare　and　mayhem　　it　made　Leto　think　of　his　father's　younger　days；　when　he　had　charged　out　to　fight　battles　for　the　Emperor；　crushing　a　bloody　rebellion　on　Ecaz；　adventuring　with　his　friend　Dominic；　who　was　now　the　Earl　of　House　Vernius　on　Ix。　In　private　times　with　Leto；　the　Old　Duke　often　talked　about　those　days　with　great　fondness。
　In　the　shadows　of　their　box；　Paulus　heaved　a　too…loud　sigh；　not　concealing　his　boredom。　Lady　Helena　shot　him　a　daggered　glare；　then　returned　her　attention　to　the　play；　reconstructing　her　face　to　form　a　more　placid　smile　in　case　anyone　should　look　at　her。　Leto　gave　his　father　a　crooked　and　sympathetic　grin；　and　Paulus　winked　back　at　him。　The　Duke　and　his　wife　played　their　parts　and　fit　their　own　fortable　roles。
　Finally；　on　the　stage　below；　the　victorious　Agamemnon　arrived　in　a　chariot；　acpanied　by　his　spoils…of…war　mistress；　the　half…insane　prophetess　Cassandra。　Meanwhile；　Clytemnestra　made　preparations　for　her　hated　husband's　appearance；　feigning　devotion　and　love。
　Old　Paulus　started　to　loosen　the　collar　of　his　uniform；　but　Helena　reached　over　quickly　to　pull　his　hand　away。　Her　smile　didn't　waver。
　Seeing　this　ritual　his　parents　often　went　through；　Leto　smiled　to　himself。　His　mother　constantly　struggled　to　maintain　what　she　called　〃a　sense　of　decorum；〃　while　the　old　man　behaved　with　far　less　formality。　Though　his　father　had　taught　him　much　about　statecraft　and　leadership；　Lady　Helena　had　taught　her　son　protocol　and　religious　studies。
　A　daughter　of　Richese；　Lady　Helena　Atreides　had　been　born　into　a　House　Major　that　had　lost　most　of　its　power　and　prestige　through　failed　economic　petitions　and　political　intrigues。　After　being　ousted　from　the　planetary　governorship　of　Arrakis；　Helena's　family　had　salvaged　some　of　its　respectability　through　an　arranged　marital　alliance　with　the　Atreides；　several　of　her　sisters　had　been　married　off　to　other　Houses。
　Despite　their　obvious　differences；　the　Old　Duke　had　once　told　Leto　he　had　truly　loved　Helena　in　the　first　years　of　their　union。　Over　time；　that　had　eroded；　and　he'd　dabbled　with　many　mistresses；　possibly　producing　illegitimate　children；　though　Leto　was　his　sole　official　heir。　As　decades　passed；　an　enmity　built　up　between　husband　and　wife；　causing　a　deep　rift。　Now　their　marriage　was　strictly　political。
　〃I　married　for　politics　in　the　first　place；　lad；〃　he　had　said。　〃Never　should　have　tried　to　make　it　otherwise。　At　our　station；　marriage　is　a　tool。　Don't　muck　everything　up　by　trying　to　throw　love　into　the　mix。〃
　Leto　sometimes　wondered　if　Helena　herself　had　ever　loved　his　father；　or　if　it　had　only　been　his　title　and　station　that　she　loved。　Of　late；　she　seemed　to　have　assumed　the　role　of　Paulus's　royal　caretaker；　she　constantly　strove　to　keep　him　groomed　and　presentable。　It　bore　as　much　on　her　own　reputation　as　on　his。
　On　the　stage；　Clytemnestra　greeted　her　husband；　strewing　purple　tapestries　on　the　ground　so　he　could　walk　on　them　rather　than　on　the　dirt。　Amidst　great　pomp　and　fanfare；　Agamemnon　marched　into　his　palace；　while　the　oracle　Cassandra；　speechless　in　terror；　refused　to　enter。　She　foretold　her　own　death　and　the　murder　of　the　general；　of　course；　no　one　listened　to　her。
　Through　carefully　cultivated　political　channels；　Leto's　mother　maintained　contacts　with　other　powerful　Houses；　while　Duke　Paulus　developed　strong　bonds　with　the　mon　people　of　Caladan。　The　Atreides　Dukes　led　their　subjects　by　serving　them　and　by　paying　themselves　only　what　was　fair　from　family　business　enterprises。　This　was　a　family　of　wealth；　but　not　to　excess　　not　at　the　expense　of　its　citizens。
　In　the　play；　when　the　returning　general　went　to　his　bath；　his　treacherous　wife　tangled　him　in　purple　robes　and　stabbed　both　him　and　his　oracular　mistress　to　death。　〃My　gods！　A　deadly　blow　has　befallen　me！〃　Agamemnon　wailed　from　offstage；　out　of　sight。
　Old　Paulus　smirked　and　bent　over　to　his　son。　〃I've　killed　many　a　man　on　the　battlefield；　and　I　have　yet　to　hear　one　say　that　as　he　died！〃
　Helena　hushed　him。
　〃Gods　protect　me；　another　blow！　I　shall　die！〃　cried　the　voice　of　Agamemnon。
　While　the　audience　was　engrossed　in　the　tragedy；　Leto　tried　to　sort　through　his　thoughts　of　the　situation；　how　it　related　to　his　own　life。　This　was　supposedly　his　family's　heritage；　after　all。
　Clytemnestra　admitted　the　murder；　claiming　vengeance　against　her　husband　for　his　bloody　sacrifice　of　their　daughter；　for　his　whoring　in　Troy；　and　for　blatantly　bringing　his　mistress　Cassandra　into　her　own　home。
　〃Glorious　king；〃　wailed　the　chorus；　〃our　affection　is　boundless；　our　tears　unending。　The　spider　h