relationship seemed to be the only mark of normalcy that Paul allowed himself to show.
Under other circumstances, Irulan and Paul might have become friends, even lovers. Theoretically, they were well matched for each other. In the beginning, when she had suggested the marriage alliance as a path to peace, she had assumed she could seduce him with her Bene Gesserit skills, if given half a chance. But he was not a normal man, and he resisted her every move to get close to him. He offered his deep love for Chani as the excuse for his fidelity, but what did love have to do with dynastic concerns?
And why had Chani not yet become pregnant? Yes, their first son, Leto II, had been slain in a Sardaukar raid. Was she afraid to try again? Had the birth caused physical damage that prevented her from conceiving? Irulan thought not, though the subject was never discussed.
The Imperium needed an heir!
On the oversized bed she had arranged documents and notes in neat piles, including shigawire spools containing interviews and heavily censored battlefield reports that Korba had permitted her to have. A stark reality hit her: Her bed had become an office instead of a place where she might conceive a child. In a sudden, angry gesture, she cast aside the journal and hurled it to the floor. It landed on the plush carpeting with a soft thud.
Using a Bene Gesserit calming exercise, Irulan forced the tears not to come. Such an emotional release would make nothing better. Ironically, though, the writing helped.
The winds of the Imperium had buffeted the tiny boat of her life, driving her onto a small island where her movements were restricted and her emotions were supposed to be confined. Paul showed little outward dislike toward her; in fact, he usually ignored Irulan, keeping the daughter of Shaddam out of any direct role in his government. Her position had improved somewhat after she’d published her first book about Muad’Dib, but she still didn’t know if he would let her publish her own version of the truth in subsequent books. So far he had only read snippets of her new drafts, and had made no comment on them, despite the fact that the material did not show him in an entirely positive light. Interesting.
Her multi-volume biographical project had become much more than she had originally imagined it to be. With every bit of information she accumulated, the more she learned, the greater the potential legend became. And what to do about that? Her writings could provide important insights into the life of Paul-Muad’Dib, or they might serve another purpose entirely.
The more she learned about his younger years and his father Duke Leto, the more she thought that Paul might have spent a fine and happy life on Caladan, if not for the same cosmic choreographer that had intervened in Irulan’s life. She saw clearly that her father was not blameless in this epic. Shaddam had allowed numerous improprieties during the War of Assassins, which had caused so much pain and harm to the Atreides and the Ecazis. Later, he had played political games with House Harkonnen, setting the trap on Arrakis, turning a blind eye toward the Baron’s schemes in exchange for the promise of increased spice revenues. Shaddam IV had brought much of this disaster on himself.
So, her sisters considered her a traitor to the family, and her father found her beneath contempt? I
Her private journal had become a bosom companion with whom she spent uncounted solitary nights, sharing her innermost thoughts with the fine spice paper pages. And, like a good friend, the journal revealed truths to her when she reread her own words and saw them in a more reflective light. On these pages, she was coming to recognize her own frailties.
She rearranged the pillows behind her and retrieved the journal from the floor. She stared at the words she had written today. Her heart ached to think of the sorrow and shock young Paul had endured after witnessing the wedding-day massacre in Castle Caladan and escaping the subsequent attempts on his life. He had been a pawn from such a young age. And now he was the Emperor of the Known Universe.
With a resigned sigh, the Princess began to write in her journal again. It was speaking to her, urging her to continue the story….
PART IV
Young Paul Atreides
10,187 AG
Those who have seen the wrath of Muad’Dib in the fighters of his Jihad say that he became bloodthirsty because of his time among the Fremen. But the Lisan-al-gaib was set on his life’s course long before that.
One cannot look at Muad’Dib the man and fail to see Paul Atreides the boy, and the events and experiences that created him. He was a human being sculpted by treachery and tragedy. As a young man of twelve, he was flung into a War of Assassins that encompassed more than three noble Houses and threatened to decapitate the Imperium itself. Although Paul had been trained for years to face the dangers that were part of the upbringing of any duke’s son, when Viscount Moritani from Grumman made his initial attack, those lessons suddenly became real. Paul found himself a target, hunted by assassins, caught in the center of a whirlpool of blood.
These experiences, though, had an even greater effect on his father, Duke Leto Atreides, who became not broken but hardened… tempered rather than destroyed. Duke Leto — the Red Duke, Leto the Just — had to fight repeatedly against treachery and betrayal, in matters where my father, the Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV, was not innocent.
Through those pivotal events, Young Paul watched his father prepare and respond with an extremism that some might have called ruthlessness. The ultimate lesson he learned from this, though, was that despite all of his father’s retaliations, Duke Leto Atreides ultimately failed because he did not learn to be ruthless enough.
1
Viscount, O Viscount, what have you unleashed? What have you done?
In the midst of the chaos and gore, Duke Leto rushed many of the wedding attendees from the grand hall and had soldiers escort them back to safety inside their waiting frigates at the spaceport, though the ships were forbidden to leave. Other guests barricaded themselves inside interior rooms in Castle Caladan.
The horrendous slaughter, the flying executioner discs, the failed defense by the Swordmasters and Leto’s security men — all had transpired in less than a minute. Even as uniformed Atreides soldiers charged in through the hall doors, the victims already lay slashed and bleeding, some chopped to pieces, others sobbing in shock and disbelief. Prince Rhombur looked down at himself and saw that his formal wedding suit had been cut to ribbons, though otherwise he seemed undamaged.
Dr. Yueh moved swiftly and professionally among the injured, using an eye for triage to sort those who could not be helped from those who could. He worked first on Archduke Ecaz, applying a self-constricting tourniquet to
