Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

Out in the sculpture gardens, a team of Butlerian workers struggled on the main path, carrying two heavy loads that were covered in scarlet and gold cloths. Manford smiled to himself. Roderick Corrino and his wife would be thrilled when they saw the extraordinary gift he had commissioned from his artisans, as a gesture of peace.

Curious gardeners, site functionaries, and half a dozen Imperial guards hurried to stop Manford’s followers, but the workers moved forward anyway to deposit their enormous burdens, paying the guards no heed. The encamped Butlerian followers drew together.

Manford called for attendants to carry his chair up to a raised platform, from which he had a good vantage of the sculpture garden. He looked up at the Palace balcony, waiting for Roderick to emerge.

In a gruff voice, Deacon Harian commanded the work teams, guiding them as they erected one of the heavy objects beside the Three Martyrs. They removed the covering cloth to reveal a sturdy block of carved stone. A pedestal. Using serviceable pulleys and a great deal of sweat and straining, the workers wrestled the stand into position. Manford’s stoneworkers had cut the pieces to fit tightly against the existing monument, because this new statue definitely belonged beside the Three Martyrs.

By the time the stone pedestal was in place, Emperor Roderick emerged on the high balcony, joined by Haditha, who had returned from the flood zone. Normally, his appearance would have been greeted with cheers, but today the people in the plaza were intent on the activity below.

Manford signaled, and Harian directed his helpers to position the second, much larger object, using an intricate network of ropes and pulleys and twenty muscular workers. Somehow, the concealing fabric remained in place; Manford did not want the Emperor and Empress to see the glorious object … not yet.

When the pieces were in place, Harian turned back, waiting for the final signal. Manford glanced at the Palace balcony. Emperor Roderick was not smiling, but that would soon change.

One of the Butlerians raised a long trumpet to his lips, and four others joined him in a stirring fanfare from the glorious Jihad. When the music faded, Manford spoke into a concealed voice amplifier, so that his words boomed out. “When tragedy occurs, those responsible must acknowledge it and atone. Let us always remember those who gave their lives for a more perfect world.” He raised his hands. “Emperor Roderick Corrino and Empress Haditha, please accept this gift from me and my followers. With your help, we will keep humanity safe for the future and preserve our sacred, collective soul. ‘The mind of man is holy.’”

In a roaring response, his thousands of followers intoned, “‘The mind of man is holy.’”

Manford was brimming with so much emotion that he had to blink back the tears. He felt hope, pride, and deep satisfaction.

At his signal, the workers pulled away the concealing fabric to reveal an impressive new statue of a young girl in a royal dress and the tiara of a princess of the realm. Her face was achingly sweet and innocent. “There have been many martyrs in our struggle, but this one we must never forget. Together, we acknowledge and revere your beautiful fallen daughter Nantha Corrino!”

The crowd burst out in resounding applause, and Manford felt proud of what he had done.

On the high balcony of the Palace, Roderick stood like a statue himself, while Haditha grabbed his arm for balance as she reeled. Manford knew she must be overcome with love and appreciation.

This was his best way to show remorse for what had happened to the helpless girl, who had been caught in a Butlerian rampage festival. This grand gesture would make everything right.

From the balcony the Emperor stared, rendered speechless—presumably with gratitude. He held his wife as the other children joined them on the balcony to see what the fuss was about.

Throngs of people were streaming toward the gardens from all sides to view the new statue in its place beside Iblis, Serena, and baby Manion. Manford shouted into the voice amplifier, “Let there be Four Martyrs now! We will erect similar statues to little Nantha across the Imperium, so that everyone can know of the innocent blood that was spilled to save the soul of humanity. Nantha Corrino will live forever in the hearts of all good people.”

The Emperor and Empress pulled their children back inside from the balcony, and Manford watched them, puzzled by their strange and unexpected reaction. But it didn’t really matter, because his followers had already picked up the celebration. They would mark this day with the importance it deserved.

AFTER THEY STAGGERED back inside, holding each other, Roderick and Haditha slumped onto an antique Gustavian bench. They could still hear the maddening cheers outside. Roderick tried to be strong as he held his wife, but he trembled as much as she did.

Prince Javicco was distressed and confused. “Why would he make a statue of Nantha? Didn’t that man kill her?”

“Yes, Javicco,” Roderick said. “He killed your sister … and now he thinks this will make us forget.”

Haditha wept quietly, pressing her face against the side of his neck. The other children gathered around the bench. Of his own initiative, young Javicco closed the balcony door, but they could still hear the mobs celebrating … mobs just like the one that had killed Nantha.

Their daughter represented only one drop of all the innocent blood the fanatics had spilled, and Manford Torondo had made a terrible mistake by reopening that wound.

Worse, the damned Butlerian leader had placed the Emperor in an untenable position. Roderick could hardly demand that the statue of his daughter be removed. Yet each time he looked out from his balcony, he would see the larger-than-life stone figure of his little girl, a constant and painful reminder of their loss. Did Manford think that would make the pain go away?

As Haditha continued her quiet sobbing, Roderick struggled with how to respond to this debacle. He couldn’t refuse to acknowledge the statue, but he couldn’t embrace the vile Butlerian leader over it, either. In every direction, more and more damage was being done.

Finally, he rose to his feet and took his wife’s hand, both of them heartbroken as he kissed her gently. The taste of salt tears was on her lips. “I will destroy him,” Roderick said. “This I swear to you.”

She nodded. They both knew that Roderick couldn’t just evict Manford and his followers from Zimia or the potentially violent mobs would turn on him, even in the capital city. When the Butlerians had saved the planet from the VenHold siege, Roderick had unwittingly fallen into a partnership with the fanatics.

But the Emperor had to be stronger than all the others.

“Your brother allowed the Butlerians to dictate his decisions,” Haditha said, “and he let Josef Venport expand his power base far beyond that of anyone else in the Imperium. But you’re a more skilled Emperor than Salvador ever was.” She squeezed his hand. “You should have been born first.”

Even though he knew this was true, he would not admit it. “My darling, the universe does not function on wishes. I need to rule with what I have.” He went over to the closed balcony doors while Haditha gathered Javicco and the girls. “I will find a way to have the statue moved, so that we aren’t forced to see it every day. I don’t want to remember Nantha that way.”

“Announce that you will move it to a more public place,” Haditha suggested. “We can form a school in our daughter’s honor, and the statue can be a monument in front.”

Roderick smiled at the possibility. “I knew you would find a way, my love.”