The Royal Banquet (10,122)

[Elisha Montague]

Elisha picked her way carefully around the far side of the table, noting with pleasure the way the Empeor's head half turned as she moved past him, even as all other eyes appeared to be on the little performance which Jacob Ginaz was giving. Unfortunately just beyond the Emperor lurked the baleful form of Miral Alechem and even now Elisha felt memories of that evening in the Reverend Mother's office involuntarily rising like bile in her throat. Had she believed in any sort of higher power Elisha would have been at this moment praying fervently that she could slip past without attracting notice.

"Ah! Elisha Montague!" came at last the dreaded voice which she remembered all too well, "Not a word from you, despite having been my student. I see you have done well, after your unfortunate expulsion from the Sisterhood".

Elisha winced inside. The hateful creature could not leave it after all, and had merely been waiting the right moment to stick the knife in. Was that the Emperor's head she saw twitching yet again? Had Niobe Atreides mouth opened just a little in shock as she become momentarily distracted from her admirer's performance? Did she see a smug smile creeping over the features of the chamberlain who had made his condescension obvious when she first sat down and now must be feeling completely vindicated? While not exactly raising her voice, Miral had certainly spoken loudly enough that those sitting close by would likely have heard, and suddenly that little bit of credibility which Elisha felt she had earned at the table started to crash and burn before her eyes and she began to imagine all the terrible assumptions which Elrood and his companions would surely now be making about her. Oh how dearly she would love to slap the venomous Reverend Mother right at this moment, to give in not just to this moment of anger but also to all the pent up rage she had kept buried deep inside ever since that evening when Miral had trickled honey lies into her ears even as her distended belly told the real truth about so-called freedom within the Sisterhood. Not even Elisha Montague was either bold or stupid enough to assault one of the Emperor's courtiers at a royal banquet though.

"Why thank you, Mother Alechem" she half muttered in reply as she edged past the Reverend Mother as quickly as she could, "Yes it is indeed imost refreshing to finally have my life back and to enjoy all that life on the Imperial Capitol has to offer but which was forbidden for no good reason on Wallach".

The moment she opened her mouth Elisha knew that no retort she could concoct would ever stand a chance of denting that infamous Bene Gesserit self-assuredness, which in Miral's case in particular might as well be ten metre thick durasteel, and now she felt suddenly even more conspicuous. Why had she felt the need to speak at all? Couldn't she have just maintained a dignified silence and refused to let the horrible woman rile her? Of course Alechem knew exactly which buttons to push, she always had, and Elisha had simply given her exactly what she wanted by opening her mouth without thinking. Earlier confidence evaporating like dew in the morning sun she suddenly wanted to get away, far away, from this place and change out of the dress which was still drawing peoples' eyes to her. No longer did she feel empowered by poking fun at the pretentiousness of the occasion, but rather that dress and all she had become a figure of ridicule to be mocked and sniggered at. It would not be possible to leave yet though, not without making it obvious to everyone present that the Reverend Mother's barb had struck home, so she crossed her arms over her chest and flopped morosely back into her seat. She was faintly aware that Rose Harkonnen was having words with the Reverend Mother, but she found herself either unable or unwilling to focus enough to listen in. Doubtless they were simply exchanging comments on Elisha the failure anyway.

Some slight relief was granted when a group of players emerged onto the stage and everyone stopped talking to direct their attention to the performance. Elisha paid only the vaguest notice to it or the performers, for she just wanted the banquet to be over now so she could return to her apartment and partake of some of the Chusuk brandy she kept beside her bed for when she was feeling low. Rationally she knew that Miral's comment should not bother her, for it was not the first time that her unfortunate history with the Sisterhood had been revealed, but humans were rarely rational creatures and to be reminded of one's supposed failings by the very individual who had once claimed to hold a solution for her was a cruel twist indeed. Even though she had long-since convinced herself that she had failed only by the standards of an organisation which she had little respect and even less admiration for, the emotional stigma remained and was especially painful in the presence of the Emperor himself and a group of other assorted nobles who she had really hoped to impress just a little.

What bothered Elisha most of all though, more than the personal reminder of what had happened on Wallach and more even than being embarrassed in front of the Emperor, was the fact that Alechem's comment had fazed her at all. Surely if she was now truly living the life of freedom which she had always craved then she should not care what the Reverend Mother or anyone else had to say about the past. Did this mean that there was some small part of her which regretted not taking Miral up on that offer of tutelage? Did she hanker even a tiny bit after the lost dream of a place for herself within the Sisterhood? That, above all, was the most uncomfortable idea in her head now.

[Miral Alechem]

Miral Alechem occasionally thought about all those she had trained over the years and no longer had direct contact with, pondering how they were doing for themselves in the vast Known Universe. Being the notoriously selective teacher that she was, the Truthsayer didn't bother with Acolytes she didn't consider to be utterly capable and suited to her methods, and as such their later careers continued to concern her.

In several ways, Elisha Montague was no different. Though she'd written her off the moment she refused her offer, Miral had once or twice found herself wondering how the freedom she'd sacrificed so much for agreed with her. Montague's situation being such an uncommon event in the history of the Sisterhood, one couldn't help but wonder how someone who was almost a Bene Gesserit would function outside their ranks after a lifetime of training. That evening, Miral Alechem got her answer. Elisha Montague halted in her tracks, but only as long as it took her to mutter in reply:

"Why thank you, Mother Alechem. Yes it is indeed imost refreshing to finally have my life back and to enjoy all that life on the Imperial Capitol has to offer but which was forbidden for no good reason on Wallach".

Miral noted the reference to one of Montague's prime reasons for rebelling back at the Motherschool: what she perceived to be their stifling restrictions on everything a young girl might consider “pleasant”. What she also noted was the fact that for someone claiming to have her life back and enjoying the luxuries of Kaitain, Elisha Montague didn't look all that happy and care-free at all, and it took only a barbed comment to bring about a telling defensive reaction. She had been woefully neglecting her exercises, that much was clear; even a novice had better control than that!

“Yes, given what I can see, it was perhaps the best outcome.” Miral said tartly, and left it at that.

She didn't get an answer however, at least not from Elisha Montague. It was instead Rose Harkonnen who piped up and decided to chime in with a rather unwarranted comment:

"Greetings Reverend Mother, I do not believe I ever saw you once during my own time on Wallach, were you perhaps stationed on Gamont I have heard that the age of expulsion from the pleasure planet is 25 and you are way beyond that in standard years now."

Miral's eyes shifted slowly to face the speaker of those words. For a fraction of a moment, the Truthsayer felt tempted to laugh; this porcelain princess had actually attempted to insult her! She knew the reason in an instant; out of support for Elisha Montague, whom Miral could see sulking in her chair, her earlier comment having hit home. And there was her protector, in the shape of Rose Harkonnen! Amusing; if she wished a verbal spar she would get one.

“Very observant, Baroness; the fact that I am a Reverend Mother says that much about my age” she began dryly, not one single trace of anger in the depths of her midnight blue eyes, only derision. “I was, in fact, stationed on Gamont for a time” Miral's lips twisted into a smile “but have taught mostly on Wallach. Of course, you wouldn't have attended any of my courses, they required a certain kind of...stamina.”

The Truthsayer sized Rose up; she was the typically bred noblewoman: statuesque, haughtily confident and having received some Bene Gesserit training because it was fashionable that all young ladies of high birth did. The same confidence she displayed then, but Miral wondered if this girl had the vaguest idea of what she had seen and experienced in her life, enough to make her violently expectorate that banquet meal. She had indeed not attended her courses; teaching on Gamont as well as on Wallach IX, Miral hand-picked her students, many of whom would later be assigned to missions which required the efficient subduing of men through the use of techniques which were not for the faint-hearted.

That was the final thought Miral gave Rose Harkonnen, who made her way back to her seat. Shortly after, the lights went out and a group of Jongleur actors took the stage, performing skilfully, Miral had to admit. Old Terran plays were actually to her taste, for once de Lanier had picked something that was not frightfully dull.

[Elena Camarva]

It was time.

Buzzing with the natural nervousness prior to a performance, and one as important as that - the Jongleur troupe hurried through the maze of corridors and stairways of the palace, guided by one robed servant and finally halting behind one large set of curtains; the lights were dim, and they could hear the murmur of a hundred voices on the other side. Elena Camarva felt Semar's hand clutching her fingers, which she intended to wave away, but without further ado, the great curtain before them rose steadily, revealing them to a magnificently lit and decorated room, and many pairs of eyes moving to face them.

"And now my lords, ladies, and gentlemen... for your viewing pleasure we present the finest group of Jongleur actors you have ever seen, performing Hamlet by the Old Terran master William Shakespeare.”

These words signaled the commencement of the performance. Their lavish, ancient Terran clothes plated with gold and silver incandescent in the bright light streaming from above, the troupe bowed to the audience, Elena in the middle, flanked by the twins. Semar, draped in his velvet doublet and black wig, had been masterfully made up to resemble the Danish prince Hamlet, while his twin brother Lemar displayed his golden curls, assigned to the role of Laertes. Varlo and Eveline would play the murderous king Claudius and his wife, Gertrude; it seemed that every bit of fatherly kindness had melted into icy coldness on Varlo's face to accommodate the part. Other actors, hired for that one trip only, played the remaining roles. They were ready, they were no longer themselves, but the people they would embody.

At once, the lights became dimmed to a quarter of their strength, focused only on the elevated stage; holographic decors tricked the eye into believing they were truly looking at an old fortress in the middle of the night, when a similarly constructed image of a ghost appeared. Hailed, Semar as Hamlet took the stage and reverently vowed to uncover the mystery of his father's death, which he was still mourning deeply.

Elena's first scene included Lemar as Laertes, who advised her seriously to reject Hamlet's advances, then later on her father, Polonius, who made her swear that she would. Tears gleaming in her eyes, the young woman promised to obey, and looked pained to see the sudden changes in Hamlet, who appeared to have gone mad.

Through the trickery of a play, Claudius inevitably revealed his guilt in murdering his brother and marrying his wife, one heinous act Hamlet would punish at the cost of his own life; standing, alone, under the light of a single glowglobe, the Prince delivered his moving monologue:

“To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?”

Towards the end he was joined by a concerned Ophelia, whose trembling hands closed around his arm while one single tear trickled down her cheek, and in a faltering voice she demanded reasons of his behaviour. Icily, Hamlet pushed her away, and spoke without facing the broken maiden:

”You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
it: I loved you not.”

“I was the more deceived.” whispered Ophelia, her voice drowned by tears. Lowering her forehead she turned away from the merciless Hamlet.

As the plot advanced, Hamlet was seen talking to his mother, whom he insulted for having befouled her bed by marrying her husband's brother, and accidentally killed Polonius, who had been hiding behind a curtain. A terrible silence descended then, followed by low, grim music as Hamlet discovered his error.

Grief-stricken Ophelia lost her mind, torn by her father's death and her lover's cruel rejection, and she even failed to recognize her own brother. The change was obvious: her carefully braided hair now lay in disarray, and her beautiful olive eyes stared blankly into nothingness as she murmured incomprehensible words. At last, the unfortunate maiden ended her days in the waters of a holographic river.

The end of the play was just as tragic: in a duel between Hamlet and Laertes, pre-arranged to make sure that the Pince would not come out alive, the first to die was Queen Gertrude, seen collapsing to the ground after sipping poisoned wine meant for her son. The tips of the swords tainted as well, the two rivals realized their doom but with his last remaining strength, Hamlet roared and plunged his sword deep into Claudius' chest. He then grabbed the chalice of poisoned wine which he forced down the murderous king's throat before giving his last breath as well.

For several chilling seconds, no sound was heard; victims of folly, politics and lust for power, the tragic heroes lay dead and bleeding on the stage, when these last words commenced:

“Let four captains
Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have proved most royally: and, for his passage,
The soldiers' music and the rites of war
Speak loudly for him.
Take up the bodies: such a sight as this
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot.”

Gun shots could be heard in the distance, a final salute to the one who had been Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Music rose to a peak of reverberating sadness then descended into silence, the lights going out one by one.

Moments later the actors stood on the stage together in a line, hand in hand and bowing deeply to the roaring applause that welcomed them; Elena's chest moved back and fro in the exhilaration of a successful performance, and she smiled broadly to her public. She positively beamed; with the others she waved, and could see more than one handkerchief being lifted to wipe a tear. After several rounds of applause, the entire troupe shifted slightly, to bow deeply to the Emperor of the Known Universe.

[Elrood IX]

"I see you have done well, after your unfortunate expulsion from the Sisterhood"

So that was it! Elrood had not been completely off the mark in guessing some Bene Gesserit connection on the part of Elisha Montague after all, but he would never have imagined that she had been expelled from the Sisterhood. Granted he was far from an expert on that opaque and shadowy organisation of women but he had never before heard of anyone being forcibly ejected from its ranks. What could this young woman, now back in her place opposite him and displaying a distinctly sour countenance, have possibly done to earn such a fate?

For a moment he considered asking her, and Miral Alechem, to explain themselves and share what must surely be an interesting story with those around them at the table. At the last moment though he stopped himself, for the look upon the blonde girl's lovely face had now become one of such abject despair and embarrassment that to humiliate her further would he thought surely be akin to kicking a kitten. Elrood wished for the start of his reign to be viewed as the opening of a new age of enlightenment, not for it to begin with dinner table practices reminiscent of a public flogging, so he decided to hold his tongue and permit the unfortunate creature her privacy. Nevertheless the black stain just revealed on her reputation caused him to forget all about any plans he might have had to take her to bed following the banquet; an Emperor had to maintain his standards.

Before there was time for anyone else to pass comment on Elisha Montague and Miral's revelations, it was time for the evening's play to begin. Elrood was of course familiar with Hamlet, since as a young prince of the Imperial House he had been well schooled in the classics, but he wasn't really much of a fan. To be honest he preferred the energetic action of a hunt, the adrenaline-fuelled thrill of a duel, or the sense of power gained while drilling his regiments of Sardaukar over watching overly made-up fops prance about on stage. He also questioned the wisdom of selecting for his coronation a play with such prominent themes of treachery and corruption, both moral and political. It smelled all too much like some avant-garde theatre manager trying to be edgy, and sent he felt entirely the wrong signals about how he wished his tenure as Emperor to proceed. As the performance continued though he found these reservations melting away and himself becoming strangely absorbed in the proceedings.

These players were exceptionally good, and he actually found himself being drawn into the story of the prince from millennia past and the vile and corrupt machinations within his household, despite his concern that no comparison be drawn between House Corrino and the way the rulers of this long-forgotten place called Denmark were portrayed. His notice was most especially drawn to the young starlet who de Lanier had mentioned previously. She was attractive, but on top of that seemed to perform her role with such passion and drive that Elrood wondered if she were almost living the part. As the eerily beautiful young woman enacted suicide in a cleverly re-created holographic river, Elrood let out a small sigh. This was someone he had to meet. Not only did he want to congratulate her on a performance well done but his libido, never too far away and now searching for a new target after Elisha Montague ruled herself out of the running, was already whispering seductively to him that one who could put such energy and raw emotion into a dramatic performance could surely do the same thing in the bedroom.

The play finally concluded in an expertly recreated duel between two of the main protagonists, and Elrood joined the rest of the audience in rising to applaud. Previously he had been minded to have de Lanier sack or at the very least berate whoever had selected this play, but now he felt that congratulations were in order; formal congratulations to the troupe and their manager, and personal congratulations to Miss Camarva, preferably delivered in the privacy of his bedchamber. However as the actors trooped off the stage, he felt his chamberlain leaning in to whisper something in the Emperor's ear.

"Majesty, I'm afraid you shall have to cut this banquet short. A most... unexpected visitor is waiting for you in the small boardroom. It is... ahh...", the Chamberlain sounded nervous, "...your sister".

The observant people around the royal table, Miral Alechem certainly among them, would have seen Elrood's face visibly whiten as though he had seen a ghost just as clearly as the recently departed Prince Hamlet. Shalandra? Here on Kaitain? How could that be possible? Of course there had never been anything beyond the strong admonishments of their father to actually prevent her leaving Tupile, and a frigate always remained there at her disposal should she ever need to be returned for medical reasons, but she had remained there all these years without showing any interest in returning. Not even the funeral of their father Corrin XXV or his very own just completed coronation had tempted her back, so why now and how in the name of Terra was he going to explain what he had done with the hat she had sent him?

"Find as many of the privy council as are not under the influence of drink and have them meet us outside the boardroom immediately" he hissed back, his thoughts already alive with memories of the eccentric but in his eyes lovable Shalandra, as he rose to his feet to address the guests.

"Dear esteemed visitors, we hope very much that you have enjoyed this banquet and the fine entertainment tonight. Unfortunately pressing business now demands that we leave the table. An Emperor's work is never done, eh?" he began, attempting to inject a little light-heartedness into the occasion, "However you are all more than welcome to linger as long as you wish and to finish any delicacies which remain. Let us not let the fine work of the Palace chefs go to waste! Thank you once again for your fine show of loyalty, and we wish you safe onward journeys from Kaitain".

With that, and without giving anyone at the table besides de Lanier and Reverend Mother Alechem another glance, he pushed back his chair and hurried off towards a well-guarded private exit from the dining hall.