founded?”
“Let’s see, that would be Quintin Ussher Peladeen.”
“Why was the Republic named after the Peladeen?”
Rich glanced at his brother, but for the moment Alexand was apparently intent on the view of Concordia.
“Well, because the Peladeen were titular heads of the Republic. It was a sort of monarchal republic, really.”
“Was Peladeen the only Lord in Centauri at the time?”
“No. There were a lot of VisLords from Terran Houses and one other resident House and First Lord—Drakonis. I think it was
Konrad
Drakonis. But I guess Quintin Peladeen was the strongest, the one who really ran things. Until the Republic, I mean.”
“Anything to add, Alex?”
He looked around at Rovere, then shrugged. “The Peladeen were little more than figureheads in the Republic. Quintin was probably lucky the Republicans left him and the Lords any power at all. He didn’t have Confleet to back him up, so he was in no position to argue with them.”
“And Elor Peladeen, his great-grandson?”
“His argument was with the Concord. He
did
believe in the Republic, but he grew up with it—fourth generation. It was a long time before the Concord recovered enough from the Mankeen Revolt to take over the Centauri System again.”
Rich asked, “Lector Theron, why did the Concord have to take over Centauri again? I mean, we had access to the resources; we were trading with them before the War.”
Rovere paused. “Perhaps you’d like to answer that, Alex.”
Alexand shifted restlessly, and Rovere almost expected him to rise and begin pacing; in that he was also much like his father. But he remained seated.
“I suppose the Concord was forced to tolerate the Republic at first until we recovered from Mankeen. But after that . . .” He frowned down at the ground. “The Republic was a bad example. Too many Fesh and Bonds were escaping allegiance and going to Centauri. And perhaps getting at the resources by trade wasn’t good enough.”
“Possibly, but I think the resources were less important than, as you put it, the bad example the Republic set. It was a constant threat to the Concord’s stability. But bear in mind that the Twin Planets were colonies; the original population was seventy-five percent Fesh and only twenty-five percent Bond. What was possible there—a monarchal republic—was not possible in the Solar System with seventy percent of the population illiterate Bonds.” Rovere paused, studying Alexand’s precociously wary features. “And remember, at the time of the War of the Twin Planets, the Lords of the Concord were very conscious of the chaos Mankeen unleashed and they saw in the Republic the threat of a new revolution.”
“Do you remember the War of the Twin Planets?”
Rovere laughed. Alexand made it sound like ancient history.
“Yes, Alex. It was less than forty years ago.”
Rich put in, “3208 to 3210.”
“Correct,” Rovere said, “and a point for you.”
“You didn’t ask a question,” Alexand objected.
“I got an answer. That should be worth something.”
“And the date of the Peladeen Purge?” Alexand asked, that bitter edge in his voice. “3210. Three million killed.”
Rovere hesitated, then marked a point under his initial. “True, Alex.”
There was a brief silence, which Rich broke with an adroit shift of subject that seemed unintentional.
“Lector Theron, the Bonds call Lionar Mankeen
Saint
Lionar.”
“Do they?”
“Yes. Alda—she’s one of the hall maids—told me. She had leave to go to her compound chapel one day, and she said it was Saint Lionar’s day. When I asked her who he was, she said ‘Lionar Mankeen.’ The Bonds have a lot of saints, don’t they?”
“They do, indeed, and they take them more seriously than does the Orthodox Church. Their religious practices differ in many ways from Orthodox Mezionism. They’re quite fascinating, actually, although very few sociotheologists have investigated them. What did Alda tell you
MR. PINK-WHISTLE INTERFERES