Chapter 8

There was  absolute silence  in Wienis' chambers  when the image  of PrinceLefkin appeared at the televisor. There had been one startled gasp from theregent at  the haggard  face and shredded  uniform of his son,  and then hecollapsed  into a  chair,  face contorted  with surprise  and apprehension.
Hardin  listened stolidly,  hands  clasped lightly  in his  lap,  while thejust-crowned King  Lepold sat  shriveled in the most  shadowy comer, bitingspasmodically  at his goldbraided  sleeve. Even  the soldiers had  lost theemotionless stare that is  the prerogative of the military, and, from wherethey lined  up against the door, nuclear  blasts ready, peered furtively atthe figure upon the televisor.
Lefkin spoke,  reluctantly, with a tired voice  that paused at intervals asthough he were being prompted-and not gently:
"The  Anacreonian navy  ...  aware of  the nature  of  its mission  ... andrefusing  to be  a party ...  to abominable  sacrilage ... is  returning toAnacreon ...  with the following ultimatum  issued ... to those blasphemingsinners ... who would  dare to use profane force ... against the Foundation... source  of all blessings ... and against  the Galactic Spirit. Cease atonce all  war against ...  the true faith .  . . and guarantee  in a mannersuiting us of the navy ... as represented by our ... priest-attendant, TheoAporat  ... that  such war  will never  in the  future ... be  resumed, andthat"? here a  long  pause, and  then continuing  ?and that  the one-timeprince  regent,   Wienis  ...  be  imprisoned   ...  and  tried  before  anecclesiastical court ... for  his crimes. Otherwise the royal navy ... uponreturning to Anacreon ...  will blast the palace to the ground ... and takewhatever other measures ... arenecessary ... to destroy  the nest of sinners ... and the den of destroyers... of men's souls that now prevail."The   voice  ended   with   half  a   sob  and   the  screen   went  blank.
Hardin's fingers  passed rapidly  over the nucleo-bulb and  its light fadeduntil in the dimness,  the hitherto regent, the king, and the soldiers werehazy-edged shadows;  and for the first  time it could be  seen that an auraencompassed Hardin.
It was  not the  blazing light that  was the prerogative of  kings, but oneless spectacular,  less impressive, and  yet one more effective  in its ownway, and more useful.
Hardin's voice  was softly ironic as  he addressed the same  Wienis who hadone hour  earlier declared him a prisoner of war  and Terminus on the pointof  destruction, and  who  now was  a  huddled shadow,  broken and  silent.
"There is an old  fable," said Hardin, "as old perhaps as humanity, for theoldest  records containing  it  are merely  copies of  other  records stillolder, that might interest you. It runs as follows:
"A horse having a  wolf as a powerful and dangerous enemy lived in constantfear of his life.  Being driven to desperation, it occured to him to seek astrong  ally.  Whereupon he  approached  a  man, and  offered an  alliance,pointing  out that  the  wolf was  likewise an  enemy of  the man.  The manaccepted the partnership at  once and offered to kill the wolf immediately,if his  new partner would only  co-operate by placing his  greater speed atthe man's  disposal. The  horse was willing,  and allowed the  man to placebridle  and saddle  upon him. The  man mounted,  hunted down the  wolf, andkilled him.
"The horse,  joyful and relieved, thanked the man,  and said: 'Now that ourenemy  is dead,  remove  your bridle  and saddle  and restore  my freedom.'
"Whereupon  the man laughed  loudly and  replied, 'Never!' and  applied thespurs with a will."Silence still. The shadow that was Wienis did not stir.
Hardin continued quietly, "You see the analogy, I hope. In their anxiety tocement  forever domination  over their  own people,  the kings of  the FourKingdoms accepted  the religion of science that  made them divine; and thatsame religion  of science  was their bridle  and saddle, for  it placed thelife blood  of nuclear power in  the hands of the  priesthoodwho took theirorders from  us, be  it noted, and not  from you. You killed  the wolf, butcould not get rid of the m?
Wienis  sprang to  his  feet and  in the  shadows,  his eyes  were maddenedhollows. His voice was  thick, incoherent. "And yet I'll get you. You won'tescape.  You'll rot.  Let them  blow us  up. Let  them blow  everything up.
You'll rot! I'll get you!
"Soldiers!" he  thundered, hysterically.  "Shoot me down  that devil. Blasthim! Blast him!"Hardin turned about in his chair to face the soldiers and smiled. One aimedhis  nuclear blast  and then  lowered it.  The others never  budged. SalvorHardin,  mayor  of  Terminus,  surrounded by  that  soft  aura, smiling  soconfidently,  and before  whom all  the power  of Anacreon had  crumbled topowder was  too much for them,  despite the orders of  the shrieking maniacjust beyond.
Wienis shouted  incoherently and staggered to  the nearest soldier. Wildly,he wrested  the nuclear blast from  the man's hand-aimed it  at Hardin, whodidn't stir, shoved the lever and held it contacted.
The pale  continous beam impinged upon  the force-field that surrounded themayor  of  Terminus and  was  sucked harmlessly  to neutralization.  Wienispressed harder and laughed tearingly.
Hardin  still smiled  and his  force-field aura  scarcely brightened  as itabsorbed the  energies of the nuclear blast.  From his comer Lepold coveredhis eyes and moaned.
And, with  a yell of despair,  Wienis changed his aim  and shot again ?andtoppled   to   the   floor   with   his  head   blown   into   nothingness.
Hardin winced  at the sight and muttered, "A man  of 'direct action' to theend. The last refuge!"