“Sir?” the man reported as he came to a halt, saluting. Sabian looked around to make sure there was no other within earshot. He could see Velutio on the dock, climbing into the vessel to make his way back through the channel, his ever present guard at his shoulders. He would personally gut Crosus one day and, if the man wasn’t very careful, Velutio too.
“Cialo, I have something very strange but very important to ask…”
The sergeant nodded, waiting quietly.
“You’ve served me for half a dozen years,” the commander went on, “and I’ve always considered you one of the most professional and reliable soldiers I’ve ever known.”
“Thank you sir.” The sergeant didn’t even smile.
Sabian sighed and leaned back against the wall. “I’ve sixteen sergeants under my command and four staff officers, but there are few who’ve seen proper service and show the signs of professional soldiering. In the old days, a soldier took an oath of loyalty to the Emperor, to the Gods and to his General. I assume that you were a member of the Imperial army?”
Cialo nodded. “I had that privilege sir. I was only a young recruit mind, but I took that oath and proud of it I was. Even fought in some of the last engagements for the Emperor.”
Sabian nodded in turn.
“And have you ever taken such an oath in Velutio?”
“Well…” the sergeant thought for a moment. “No. I suppose not. His Lordship was my commander when I was in the Imperial army, so I guess he’s never needed another oath?”
The commander smiled. “With whom does your allegiance lie, Cialo?”
The sergeant came further to attention, rail-straight as he replied. “My loyalty is to you, my men and the unit’s insignia, sir” he announced. Sabian hushed him with lowered hands.
“For Gods’ sake Cialo, not so loud” he implored. “This isn’t a parade ground.” The commander’s smile began to broaden. “And what of your men?”
Cialo nodded. “They’re yours, sir; at least as far as I know. I’ve never noted a word spoken against you.”
Sabian nodded and continued. “Very well. I’m putting you in direct charge of the prisoners. I want you to look after them well.” He gestured at the construction on the lawn. “That thing is to be finished, but not to be used, do you understand?”
Cialo nodded, a look of uncertainty on his features.
“Sir?”
The commander grinned. “As I said before,” he replied, “we’re soldiers, not executioners. I’ll kill any man in war, but I’ve absolutely no intention of slaughtering young people in the hope that the minister will break when we all know that he won’t.”
Cialo’s shoulders slumped a little. “I appreciate the sentiments sir,” he added, “really I do, but his Lordship will likely have us executed if you do this.”
Sabian smiled. “I’ll work it out; you let me worry about that. All we have to do is make sure that there are no mistakes.” He registered the worried look on the face of his sergeant and smiled reassuringly. “I have no intention of betraying my lord or my contract. I am a General of Velutio” he added vehemently. “But I know the value of human life and of live prisoners and it’s also my job to protect his Lordship from himself when need be.”
He grinned as he saw acceptance swim across the sergeant’s face.
“I need to go and address the prisoners” the commander said. “As soon as his Lordship’s craft is out of sight, form up all the men on the island and bring them to the Ibis Courtyard. We have a lot to do.”
The sergeant saluted and as he turned to complete his task, Sabian stood for a long moment gazing out into the bay where Velutio’s ship was already bucking among the waves. A second set of eyes peered out into the bright sunshine from high on the palace wall, though this pair were intent on the commander himself.
Chapter IX.
“Four days” Cialo commented. “No supplies; no gear; no word even! Begging your pardon sir, but can I speak freely?” Sabian nodded and the sergeant went on. “There’s some who say there were raised voices the day he left. You haven’t pissed him off have you sir?”
The commander shrugged. “I very possibly have, Cialo, but even if his Lordship is incensed with me, he’s still bright enough to know that we’ll need supplies. These people here barely grow enough to feed themselves, let alone a score of soldiers too.” He sighed. “One thing that’s certain: we’re going to have to come to some arrangement with the islanders.” He’d refused to call them prisoners, despite their evident captivity, and had encouraged his men to do the same. After all, until another ship came, the soldiers were in much the same position as their wards.
The gruff sergeant cleared his throat as the two of them walked, side by side along the wall walk. The westerly breeze carried a hint of salt but did little to temper the heat of the summer sun.
“The ‘islanders’ don’t talk to us, sir” he grumbled. “I know they speak to you, cos you’ve got the power and all, but we’re the enemy as far as they’re concerned. They do things when we tell them, but they don’t ask or answer unless they have to. Not that I can’t see it from their point of view” he added quickly with a sidelong glance at his commander. “What his Lordship did to that old man made us all very unpopular, sir. Hard to see how we can come to any arrangement.”
Sabian shrugged, his red military cloak fluttering in the light sea breeze. It really was a spectacular view from here. He could actually see Velutio, spread out on the lower slopes of Monte Bero and plunging out into the sea like a swimmer taking his first stroke. In the days when this was a palace complex full of glittering life, it must have been a paradise on earth.
“We’re going to have to do something Cialo” the commander sighed. “No supplies and no way to reach or contact the city. How many men do we have on the island?”
Cialo made a ‘harrumphing’ sound again.
“Six companies, sir” he replied. “Just over a hundred men all told.” He grinned. “Plus me and Iasus, ‘course!”
Sabian smiled. The beginnings of a plan were forming.
“I’m going to have to go speak to the islanders.” He made for the wall stairs but turned to Cialo as he reached them. “You need to find Iasus and assemble all the men somewhere out of the way, say the old bath house down by the shore. Don’t keep them at attention or anything, just have everyone there by the time I’m done.”
The sergeant nodded and walked back the way they’d come along the high, thick wall. Cialo had seen warfare first-hand many times and had the scars both physical and mental to prove it. Some of the men grumbled about their role here as guards, but from a veteran’s point of view, what better way to live out your last few years of service than here. The place was beautiful and for the first time in years, the grizzled sergeant strode happily along the wall, a spring in his step.
As Cialo went off to round up his men, Sabian jogged down the steps and strode across the turf toward the rear doors of the Raven Palace. He couldn’t work out why supplies hadn’t arrived. Surely Velutio’d not be pig-headed enough to withhold their supplies just because he’d spoken out of turn. He dreaded to think what Crosus would be making of that.
His train of thought was broken by a shrill whistle. He stopped in his tracks and looked around for the source of the sound, and then up, where he spotted the figure in the tree. A young man sat with a leg hooked over one branch and his elbows resting on another.
“Morning Darius” the commander issued. He forced a smile, though his thoughts were still elsewhere. “Thought you’d have been at sword practice again on a lovely morning like this.”
The boy laughed mirthlessly. “Your men impounded all the weapons, didn’t they.”
Sabian grunted. Of course they had. He may have cancelled the crucifixions, but he had no intention of rebelling against his command and had issued all the standard orders for prisoners of war. This would have to change of course, in the circumstances.
“True” the commander admitted
. “Probably unnecessary, but an automatic response.”
The boy nodded once and then unhooked his leg, swinging from the branch and releasing to land light on his feet next to the soldier.
“Ferastus, yes?” Darius inquired. “From ‘on captivity’ in his collected essays.”
Sabian smiled, a real smile this time. “You really do know your stuff, don’t you?” He squared his shoulders. “However, I don’t think this place really applies to the Ferastian rules. After all, there’s no way off for you or us. We’re in very much the same position and perhaps some of the standard rules need to be relaxed or even changed.”
Darius shook his head and the commander raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“You don’t believe so?” he asked, unconvinced.
The boy shook his head again. “We’re prisoners and you’re an officer of our captor. You’ve already put yourself and your men in considerable danger by refusing to crucify our people.” He smiled. “Now that’s a good gesture and makes us believe in you a little, but if you relax things too much, you’ll only end up bringing trouble for yourself and we’ll get someone like that other captain as a replacement. I don’t think that would be at all good for us.”
Sabian blinked. The boy made a great deal of sense, but the commander had already made his plans. “Thing is Darius,” he said, “I have no intention of becoming a jailor. I’d rather you all carried on as if we weren’t here. I have a permanent lookout stationed on the gatehouse and one of your less sociable companions removed an obstructive tree for us. We’ll have best part of an hour’s warning when a ship appears in the channel.”
He gestured for them to walk and Darius fell in beside him.
“As it happens,” he added, “I’m on my way to see the elders now with a few ideas. Then, perhaps we can arrange for you to be able to continue your sword practice, eh Darius?”
Darius didn’t answer. In fact he’d gone rather quiet and subdued all of a sudden as they walked toward the Raven Palace. Sabian glanced sidelong at him and cleared his throat.
“Is there something you want to say?” he asked.
Darius shook his head. “No” he replied. “Not yet at least.”
Respecting the young man’s decision, but eyeing him suspiciously, Sabian thought about Darius for a moment. He’d not seen the lad around since the day Velutio left and Darius was usually visible enough. He frowned, wondering what the young man was up to, but surprised himself as he realised that Darius was actually one of the few people he still trusted, despite his being a captive. Still frowning he changed the subject. “How’s Sarios? I’ve been meaning to get in to see him since he’s been awake again.”
Darius shrugged. “The two doctors are arguing over him. Velutio’s physician says he’ll never see with his left eye again. Our own doctor disagrees and thinks he can help, but your one won’t let him. It’s all a bit stupid really. If someone needs help you help them in my opinion.”
They had reached the door to the Raven Palace, a single wooden side door, very ornate and with carvings of serpents and gods in armour, though now in a sad state of repair. Darius stopped talking and reached out, pulling the door open for Sabian to pass. The commander nodded his thanks and walked inside with the young man following. In the lower hall of the palace, Sergeant Iasus, young and fair haired, was giving out duty passwords to three soldiers. The sergeant and his men came sharply to attention as they spotted the commander. Sabian waved the salutes aside.
“Iasus, I’ve asked Cialo to gather the men at the baths” Sabian called. “I’d like you to do the same. Don’t worry about duty passwords right now.”
With a sharp bow, Iasus waved towards the door and the three soldiers exited in short order. Sabian started toward the staircase as the sergeant exited the building, but suddenly realised he was walking alone. He turned, only a few steps up, to see Darius standing still in the doorway, glaring out after the exiting soldiers. The commander’s brow furrowed.
“Darius, what the hell is wrong?”
The boy shook his head as if to clear it from a daze.
“I don’t know,” he replied, walking toward the steps.” Maybe nothing, but I’m just not sure.” Sabian frowned. The boy had good instincts and if he had suspicions then Sabian should know about them.
“Darius, talk to me.”
Again a shake of the head. “I’ll tell you when there’s really something to tell” the boy said quietly and began to ascend the steps, his gaze still fixed on the doorway to the courtyard. Sabian shook his head. Caerdin had been a complicated man by all accounts and if he was the man’s son, then it obviously ran in the blood. Reaching the top of the stairs the commander walked toward the open double door that led into the ancient dining room. Though once the administrative staff of the Empire had eaten in this room, it served more these days as a senate for the elders and if Sabian ever wanted to speak to one of them it was rare he would find the room empty.
He stepped inside and admired the décor. Unlike most of the structures on the island, this room retained much of its original wall painting and decorative plaster, creating scenes of hunting and nature, garlands of flowers and beautiful solitary columns and arches. A mosaic covered the central square recess in the floor, depicting frolicking nymphs with jars of water. On the raised floor around all the edges would once have been recliners where the powerful men of Empire would lie to eat. These days they were rickety wooden chairs and tables full of documents and lists. Three of the elders whose names escaped him stood at just such a table, arguing over a list.
As Darius reached the top of the staircase, Sabian cleared his throat loudly. The three elders stopped mid-sentence and turned to face the newcomers. The commander smiled. “I’m not sure who I need to speak to in the absence of the Minister?” He left the question hanging. One of the three, a man of some fifty five or sixty years of age, stepped away from the table.
“I am Turus, also a minister, once in charge of the treasury. You can speak to me.”
Sabian stepped across the room and brought himself up in front of the man.
“Very well Minister Turus.” His voice took on an efficient, military tone. “It has been brought to my attention that there is no interaction between your islanders and my men. This is a sad state of affairs when we are forced to live in such close proximity and I feel it’s time to change the way a few things are done around here.”
Turus narrowed his eyes. In a face not much given to humour, his appearance hardened. “I’d imagined this was coming, but I’d expected it sooner commander. What are we to do now? Be herded into one building and restricted in our movement perhaps?”
Sabian smiled again, but the smile was tight and hard.
“You would be wise, Turus,” the commander said, “to take lessons in courtesy and observation from your leader once he is better. If you had opened your eyes you would be well aware that I am carrying out my orders with the loosest possible leash and trying to make the best of a bad lot for all involved.”
Turus opened his mouth with some retort, but Sabian cut him off before he could begin. “I think you’d better stay quiet and listen Turus before you get yourself into trouble.” He relaxed his stance a little and became aware of Darius standing by his side, almost supportively. Good. That might lend extra weight to his words in this place. ”We need to work on our interaction. Our supplies have not arrived and, while I have absolutely no intention of letting my men starve, I also refuse to commandeer all the goods you have put so much work into. There is precious little need here for guards right now and I shall put my men to work for the benefit of the community, in return for which, you can pay us in food and goods.”
Turus stared at the commander and then turned to look at the other two elders by the table. Sabian couldn’t see his face, but could imagine how it looked. He drew another breath and finished his proposal. “I need you to run an inventory along the same lines that I do on a biannual basis and detail the quantity of all your supplies
so that we can work out a reasonable and fair split. In the meantime, I must go to address my troops. With the exception of blustering and complaining have you any comments?”
The minister turned once more to face Sabian.
“Are there any engineers among your men?”
The commander smiled.
It was late afternoon by the time Sabian finally reached the bathhouse and he imagined that the soldiers had probably waited over an hour. Still, it had been worth it. Once he’d actually got through the stubborn shell of Minister Turus, the man turned out to have a more than able command of administrative duties, as one would expect of someone who once held such an important position. As soon as Turus had started questioning, the other two elders had joined in and the ideas had begun to flow thick and fast. Darius had spent most of the time sat on one of the tables to one side watching with interest, but had occasionally piped up with his opinion, though only where it mattered and was of use. As Sabian had finally managed to excuse himself, the elders had continued to plan and prepare and had sent Darius to fetch the rest of the council.
The bathhouse had not been used since the end of the Empire and, though it was still intact, was sadly neglected and dilapidated. As the commander approached, he could smell the rank odour of fetid scummy water and damp plaster. It came as no surprise then when he rounded the corner to find his troops sat in groups on the lawn close by; he couldn’t blame them for not waiting inside. The spot itself was actually rather nice as long as the wind stayed how it was, carrying the aroma of decay away from the men. The bathhouse was one of at least four on the island, none of which were still in commission. This particular one was the largest; the one designed for the general community in the palace. There were two in the actual Imperial palaces that had served the Imperial household and there was one that had served the palace guard, but these were all also currently out of commission. This particular complex was next to the sea, with a fresh water channel that ran down from the cisterns in the palace proper. It stood outside the walls, with a small postern gate allowing access.
Interregnum Page 13
