Athas shook his head. “He won’t want any publicity over there being an heir to the Empire, let alone the fact that he will be killing that heir.” He frowned. “And of course, general Caerdin is a name to be reckoned with too.”
The prince sighed. “Then we’re at a dead end, but whatever happens we need to get to the city. I’ll send orders for the rest of my men to recall and join us.”
Mercurias shook his head. “No, don’t do that. Tythias, you need to send a couple of men round the coast to try and hook up with Filus’ and Sithis’ units and we’ll have to do with whoever we have. If we can get Kiva and Quintillian and the others out of there, we’ll need everyone’s support afterward.” He glowered darkly. “And if we can’t, we’re going to need a sizeable force in order to separate Velutio’s head from his body.”
Tythias nodded. “I’ll have two men ride out at first light. Have you sent word to Brendan and Marco?”
The prince nodded.
“Very well” said Athas, reaching out for one of the plates on the tray. “We’ll get to the city and then see what we can do. Have your men found somewhere safe we can hole up there?”
Another nod. “We’ve had a safe house in Velutio since the days of Quintus. Let’s just hope we’re in time to do something about it.”
* * *
In the poor light of the cell Sabian smiled. “What would you have done if they’d actually had cavalry though?” He proffered the jug to Kiva again, who nodded. The commander refilled the mug and then passed the jug across to Alessus, who refilled the other three.
Kiva shrugged. “They didn’t. If they had by some miraculous method managed to get their horses through the forest in less than a day, they’d never have been able to field them effectively in such a confined space anyway. If I’d thought for a moment they could’ve done, we’d have had plenty of time to set some extra defences up, but sometimes it’s better to give an army the night before a battle to drink and relax.”
Sabian shook his head. “I tend to find my men get jumpy and nervous if I give them too much time to think before a battle.”
“That’s because your men are from the southern provinces, though” Kiva replied with a grin. “The two brigades I took with me up from Vengen were both formed in the fort there of northerners. Don’t forget that you southerners like to drink watered wine and listen to music to relax. The people I came from drink a mixture of strong spirits and ox blood and fight each other for amusement. If it’s that sort of blood in your army, letting them relax their way just makes them look forward to a good battle. That’s why I always tried to allocate the northern brigades to myself and left the southern ones to Avitus and Leus. Covis was a whole different issue. He was from Germalla and he liked his eastern cavalry. All well and good in open field, but they were precious little use at Serfium when he came up against the other two.” The general went very quiet and gazed off past Sabian into the distance. That subject still haunted him and the commander knew well what had happened then.
Sabian leaned back against the bars and shuffled uncomfortably. He’d been coming down here three days now. It had begun as an unpleasant and stifled discussion. Caerdin had been understandably reluctant to talk and had continually pushed him for any information on what Velutio had planned. By the second visit though, he’d managed to turn the conversation to military tactics and the flood gates of the general’s experience had opened. Since then he’d been several times, sometimes bringing food and sometimes drink. He’d supplied them with blankets instead of straw now. He wished he could do more, but nothing would change the fact that they were in prison with a very finite life expectancy, and that was shrinking by the day. He sighed.
“I realise that this is a bit personal, but I want to ask you something, general.”
Kiva smiled indulgently. “I think you could safely call me by my given name now Sabian. “
The commander shook his head. “I’m sorry but I think I’d rather keep this by rank. I’m uncomfortable getting too familiar in the circumstances. Had things been different…”
Kiva nodded. He’d thought he was getting somewhere with the commander. He actually liked Sabian and had the distinct feeling it was this man’s doing that the four of them weren’t dead already. Sabian had a surprisingly strong influence on Velutio it seemed. “Go on then” he encouraged with a smile.
The commander shuffled again. “Why did you withdraw from public life? After it all happened, I mean. His lordship fought for his own position, Leus supported him until he came to an… unfortunate end.” He remembered well the story he’d read about the revenge Caerdin exacted on Marshal Leus before he went after Avitus. He cleared his throat. “And Covis fought for the preservation of the status quo. But you? You went on a bloodthirsty revenge spree and then vanished for years. To be honest I didn’t know you were even alive until his lordship told me who Quintillian was travelling with.”
He sat and watched the various emotions crossing the general’s face. The question was an uncomfortable one and he knew it. He’d briefly wondered whether to mention what he found out about Darius on the island, but it would be cruel to tell the condemned man that his son was still alive and also a prisoner of Velutio’s. Especially when the general would never live to see his son. Besides, Velutio had forbidden any discussion about the occupants of the prison or the island with anyone not in his lordship’s pay.
Kiva coughed. “It wasn’t an easy time Sabian. I’d done some fairly unpleasant things and had others done to me. I lost my family, my house, my Emperor, my position; everything. On top of that, I knew it was me alone who was responsible for killing a divine power and bringing the Empire down. What was I supposed to do? Walk into the public square and declare it all. No. I just had to get away. Once the Wolves found me we just went north and disappeared. We’d still be anonymous and obscure now if it weren’t for Quintillian’s appearance. Against all the odds he managed to get us all fired up again and ready to do something about the state of the world.” He sighed. “Needless to say, this is the result. I’m a cursed man; a deicide, and nothing I do will ever come right because of it.”
Sabian shook his head. “Gods are highly overrated. I didn’t think you northerners were all that bothered with religion anyway. It’s come to this, general, because there are so few of you left now and my lord’s resources are so vast. It was inevitable.”
Kiva sat in silence for a moment, though he didn’t look convinced. “When are we to die, commander?”
Here we go again, though Sabian. Every visit the question would crop up at least once and the truth was that the commander didn’t know Velutio’s intentions any better than the prisoners.
“I don’t know, as I keep telling you. All I can hope is that when he does decide, it’s quick and noble. By the sword I would prefer, as military men. Over in a second and the proper way for renowned soldiers to go.” He frowned. “I’m not convinced that will be the way of it to be honest, but I myself won’t be party to anything else, I assure you.”
Sabian stood slowly and stiffly and stretched. “I must go again. His lordship wants to see me at lunch time. I hope…” his voice trailed away as the foolish words died in his throat. He turned to the door and motioned at the guard standing at the opposite wall. The young man stepped forward and unlocked the cell door, letting the commander out and then closing and locking it once more.
With a final bow to the prisoners, Sabian turned and walked along the corridor and up the steps to the outside. He crossed the courtyard and entered Velutio’s private palace on the other side, the two soldiers at the doorway standing to attention as he passed. Through the man hall and up the golden-white marble staircase, he made his way along the corridor to the door at the end. With a swift rap on the door he paused and, leaning to one side, picked up an apple from the fruit dish and took a bite from it.
A voice from beyond the door called for him and he reached out and opened it.
Velutio sat in the bay window, a
scroll unrolled on his lap. He beckoned to Sabian and the commander crossed the room and with a curt bow took the seat opposite.
“You wanted to see me, my Lord?”
“Yes” the older man said without looking up from the scroll. “There are remarkably few people who will speak their mind to me, you know? Perhaps half a dozen the world over. You have the privilege to be one of them and I do find that I value your opinion.” He looked up over the edge of the scroll. “That doesn’t mean you don’t irritate me at times and it doesn’t mean that I will always follow your advice, but I do like to hear it before I make my decisions.”
Sabian nodded. He wondered whether this was to do with the fate of the four prisoners. If so, he may be able to do something at last.
“Thank you my Lord. I try to advise you to the best of my ability.” He shrugged. “On military matters anyway.”
Velutio nodded. He rolled the scroll once more and placed it in the tube before dropping it into the basket next to the seat.
“Sabian, what is your assessment of my position at the moment?”
The question was a surprise, but a welcome one. Here was a subject the commander knew well. “I assume you mean in a military way? There are perhaps seven or eight lords in the Northern, Central or Eastern Provinces that still have an army large enough that they could consider fielding it against you, but I very much doubt that any of them would, especially if you call in your various allegiances.”
Velutio nodded. “Go on.”
“Well, the Western Provinces are different. We’ve never really concentrated on the lords there, but once we have all those on this side of the Nymphean Sea under the yoke, the Western Provinces will fall in short order. I would give it three months of campaigning and there’ll be no one left to stand against you. You’ll have total control.”
Another nod and an encouraging gesture.
“You’re perhaps wondering what to do after that, my Lord?”
Velutio smiled. “I will be sixty years old this winter. My life has been a constant struggle to improve and control; to bring things to better order. People may hate my methods and praise the heroic and short-sighted general Caerdin, but they also forget that it was Quintus’ dynasty that brought chaos and terror to the Empire and Caerdin and his loyal few that destroyed all we had of order and control. Between Caerdin and the Emperor they plunged the world into chaos because of their need to do the right thing. I have been called cruel, a tyrant, a murderer, unjust… many things, but I have taken a world gone to seed and brought order and control to it once more. There are no bandits in the Central Provinces now; no Pirates on the Nymphean Sea. The system of tax and tithe works again. You see I am rebuilding the Empire they destroyed.”
Sabian blinked. He’d never heard Velutio talk like this. Moreover he’d never looked at it from that particular point of view and the idea was seductive. It was true indeed that the lot of many people and places had improved.
“I can see your point, but I’m not sure where it’s leading…”
Velutio smiled again. He was smiling more often than usual and the effect was rather disconcerting.
“Commander, I intend to be Emperor within the year. I see no reason why not. All Imperial dynasties have to begin somewhere, and it’s time the Empire was whole again.”
Sabian nodded; a sentiment with which he wholeheartedly agreed.
“There is one problem though,” Velutio went on. “I am old. I shall be sixty before we can safely declare a new regime. I have no family and therefore no dynasty.”
Sabian shifted uncomfortably. This was a conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted to be involved in. “In the old days, my Lord, some of the Emperors adopted their heirs with a fair level of success. Dynasties are not necessarily the most secure way to control an Empire.”
Velutio nodded. “That is my thought too. The problem then remains when and who do I adopt? It needs to be before any Imperial control is declared. An individual Emperor with no heir apparent is an easy target for assassination among the greedy. If there is someone to inherit instantly the temptation is greatly decreased. But who?”
Sabian swallowed. “Why are you asking me these things? You have political advisors to deal with questions like this. I’m a military man.”
He was answered with a smile. “That’s exactly why it’s you and not them I must ask. I believe that as a career military man you have no intentions toward political power yourself. You’re also a sensible and honourable man. As such, who else should I trust the judgement of?” Without waiting for an answer, Velutio went on. “I cannot adopt Quintillian. That is plainly obvious. There must be a clean and complete break with the past.”
Sabian leaned forward and cradled his hands. “By ‘complete break’, do I assume you mean the removal of all those connected with the last dynasty?”
“Yes.”
Sabian sighed. This was something he’d seen coming for a long time and dreaded. “So no one from the island will survive your succession my lord?”
Velutio nodded. “It has to be so. As long as they remain they are a reminder of a past regime and can be used in plots and coups against anything we do. It is not enough then to imprison or exile them. We must start with a clean sheet.”
Sabian frowned. “We?”
“Of course ‘we’. I shall need a commander for the Imperial army. As such, you will be one of the closest advisors I can have. You’ve been instrumental in bringing us to this stage and it shall be greatly your doing when we achieve our goal.”
Velutio gazed out of the window. “There can only be one heir as far as I can see. Only one real candidate.”
Sabian sat straight again. “This is why you’ve made sure no harm comes to Darius?” The commander slapped his forehead in irritation. “Of course! You’ve been planning this for twenty years. That’s the only reason you kept them all on the island this long isn’t it?”
Velutio nodded. “Indeed. I needed Darius trained by the best people in every aspect of Imperial life. On Isera he’s been tutored in the military arts, numerous fine arts, but also in politics, economics, geography, history, trade… everything a boy could need to take control of an Empire. He’s probably been better trained than any Imperial heir in history.” He smiled, and the effect made Sabian shudder. “But now things are almost ready. I have the monopoly and the world is bowing to me. When we have the last lords beneath us, I can bring Darius back from Isera and his education will be complete. At that point the rest of the island become dispensable and Isera can revert back to its palatial status.”
Sabian tried his best not to let his feelings show in his face. Darius would make a good candidate for Emperor, but there were so many problems his lordship hadn’t accounted for. Darius carried the blood of both the parties Velutio was planning to wipe out and he couldn’t surely believe that Darius would accept the adoption at the cost of the deaths of everyone he knew. The goal of a new Empire was sensible and reasonable and Velutio was the only man who stood a chance of actually doing this, but his methods spoke of paranoia. So many deaths of innocent and useful people were entirely unnecessary. Of course, there was no way to tell his lordship all this. Instead he forced a smile.
“What of all those across the Empire with leanings toward the old Imperialism?”
Velutio nodded. “Most of those are soldiers; mercenaries even. Mercenaries will become unnecessary once we have a united Empire again with one army. Mercenary units will be outlawed and those who do not resist can be split up and shuffled into our army. Those who do will have to be removed. In any case, the majority of the people of whom you speak are middle aged at least. By the time I have passed on and Darius is in control, there will be few alive who can remember the old dynasty.”
His lordship smiled. “I do not really care whether I am remembered fondly or with bitterness, but I will be remembered as the man who rebuilt the Empire.”
Sabian shuffled again. His discomfort was increasing with every sentence.
“I’m still not sure why you’re telling me all this right now, my lord.”
“Because,” Velutio replied, “you will be my instrument in much of this and I need you to be primed for everything as it comes to pass and to think in advance of any stumbling blocks for which I have not already accounted.”
Sabian leaned back again. “There’s a lot to think on.”
“Yes. Perhaps you’d best go and think on it. I want to meet again in a few days and go over anything you can come up with. I intend to be fully prepared for every eventuality.”
Sabian nodded and stood. With a salute, he turned and left the room. As he trod the corridors of the palace on his way back down his mind reeled. There really was a lot to think on and very little of it was good. One thing was certain: he couldn’t let Velutio execute so many innocent people out of simple paranoia. That was never a good way to start a new regime. It would be as likely to make him enemies as to remove them.
Leaving the palace proper, he walked out into the Imperial gardens. His men patrolled the low wall at the edge in pairs and he strolled out among them, returning their salutes and he passed flowerbeds and the few large old trees that dotted the lawns. Reaching the wall, he stood on the gravel path, with his arms folded and his elbows leaning on the stonework, gazing out over the sea. Across the bay, with the constant white froth of waves breaking on the reefs, he could see Isera like an emerald set in a sapphire sea. How could he let so many people die for nothing, so that the island they had worked to turn into a home could be used by a new dynasty of Emperors responsible for their death?
He straightened, a new sense of purpose flowing through his blood. He had to betray Velutio to save the man from himself, but then that was why his lordship placed such faith in him. He stared out across the water, trying to pick out the individual buildings there but with little success. There was nothing he could do about the four in the palace prison, but the islanders he could save.
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