S. Turney - Interregnum

Sabian stood at attention, shaking slightly with anger and gritted his teeth to bite back every retort that came naturally and unbidden. “Yes sir” he uttered, again stressing the word. Still shaking, he watched the lord turn on his heel, the two guards at his shoulders, and make for the dock. Waiting just long enough for Velutio to be out of earshot, he ran to the gatehouse and looked out over the grass to where his sergeant was erecting a ‘T’-shaped structure.

“Cialo!” he called as loudly as he dare, and the sergeant turned at the sound of his name and jogged up the slope toward his commander.

“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.

“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.