S. Turney - Interregnum

“It would be a good idea for you all to go about your business. Lord Velutio will be here presently and I very much suspect you’ll then see a change of command in Isera.”

Without waiting for comment, he turned and strode off into the orchard, following the sounds of violent affray. It was not hard to find the scene. Kasta hadn’t even made it out of the edge of the wood, as a trail of blood made clear. Iasus had had the taste and presence of mind not to do this among the islander’s fruit-bearing trees. He found the hundred or so men by the south wall on the cliff. The broken, tattered and bloody remains of the northerner were in a pile against the stone wall base. There were blood, brains, guts and chips of bone in an arc around the unrecognisable pile of offal. The last few stones were still being thrown now, despite the fact that the man had probably been dead after the first volley. This was an expression of the loathing of a unit for betrayal in their midst and for all the unpleasantness of the sight, Sabian felt a rush of pride in his men. They were proper soldiers, not poncy fair-weather troops like the guard. Still, he was running out of time. He cleared his throat loudly and the companies fell silent and parted to allow him through. Iasus stood at the front; for the first time Sabian could remember the sergeant looked weary.

“Sergeant. Detail a few men to get a sack and fetch the remains across to the other orchard. I want them nailed and tied to that crucifix Cialo built last week.”

Again the pride in his men. Not one of them argued or questioned. Iasus didn’t even have to detail someone, as several people went for the body straight away. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to head out toward the dock. If he was going to fall from grace today, he was going to make a blazing statement out of the whole event, and he’d take certain people with him.

A quarter of an hour later, Sabian stood on the path before the Gorgon Gate. Four companies of men in full gear stood at attention on the lawns, two on either side. The rest manned the gate and the top of the walls. The islanders all stood in the Ibis Courtyard, with Sarios at their head. The commander hadn’t wanted them out front in case things went too sour too quickly and his Lordship merely landed troops to make a clean sweep of it. To his left, just a few yards off the path, an unrecognisable mass of body parts and innards was tied and nailed to a T-shape. If one looked for a while it was possible to pick out an eye; a hand; a foot. Doctor Favio had suggested the wood be smothered with some oil or other and flowers placed at the base to help cover the smell that threatened to make them gag. Sabian had refused. He had a message to put over as plainly as he could.

And now Velutio was striding up the path. No shock to Sabian to see Crosus at his shoulder along with a dozen of the personal guard in dress uniforms. He almost laughed. To think some of his own men had wanted to be that. He could only imagine how quickly those men would get butchered on a real battlefield. He stepped forward as Velutio reached him.

“Your lordship.”

Velutio had been walking with his head lowered but now he raised his face and his pure rage shone in his face. He’d never seen the lord like that. Velutio got cold and calculating, not red and furious. His lordship thrust an accusing finger into Sabian’s face.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t have Crosus here kill you where you stand!”

Sabian almost laughed; this was too surreal. If he was that deep in, why not just ride the wave of insanity. He spoke lightly and with a humorous lilt.

“Firstly, because you need me considerably more than you need him. Secondly because I am in the right and I’ve done nothing wrong.” His gaze came to rest on Crosus. “And thirdly, because if this trained ape tried to spit me I’d have to hand him back to you in slices my lord.”

It was amazing when you knew it was a lost cause how easy it was to speak your mind. His words did nothing to mollify Velutio, but they’d provoked a huge anger in the captain. Sabian almost laughed again when he saw the purple colour of Crosus’ face and the whitening of the man’s knuckles on the hilt of his sword.

Velutio squared his shoulders. “Commander, you’ve picked up a very nasty habit of gainsaying and back-talking me since you came to this place. That is not the attitude of a trusted officer.”

Sabian raised an eyebrow. “Indeed my lord? I would have thought that was exactly the attitude you need from a trusted officer? Yes-men will just nod and agree as you slip all the way down the slope. You need someone who argues. I have never done you disservice.”

The lord turned his iron grey head and glanced at Crosus who was still shaking with anger and then back to Sabian again. “Nevertheless, the captain went to a great deal of time and effort to get a spy working within this community and suddenly last night, we stopped getting reports. Why is that I wonder, and where might my personal physician be?”

Sabian felt the ground gradually slipping away beneath him.

“The spy, your physician my lord, murdered one of my men and had been feeding you reports in a bad light in order to augment this shit-head’s ever growing reputation and power base.” He pointed at Crosus. “This man’s been buying off my troops, bribing islanders and having good men murdered just to get him that little bit closer to my job.” He suddenly realised an opportunity open to him here.

“And he can have it. By dead man’s boots if he cares to try.”

Crosus actually lunged forward, but Velutio held out an arm to stop him.

“I will not have you duelling or even besmirching the name of my guard while you stand under such taint. You deliberately disobeyed my orders at every turn and appear to have ‘gone native’.” The last phrase almost caused him to spit. “You never sent one person to the crucifix, which was a direct order.” As he spoke, his eyes strayed to the mess on his right. A startled look crossed his face, which pleased Sabian no end. In fact the Gods might be with the commander after all today for, as Velutio noticed the crucified pulp, so the wind chose that very moment to double back on itself and carry the reek across both his lordship and the captain. Velutio merely turned back to the commander, his nostrils dancing in the miasma, and raised one eyebrow.

Sabian grinned. “One of Crosus’ turncoats. I don’t like traitors in my army.”

He watched the changes of expression and colour in the captain’s face with immense satisfaction while Crosus battled against the smell, the anger and now the uncertainty. Without letting either of them recover, Sabian continued. “The two men who sang me a whole long story died well and they’re buried next to the veteran that Crosus had killed.” His smile widened. “As for your doctor, he wouldn’t cooperate at all, so I’m afraid I had to send him fishing without a head. Probably a good thing for you though my lord.”

Velutio had not moved. “How so commander?”

Again Sabian smiled. “I suspect if you tell me what reports you’ve had and I tell you the truth, you’ll find glaring errors. You see I rather think that the doctor was receiving a higher wage from Crosus than from yourself. In fact” he said, tipping his head to one side with a thought that hadn’t occurred to him before, “I wonder whether the captain’s long-term plan doesn’t involve knocking me out of the game and then having you poisoned? Perhaps the murder here was a test-run was it Crosus?”

Again the big captain, his features red and furious made a lunge for Sabian and again Velutio prevented him. Sabian opened his mouth to rile the captain further, but a voice behind called out “commander!” Sabian’s head swung around and he spotted the minister standing in the shadows of the Gorgon Gate with Darius at his side. Sarios was still in his priestly garb from the funeral and the white robe accentuated the black eye patch disconcertingly. He wondered when the doctor was going to try and deal with that. Darius was still wearing his leathers and bore the sword at his side. He smiled. Why not go the whole hog? This would make the lord and the captain as angry as anything.