S. Turney - Interregnum

Pelian stared at his son and at his wife, tears in his eyes and sagged, deflating.

“Munda. We were meeting at Munda. I don’t know if that’s where he’s based, but that was the meeting place.”

Sabian nodded in relief as the smile crossed Velutio’s face. The steely-grey lord let go of the rope. “Munda… Makes sense. It’s unused these days and Caerdin probably has friends there. An army could certainly be marshalled and trained there.” He looked at the prisoners and drew a knife, reaching down toward the noose around Pelian’s neck. The captive lord leaned back to allow access to the rope and stared in shock as Velutio drew the blade hard across his neck just below the rope. He tried to speak, but there was just a whistling noise from his open neck and a bloody froth from both there and his mouth. His eyes still staring in amazement, he toppled to one side. Sabian shook his head; he’d known it was coming. Velutio was nothing if not predictable.

The old lord stood once more, ignoring the wailing of lady Pelian where she struggled to free herself from a soldier’s grip. Walking slowly over to the boy, Velutio took the rope from the guard and lifted it from the boys’ neck. Reaching behind, he cut the other cord binding the lad’s hands and all the while the boy stared at him. No tears; no quivering lip, just cold hatred. As the boy’s hands came free, Velutio stepped back.

“You’re now the lord Pelian. Your father once took an oath to me and he broke it. Remember that, as you’re bound by the same oath. You’re free to go about your business. As soon as we’re ready to move out, your troops will be left as they are and you can tend to your wounded as best you can and bury your dead honourably.”

He turned back to Sabian, paying no further attention to the glaring boy and the screaming woman. “Munda.”

The commander nodded and squared his shoulders. “I need to talk with you my lord; privately.”

Velutio nodded and the two stepped away, leaving the three soldiers with the distraught woman hugging the body of her husband. The young boy continued to stand, motionless, watching Velutio with visible loathing.

As they began to amble slowly down the hillside, Sabian cleared his throat. “I would like to think that I’ve only ever offered you good advice my lord.”

Velutio nodded. “On the whole I agree, Sabian. Maybe I should have followed some of your advice at times when I did not, but we’re in a position of power now, so I think everything may have worked out for the best.”

Sabian nodded uncertainly. “Perhaps. However, I have several things that I feel you need to hear and I would urge you to seriously consider them.”

“Go on.”

The commander clasped his hands behind his back as they walked, watching the soldiers gathering their wounded comrades into huddled groups while wagons were brought up. “Firstly, you can’t leave the boy alive now. Much as I hate it, you’ve killed his father and he’ll seek revenge now until he’s an old man. I saw his eyes. He’s not frightened, just angry.”

“You may be right. However, in addition to serving as a lesson to any who would break their oath, his continued existence speaks of my mercy and you’re always urging me to show that. We’ll leave it until this war is over and then see what we shall see; after all, he’s only a young boy. What else?”

Sabian nodded. He hadn’t expected the lord to follow his advice, but it was his duty to give it. “Secondly, this war is headed for a conclusion of epic proportions. Our campaign here has been surgical, dealing with insurrections and small independents. What’s coming, on the other hand, will be a bloodbath that will wreck the Empire. I know we’ll win; I have not a doubt about that, but we need to think about what happens afterwards. Our army will be decimated and there won’t be a lot of manpower to draw on to replace it. Many of the men on both sides are farmers and craftsmen when they’re not on campaign and our economy could be in trouble if so many are lost in one swoop. When you’re Emperor and our army is not yet recovered we’ll be easy pickings for the barbarian tribes; I can’t imagine they’ll stand by and let the Empire build back up to be the enemy it was decades ago. We will need stability, manpower and money in order to rebuild after all the damage of the last two decades. All in all, war will put you on the throne, but it may make keeping that throne untenable.”

“You’re suggesting I step down?” asked Velutio with some surprise.

“No, Lord. Not that. But there are other ways than direct conflict on such a scale. We know where the enemy are, but not their composition. They could even have a force approaching the size of ours now. Why cause that bloodbath if it could be avoided?”

“Go on” said Velutio, one eyebrow raised.

Sabian took a deep breath. “Peace. Publicly declare your intention to adopt Darius and offer him co-rulership. After all, that was your intention in the first place, before Caerdin pitted him against you. Offer amnesty for their army and its leaders. You could bring this whole thing down to a political hand-shake without a single drop of blood.”

Velutio laughed. “For a man of war, you seem to do everything you can to avoid it, Sabian.”

The commander shrugged. “A real soldier will always avoid the battle if there is another way round. Only psychopaths seek battle for battle’s sake, lord.”

Velutio shook his head. “I might be willing to adopt Darius now and even pardon the various lords that have fallen in with them, but there is no way this side of the river of Death that I’ll let the Wolves, the Lion Riders or any of the Islanders live after this. They’ve pitted themselves against me, not I against them, and now I’ll see it through to the bitter end.”

Velutio looked sidelong at his commander, who seemed to be fighting his irritation. “I agree in principle with what you say. I’ll have my scribes draft a letter offering Darius exactly what he wants and amnesty to the other lords on the condition that Caerdin, Tythias, Sarios and their supporters give themselves up to me. That is as far as I will compromise.”

Sabian nodded. It was a small gesture that would likely fail, but it was better than he’d expected. Velutio was not known for his leniency. “Very well,” the commander sighed. “I’ll have a small party put together to deliver your terms, lord.”

“Sabian,” the old lord laughed, “you really try to be the voice of reason in an unreasonable world. Your principles are always of the highest quality and you are a great believer in ethics, itself an unusual characteristic in a military commander, but the Empire is a corrupt and debased place these days, and there’s precious little room for idealism. Still,” he smiled, “it’s refreshing to see at times.”

Sabian bowed slightly and saluted before he turned and walked away down the hill toward where sergeant Cialo was issuing instructions to groups of soldiers. As he walked he mulled over choices he’d make for better or for worse. Perhaps he had been unwise to allow the islanders to leave Isera, and particularly to let Caerdin free to wage his own war but when it all came down to it the Empire, once it was back on its feet, would need men like Caerdin and Sarios. Velutio was blinded enough by ancient vendettas that he couldn’t see the value of men like that, but Sabian could look past the foundation of a new dynasty to where men of vision and intelligence would be needed. Still, Velutio had pushed hard for the last half year and had dealt with whatever appeared before him with the surety of a man possessed. Sabian had played his part as best he could not to be just a general for his army, but to be advisor, counsellor and conscience. It would be satisfying to think even in a small way how much innocent blood had been spared by his interjection but, since there were limits to his influence and his lordship would not follow his counsel along certain paths, he may well be the cause of the greatest war to shake the Empire in over two centuries. That was a disturbing thought and one that came back to him at night when the shadows lengthened. He’d done everything he could to avoid innocent victims but, in doing so, he’d pitted two great armies against each other. In a way, he’d created the rebel force.