“Minister,” he said very quietly,”you know me as a fair man, yes?”
There was no response from Sarios, not that he’d expected one.
“I beg of you,” he went on, “tell his Lordship what he wants to know. The boy’s probably in great danger wherever he is. There are dangerous wars and feuds in almost every corner of the Empire and this place is at least safe, for all its nature.” He sighed. “Or it was anyway.”
Sarios opened his better eye painfully and the orb swivelled up to Sabian.
“You know I cannot do that” he replied. “You know who he is and you know who I am. Can you imagine I ever stopped serving?”
Sabian nodded. He could understand commitment and loyalty, particularly between this man and that boy, but the whole thing was foolish and with no worthwhile goal. He realised the physician was looking back and forth between them in curiosity. He growled at the man “this is not your concern. Just tend his wounds.”
“Sarios,” he continued turning back to the old man. “I sympathise, but his Lordship is going to have me crucify the young men of your island if you don’t tell him and I’ve no wish to be a part of that. I’m a soldier not an executioner.”
The minister actually smiled through the blood and bruises.
“Then you serve the wrong man, commander.”
Sabian continued to crouch silently for a long moment as the old man collapsed back to the grass, his eyes closing and his breathing erratic. With a sigh of resignation, the commander stood and turned to his men.
“Sergeant Cialo,” he commanded. “Have a detail produce the timber and set up three crosses on the lawn. Find some rope.”
The sergeant, a long-standing member of Sabian’s command and a man that could only be described as a ‘grizzled veteran’, nodded and turned, barking orders at his men. Sabian returned his attention to the crowd.
“Everyone back to the Raven Palace.”
The elders shuffled onwards, silent now with despair settling over them. Sabian walked behind them all the way, the rest of his unit with him, barring those left to re-bury the dead. Once they entered the Ibis Courtyard, he pointed to the door leading to the dining room and, needing no verbal command the group of islanders made their way inside. Had he been less preoccupied, Sabian might have noted the absence of young Darius from the group.
As the commander contemplated how to deal with this most onerous of jobs, his sergeant and four men marched past, carrying lengths of rope and bags that clinked with a metallic sound. Sabian waved at Cialo to get his attention.
“No nails!” he ordered.
The sergeant nodded and Sabian thought the man looked a little relieved. As the five soldiers exited the courtyard through the great Gorgon Gate, they stepped respectfully aside and Velutio once more entered the courtyard, two of his private guard at his shoulders. He spotted Sabian and made directly for him. Sabian noted the absence of Crosus with trepidation. What was the wily bastard up to now?
“Commander,” Velutio announced, “I am returning to the city. I have many resources at my disposal and I intend to find the boy. I’m very much afraid he will have to be killed now. I’m leaving my physician to tend the minister and I want you to crucify the three you select tonight and then ask Sarios each morning from then on where the boy is. If he actually answers you, though I can’t imagine that he would, you may take down the children. If not they stay up there until they rot. I don’t care who’s chosen with the exceptions young Darius. He is not to be harmed. Is that clear?”
“That’s clear sir,” Sabian replied through gritted teeth. “When will we be returning to garrison my Lord?”
Velutio shook his head. “I’ve not decided yet. Certainly not for a while.” he declared. “For the foreseeable future you are the garrison commander here! I want you to be hard. Fear is the most useful weapon you can have here.”
As Sabian glared, anger and disgust rising in him he saw Crosus standing in the archway watching him. Something was going on here that he didn’t like and being away from the rest of the army for any length of time would just tighten that bastard’s hold on things. He growled.
“My Lord,” he said, stressing the word unnecessarily, “I’m not a prison warden. You hired me for my skills as a commander and you’re wasting them. What happens if one of the other lords launches an attack while I’m playing nursemaid here? Crosus may look like a bear, but he’s not got anywhere near enough experience on the field of battle to lead your army. This is ridiculous!” He realised that he was doing exactly what he’d vowed not to earlier, but the situation was becoming increasingly untenable.
Velutio glared back at him. “ I am the one who gives the orders commander” he growled, “and you will do what I say when I say it or by the hells I’ll have you on a cross before I leave here. Do I make myself understood?”
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.”