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.
Chapter IX
“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.
His train of thought was broken by a shrill whistle. He stopped in his tracks and looked around for the source of the sound, and then up, where he spotted the figure in the tree. A young man sat with a leg hooked over one branch and his elbows resting on another.
“Morning Darius” the commander issued. He forced a smile, though his thoughts were still elsewhere. “Thought you’d have been at sword practice again on a lovely morning like this.”
The boy laughed mirthlessly. “Your men impounded all the weapons, didn’t they.”
Sabian grunted. Of course they had. He may have cancelled the crucifixions, but he had no intention of rebelling against his command and had issued all the standard orders for prisoners of war. This would have to change of course, in the circumstances.
“True” the commander admitted. “Probably unnecessary, but an automatic response.”
The boy nodded once and then unhooked his leg, swinging from the branch and releasing to land light on his feet next to the soldier.
“Ferastus, yes?” Darius inquired. “From ‘on captivity’ in his collected essays.”
Sabian smiled, a real smile this time. “You really do know your stuff, don’t you?” He squared his shoulders. “However, I don’t think this place really applies to the Ferastian rules. After all, there’s no way off for you or us. We’re in very much the same position and perhaps some of the standard rules need to be relaxed or even changed.”
Darius shook his head and the commander raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“You don’t believe so?” he asked, unconvinced.
The boy shook his head again. “We’re prisoners and you’re an officer of our captor. You’ve already put yourself and your men in considerable danger by refusing to crucify our people.” He smiled. “Now that’s a good gesture and makes us believe in you a little, but if you relax things too much, you’ll only end up bringing trouble for yourself and we’ll get someone like that other captain as a replacement. I don’t think that would be at all good for us.”
Sabian blinked. The boy made a great deal of sense, but the commander had already made his plans. “Thing is Darius,” he said, “I have no intention of becoming a jailor. I’d rather you all carried on as if we weren’t here. I have a permanent lookout stationed on the gatehouse and one of your less sociable companions removed an obstructive tree for us. We’ll have best part of an hour’s warning when a ship appears in the channel.”
He gestured for them to walk and Darius fell in beside him.
“As it happens,” he added, “I’m on my way to see the elders now with a few ideas. Then, perhaps we can arrange for you to be able to continue your sword practice, eh Darius?”
Darius didn’t answer. In fact he’d gone rather quiet and subdued all of a sudden as they walked toward the Raven Palace. Sabian glanced sidelong at him and cleared his throat.
“Is there something you want to say?” he asked.
Darius shook his head. “No” he replied. “Not yet at least.”
Respecting the young man’s decision, but eyeing him suspiciously, Sabian thought about Darius for a moment. He’d not seen the lad around since the day Velutio left and Darius was usually visible enough. He frowned, wondering what the young man was up to, but surprised himself as he realised that Darius was actually one of the few people he still trusted, despite his being a captive. Still frowning he changed the subject. “How’s Sarios? I’ve been meaning to get in to see him since he’s been awake again.”