“Good afternoon, gentlemen” Sabian greeted them. “If I may, I would like to see your patient if he’s conscious.”
The island’s doctor, ‘Favio’ the commander seemed to remember, cleared his throat. “He’s conscious but resting in the next room.” He then turned and glared at the other doctor, who returned the look.
Sabian’s patience was rapidly wearing thin. He stood for a moment until they both looked back at him. He gestured angrily with his thumb and the two filed over to the door. Once they were standing before him he spoke, his tone a low menacing whisper. “Don’t you think you should be discussing things like this out of earshot of your patient? He’s half-blind, not deaf!” The two doctors looked at each other sheepishly and Velutio’s physician nodded. Sabian stepped to one side while the two doctors filed out into the corridor. He waited until they’d exited and slammed the door early, hard enough to hit one of them in the back.
He sighed and made his way to the bedroom door, which was shut. This room was less than opulent and mirrored the personality of its occupant perfectly. Functional would be Sabian’s description. He drew a long breath and rapped lightly on the door.
“Yes?”
Turning the handle, Sabian wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the inner sanctum of the island’s leader, but this certainly wasn’t it. The room was well-appointed but bore more of a resemblance to a shrine or a storage room than a chamber. Busts of the Emperors and great men lined one wall on innumerable shelves. The wall behind the bed was decorated with a fine mosaic map of the Empire at its height. A third wall bore more shelves containing numerous artworks of the highest quality, all of which had presumably been removed from places on the island and brought here to preserve them. The floor bore a huge mosaic of a raven surrounded by the incarnations of the old Provinces and the final wall contained three huge windows that lit the room. The only furniture inside were the bed, a small writing desk covered with documents, a chair and two altars, one to the protective spirits of the household and the other to the Imperial cult. In the midst of this veritable museum lay Sarios, half his head bandaged, propped up on pillows and cushions. The minister managed a weak smile as he recognised his visitor.
“Commander. It’s good to see you. I hear good things about your command of the island.”
Sabian shrugged. “I’m glad you’re looking better now. As for ‘good things’, I’m not so sure about that. I just don’t like to see needless cruelty.” He smiled. “Actually, I’m just embarking on a few projects around the island. I don’t like my men to get lazy.”
Sarios smiled again and tried to pull himself a little more upright on the pillows. Sabian rushed to the bedside and helped the old man pull himself up. Sarios gratefully relaxed in a better position and then looked up at the commander with his good eye. “Thank you. I feel so useless, but it’s a terrible thing when you get old and feeble. He only hit me twice, but I feel like I’ve spent a day in the arena entertaining the crowd.” Again the smile. Sabian couldn’t help but admire the man.
“I just really dropped in to see how you were and how they were treating you. I take it you were listening to the two idiots outside your door?”
Sarios nodded. “It’s hard to avoid it when all there is to do is to lie here.” He beckoned to the commander with his finger. “Actually, I’d like to ask you a favour.” Sabian nodded, silent, and the minister continued. “I want our own doctor to deal with me. I know it’s a risk, but he really does know what he’s doing, I assure you.”
Sabian tapped his finger on his lips. “Perhaps” he muttered. “I’m loathe to put you in any more danger though.”
The minister nodded. “Still, I would wish it.” He glanced over at the table near the window. “I actually got up yesterday for a few minutes and strung some thoughts and ideas together. Perhaps you’d be good enough to take that top sheet and see the council of elders with it?”
Sabian nodded again. “I’d be happy to. Unless you need me for anything though, I’d better get on. There’s a lot to do” he added. Sarios nodded gently. “I’d better sleep anyway. That’s one of the few things both doctors can agree on.”
Without another word, the commander bowed and retrieved the top sheet of paper from the table. Glancing at it briefly on the way out, he noted a list of things that needed to be done, including a priority list for the upcoming vegetable harvest. He smiled. Great minds, eh? As he left, he made sure the chamber door was shut tight and opened the outer door to leave the apartment. The island’s doctor stood in the corridor still and he turned with a start as Sabian appeared.
“Ah, commander” the doctor said. “Darius was by here and wants you to go see him when you’re free. He said you’d know where.”
Sabian nodded. “I think I know. By the way, I’m inclined along with the minister to ask you to deal with his treatment your way. If you see Velutio’s doctor, please tell him to find me tonight. I would warn you though that I will be very unhappy if anything untoward happens to Sarios, so make sure your treatment works.” To add weight to his words the commander had bunched one hand into a fist and was rubbing the knuckles with his other hand as he spoke. The doctor nodded solemnly with no trace of fear. “I’ll do my best,” he replied.
Sabian fixed him eye to eye for a long moment and then stepped around him and continued on down the corridor to stop and collect something on the way.
The ruins of the Golden House mouldered and smelled dank even in the late afternoon sun. The day was wearing on rapidly now and the sun was diminishing behind the high perimeter walls even as Sabian, once more armed and armoured, picked his way among the rubble. Turning the corner, he immediately spotted Darius seated on a timber in the centre of the octagonal room, idly twiddling a short dagger in his hand. He looked up as the commander appeared in the shattered doorway and nodded a greeting. Sabian strode into the centre and, reaching down to his belt, unhooked an extra sword from his left side. Holding the sheathed blade out to the young man, he nodded.
“I’ve talked to the elders” he smiled, “and I want you to continue your training. In fact, I’m going to make sure you’re not interrupted by things like poetry. You can keep this with you; it’s not going back in the weapon cabinet.”
Darius grinned lopsidedly back at him. “Thanks. Somehow it feels wrong not to have sword practice.” Sabian inwardly agreed. He felt the same himself and imagined the boy’s father was much the same. The lad unsheathed the blade and gave it a few practice swings. “This isn’t the sword I was using” he noted.
Sabian sat on one of the fallen boulders. “No,” he replied, “this is a northern sword with a heavy hilt and a slight curvature, like the barbarian tribes to the north use. It doesn’t do to limit yourself to one blade. If you find yourself in dire straits and needing to use what’s to hand, you might not be able to wield it effectively. Plus I have to say that the northern tribes designed one of the best weighted implements of war ever created.” He smiled, patting the sheath still hanging by his side that carried a blade of very similar design.
Darius examined the slight curve thoughtfully. “That makes sense I suppose. It’s a little heavier than the other one too, even though it’s shorter. Going to take a bit of getting used to…”