Salonius watched him go and sighed. It would be good to sleep in a comfortable bed. With a chortle he remembered a conversation only a couple of weeks ago with one of his fellow engineers in which they had complained vociferously about the quality of the bunks in the barracks at Crow Hill. Thinking back, he realised how naive he’d been. An engineer’s bunk would have been immeasurably more comfortable than almost any of the recent places he’d spent the night wrapped in a blanket against the cold and welcoming the smell of the horses, because it meant that the beasts were close and radiating a tiny amount of heat. Bed.
“Salonius!”
He allowed his mind to focus once more and realised he’d almost drifted off wearily in the saddle and the column had begun to walk once more toward the marshal’s palace. Looking around guiltily at the waiting guardsmen and with a faint colour rising in his cheek, he walked his horse on and caught up with the others.
The great doors of the palace were only a little less defensive than the entrance to the military compound had been. Guardsmen clad in black stood above the parapet and by the doorway. They saluted as the guard commander approached and dismounted. As his heavy boots hit the ground, he adjusted his armour with the clink of chainmail and handed his reins to his second in command. Turning back to the column, he gestured to the four remaining riders.
“We’re on foot from here, gentlemen; my lady.”
Varro nodded.
“If we’re headed for the guest quarters, I know the way, commander.”
“I realise that, Captain,” the guardsman replied with a stony face, “but I have orders that you are to have guard protection at all times, and I am not about to exceed my authority just because we are within the palace.”
Varro nodded again.
“Fair enough. Feels nice that someone has our back for a change.”
They dismounted wearily and Salonius began to unhook his gear from the saddle. One of the escort leaned down.
“You can leave those, sir. We’ll have them brought to you once the horses are stabled.”
For a moment Salonius considered arguing. He didn’t like leaving his few treasured possessions in the care of someone else, no matter who they were. But still, this was a courtesy and courtesy needed repaying in kind.
“Thank you,” he replied, continuing to untie the two thongs that kept his tool roll attached. “If you have no objection, I will take this, as the contents need to be cleaned and oiled urgently.”
The guard gave him an odd look and then shrugged.
“Of course, sir.”
Salonius smiled at him and shouldered the roll, turning back to the others. He cast his eye over Varro’s horse and cleared his throat.
“Captain?”
Varro turned. “Yes?”
“You need your medicine with you. You’re overdue.”
Varro glared at him, but reached into his saddle pack and withdrew his bag of medication.
“Lead on,” he urged the guard commander and the four fell into step behind him as the tall man swept off into the palace, his black cloak billowing impressively behind him. The palace corridors continued the mixed theme of civic grandeur and military austerity. Everything was constructed of rare marble and expensive glass; the floors were panelled with black and white marble and occasional mosaics of heroic deeds. The only other decoration evident was statues and busts of Emperors, Gods and generals placed at strategic points.
Salonius noted with interest that a great emphasis had been placed on the last dynasty of Quintus and the architects of the Empire’s rebirth twenty years ago. Of course, Sabian had been a part of those momentous events, and yet no bust of the marshal was visible, evidence of his self-effacing modesty. A shrine to the Emperor at the end of the first main corridor exhibited a statue of Darius the Just, with a bust of marshal Caerdin to his right and some young man Salonius didn’t recognise, but who bore a look of infinite sadness.
Turning at the shrine, they strode on past a hall of generals and finally to an octagonal room, lit by a glazed oculus in the ceiling. Doors radiated from the room in four directions, with alcoves between them displaying the symbols of the Empire and of the Dynasty of Quintus. The commander came to a halt and rapped on one of the doors. Two black-clad guardsmen opened the door from within to show a much more utilitarian, whitewashed concrete corridor. The commander gestured to the men.
“These two will escort you to your accommodation for the night and explain where everything is. I’m afraid that we must leave you here. The marshal wishes to see the Lady Catilina and then I have to speak to the hospital and have the surgeons report to the palace.”
Salonius winced. Sabian would be furious with his daughter, and worried sick. As the commander saluted and he and Catilina left through a different doorway, the young man was impressed with the pride and confidence with which she held her head high. Watching her disappear, he turned back to the others to find Varro smirking at him.
“What?” he asked irritably.
“She can take care of herself, Salonius,” the captain grinned.
One of the guards cleared his throat and the two of them joined Petrus who had already stepped into the corridor. Salonius noticed that the guards were glowering at him with some unreadable negative emotion behind their stony countenances and realised how this must look to professional soldiers. Here he was, a guard himself, answering back a Captain as though they were of an equal rank. He suddenly wondered when it had started to feel comfortable referring to Varro by name and not deferring to him. Curious.
The three travel-worn men walked the corridors with their escort, finally arriving at the guest quarters a few minutes later. One of the guards who accompanied them gestured to a series of doors along the right side of the corridor and cleared his throat.
“These three rooms will be yours. The baths…”
Varro waved a hand to cut him short and smiled.
“I know where everything is, soldier. Been here plenty of times. You two are dismissed.”
The guardsman shook his head and stood straight.
“I’m afraid that’s not your decision, sir. The marshal has given explicit orders that the three of you are to be under our protection at all times.”
Varro glared at him as though the force of his stare would make the guard back down, but Sabian’s men were of stronger stuff. The captain sighed and glanced at his two companions, looking them up and down.
“Very well. I presume our gear is being brought here shortly?”
The guardsman nodded.
“Alright then. Would you care to protect us to the bath house?”
As Varro leaned back on the crisp white sheets and allowed his head to sink gratefully into the goose-down pillow, he sighed with happiness. He’d extinguished the small oil lamp that burned on the small table beside the bed almost twenty minutes ago and yet, despite his weariness, sleep was slow in coming. His mind continued to reel and he continually reran the events and revelations of the last week in his head.
He was still on edge over the delay in seeing Sabian. Oh, he could understand tonight, for certain. The marshal would be tearing strips off his daughter, but that was not the reason for the pause. Sabian knew of Varro’s condition and, given the exertions of the last few days, he was being careful with them all and allowing them time and space to recover before plunging on into ever deepening circles of treachery, particularly in the case of Varro.
He sighed. Thinking about his condition made him hurt. Either he’d been remarkably lucky with his pain so far or his fortitude was greater than Scortius had estimated. He’d taken the medication for his mental state religiously three times a day but had often wondered whether he could have got away with less; his fuzzy cloudiness had never returned. And only twice had he had to take more than one dose of the pain medication in a single day: once after they had nailed up the two men in the village, when he’d exerted himself too much and wrenched his wound, and once after the crazy ride back down from Saravis Fork. The horse riding had not been kind on him. Though perhaps it was the pain, the insistent, dull, nagging pain that was really keeping him awake tonight?