Interregnum Page 43

  “I know,” smiled Brendan. “I’m a bit of a liar, y’see?”

  Oblivious to the final throws of the man on the walls, Darius, accompanied by his courtiers and the members of his now very alert and unhappy personal guard made their way through into the great hall on the heels of Lord Silvas himself.

  The room continued the military theme of the palace itself. Big and impressive, the hall was of stone rather than marble or brick, with buttresses on the interior as well as the exterior on which oil lamps burned, augmenting the small amount of light the windows admitted. Flags in red and white and military regalia decorated the room and the flagstones had been laid cunningly to provide a map of the Silvas lands. This lord was proud of his heritage and Darius dredged his formidable knowledge of political history. He had vague recollections of the name. The family had been local governors for generations; a most unusual situation, since governorship was usually granted on a five-yearly basis by the Imperial court. One of the earlier Silvas members had presumably so impressed the Emperor of the time that the family had been granted the position in perpetuity; no small honour.

  Silvas himself stood to one side of his huge chair behind a table at the far end of the room. Again, Darius was struck by how many nuances of Imperial etiquette he had picked up from his classes under Sarios and the other tutors without even realising it at the time. To have taken a seat would have been to deny the validity of Darius’ claim. The fact that the lord hadn’t knelt showed nothing. He’d as yet taken no oath, but neither did he dispute any claim. He was vaguely aware of Athas and a few others coming in behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at Tythias, standing stern and unmoving, despite the arrow jutting from his shoulder and Sathina behind him fussing and muttering.

  “Prefect, have the men fall out to wherever they’re allocated. I don’t imagine we’re in any further danger.”

  Tythias nodded and began issuing orders to the various lesser officers with them. One of Silvas’ servants showed the guard officers outside and to their lodgings, while a half dozen of them formed and remained with their Emperor. Darius paid no attention to the organisation going on, fixing his gaze on Silvas.

  “Your lordship, before we begin anything, do you have a doctor that could look at my prefect’s wound? I regret we have no medic in our party.”

  Silvas nodded. “I’ve already sent for him. Please; there are plenty of seats and tables. Everyone should make themselves comfortable and you and your closest should join me here.”

  Darius made a few small motions and walked steadily across the hall to the table where a half dozen seats had been arranged. Alongside him, Athas, Tythias and Sathina strode ahead.

  “You’ve met the army’s executive officer, Prefect Tythias. May I also introduce Athas, a captain and a member of the Wolves and Sathina, lady of the Imperial court and one of my advisors.”

  Silvas blinked. “You have a woman as an advisor? A bit of a frivolity, no?”

  Sathina bridled and Tythias clamped his hand on her shoulder. Darius smiled. “This is no ordinary woman, Silvas. She’s infiltrated a court and saved the life of General Caerdin. I value her highly as do my senior commanders.”

  Silvas smiled, unsure of whether to laugh or not. As the last of a series of emotions passed across his face, he turned to her and bowed. “Then I’m pleased to know you, Lady Sathina. Such beauty and reckless bravery rarely fit together.” He gestured to the seats at the table and, with a nod, Darius took the central one opposite the lord. As the others seated themselves, Silvas being the last, Brendan arrived in the doorway, exchanged very quick words with one of Darius’ guard and then strode up to the table.

  “Ah, captain, take a seat”, the Emperor said.

  Brendan smiled as he sat at one side, his forehead smeared in blood. “Sorry I’m late, highness. Bit of a barny m’afraid.”

  Darius nodded. “Yes, I noticed. I hope it’s dealt with.” He turned his attention to lord Silvas, who was still watching his guests with a curious and appraising smile. “Where do we begin then? You’re an anomaly, Silvas… one of very few powerful lords who’ve remained independent.”

  Silvas leaned forward, his elbows on the table and cradling his hands. “I’m well aware that a time is coming when I must put aside my independence and choose a side. I’m not very happy about it, but I’m also aware enough to realise I have no other choice. Lord Velutio has been consolidating a claim to the throne for at least a decade. He may not be of Imperial blood but he knows how to control and he’s been very much unstoppable. He ripped the independence out of most of my neighbours either by fear or be the sword and I’m not sure whether it’s because of my strength, my reputation or merely inconvenience that he’s left me alone thus far. And he’ll come for me very soon. He’s finished dealing with the western lords, according to my last report and is already on the move back to the city. Once he reaches the central provinces I shall be high on his list and my time will be up. I have absolutely no intention of taking my army to Munda to join with you and leaving my lands to be ravaged by brigands and then by Velutio, but also if the lord should arrive here with his army, rest assured I will take my oath to him there and then to save the lives of my soldiers and prevent the destruction of my territory. I find it very hard to believe that you could persuade me otherwise, I’m afraid.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Though you’re welcome to try.”

  Darius cleared his throat. “I came here, Silvas, to appeal to your sense of duty and tradition. I may have been mistaken in that. From everything I’ve seen so far, you are in no need of any more sense of duty or tradition than you already have. Your army is loyal and strong and you have the support of your men. You seem to be basing your decisions on the good of your men and your lands, which is as noble a thing as I could ask.”

  He stood and stepped away from his chair.

  “When was this flagstone floor put in, could I ask?”

  Silvas shrugged. “Almost a hundred years ago. Why?”

  “This floor shows your domain as it is today. That means that at least four generations of your family have controlled these lands. Unusual, I’d say. What did your ancestor do to receive that kind of honour from the Emperor?”

  Another shrug. “Marcus Pilatus Silvas was a Marshal of the army and a close friend of the Emperor. He saved the Emperor’s life during a riot at the games in Velutio. These are our lands in perpetuity by Imperial decree and we look after them.”

  “Can you imagine Velutio giving out such an honour?”

  Silvas shuffled in his seat. “This rhetoric’s tiring. No; to answer your question, I can’t see Velutio doing such a thing. And before you say it, I’ve also given thought to the likelihood that he would not allow hereditary titles. All I can do is try to convince him to leave me my lands and if he will not, at least I will have saved them from destruction at his hands.”

  Darius nodded. “Frankly, lord Silvas, I think you give more credit to Velutio than he deserves. I don’t know how much dealing you’ve had with him in the past, but I would assume not much by the fact that you remain independent. Velutio is cruel and vindictive and not trustworthy. I have personally seen him crucify and beat men to death for doing nothing other than protecting their family. He has burned entire estates and trampled lands merely to remove an inconvenience. You claim to have thought in advance about these things, but I think you are, in fact, being short-sighted. You have no conception of what you are letting yourself in for if you accept Velutio as the power of the land. I don’t think I’m here to convince you to join us. I think you should convince us to let you come to Munda.”

  Silvas blinked. His voice was low and angry. “No one has spoken to me like that in my entire life. I ought to have you flogged for it. I do not have to answer to someone with a spurious claim to the throne with the backing of an army led by a regicide. Careful of the ground on which you walk, young man.”

  Darius nodded. “Small threats should be beneath you, lord Silvas. Yo
u are not the man I expected.” He glanced across at Tythias. “Gather the men. We’re leaving Silvas to his fate.”

  Turning on his heel, he strode toward his honour guard by the doorway. For a long moment, Athas and Silvas glared at each other across the table and then the rest of the Imperial entourage stood and made their way across the hall.

  Silvas clenched and unclenched his fists rhythmically, his teeth grinding until he stood sharply. “Stay your ground young Emperor. I offered you my hospitality and I still do.”

  Darius stopped at the door and turned. “You have something further to say, lord Silvas?”

  Silvas growled as he strode across the hall toward them. “You’re a strong willed young man and quite brave; very brave in fact. You may be a good choice for the throne and you’d certainly be a better choice than Velutio, even though I can’t conceive of any way in which you can win this. The fact remains that I still haven’t made my decision and that despite your apparent unconcern, I know that you need us as much as we may need you. I still will not march my men to Munda and leave my lands unprotected and I also that you are equally unwilling to bring your army here. And so we’re at something of an impasse. However, I respect that you truly believe that you are doing the right thing by me and I have the serious nagging feeling that you may be right. We cannot compromise, but I will give you my word on this: If Velutio arrives at my door demanding fealty, I will give it and will not renege. I believe that an oath should not be broken. However, if your army marches and arrives in my lands before Velutio sets his sights on me, I will willingly take your oath and my men will fight for you. More than that I cannot say. Do not think me short-sighted or a coward. I must look after my people and if you aim to be Emperor, you must understand that.”

  Slowly, Darius nodded. “I apologise for any perceived slight on your honour, lord Silvas. I never intended to imply cowardice. Very well, our army will move out soon and I very much believe you will see us march before Velutio.”

  Ushering them back toward the seats, Silvas smiled weakly. “I hope so, young Emperor. I very much hope so.”

  “Do you think he’ll really join us?” Darius asked, tipping more rich red wine from the jug into his goblet. “I felt he would have liked to have pledged to us today had we been ready to march.”

  Athas nodded. “He meant what he said. Silvas is very old-fashioned and believes in the sanctity of the Imperial oath. He’ll join us if we can give him a show of strength before Velutio threatens his lands.”

  Tythias nodded, tearing off a piece of lamb and waving it to emphasise his words. “That’s what I’ve been coming across for months: people who want change and are hopeful that we’ll succeed, but unwilling to commit at the time. They won’t leave their lands. If we’d rallied our army down here on the plains, we’d have seen a lot more lords join us.”

  He chewed on the fresh lamb as Brendan leaned forward, slamming his empty mug back to the table. “Problem is, if we’d gathered here, Velutio’d ‘ave been on us in a week. We’ve only stayed safe coz ‘e didn’t know where we was.”

  Tythias winced as he turned to reach for his mug. The bandages across his shoulder showed only a small trace of blood, despite the obvious discomfort he felt. Silvas’ doctor had been thorough and efficient.

  “Nevertheless,” the scarred prefect added. “We need these people. Lord Cirpi was nice and easy to convince and I’d say he’ll be as loyal as the day is long, but he’s got less than four hundred men and they’re not even particularly good soldiers. I can’t see them making that much difference. Lord Sala said he’d take the oath but that he’ll only march his men with ours when we pass his lands. Now he’s got over a thousand good men, but I’m not entirely convinced he’ll do what he says.”

  Darius reached out, waving his finger at Tythias, but before he could say anything there was a knock at the door of the suite that had been set aside for Darius.

  “Come in” the young Emperor called out.

  The heavy wooden door swung open and one of Silvas’ guards stepped in, sweating and out of breath. “Sorry to interrupt your lordships, but some men have turned up asking for a sergeant Athas and my lord told me to find you.”

  The group looked around at each other in surprise. “Must be from Caerdin,” grunted Tythias. “No-one else knows we’re here.”

  Gathering their cloaks and weapons, Darius, Tythias, Brendan, Athas and Sathina made for the door. “Take us to this man.”

  The guard led them through the corridors and stairwells of the palace and finally down to the great hall, into which they stepped through a side door. Silvas sat in his chair behind the table looking tired. He nodded at them as they entered and gestured to a small group of dusty and travel-worn men that stood in the centre of the room. As the Imperial party approached, Darius started to make out more details in the low light of the sparse oil lamps in the hall. There were five of them. They were all dressed in heavy and stained travelling leathers with weapons slung at their sides, but one was little more than a boy, perhaps nine years old and the man beside him was old and quite tall, favouring one leg, presumably due to some ancient would. His hair covered only half his head, hanging long and grey down his back, while the other half was a network of scars that ran down his face and around his ear, disappearing at the neck into his tunic. A fearful sight, the wounds made the man appear to wear a sardonic grin even when he frowned, as he did now.

  Athas stepped out in front.

  “Someone asked for me? I’d be intrigued to know how you knew of me.”

  The old man looked down at the young boy, who nodded.

  “We were passing through the village here on the way to Munda,” he said, “when I heard tell of a big black man wearing a Wolf pelt that’d come through this afternoon. That’s not a common sight and it had to be worth the detour to make sure.”

  Athas frowned as he stepped closer. “You were on your way to Munda? Just the five of you?”

  The boy stepped forward toward Athas. “There are five hundred and twenty seven of us in total, though the rest of my men stayed in the village. We seek general Caerdin and the new Emperor.”

  Darius now brushed past Athas and looked down at the boy, only ten years or so his junior. “I am the Emperor you seek, but who are you?”

  The boy straightened as best he could. His voice was filled with pride and something else that Darius recognised: loss and hatred. “I am Lord Julius Pelianus. My friends call me Julian and I’m hoping that you’re my friends.”

  Darius laughed. “I think you could say that. Welcome, Lord Pelianus. How come such a young Lord is marching his men to Munda?”

  Julian glowered. “There would have been almost three times as many of us, but Velutio has just been through my lands like a plague of locusts, culling anything that moved and breathed. He cut my father’s throat for daring to speak out in favour of you. I have brought his men; my men, to serve you as he would have wished.” He fell to one knee before Darius. “I give you my oath, my Emperor, that we are yours. Let me help you gut that murdering bastard.”

  Darius smiled sadly and placed his hand on the boy’s head. “I accept your oath, Julian. Be welcome to our army and our court.” He glanced over toward Silvas, who was frowning, deep in thought. To say anything to him now would be to press the obvious.

  Athas was still staring at the old man with the scarred head who grinned, though perhaps involuntarily, back at him.

  “Do I know you?” the burly dark man queried.

  “You damn well should,” the man replied, stepping forward. “We got matching tattoos once at Germalla. Kiva didn’t stop shouting at us for a week.” Now the grin was definitely genuine.

  Darius looked across at Athas, his brows knitted. “You know this man?”

  A broad grin had spread across Athas’ face and he took another hesitant step forward. “Balo?”

  The man edged forward again and held out a hand in greeting. His arm was as scarred as his face. “I know I’ve chan
ged a little, but surely not that much.”

  Athas knocked the hand aside and stepped close, enclosing the man in a great bear hug. It was only once he’d moved out of the way that Darius saw the look of amazement on Brendan’s face also. The shaven-headed captain stood stunned as the big dark-skinned man all but crushed the new arrival. When Athas stepped back and released Balo, the old man was struggling for breath. “Hell, Athas, you’ve got stronger!”

  Now Brendan pushed past Athas and gripped the man by the upper arms, staring at him. “But you’re dead, Balo! Dead a decade ago. How the hell?”

  “Ahem. A reunion?”

  They all turned to look at Darius, who was watching them with one raised eyebrow and his arms folded. It was at this point that Balo frowned. He walked toward Darius and reached out. The young Emperor flinched for a moment, but the scarred man just reached up to touch the wolf-pelt hanging at his shoulder. “Your majesty wears the emblem of the Wolves. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or offended.”

  Brendan laughed. “Impressed, Balo. If yer’d seen ‘im fight, yer’d think e’d been one of us fer decades. Come on, though… What ‘appened to you?”

  “That’s a story for another time, when we meet up with the rest of them. Right now, Lord Pelian and the rest of us have been riding like lunatics for a week to get to you. We need to get our men up to Munda and you need to come back too. Straight away.”

  “Why?” Darius stared at him.

  “Because Velutio’s commander has sent a letter of terms to you, which is only a day or so behind us being carried by a Pelasian escorted by a few of Velutio’s men, but he’s also turned the army and is marching it towards Munda. Time’s running out, Emperor. You know his terms will be unacceptable and so does he, so he’s manoeuvring his army already. Whatever you were planning to do with your forces, you need to get it ready to march straight away if you want to keep any initiative. A battle’s coming and it’s coming fast.”