Sabian shook his head. “I tend to find my men get jumpy and nervous if I give them too much time to think before a battle.”
“That’s because your men are from the southern provinces, though” Kiva replied with a grin. “The two brigades I took with me up from Vengen were both formed in the fort there of northerners. Don’t forget that you southerners like to drink watered wine and listen to music to relax. The people I came from drink a mixture of strong spirits and ox blood and fight each other for amusement. If it’s that sort of blood in your army, letting them relax their way just makes them look forward to a good battle. That’s why I always tried to allocate the northern brigades to myself and left the southern ones to Avitus and Leus. Covis was a whole different issue. He was from Germalla and he liked his eastern cavalry. All well and good in open field, but they were precious little use at Serfium when he came up against the other two.” The general went very quiet and gazed off past Sabian into the distance. That subject still haunted him and the commander knew well what had happened then.
Sabian leaned back against the bars and shuffled uncomfortably. He’d been coming down here three days now. It had begun as an unpleasant and stifled discussion. Caerdin had been understandably reluctant to talk and had continually pushed him for any information on what Velutio had planned. By the second visit though, he’d managed to turn the conversation to military tactics and the flood gates of the general’s experience had opened. Since then he’d been several times, sometimes bringing food and sometimes drink. He’d supplied them with blankets instead of straw now. He wished he could do more, but nothing would change the fact that they were in prison with a very finite life expectancy, and that was shrinking by the day. He sighed.
“I realise that this is a bit personal, but I want to ask you something, general.”
Kiva smiled indulgently. “I think you could safely call me by my given name now Sabian. “
The commander shook his head. “I’m sorry but I think I’d rather keep this by rank. I’m uncomfortable getting too familiar in the circumstances. Had things been different…”
Kiva nodded. He’d thought he was getting somewhere with the commander. He actually liked Sabian and had the distinct feeling it was this man’s doing that the four of them weren’t dead already. Sabian had a surprisingly strong influence on Velutio it seemed. “Go on then” he encouraged with a smile.
The commander shuffled again. “Why did you withdraw from public life? After it all happened, I mean. His lordship fought for his own position, Leus supported him until he came to an… unfortunate end.” He remembered well the story he’d read about the revenge Caerdin exacted on Marshal Leus before he went after Avitus. He cleared his throat. “And Covis fought for the preservation of the status quo. But you? You went on a bloodthirsty revenge spree and then vanished for years. To be honest I didn’t know you were even alive until his lordship told me who Quintillian was travelling with.”
He sat and watched the various emotions crossing the general’s face. The question was an uncomfortable one and he knew it. He’d briefly wondered whether to mention what he found out about Darius on the island, but it would be cruel to tell the condemned man that his son was still alive and also a prisoner of Velutio’s. Especially when the general would never live to see his son. Besides, Velutio had forbidden any discussion about the occupants of the prison or the island with anyone not in his lordship’s pay.
Kiva coughed. “It wasn’t an easy time Sabian. I’d done some fairly unpleasant things and had others done to me. I lost my family, my house, my Emperor, my position; everything. On top of that, I knew it was me alone who was responsible for killing a divine power and bringing the Empire down. What was I supposed to do? Walk into the public square and declare it all. No. I just had to get away. Once the Wolves found me we just went north and disappeared. We’d still be anonymous and obscure now if it weren’t for Quintillian’s appearance. Against all the odds he managed to get us all fired up again and ready to do something about the state of the world.” He sighed. “Needless to say, this is the result. I’m a cursed man; a deicide, and nothing I do will ever come right because of it.”
Sabian shook his head. “Gods are highly overrated. I didn’t think you northerners were all that bothered with religion anyway. It’s come to this, general, because there are so few of you left now and my lord’s resources are so vast. It was inevitable.”
Kiva sat in silence for a moment, though he didn’t look convinced. “When are we to die, commander?”
Here we go again, though Sabian. Every visit the question would crop up at least once and the truth was that the commander didn’t know Velutio’s intentions any better than the prisoners.
“I don’t know, as I keep telling you. All I can hope is that when he does decide, it’s quick and noble. By the sword I would prefer, as military men. Over in a second and the proper way for renowned soldiers to go.” He frowned. “I’m not convinced that will be the way of it to be honest, but I myself won’t be party to anything else, I assure you.”
Sabian stood slowly and stiffly and stretched. “I must go again. His lordship wants to see me at lunch time. I hope…” his voice trailed away as the foolish words died in his throat. He turned to the door and motioned at the guard standing at the opposite wall. The young man stepped forward and unlocked the cell door, letting the commander out and then closing and locking it once more.
With a final bow to the prisoners, Sabian turned and walked along the corridor and up the steps to the outside. He crossed the courtyard and entered Velutio’s private palace on the other side, the two soldiers at the doorway standing to attention as he passed. Through the man hall and up the golden-white marble staircase, he made his way along the corridor to the door at the end. With a swift rap on the door he paused and, leaning to one side, picked up an apple from the fruit dish and took a bite from it.
A voice from beyond the door called for him and he reached out and opened it.
Velutio sat in the bay window, a scroll unrolled on his lap. He beckoned to Sabian and the commander crossed the room and with a curt bow took the seat opposite.
“You wanted to see me, my Lord?”
“Yes” the older man said without looking up from the scroll. “There are remarkably few people who will speak their mind to me, you know? Perhaps half a dozen the world over. You have the privilege to be one of them and I do find that I value your opinion.” He looked up over the edge of the scroll. “That doesn’t mean you don’t irritate me at times and it doesn’t mean that I will always follow your advice, but I do like to hear it before I make my decisions.”
Sabian nodded. He wondered whether this was to do with the fate of the four prisoners. If so, he may be able to do something at last.
“Thank you my Lord. I try to advise you to the best of my ability.” He shrugged. “On military matters anyway.”
Velutio nodded. He rolled the scroll once more and placed it in the tube before dropping it into the basket next to the seat.
“Sabian, what is your assessment of my position at the moment?”
The question was a surprise, but a welcome one. Here was a subject the commander knew well. “I assume you mean in a military way? There are perhaps seven or eight lords in the Northern, Central or Eastern Provinces that still have an army large enough that they could consider fielding it against you, but I very much doubt that any of them would, especially if you call in your various allegiances.”
Velutio nodded. “Go on.”
“Well, the Western Provinces are different. We’ve never really concentrated on the lords there, but once we have all those on this side of the Nymphean Sea under the yoke, the Western Provinces will fall in short order. I would give it three months of campaigning and there’ll be no one left to stand against you. You’ll have total control.”