He gestured down the slope and the two started walking again.
“There is something I want to know though. Darius doesn’t know he’s Caerdin’s son and Caerdin thinks his wife and child died twenty years ago. Right now, given they’re both here, why haven’t you told them?”
Sarios gave him an appraising glance. “I wasn’t aware that you yourself knew. The only people who did before you were myself and Velutio. I won’t ask how you found out, but I do suggest that you forget about it completely.”
“Why?” Sabian was insistent.
Sarios sighed. “Because it would cause them both a great deal of pain. Can we not leave it at that?”
Sabian shook his head. “I don’t think so. Given that I’ve risked my neck now for both of them and I already know the what, you have to tell me the why.”
Another sigh. Sarios dropped his eyes to the floor. “Have you not wondered why Darius didn’t die in the flames and how he came to be in Velutio’s hands?”
Sabian nodded. “Of course I have. Nothing short of miraculous, I’d say.”
“Nothing short of tragedy I rather think,” replied the minister. “He survived because he wasn’t in the villa that day; indeed he wasn’t in Serfium at all. Nor was his mother. The two bodies he found in the villa I fancy must have been two of the villa’s servants. No, it certainly wasn’t them. You see, I saw Livilla after the fire.”
Sabian’s eyes widened gradually as he listened. “Then they were here?”
“No.” The minister’s voice had fallen to a husky, sad whisper. “They were in Velutio; in a place that’s no longer there. Twenty years ago there was a palace on the headland opposite the Imperial one. The golden tower used for shipping warnings is the only part that still stands. That palace belonged to the Marshall of the Central Provinces, you see…”
His voice tailed off into silence. The tale was clearly causing the minister pain to relate, but he needn’t say any more. Sabian’s jaw dropped as the connection fired.
“She was with Velutio!”
Sarios nodded sadly. “Avitus as he was known then. They had been lovers for some time. Not long enough for Darius to be his, mind, but some months. She’d been left on her own with a young babe, you see, while Caerdin charged around the world unwillingly committing atrocities for the Emperor. The more Quintus’ madness began to manifest, the colder and bleaker Caerdin became. She couldn’t cope with him the way he was and I didn’t like him much myself towards the end.” He sighed. “So I can understand why she did what she did, but I can’t forgive it.”
“So what happened to Livilla?” Sabian enquired.
“She put a knife through her own throat the day after Caerdin fought Avitus. She was buried on the island here, in an unmarked grave near to her family.”
He turned to face Sabian. “You see now why this has to stay a secret. We’ve brought Darius up to think he was the son of a fairly well-to-do commander. Fulvius has no living relatives and Velutio commandeered the estate, so there’s no way to trace the truth. Unless one of us lets it slip. Bear in mind that the truth would not only destroy Caerdin, but may irreparably damage Darius. For both their sakes’ we have to keep the whole thing very secret.”
Sabian whistled. “Hell yes. It answers quite a few questions, though. I couldn’t help but wonder why his lordship was so determined to destroy all of you and any trace of the Imperial blood, but still wanted to adopt Darius. He must have actually cared for her, you know? I’ve never seen Velutio care for anything. It’s logic, whether good or bad, that decides his path, not emotion or values. Gods, I’ve got to get Darius to him after it’s all over. The lad deserves to inherit it all.”
The minister stopped as they reached the baths and raised his voice, pointing his finger at the commander. “ Never ! Caerdin and I may have had our disagreements, but he was a true servant of the Empire, loyal above all others, and it would be the worst dishonour I could do him to allow that to happen. If Darius ever inherits the throne, it will be in his own way and through his own merits. Not because of that adulterous coward.”
Sabian stood for a moment in silence. The minister’s face had taken on a high colour as they’d talked and for the first time in all his visits throughout the years, Sabian’d heard the man shout. It seemed wrong. The minister was the calmest, most stoic and moderate man the commander had ever met. He stood for a moment breathing as the minister glared at him and then turned and walked into the bath house. There was too much to absorb; too much importance here to dismiss it immediately. He’d have to think on it later. Gods damn Isera. Every time he came to the island, life became just a little bit more complicated. With an uncomfortable sigh, he entered the baths.
Brendan had never been the quietest or subtlest of the Wolves. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses and had never been the sort to scout, take point or be a runner. Front line in a fight was fine. And he’d much rather anyone else had been where he was at this time. Marco would have been able to do this so much easier, but there’d been no time to find him. He’d been at one of the ground floor rear windows of the palace when he’d seen the Captain that had arrived on the ship come out of the palace door and duck into the shadows. In a corner that was well hidden from the world in general, but clearly visible from that particular window, the captain had removed his helmet and cloak. He’d donned one of the long robes the elder scribes of the island wore before leaving the shadows again, looking to all intents and purposes like any other islander. With absolutely no time to think, Brendan had stepped out of the doorway and run as quietly as possible to the next tree. As quickly as he dared and not as quietly as he’d like, he moved from vantage point to vantage point, following the captain. Finally, as they’d rounded the ruined walls of the Golden House, he saw what the man was up to. The commander, Sabian, was walking and talking with minister Sarios. He’d no real love for Sabian. However much the others might laud him, to Brendan he was as yet an unknown quantity, still a servant of the enemy; but he did know Sarios for a good man and the two of them in private conversation would be nothing harmful to Darius or the Wolves. So by extension a man secretly following them had to be up to no good.
He’d seen the two men disappear into the doorway of the extramural bath house just as the disguised captain reached the bole of a particularly large tree. He himself skidded to an all-too-noisy halt behind a low bush, watching the captain through the upper tendrils. A moment passed as the captain waited for his quarry to move deeper inside the edifice and then he moved very quietly, but surprisingly fast to the entrance of the baths, taking up a stance by the doorway and leaning close enough to the door to hear the echoed conversation within. The man slowly pushed back the hood from the cloak to facilitate his spying and all his attention was riveted to the bath house.
Brendan smiled a smile of pure malice as he slowly moved to the huge tree the captain had last frequented, hoping his prey wouldn’t turn and notice the somewhat noisy pursuer. He paused at the huge trunk and pondered, suddenly well aware that he’d left both his sword and dagger back in his quarters. Hell, he’d only been out to answer a call of nature, otherwise he’d be safely hidden away and blissfully unaware of the events outside the walls. Grumbling quietly to himself about his lack of blades, he looked around desperately until his eyes lit on a large branch lying half buried beneath a wild, creeping bush. Crouching, he reached out and slowly teased the branch from beneath the fronds of the plant. Every time the bush shook or the branch caught on something, Brendan winced and snapped his head back to check on the captain, but each time the man was more intent on what was going on inside and his attention couldn’t be easily diverted.