Interregnum (63 page)

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 changed 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.”

Darius looked across at Tythias, who nodded, a sour look crossing his face.

“Very well,” the young Emperor growled. “If war’s on its way, let’s get ready to meet it head on. Prefect… have the men fall out in the courtyard. We ride for the camp tonight.”

Tythias nodded and made for the door, leaving the others alone. Darius left the Wolves and Sathina with their reunion and strode across to Silvas, who sat drumming his fingers on the table. The lord looked less than happy.

“I presume I’ve no need to hammer home anything the young lord said just now?”

Silvas shook his head sadly. “I remember Gaius Pelianus. He was one of the old school. If you’re marshalling your army to march now, bring them past here. Velutio must be nearly two weeks away if he’s moving an army the size of his from Pelian’s estate. Bring your army to my lands and I’ll bend my knee before you, young Emperor.”

Brendan was still staring at Balo and Athas smiled sadly. “Before we reach the camp, there’s something you need to know about the rest of them, Balo.”

Chapter XXIX

The gate at Hadrus rattled open as Darius and his extended entourage rode up the dusty path from the foothills. On either side of the Emperor rode the young lord Pelian and Tythias, the Imperial ‘courtiers’ behind them, surrounded by Darius’ guard, with the worn and weary men of Pelian’s estate bringing up the rear.

Tythias looked up at the sergeant in charge of the gatehouse as he reined in his horse just inside. “Treble the gate guard and be alert for a party perhaps an hour behind us. They are not to be fired upon or admitted until the Emperor, the general and myself have been summoned.” Turning his attention to one of the soldiers gathering in the dusty square to help with the horses, he continued as he dismounted. “Go and find all the senior commanders and staff officers and have them go to the meeting hall in the headquarters building.”

As the rest of the party rattled in behind him, he grasped another passing soldier by the shoulder. “These are Lord Pelian’s men. Have them quarters assigned and take them to draw uniforms and equipment from the stores.”

The men inside the gate burst into life, running the various errands Tythias had assigned as Darius and the others dismounted and strode toward the headquarters building. The young lord Pelian looked around himself in awe. “What is this place and where are we going?” he enquired of Athas as they walked.