Interregnum (71 page)

Darius sat in the command tent in his tunic and breeches, rubbing his shoulders where the cuirass had chafed during the previous day’s travel. He eyed the armour with distaste and took another bite of the bread, cheese and olive oil that had been delivered for breakfast. In the main room of his tent, his chair formed part of a circle and several of the others were currently occupied. Sarios looked somewhat out of place surrounded by Tythias, Athas, Mercurias, Brendan, Marco and the rest of the commanders. They sat patiently, eating their own bread and cheese and waiting for their Emperor to speak his mind.

“I want to discuss the command of the army with you all.”

There was a gentle murmur in the room, but not of surprise, considering the company.

“General Caerdin is more than just a great commander, he’s a figurehead to whom people have flocked. Our army would be half the size it is without his name.” Darius swallowed. It hurt him to talk like this. “But we have to consider the possibility that he will not be in a position to command by the time the lines of battle are drawn.”

Now the murmur grew louder and angrier, but Mercurias waved his hand. “Shut up. He’s right, you goat-brained idiots.”

Darius nodded at the medic. “I hate to have to consider this, but we’d be failing the men if we didn’t at least think about it. I know that we’ve some very capable commanders in our midst here. I know that Tythias and Sithis, among others, are qualified and experienced in leading an army in the field. I expect that, as second in command, you all agree with Caerdin’s decision that Tythias would take command in the event of his absence, much as he has now.” He turned to the one-armed Prefect.

“The only question is: do you think you can beat Sabian, Prefect? I know that Caerdin worries about that himself and he’s one of the most celebrated generals in Imperial history. Without Caerdin’s brain and presence, can we hope to outmanoeuvre Sabian on a battlefield?”

Brendan leaned forward. “Kiva ain’t dead yet, yer majesty. ‘E’ll surprise y’all yet, an’ I’m sure e’s got a plan as twisted as a God’s dick.”

Darius nodded. “Everyone believes that and he probably does. He’s certainly been planning something for some time now, but no one knows what it is. He’s playing everything so close to his chest that no one has an inkling. Whatever he’s planning involves Cialo. Ever since the man’s joined us, Caerdin’s had him running missions and now he’s taken Balo, Favio and Cialo to scout out the battlefield he wants. I know he’s up to something with Cialo, and Favio’s obviously there for medical support, but I’ve no idea why he’s involving Balo, since the man plainly stated he wanted nothing to do with command.”

The young Emperor shifted uncomfortably.

“The problem is that the general’s health is failing rapidly. I don’t know how many of you have seen the signs?”

There was another murmur around the room, this time registering some surprise. Mercurias leaned forward again. “The general’s old wound is getting much worse. I can only assume we’re reaching a critical stage since he won’t let me near him. I know that his dosage of mare’s mead has at least tripled over the last week and his body can’t stand much more of that. Kiva’s trying to push himself along to do things rather than lie back and extend his life expectancy, and that’s probably doing him more harm than the wound itself, but he’s a surprisingly robust man and I’d not be surprised if he managed to keep active a lot longer than Favio expects.”

He sighed and leaned back.

“But I think the general will not outlast this campaign. The army must
not
hear about this under any circumstances. I’m sure you can all understand why.”

“So…” Darius straightened again. “Tythias. As soon as Caerdin gets back you need to find out what his plan is. We need to know in case he doesn’t live to see it through. In the meantime, we need to think about any necessary reorganisation. I would like Sithis to take the position of third in command so that there’s still two senior officers should anything happen suddenly to the general.”

There were nods of agreement among the long and unhappy faces in the room. Brendan stood and straightened himself. “Mercurias is right though. Kiva’s strong. ‘E’ll surprise us all yet.” Turning, he saluted the Emperor. “Is that all, highness? I got a regiment ter get mobilised.”

Darius nodded and the officers began to stand and dissipate. The world here was a vastly different place to the confines of Isera where he’d had to make no decisions affecting other folk. Now he was forced to plan the fate of thousands; maybe millions. In the past weeks, Kiva had been with him constantly, suggesting and nudging him in the right directions, making sure he did what was best and right without having to handle the crucial decisions himself. In the last week, though, the general had begun to pull away from that, spending more and more time alone; admittedly often because of convalescence. Caerdin seemed to spend all his time now with Cialo and Balo, even eschewing his own unit, and his lack of counsel was a loss that Darius felt deeply.

As the commanders in the room stood and made their way bowing and saluting to the door, Athas stepped toward Darius. Waiting until the last of the others had left, he pulled a seat closer to the Emperor’s and collapsed heavily into it.

“You worry a great deal about losing Kiva, don’t you?”

Darius nodded. “Of course. He’s the linchpin that holds the army together and our strategist…”

“I’m not talking about that, Darius, and you know it. Sarios spent his entire life on the island preparing you for this, but he was never close to you, was he? I know how close Sabian was to you. I suspect he even felt like family; an uncle or some such?”

Darius looked down at the floor and nodded slowly.

“And now he’s gone from you,” the big black captain went on. “He’s the enemy and that’s hard enough for you to deal with. And then you got to know Kiva and he’s taken much the same role with you: protector, advisor, even father-figure perhaps. And now you know you’re going to lose him. It’s
going
to be hard on you; you’re still a young man, Darius. It’s cutting
me
up deep inside knowing in a few weeks he’ll be gone from us. I’ve known him almost all my life and I’ve never been as close to anyone. He’s been a brother to me since we met on the battlefield at the Galtic Narrows and the rest of the Wolves feel much the same. Mercurias deals with it by being angry at him for what he sees as shortening his own life for the sake of the campaign. Brendan’s in denial; he thinks Kiva will live forever. Marco’s all but stopped speaking to people and I notice he’s started drinking quite heavily. And I’m bottling it all up, because someone has to keep control. That, I suspect is why he’s spending so much time with Balo, Cialo and Favio. He can’t be with us at the moment, because it’s distracting. He needs to concentrate on what he’s doing and those three are less interested parties; outsiders if you prefer.”

Darius lifted his head and Athas was not surprised to see the tears in his eyes.

“I’m just not prepared for all this,” the young man said, his voice thick with emotion. “Battles and campaigns I was expecting, but there’s too much more than that; too much personal trouble. I always thought Sabian would somehow help us; I couldn’t believe he’d bring an army against us for that man. If he leads his force against us; against me… It feels like my family are betraying me or deserting me. Sabian’s going to fight me; Kiva’s going to leave me. Gods alone know how many of the rest of us are going to die in the next week. Even if we win this, who’s going to be left? I might be alone.”

Athas nodded. “It’s a distinct possibility. But you’ve got to plan for every eventuality. You’ll always have a good civilian support even if all of your commanders die. Sarios, Favio, Sathina and all the elders of the island will be able to help you after this is over. I have to admit
I’m
surprised Sabian is still with them, but he’s a man of his word. He took an oath to Velutio and he’d rather die than betray that oath. His loyalty may be misplaced, but that’s the kind of honour the world’s sadly short of. If we lose, he’ll have been proved right. If we win, it won’t be him we’ve beaten; it’ll be his master. Either way, he’ll fight honourably and fairly and you can’t ask more of him than that. I’d certainly rather he was in command of the enemy than someone with
no
morals.”

The Emperor shuddered as the tears fell. “I just don’t know if I can do it Athas. This last quarter of an hour actually hurt. I spent three hours steeling myself to have to say the things I did, and I think Brendan’s angry with me now too.”

Athas shook his head. “As I said, Brendan’s in denial. He’ll not blame you. We need to get the army moving and you need to dry your face and stand up straight. You’re the Emperor, remember, not just Darius of Isera now.”

The young man gave him a weak smile as they stood slowly and walked slowly toward the exit. Darius wiped his face on his sleeve and held his head high. Outside, the camp was a blur of activity, as regiments packed up or moved into position. Athas’ engineers and supply wagons were already on the move, having set off under armed escort as soon as the sun had risen. The rest would catch up within the hour and they’d be safe from trouble with Tythias’ scout units constantly monitoring the surrounding area and reporting any sign of a life. Tythias and Athas had made the decision to remove some of the safeguards from the slow-moving units in order to speed up the general movement rate of the entire army.

Darius and the burly, dark-skinned man strode across the grass in front of the command tent and were about to go their separate ways when one of the gate guards came running, out of breath, up the hill to the officers. He stumbled to a halt and saluted clumsily.

“Your majesty? Sir? There’s a man at the gate… whole load of men with him… doesn’t know the password but demands to be let in… Says he’s the Prince of Pelasia, sir.”

Darius turned to Athas, a grin slowly spreading across his face. The first good news he’d heard in days. He sighed as some of the tension fell from his shoulders and nodded at the soldier. “Go and find Prefect Tythias and tell him to join us at the gate. Then come back down, but don’t run. You’ll do yourself an injury; look at yourself man… you’ve gone purple!”

Athas laughed and patted Darius on the shoulder as they strode slowly down the hill toward the west gate. Already the first and second regiment were moving down the hill toward the gate with their full packs. Men ran everywhere organising and busy, though each and every one stopped in mid-run to salute their Emperor. Darius stopped one of them.

“What are you doing now?”

“Sir! I’ve gotta go fetch the standards for the third regiments, sir.”

Darius smiled. “Ok, but go via the command area and tell my guard to pack up and get my gear loaded on the wagons. And have one of them bring my armour and horse down to the west gate.”

“Yessir!” the man saluted again and then jogged off up the hill.

At the gate, Ashar stood with his arms folded watching them approach. Behind him the entire Pelasian unit sat ahorse, watching with interest. Ashar grinned as Athas and Darius approached the blockade.

“Quite an army you’ve got here now, young Emperor.”

Darius returned the smile. “Ashar. Your intelligence must be slipping if you don’t know our watchwords.”

“Ha.” Ashar leaned over the barrier. “’Stadium’, yes? And yesterday was ‘fish sauce’, the day before was ‘provincial’. Need I go on?”

“Then why wait at the gate?” Athas enquired.

Ashar smiled. “I’m not actually part of your army. It would be impolite of me to enter a foreign nation’s military capital under false authority. Plus, I owe it to the Emperor here to treat him with the respect I would hope he would treat me.”

Darius returned the smile. “When this is over, Ashar, and we’ve rebuilt the Empire, this army will be travelling with you to put you back on your own throne. Rest assured the terms between our two countries will be good as ever they were if not better. In the meantime…” He leaned round the prince to address the Pelasian riders. “Go ahead and get yourself a bite to eat. The mess hasn’t been packed up yet and the cook should still be able to find you something. Have an hour’s rest, because by then the last of the army will be ready to move out.”

He turned back to Ashar. “Sorry to speak to your men over you, but we’re a little pressed for time.”