Strategos: Island in the Storm by Gordon Doherty

Author:Gordon Doherty [Doherty, Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical, Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9781500101725
Google: PXj4AwAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 22677363
Publisher: Gordon Doherty
Published: 2014-07-03T23:00:00+00:00

***

Apion cradled his hand in the dull lamp light of his tent. Sha, Blastares and Procopius looked at him, searching for the right words.

Just then, the tent flap rustled and opened. Komes Igor ushered the wretch who had stolen the ass inside. The man sat opposite Apion. His face was still encrusted in dried blood, his nose badly broken but all still there. Komes Igor sat next to the fellow, then nudged him.

‘God bless you, sir,’ the man said quietly to Apion.

‘God blesses foul hearts and fair with little distinction. I’d rather listen to a dog howl at the moon than take a blessing from God,’ he snapped in reply, cradling his palm and wincing.

The man’s head dropped at the admonishment.

Sha let a desert-dry laugh escape his lips. ‘He accepts your gratitude, soldier. Now be off back to your tent before curfew begins, lest you end up in more trouble.’

‘Aye, sir,’ the skutatos nodded. He turned to Apion one more time as he left. ‘Thank you, Haga.’

Apion nodded silently.

‘Word is already spreading around the ranks that the man did not lose his nose,’ Sha said as the tent flap fell closed again. ‘The men know their emperor is unwell, but had that wretch been mutilated . . . ’ the Malian’s words trailed off and he shook his head. ‘Now let me see the mess you made of your hand,’ Sha insisted again.

Apion uncurled his cradled hand, revealing the red raw strip on the heel of the palm. When he had swept the dagger down, he had broken the skutatos’ nose with his knuckles and sliced this strip of flesh off his own hand with the blade’s edge. The blood had spattered over Apion and the man’s face, disguising the fact that the man’s nose was only broken and not mutilated, and the thrown-down strip of palm-flesh had diverted the eyes of the emperor and the onlookers.

The Malian took a rag doused in vinegar and cleansed the wound. Apion did well to limit his discomfort to a teeth-grinding grimace. ‘It’ll heal within a few weeks,’ Sha said, wrapping a length of linen bandage around the palm tightly. ‘But if you have to lift a shield in that time it’ll sting like fire.’

‘Then I won’t dwell upon it until I need my shield,’ Apion grumbled. ‘And in any case, I feel we have more important things to set our minds to.’

‘What has happened to him?’ Igor muttered aloud. ‘He was sharp, brash and noble until we arrived at Helenopolis. Even on the crossing to that miserable town, he cajoled the men amidst a grim a hailstorm, had them defying the hail and chanting his name.’

Apion looked up. ‘And what has changed since then?’

Igor’s eyes swept across the lamplit floor. ‘Much has changed. We have come far from the capital, through the verdant coastal trails and now across the dry inner plateau. Spring has become a foul and hot summer and . . . ’

‘No, what has changed about the emperor. His

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