Chapter 7

Evander stood quietly behind the panel in the emperor’s chambers. It had been a long time since he had been here. He felt, in a way, as if he was avenging his first evil deed in the very same room. War was a splendid thing, in that there was really no right or wrong. Men spoke of noble deaths on the battle field, face to face with his enemy. Wars were fought behind the lines as well.

Could he really call what he had just done a part of war? Perhaps. This night had been in the making for an entire week after he discovered what Claudius had done. The man had chosen him at random. No seed of the emperor’s had gone into his making. The things Claudius had asked Evander to do all in the name of the family were just a ruse. It was a way for the emperor to get what he wanted with an assurance of total silence. It was clear without Claudius’s support Evander would have had a difficult life with no hope of the status he was immediately given upon Claudius’s ascension to the throne.

He would give it back however if it would bring back Caius. It wasn’t so much the killing of the emperor but had he known Claudius was not his father he would not have stood there silently to watch his friend die. For Evander blood ran deep, especially the blood he did not know but craved knowledge of since a boy. His guilt had grown tenfold when he found it was all for nothing. That Caius had given up his life for nothing but the greed of an emperor was enough to make Evander want to charge up to the man and drive his sword deep into his gut while he watched the life leave him. But he had grown into a warrior, he was patient and this plan was much better.

He watched Claudius, alone now as he slept, listening for the shallow breathing that would signal the true beginning of his plan. When it came elation washed over him. He felt no remorse, only anticipation for the fear Claudius would be leaving this world in.

He moved to the bed, not caring that he would wake the sleeping man. Reaching the bed he yanked the curtains back and rolled the emperor toward him. Claudius’s eyes flew open but his body did not move. Finally, he was able to raise a hand but it fell back onto the mattress feebly.

“I know I’m not your bastard,” Evander said low enough the guards in the hall would not hear him.

He watched the man try to yell, he watched him try to wriggle away but the only sound that came out was low and unintelligible enough to be a sound he would make in his sleep and the only movement was a little turning of his head and limbs.

“Don’t worry, I drugged your wine,” Evander said leaning over him in order to speak quietly.

Claudius’s panicked eyes looked up at him as Evander drew his knife and placed it at his throat. “Rather fitting isn’t it that you, an emperor, should die by my hand just as the one before you did. I guess it is a wonderfully splendid thing for a warrior like me to take the lives of two of your station. It’s a shame no one will know,” he said applying pressure.

“Did you have something to say?” he asked pulling the blade away and leaning closer.

“I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Evander said in mock exasperation as he rose up and placed the knife back.

Frantic Claudius tried shaking his head. Evander sighed and leaned back down.

“I will give you anything you want,” the man said in a whisper. It seemed as if the man had struggled many minutes to say this.

“Anything?” Evander asked in surprise. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. Let me think about this,” he said knowing what the final outcome of the night would be but enjoying the game he felt he owed the man who had toyed with him for so many years.

Evander used the blade of the knife to tap his chin as he pretended to contemplate what the emperor could give him. His brows raised and he smiled as if he thought of his request and leaned closer to Claudius to confide in him.

“I want to feel your warm blood spill across my hand. I want to drive a sword into you as you did my friend so many years ago. Unfortunately that is not the way I’m going to kill you, for that would be too easy for a man such as you. Did you know the boy you killed was Caius and not Milo? I know you care not but that was the ultimate sacrifice of a friend for a friend and I just stood there and let it happen.”

“You’re a coward,” Claudius managed to get out between his nearly immobile lips.

“Yes, I was only a coward for you, my father. But you’re not my father are you. I’m just the boy you made into a murderer. But don’t fear. I will not spill your blood this night.”

Evander sheathed the dagger and pulled from his pocket a small vile. The emperor lay with his mouth slightly ajar and Evander poured the liquid into his mouth, the man’s efforts to prevent this were puny ones. “This is poison. It will cause you much pain. Most people would scream and writhe from it but I also slipped something in your wine before you sought your bed. So you’re paralyzed and must suffer in silence. But never fear. You will not be alone. I am going to sit right here and watch it happen.”

Evander took a seat next to the bed and watched the drug begin to take effect. The emperor’s eyes rounded and his back arched slightly, spittle formed at the corners of his lips. He made choking sounds only to be cut off by great gasps as he suffered quietly but Evander could see the pain that etched itself on his face. What kind of dark soul found pleasure in watching someone die like this? He pushed the question to the far reassesses of his mind for he had crossed that threshold from which there was no return long ago.

The thrashing and thumping against the floorboards woke him. Had he slept? He opened his eyes tiredly, feeling the bed at his back. That wasn’t right. He had been sitting in a chair to watch the emperor die. Turning his head he saw a woman lying gloriously naked in the floor beside him. Her body arched, her head thrashed banging against the floor boards, her arms were drawn up tight against her chest and her legs were stretched out from her, rigid in the throes of whatever claimed her. He watched her for a moment, wanting desperately to rise and at least hold her head to keep her from doing damage to it but found he could not. Despite his efforts his eyes grew heavy and darkness came on quickly to engulf him.

 

Evander looked about himself, searching desperately, but all he could see were the enemy and his fellow soldiers being cut down. Where was Caius? Had he already fallen under the enemy’s blade? It would be a good death to be sure but death none-the-less and though he had grown into a strong man and superb soldier he couldn’t help but see the little Milo in him.

Caius had Evander to thank for the higher position he now had, far better than a stable master. He had his own horse in the Roman cavalry alongside Evander. After all, Evander knew an emperor’s secret. With that leverage it wasn’t hard to get Caius a position alongside him, a very good deal for a peasant. He could have been greedy with his requests but he only made that one, knowing full well if he made life hard for the new emperor he would himself become a target. Instead he took his position seriously, whether a part of his personal guard or as a soldier on the battle field, he had served both roles well and had earned a name for himself. The boy never asked questions, nor did the man.

After Claudius’s death it had been no secret among the nobles that Evander was a proficient assassin, a title he neither wanted nor desired. He had submerged himself among the other soldiers of the Roman army and tried to blend in. It had only worked for a short time before Nero had called him to take care of another problem, which Evander had declined. Now he was being punished, there was no other reason for him to be here, fighting for Parthia, killing as death sought him and all the men out on this battlefield.

Evander pivoted on his heal in time to sink his blade into the enemy whose blade was ready to take his own. It sunk in to the man’s gut to the hilt and with a quick thrust upward he ended his suffering. He had a job to do, which at the moment was to survive, but he saw no need to make those who had their own jobs to suffer. Withdrawing the blade, the man’s blood mingling with that of the others Evander turned again and slay another before the first could hit the ground. They surrounded him, surrounded all of them but he needed to find Caius, he had brought him into this nightmare and had to protect him. The young man would be quite irate that Evander thought of him thus, but he had saved the young man’s hide on more than one occasion because he looked after him so diligently.

Over the clash of swords and screams he heard it. Caius. He turned to the left, and then right, trying to pinpoint the call but it was lost in the fog. Fog? There had been no fog on the day of the battle. The enemy and his fellow soldiers had disappeared and he was in fog so deep he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.

“Evander!” the pain filled call of Caius was close. He remembered. The battle had ended more than a year ago. He had found Caius, his life blood flowing from him. Two days it had taken for the young man to die. Two days he had called out to Evander, begged Evander to heal him, and begged him to kill him. After all the blood that was on Evander’s hands he could not bring death upon his friend when he needed it. For more than a year he had carried with him the guilt that he was not strong enough to bring his friend relief. When he needed to the most he was a coward and Caius had suffered immensely before death took him.

He wasn’t alone. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck raise that told him he was not. The fog was too thick to see anything, he didn’t even know if it was night or day. Was this death coming for him? Was it finally his turn?

He felt the brush of fingers against his shoulder. The lightest of touches but fear consumed him. Wasn’t this what he had been searching for the last year? Death for himself? Angry at his own cowardice he tried to jerk free.

With a gasp he sat up, the fog was gone. Pain so intense he felt the world turning to black around him but he fought against it, willing it to go away. He was able to push away the fringes of blackness but the pain remained. He was glad for that. He deserved pain. More than any other person alive, he deserved the torture that only his own body could bring him.

“Lie down,” the soft voice urged. He willed his eyes to bring his surroundings into focus. The effort seemed to take all his strength. He felt himself swaying and gentle hands were placed on his shoulders and eased him back down onto the comfort of the bed he lay on. Finally Evander focused on the dark eyes leaning over him and after a moment was able to take in more of his surroundings. Hair as black as her eyes framed a tanned, femininely formed face of perfection from high cheekbones to a pert nose and it left him feeling as if he could stare into it all day.

“Who are you?” he managed after struggling to get his dry mouth to form the words.

“Jillian,” she said as she pulled a blanket up to his shoulders.

Didn’t the woman know it was burning up? With a grunt he grabbed the blanket and slung it off him as best he could.

“Are you hot?” she asked and a soft delicate hand was laid against his brow.

He wanted to grab her hand and make her stop touching him. More than that he wanted to grab that hand and pull her down against him and feel her willowy body fit snugly against his. He had the strength to do neither. “Yes,” he managed to croak out instead. A satisfied look crossed her face and she smiled.

“You will get well now,” she said.

When was the last time anyone had cared that he lived? When she moved her hand and straightened away from him he felt the loss and wanted her to return to his side. She moved to the hearth and ladling out what appeared to be soup into a bowl she returned.

 

Jillian propped her knee on the side of the bed and bending over him she began to raise him slightly by shifting the pillows behind him. Pain shot through him, he didn’t know if his head or his chest hurt the worst, or if it was the deep, penetrating pain in his abdomen. He tried not to let out a groan, for she would see he was at her mercy but the pain was too intense and it escaped as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

Her hands stilled and she slowly released him moving back to stare down at him. All his previous thoughts of wanting her close fled and all he had room for was the pain as it washed over him. He was in Hades paying for all he had done and it would make sense that Jillian was here, beauty bringing such ugliness upon him. He was able to gather enough strength that he grabbed her by the shoulders and was beginning to thrust her away when more pain surged through him. His hands tightened on her shoulders and the bile rose in his throat. He leaned to the side, the only thing that kept him from passing out was the extraordinary pain and it increased as he heaved and in the far reaches of his mind he knew he hurt Jillian with his grip but that grip seemed to be the only thing that was holding himself together.

He became aware that she was prying his hands off her but despite his grip she did so gently. One hand free she allowed his tight grip to remain on her other as she tried to ease him back down. He wanted the blackness to take him, let the earth open up and swallow the cottage, fire sweep across the island and consume them. Whatever it would take to make the pain end. A spasm raced up his back, making him arch upward a muffled scream escaped from between his clinched teeth. Each movement created more pain but between the dry heaves and the spasms racing back and forth in his muscles he couldn’t stop. Just when he thought he could bear no more pain it intensified.

She placed something between his lips, a liquid that numbed them before passing on down his throat. The quantity had to be a great deal as the majority escaped from the sides of his mouth. He could feel it running down his jaw, under his ears and wetting his hair. He heard Jillian’s soothing voice as she crooned to him as if he were a small child. Did Jillian have any children? He didn’t recall any appearance of children since he recalled being there. He did recall her on the floor. First it was the image of her lithe body, the black hair even blacker if that were possible clinging to her. The length of her legs, the generous mound of breasts that was a bit larger than one would expect on a woman of her size. The image of her in her own throws of agony came back to him.

His eyes focused on her, leaning over him. A look of pure relief washed over her face as he met their blackness. He stared at her for a moment thinking her eyes could indeed be blue before he remembered what he wanted to ask. He tried to speak but only slurred sounds escaped his throat. He struggled upward but his body would not rise. Jillian shook her head as she made shushing noises to calm him. Before his eyes grew heavy he had the vague knowledge his thrashing had ended and the pain had subsided.