Outcast

by Angie Arms

  He charged inside the stable stripping off his tunic as he went. He shoved it deep into the hay that was piled to the side, stowing the dagger there as well. He moved to a water trough and quickly cleaned the blood from his hands and face, the water darkening. This realization struck him just as the doors he had just fled through opened. He dove over the low wall and into the stall he shared with two other boys. Crouching he donned one of the tunics that had been left on the floor, quickly fastening the belt he crawled into the hay, flinging the nearly thread bare blanket he slept under over his shoulders.

  Through his eyelids he saw the flicker of the torch that was held high. “We found him,” a rough voice said from the aisle. Pretending grogginess Evander rolled over, his eyes batting protectively against the bright light. He saw the other two boys, one crouched in his loin cloth, and the other was standing as he searched for his tunic. “All of you, out,” the soldier ordered as the stable became filled with the palace’s guard.

  All three of them were led out into the courtyard. The two in their loincloths shivered against the early morning chill. They stood waiting silently, each quivering, two of which did not know what was happening. The third did but he vowed he would go to his grave keeping his father’s secret. For that alone he hoped Claudius would mourn him for his bravery.

  “Who does this belong to?” one of the soldiers asked as he stepped out of the stable carrying the dagger and tunic.

  Two of the boys looked at each other, Evander thought it prudent he keep his eyes straight forward since it was obviously not his. Guilt settled on him at his continued silence as the soldiers advanced on the two that stood in loin clothes.

  “I will know who this belongs to and I will know now!” the big man bellowed. Evander tried to move away but one of the soldiers clamped a hand on his shoulder staying his retreat.

  “It’s not mine,” Caius responded in a shaky voice. He was only two years older than Evander, putting him at 13. He was the one who had showed Evander the ropes when he arrived, taking the brunt of the stable master’s abuse and treated him like a younger brother under his protection. He had always been patient with him, even when it got him the lash.

  “Nor mine,” Milo said, his face pale. The boy couldn’t be much older than nine. He had only come to the stable a short time ago. His skin and bones body had not had time to gain much meat in the short time he had been there and was given food for his service.

  Claudius arrived in the courtyard, only lit by the few torches, thankfully Evander stood in the shadows, nearly forgotten save for the one man who kept him there.

  “The emperor is dead,” his father announced as he moved toward them.

  He spared not a glance at Evander but stopped before the two quivering boys. “These were found in the stable,” the man said holding up the tunic and dagger.

  “Which one of you did it?”

  “Did what?” Caius asked. His voice sounded more frightened than Evander had ever heard it.

  “Killed the emperor,” Claudius said reaching a hand out to seize Milo by the chin. Immediately the boy did as Evander had had the urge to do in the emperor’s chamber and wet himself.

  “It was not us, we were asleep,” Caius ventured courageously. As quickly as his father had slapped him his friend was slapped.

  “It was…,” Evander’s words were cut off by Claudius’s gaze swinging quickly to him. In two strides his father stood before him.

  “It’s all right son,” he said in a gentle voice. Son, his father had called him son. He raised his head, pride at accomplishing his task and making his father proud crowded out all his fear and regret. “You can tell us which one of them was not there.”

  Evander was horrified. He couldn’t name one of them, for that would mean their death.

  “Come on son,” Claudius said again. Evander could only stare dumbfounded at his father as he looked down upon him. He waved the soldiers back. “Name one of them and you will be freed of this charge without a doubt cast upon you.”

  Still Evander stood silently, his body shivered at the implication of what his father now asked of him.

  “If you do not, you and both of them will be tortured. There are ways to make a man tell secrets he swore he would never tell. Do you think a boy could hold his secrets any better?” Claudius arched a brow, the question was plain, would he be able to keep his father’s secret.

  Evander swallowed the fear that tightened his throat. He began to speak but bile tried to rush up and he swallowed again. Claudius waited patiently for the boy before him to speak. “It was Milo,” he finally managed passed his dry lips. He could not name the friend who had made sacrifices for him, but for his father he would name the other.

  “You will be rewarded for your loyalty,” Claudius said as he turned away.

  “Which one of you is Milo?” Claudius asked moving back to the two boys. Caius looked down at the younger boy, shook his head and without hesitation stepped forward.

  In the blink of an eye Claudius plunged his sword into the boy’s chest. Horrified eyes locked with Evander’s before all life left and his limp body fell to the ground. Evander was rooted to the spot, the older boy’s sacrifice for the younger wrenched something from him he could not name. Something he would never again find but would eventually forget he ever possessed. As if the death of the boy was nothing to them, the men turned and walked away, dragging Caius’s body behind them.

  Milo stood in shock, his eyes round, and his body still as the death that had claimed Caius. He no longer shivered from the cold, he didn’t blink, and he barely breathed. What had he done? Was a father worth the life of Caius, the vision that would forever be etched in Milo’s memory? That was a question he could not answer for he had never had a father. It was too late to worry about now. Slowly Evander moved to Milo’s side as the sun began to bring light to a new day. The boy who would have died if Caius had not stepped forward and taken his identity looked up at him with the most vacant eyes he had ever seen. He stared at him for a heart wrenching moment before he saw recognition in his eyes.

  “Wh-What do I do?” he asked in a voice so small and scared Evander felt the weight of a thousand deaths settle on his shoulders, a premonition of things to come.

  “From this day you are Caius,” Evander said. He seized the boy by his arm, drawing him towards himself to make his point well known. Milo’s eyes shot to his hair as the light touched it. With his free hand Evander reached up and touched it, feeling the blood that was still caked there. “If you value your life forget you ever went by another name.”

  “What is happening?” the boy asked, his innocent mind could not relate the death of Caius with something his other friend had done.

  “It is over now,” Evander said with confidence he did not feel. “Remember what I said, you are Caius.” He saw the fear in the boy’s eyes as he nodded.

  Together they made their way back to the stall they shared and settled into the hay. Caius curled up against him and though he tried to hide it Evander heard the boy cry, eventually he gave in to exhaustion and sleep but Evander felt he would never be at peace enough to sleep again.

  Evander drifted in a haze, surprised he had slept, the small body was still pressed against him. He wanted to rise but his arms refused to move. Then he remembered that night he had not slept at all. For that matter he had not slept for four nights, each time he closed his eyes the accusing eyes of Caius brought him awake. His friend had not even taken his rightful name to his grave, all because of him. The pain he carried with him for his first nefarious act had long eased among his numerous others. One was no worse than the other now, all he had done at his father’s bidding, and although he rose in the ranks, far above his station, Emperor Claudius never ceased with the demands he placed on him.

  Evander remembered eyes so dark he could not discern their color. He contented himself with falling back asleep with her warmth curled next to him.

  Chapter 5

  He could smell their
fear. The majority of the villagers who would survive he had pinned into the corner of one of the structures. The screams behind Evander continued as his men slay others who protected their homes so the village could be claimed for Rome and the emperor Claudius.

  His armor was covered in the blood of the villagers, in the blood of innocents. He turned and was ready to order his men to end the carnage. The bodies of women and children lay scattered with the men and he worried for his immortal soul. How could he not burn in Hades for the things he had done here this day? One of the women broke from those gathered. Her clothes were torn and her blond hair flowed behind her as she fled. Her flight brought her straight past Evander and in two quick strides he caught her.

  He instantly felt the curves under his hands and he had the strong desire to lose himself in her. A soft body would make him forget what he had done here. He dragged her toward the nearest structure, her digging in her heels and prying at his hands the entire way. He pushed her around the corner and forced her against the wall. He turned her so he could see her eyes, pinning her small hand above her head while using his other to pull up her skirts, his body pinning her against the wooden wall. His knee came up separating her legs easily enough.

  Pain shot through his head followed by the cool dampness. He raised his leg, his thigh applied pressure at the juncture of her legs. Cool moisture soothed his shoulder he had not realized was on fire. He closed his eyes, reveling in the blonde’s soft heat. More water soothed the fire that engulfed his head. He didn’t recall being wounded, didn’t recall removing his armor either but it was not on him. That wasn’t right. His eyes flew open and black eyes were looking back at him. The blond had the lightest blue eyes he recalled. Pain exploded in his head when she touched him again. He tried to grab for her but his hands wouldn’t move beyond an inch or two off the ground. Why was he laying on the ground? She touched him again and he drew in a sharp breath of pain only to have it explode in his chest and sides. Such stabbing pain darkness rushed in on him.

  As soon as she moved off the bed Evander was awake. In the darkness he heard her move about, to the table where his armor and weapons lay. Quietly he slid to a sitting position and listened to his sword drawn from its sheath. Not Alaya, his mind screamed at him as he slipped quietly from the bed, taking the dagger he kept close at hand with him.

  He listened to the woman’s feet tread lightly back toward the bed. The tall Celt had offered herself in exchange for the life of her mother, to which Evander had given his word. For nearly a month she had warmed his bed and proven to be quite the adventurer under the covers. He had found himself growing attached to the beautiful woman. Her green eyes tilted up at the corner, especially when she laughed, and dimples graced her cheeks. Her long black hair was soft and glowed with good health in the sun light. Her body was tall and lithe, and he would miss having her legs wrapped around him.

  He moved around the foot of the bed as she reached the side. He heard her grunt as she swung then the sound of the blade slicing into the empty mattress reached him, a blow that would have felled him had he not been such a light sleeper. He found her easily enough in the dark. He slid his arm under hers, across her chest and clasped her under her other armpit as he yanked her against him. The blade of his dagger he pressed to her throat.

  “Why Alaya?” he asked in her ear.

  “Because you are a murderer,” she spat trying to wriggle free, risking a slash to her throat. He tightened his grip, the breath crushed from her body. The arm that was under her armpit he brought up to push against her forehead pinning her head against his shoulder. He didn’t want to spill her blood, didn’t want to feel the life leave her at his hand.

  “Why didn’t you just do it that first night?”

  “I gave you my word you could have me till you tired of me. You never tired of me. Then your enemies came to me and offered quite a large sum of money to kill you.”

  Evander froze. If Alaya was still grief stricken over the loss of her family and had decided to take her grief out on him that was one thing. But she was talking about a conspiracy to kill him. She had plotted against him while she had lain under him.

  “Who plots against me?” he ground out, not realizing how tight his grip on her head had become, or how hard he was pressing the knife into her throat.

  “There are many Evander. Hundreds of families have been destroyed under your blade. They will not rest until your blood flows from your body.”

  “Who leads them?” he asked his anger rising. What a fool he was. How had he believed this woman could ever feel any affection for him?

  “I would never tell you. If you torture me I still wouldn’t tell you because one day when you least expect it they will get you and purge the world of the death you bring.”

  “Don’t say that. Tell me you’re sorry. Tell me there is no plot,” Evander realized he was close to begging her to take those words back.

  He felt her smile as he pressed his face alongside hers. “I am not sorry. I would kill you without the money. You don’t think people seek retribution for the pain you have brought them. Friends and enemies alike seek death for you.”

  “There’s no plot,” Evander insisted but his hand moved the dagger across her throat, reaching the edge and poised to bare down and bring it across as he had done to an emperor so many years ago.

  “There is a plot,” she replied defiantly. The words died on a gurgle as he drew the blade across, the warmth of her blood spilling over his arm. He wanted to weep as the life fled from her, but to weep would show he cared for a traitor. It would insinuate strong feelings for the woman who plotted to kill him. As soon as the life left Alaya he let her body drop to the floor. Stepping over her he walked to the table and lit a candle. Going around the room he lit several candles. Only after completing the task of the candles did he turn to Alaya after hesitating for a brief span of time.

  She lay beside the bed, her head turned grotesquely to the side, the deep knife wound gaped open and the blood covered the floor around her. Her green eyes stared at him and he imagined the hate there. He was such a fool, he told himself in disdain.

  He called one of the slaves from his pallet and bid him to rid his chamber of her body. Walking along the corridors he came to Caius’s room and entered without so much as a nock. He was surprised at this hour that candles still burned until a gasp from the bed drew his eyes. His friend lounged on the bed stark naked while the woman that no doubt had just been on top of him franticly searched for her clothes. Evander openly admired her beauty as she jumped from the bed and moved several paces away to grab a blanket that had been slung a distance from the bed. She wrapped it around herself then scowled in Evander’s direction.

  “Leave us,” Evander ordered. The woman no more knew him from anyone else but by his tone she knew to obey him so fled the room, not even bothering to grab her tunic on the way out.

  “You really must stop scaring off my women,” Caius said slowly rising from the bed. He stretched seemingly unaware he did not have a stitch of clothing on.

  “What has happened?” he asked moving straight to the decanter of wine and pouring two cups.

  Evander gratefully took it and drained the contents and received another fill before answering. “Alaya tried to kill me.”

  “Nooo,” Caius exclaimed but he really was not all that surprised Evander saw.

  “She was paid to.”

  “I think this calls for something stronger,” Caius said bringing out a different bottle and poured its contents into Evander’s cup. “Who paid her?”

  Evander shrugged tossing the drink down so quickly he gasped when it struck his throat and stomach. “What is this?” he asked as he struggled for breath, his eyes watering.

  “Something that will help you forget about the conniving bitch.”

  “How could she lay with me and know she would kill me?”

  Caius grinned at him, at his naivety. He was the most untrusting man Caius had ever seen but he allowed th
e women to make him vulnerable. “How many women can you say you have had that did not wish to kill you?”

  That question took Evander by surprise. He had become a soldier far earlier than most. With the honor came the duty to do the emperor’s will. He had learned his will meant a lot of killing. He had to admit, counting Alaya, most likely all of them.

  He held his cup out for the refill. “Take this as a lesson,” Caius said with a wink. “When you are done with your pleasures in the evening, send them to another bed.”

  Evander drank from the cup, coughing and nearly retching but he felt the fog of the brew begin to take over. He held the cup out again. This drink made the room around him swim and stars danced at the corner of his vision.

  His knees wouldn’t support him any longer. He sagged and a grunt came from the person keeping him on his feet. Caius? He wasn’t drunk, his body hurt far too much for that. Prisoner? The army had been defeated and he was a prisoner. Who were they fighting last? It didn’t matter they would kill him soon because he could never betray Rome.

  “Walk,” the voice gasped from beside him. Rain was pelting him, drenching him the person with arms wrapped around his waist trying to balance him on their shoulder was a woman. He could feel every curve pressed against him. It took all his strength but he managed to open his eyes enough to look down on the woman.

  “Lift your leg,” she said bending to lift his leg up. He realized he was without a stitch of clothing on and if he had any more strength he would have reacted to the close proximity but it was all he could do to remain upright as she helped him through a doorway and out of the rain.

  Since he had his first woman in his youth he had never been able to not enjoy a soft body pressed against him. She staggered under his weight as she made it up the step with him. He weaved to the side forcing her into the wall as she fought to keep them both upright. His shoulder rested against the wall, his body looming over the woman’s as she was trapped under him. She turned looking up at him with the dark, dark eyes that had been haunting him. Were they blue?