The Centurion - 2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

The Ice Queen

“One legion of Centurions is always worth three of ours... but it took only a single woman to make peace with them.”

A quote from a conversation between Eleanor Queen Mother and the Tower Captain, Melissa

It had been meant to be the greatest day in the Confederacy’s history, the day the East defeated the Domus at the very gate to the despised Centurions’ empire. After centuries of being forced to pay tribute in grain, gold, and slaves, the Eastern Kingdoms, led by King Daslan of Qul Tos raised their armies and marched westward with every intention of freeing themselves from their hated foes.

Such had been the Confederacy’s foolish confidence in their

victory, that Eleanor, wife of King Daslan of Qul Tos, had come to the

battlefield expecting to watch the Empire’s defenders, the Centurions,

slaughtered at the hands of her husband and his men. Instead she had watched the armies of the East destroyed, Daslan beheaded, and herself captured, taken to the personal tent of the commanding Centurion

general, and held by his guards like a captured battle standard.

“Do you know who I am?” Eleanor remembered the Centurion General asking, his face wearing the smug grin of a hunter who had just shot an arrow into the heart of a prized deer.

Just thinking about that smile today caused Eleanor to tighten her grip on her son’s arm, the memory of that common soldier enraging her as she recalled trying to struggle free of the two guards who had brought her to the tent of the general. “Do you know who I am!” she remembered retorting coldly as she glared at the general. “I will not be spoken to like some common serving wench. And I will not answer anyone’s questions until I have bathed. I presume you know what a bath is?”

“You will not speak to our Lord Agamemnon in such a manner!” A guard had raised his hand to strike her, but the more imposing Centurion, the man who had killed King Daslan with his own two handed sword, the one who had hunted Eleanor down with his soldier dogs, the infamous General Agamemnon himself, intervened.

“Leave her be, captain. I am pleased she shows some spirit. More than Daslan, eh? Did you see him, my Lady, on his knees bleating like a girl before me? I can only imagine the pitiful performance he gave in your bed.”

“A dead man is easy quarry for such insults. Can you find no better man to prey upon, Centurion boy?” she had replied while sitting herself down on a small stool as if it were a throne. While she had used all her charm and guile to become Queen of Qul Tos, even back in those days she had no love for the man who became her husband. He, just like the son she was hurting had been only tools to be used and discarded.

“Boy...? I find a more appropriate title is ‘Victor’, don’t you

think? Your army was like a six-headed snake, all wanting to go in

different directions at once. Not even the scouts we captured could

agree on what their orders were.” “But all our scouts returned and reported nothing.”

Agamemnon snapped his fingers and within moments, a man dressed in Qul Tos blue and silver was brought in. “Is he not one of your scouts?”

“Yes...” Eleanor found it hard to admit. She examined every inch of the man until her eyes caught a red and black armband over the

man’s left bicep.

Filled with sudden rage, Eleanor tried to stand up but was stopped by a heavy armored hand. “Traitor!”

Seeing that the fire of rage could warm the Ice Queen, Agamemnon waved his hand to have the turncoat removed. “Take him away. He did indeed betray you but his only reward will be donning the black as one of our Famulus slaves.”

After the Queen stopped struggling, Agamemnon stood, his massive body towering above her. He let her eyes look him over and see that he was both beautiful and terrible in all his muscular strength and glory, his hair a platinum blonde that had its own glow. She shrank from him even as she tried to deny a stirring inside her. But when he placed a hand on her slender shoulder and gently tilted her flawless face towards the lamp light with a thumb and forefinger, she had not

been able to keep her eyes from his handsome face. “The rumors of your great beauty were not amiss, Eleanor,” he

said softly, “but be careful how you speak to me.” He let go of her and

turned away. “They call you the Ice Queen, did you know that? They

say that you can chill a room with one look from your magnificent blue

eyes. So how can you expect me to believe that the old king could stir

the flame of passion in one such as you?”

She ignored the compliment and watched him in stony silence. The truth was that until she had found herself trapped in the tent of the greatest general of the age, no man had ever stirred her, as she had preferred only the company of what others would call her own soft sex though few would find any tenderness in her.

More than her bed partners, male or female, it was the person’s aura of power that had always stirred the Queen most. So on the day of Agamemnon’s greatest victory, no one had as much of a presence as the towering general. Yet to admit such would be a sign of weakness, something Eleanor could not stand in others let alone in herself. She therefore used her anger to mask her growing desires.

As she let the scowl on her face grow, Agamemnon turned his back to her and went to the table, picking up the larger of two ornate flagons there. He poured wine into both but kept the larger flagon in his hands gazing at it with his grey eyes.

“Qul Tos silver. Your pretty little kingdom produces the purest. It is also the easiest to work with, but you must still be proud of your artisans. This is beautiful work. The Empire is delighted you will be paying us tribute again.”

“We never shall!” Eleanor said defiantly with forced anger, trying her hardest to build up the will to fight what was coming.

“Don’t be stupid, Eleanor. You are not a stupid woman. The kings of the Confederacy, however, were fools to think they could attack the Centurion Empire of Domus with mere 150,000 half-starved men. I had forty legions under my command in the Centurion Home Guard, 200,000 well armored, well trained and, at the very least, well fed men. Did the kings not know that? They should have. Did they not look at the surrounding mountains and see that they were littered with caves where we could hide from your scouts? It was child’s play to employ the hammer and anvil, to keep my archers and infantrymen safe in the mountain pass behind the Gate while our cavalry hid in the tunnels. As a result, your Confederacy host was hammered by our cavalry and crushed against our walls to be impaled by arrow and spear,” Agamemnon boasted while he raised a crushing fist with his

free hand in front of Eleanor’s face. He then looked back to the table where, in addition to the small

silver goblet, were five highly decorated helms. “Five kings out of the

nine died in today’s slaughter, and for what? The tributes we demand from your kingdoms were a small price to pay for keeping the peace in your so-called Confederacy.”

Agamemnon then brought the goblet to his nose as he inhaled the fragrance of the amber wine. “Exquisite. Huron’s finest, I believe, from the King’s own cellar. Your husband would have done better to have stayed home to drink his wine, and not have listened to the King of Huron. They all would have. Did they believe we Centurions are but ordinary men? Did they think that because of my youth, my reputation as Domus’ finest general was unfounded?”

He looked back sharply at the queen, his grey eyes picking up

a bluish tint as they feasted off the defeated expression on the queen’s

face. “Ah, I see that you are surprised at the extent of my intelligence? Then let me surprise you some more. I know you argued against this

war. Bitterly, I’m told. As bitterly as you tried to hold off your husband’s

advances in your tent last night even as he drank from the same lover’s cup I now hold – both futile of course.” He watched again as the queen’s icy gaze melted. She still maintained her disdainful silence however.

Agamemnon, now seeing the near collapse of the stoic wall the Queen of Qul Tos had so long ago built around herself, nodded to the guards at the entrance to his tent. In moments a man dressed in a black robe walked in, bowed to the general, and then proceeded to remove his heavy and bloodstained black and red armor. After all the armor had

been removed and placed on its stand, the man continued to undress the general, removing his cloth padding and his other undergarments

until Agamemnon was left wearing only a white loincloth.

During the undressing, Eleanor remembered succeeding in maintaining a level and hard gaze at the Centurion but as more of his body was revealed, not even lowering her eyes to the ground could stop the quickening of her heart and the red blush growing on her cheeks. Her attempt at denial of her lust eventually reached the point where she turned herself on the stool, placing her back to the general. At the same time she tried to replay the bloody carnage that had happened just hours ago, hoping to feel disgust, anger, fear... anything other than the desire to yield to this man.

Agamemnon, angered that she was still fighting the inevitable, glared at the back of her head. With his deep commanding voice he spoke. “Face me.”

Eleanor, had long known the power of her beauty. She had charmed many a man in her climb for power... including the King of Qul Tos himself. The feat was made even more remarkable in that she had achieved the throne without ever having to give herself to any of her admirers. Now, however, she found herself in their role, being the one seduced instead of the one seducing. Turning ever so slowly she let her eyes gaze on the nearly naked body of the general, soon feeling hot tears of desire run down her eyes.

His long body was perfectly muscled. A narrow trail of blonde hair slightly darker than what was on his head led up his chiseled stomach to spread into a light coat across the bulk of his chest. Agamemnon’s hands were large with long fingers that could wield a sword as well as caress. Only the lower arms had a coating of blond hair, while the biceps, wide in diameter but not disproportionate to the body, were perfectly sculpted and hairless. All of his body was colored a rich brown, except for some pale white near the edges of his loincloth. What froze Eleanor’s eyes, however, was how every muscle rolled and flexed in its own seductive dance as Agamemnon took in and released each breath.

When he was sure Eleanor had seen enough, Agamemnon let his arms slip into a white robe that the black-robed man had been holding and that she had not noticed. “Leave us,” he told the guards and servant. “See that a fitting bath is brought in for the lady. Set it in my sleeping tent and see that we are not disturbed.” The guards saluted while the black-robed man bowed before leaving them, conspiratorial

smiles on their victorious faces. Once the flaps of the tent were closed, Agamemnon picked up the second, smaller goblet and offered it to

her.

She kept her hands by her side. “Those goblets are lover’s chalices, meant for a wedding night. There are strong spells of fertility woven into the runes engraved on them. I will not drink out of such a cup with you.” In addition to what she said, Eleanor also knew they were used among wealthy nobles desiring an heir... and in seductions.

“Indeed?” He set the goblets on the table by a handsomely

carved settee and beckoned her to sit with him. He sat slowly, watching

as Eleanor’s eyes could not help but look for the white robe that he

wore to shift and expose his body to her again. When she joined him,

he covered her small delicate hands with one of his own while the other smoothed back a stray tendril of her golden hair.

“Let us be honest. You married Daslan for power, my Lady,” he said quietly. “Power is your bread and butter and, with his death, you will soon find yourself hungry since you have few supporters of your own. One of his kin is sure to claim the throne and you will be forced to marry whichever of his underlings he chooses – that will be your fate... unless Daslan left you with child last night when he came to take you.”

Agamemnon held her gaze and raised both hands to her shoulders and begun slowly untying the blue ribbons which fastened her gown. “Of course, we both know he didn’t; you would never have him in your bed. But who is to know that? According to my spies, he was in your tent for a very long time. Did you drug him as usual?” The lack of anger in her blue eyes and her silence was all the proof he needed to know it was true. As reward he let her feel the strength and warmth of his hand as he played with her soiled dress.

The gown rustled in a whisper of silk as it slid from her shoulders and fell to her narrow waist. Her naked breasts were bathed in trembling golden light as he bent his head to kiss them. “Who is to know it is my child you carry in your womb? Daslan’s surviving officers think you lay with him last night,” His eyes went to the lover’s goblets. “You would be the Queen Mother, the Lady Regent of your people. The sole ruler of Qul Tos, – left in peace, without the nuisance of the king’s relatives.” He then suddenly flashed her a boyish grin while his hands

cupped her breasts. “And I am hardly ugly.” She lowered her eyes demurely as he guided her back up onto

her feet, the gown slipping to the floor. Eleanor, now fully naked, was

defenseless under his avid gaze.

Having talked to the queen, finding her will strong, and seeing her bare and finding her beautiful, Agamemnon let whisper what he lusted after, and it was not the queen. “By the gods, you will give me a beautiful child.”

With those words the spell Agamemnon’s voice and body had weaved was broken. Her lust and willingness to yield to the general had been based on her belief that he wanted her. She thought that through a union in bed there would be a union of power for, as always, power was her only true lover. It had been at that moment that she realized that it was a bastard he wanted, causing her mind to change from hungering for his touch to what he could give her. “And in return, Agamemnon?” she asked, with a hint of growing distance.

Agamemnon expression became as cold as the steel of his sword. He picked up the goblets and held the smaller out to her. “And in return you shall pay tribute and never again bring war on us, and you will tell us if you hear of any plan against us – in YOUR own kingdom and in the Confederacy of Kings,” Agamemnon boomed, listing demands instead of gifts.

Her shoulders rose when she took the goblet. Yes, he had made it clear that Qul Tos would be her kingdom but that things were to go back to the way they were before the war with the paying of tribute and slaves. Knowing, however, this was not a game she could win, she held back from protesting too much. “And the catch?”

Both their bodies had been bare at that moment, the spell that Eleanor had just broken fell back on her with full force. She looked up at him, locked into his gaze, her lips trembling, not knowing how he was going to take her. Having witnessed how Centurions treated their enemies; Eleanor feared the same violence from him in bed.

Seeing the growing terror on her face, Agamemnon shook his head. “I am a Centurion Warrior, a man of honor. I will not hurt you, nor take you more than this once. One night is all I ask.” He touched her face, putting a stop to her shaking. “If you have a daughter, you will never see me again.”

“And if I bear you a son?”

“Then under imperial law, you will return him to his kinsmen. As is my curse, I will not live to see him fully grown. My time has grown all too short already for me to try and have a child,” Agamemnon said with both bitterness and regret. He then dropped his hand from her face to pick up the large goblet. “Will you drink with me, Eleanor?”

The Regent recalled raising her small sparkling silver goblet to her lips and smiling coldly. “To our daughter,” she had whispered Even though Eleanor still remembered how sweet the Huronite wine had tasted that night and how gentle the general had treated her

in his bed, it did nothing to remove the bitterness she now felt as she continued to twist her son’s arm even as the city’s bells began to fill the palace with their alarm.