The Centurion - 5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

Reunion

Hail Agamemnon hail... Hail the Defender of the Gate Hail the Master of the East

Hail the General... never beat Love Agamemnon love...

Love the sword master who would fight with his men

Love the man who would defend our lives to the end Love our lover... and his mastery of the bed

Honor Agamemnon honor

Honor his love

Honor his son

Honor his men who died for his cause

Mourn Agamemnon...

Written by Jonathan, last lover of Agamemnon Argot and recited during the

harvesting of Agamemnon’s body as dictated by traditional burial rites

Eleanor twisted her kerchief as she stepped into the carriage to meet with the leader of the Centurion host, whom she was sure was the father of her brat son.

“To the gates of the city!” She ordered her coachman.

“Yes, my lady,” the man in blue and sliver livery replied from his perch atop the carriage.

The Centurion army, now only a hundred yards from the city’s gate, stood at attention, their red and black war masks hiding any show of emotion. The drums were now silent, allowing the panicked screams and shouts coming from within the city to fill the valley beyond the city’s walls. At the gates, thousands of Tosians were trying to get past the guards and escape before what looked like an approaching siege began. Just as the sun was setting, however, a blare of trumpets came from within the city and the people gave out collective sigh of relief. They even cheered when the royal carriage came down Labyrinth Way, not a common practice for an unpopular ruler. The people watched with anticipation as it raced out the gate escorted by two horsemen, each carrying a banner. One was the white banner of peace. The other was the blue and silver royal standard of Qul Tos.

While Eleanor wished that the people were cheering for her, she was not such a fool. She knew that the commoners were really cheering for the hope of a peace settlement; for they did not call her the Ice Queen out of any kind of love.

Looking out her carriage window, Eleanor saw rank after rank of Centurions while they stood stoically, spear and sword in hand, no sign of the blood lust they were famous for but only their sharp discipline.

Eleanor did not let a sense of false security overtake her, however. She knew that with the raising of a flag, or the lighting of a torch all fifteen thousand men would move like a tidal wave and destroy her city as if it were a sand castle.

“Tact” was the word of the moment. With Agamemnon’s temper just as famous as her own, she would have to watch her words with him. The archers that she had lined up on the city walls did not give her much confidence, as an enraged Centurion could become a porcupine of arrows and still continue fighting.

The only sure way to kill a Centurion was decapitation or a fatal stab to the abdomen, past his heavy armor. No, her thirty thousand soldiers would not last long against such warriors.

Riding until she was behind the Centurion lines, the carriage came to a stop in front of a large red and black tent. Stepping down onto the green grass, she noticed a battering ram on wheels to the side of what had to be the command tent. Eleanor was sure that Agamemnon had placed it there on purpose to serve as a warning to her. As she walked toward the tent, she saw the emblem of two crossed double-bladed swords—the coat of arms of the man known as the Conqueror of the East—on the tent. Inside, Agamemnon waited, sitting on a leather stool, his gray eyes alight like sulfured fire from the light of the torches, showing the anger that was growing on seeing this cold woman again.

Centurion

With our bond I free you... may you never feel the sting of a Centurion’s blade.

Famulus

I accept my freedom and give it back to you.

Centurion

With this ring I give you my bond, The right to my bed, The power of my voice. With my love I claim you.

Famulus

“I, a Famulus, accept the bond of my Centurion. I give him the right to my body, And my services as his servant. With your love I am claimed.

Both

Together we are one in battle.

Centurion

I, the sword, I protect my love from harm.

Famulus

I, the shield, I care for my Centurion’s wounds.

Both

Together we are one in peace.

Centurion

I, the master

Famulus

I, the servant

Both

Till our deaths break this bond, we are one...

The Bond Oath between a Centurion and a Famulus.

Agamemnon looked up at Jonathan, the man who he captured at the Battle of the Gate. The man who had become his lover, the one he would soon be leaving. Not that he wanted to, but his 39^th year of life was almost over, with death waiting for him on the other side.

Jonathan, wearing the black robes of an imperial slave, the robes of a Famulus, looked at Agamemnon with love and a sense of nervousness.

Agamemnon reached over and stroked his lover’s back. “Do not worry, Jonathan... I have time enough to see to what must be done. Eleanor will soon see she has no choice but to surrender my son over to your care.”

“But your time is so short...” Jonathan replied... close to tears. It had been a slow seduction that had led to the two becoming lovers. Jonathan had been a Tosian soldier captured at the Battle of the Gate, but since that time Jonathan had known nothing but happiness, even while wearing the title of slave.

“From you, Jonathan, the boy will have to learn right from wrong... and in the world of Domus... morality is a tricky business for any Legatio youth, not to mention for us Centurions.” Agamemnon chuckled softly.

“But what if I fail? What if the boy...”

“You will not fail, my love. This is the time of prophesy, you cannot fail to do what is foretold.”

“As you say my love,” Jonathan said as he moved in to let his lips brush against the deeply tanned face of the Centurion but stopped short when out of the corner of his eye saw the flap of the tent move. “My lord... she’s here.” When Eleanor stepped in, her hard gaze fell upon the lovers, giving them a look of pure hate. Jonathan for his part could not help

but return the look with a flash of anger of his own. Having no time for a fight between his lover and the woman with whom he mated, Agamemnon dismissed his servant. “You may go now, Jonathan... the Regent and I have many things to discuss...

matters that are best left between us alone.”

“As you wish my lord,” Jonathan bowed before departing, a scowl still on his face.

Seeing the blond woman standing in front of him with a confident expression on her face amused Agamemnon greatly. Once his servant was gone, he walked over to greet her with all the formality of meeting an old friend. “Eleanor... you seem well,” he said to the mother of his child with false cheerfulness.

“Lord Agamemnon,” Eleanor curtsied. “I see you have taken on a new lover... congratulations. May he last as long as we did.”

Brushing aside her barbed comment, Agamemnon continued being pleasant. “Have you enjoyed your regency, your ladyship?”

Eleanor took a seat on the beach in front of the general. “It has had its moments.”

With no reason to delay what he had to say, Agamemnon went right to the point. “You know why I am here?”

“To see your daughter?” Eleanor feigned ignorance.

On hearing her say such an obvious lie, Agamemnon’s remaining patience was blown away. He pounded on the table, cracking the wood with his fist as he shouted, “I am here for my SON!”

“But you have no son,” Eleanor continued to deny, talking to the mighty general like she had seen Melissa talk to Jason, as if he were a child.

Seeing that a simple request would not work on one equally as stubborn as he, Agamemnon decided a threat was what was needed. “If I have no son you will have no head to wear that pretty sapphire crown,” he finished with a snap of his fingers.

On cue, one of the Centurion guards in the tent drew his sword and walked behind Eleanor, the edge of his sword pressing hard against her neck. It took all the courage the Regent could muster to dare to even speak again, her heart beating out of control. “Shall we trade?”

she stammered. “A trade?” Agamemnon asked, raising an eyebrow, waving the guard off. He then handed Eleanor a white towel, which came back

bloody when she wiped the back of her neck.

With the sword withdrawn, Eleanor’s confidence returned.

“Yes... I will give you Jason... if you in return lend me a few legions of

your Centurions to kill off my rivals. I think we can both agree that will

cost fewer lives on both sides.”

“Jason... that is my son’s name?” Agamemnon said. Impressed that she had at least given him a Legatio name, not knowing it had been the queen’s chief bodyguard, Melissa, who had so named him.

“Yes,” Eleanor nodded.

“Agreed...” Agamemnon said after thinking about it. The cunning Regent was right. It would be easier to kill a few nobles and their supporters than try to take the Labyrinth Tower by force. “Clear the gates so my army can claim its prize and we will see to your future as queen.”

Seeing the eager look on the general’s face, Eleanor knew she could set one more condition. “No... only you can enter. I do not want your entire army knowing the secrets of the Labyrinth.”

The general nodded but remained wary. “I hope you are not planning a trap. You know my men will level your city if I do not return.”

Eleanor gave the general a look of disbelief as if an ambush had been the last thing on her mind. It fooled no one. “Yes... I understand. Shall we now go?” she asked with nervous impatience.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. The sooner the better,” Agamemnon said as he marched past her out of his tent, into the red light of the setting sun, making the white walls of the city look as if they were covered with blood.



As the two left the tent, Eleanor waved to her gilded carriage. “May I offer my hospitality?”

“In Domus... carriages are for the weak and infirm... not even a Legatio rides one unless he must.” Agamemnon replied roughly as he went to where Jonathan was holding the bridle of a black stallion.

Racing ahead of the carriage, Agamemnon rode his horse hard, his head held high as the wind blew through his blond hair. Always a lover of horses, he would miss the thrill of the cavalry charge with the thundering sound of thousands of hooves. Out of hope that his love of

animals would pass down to his son, Agamemnon had already written in his will that the horse would be his final gift to his son. Agamemnon again regretted that he had not come sooner for the boy.

Arriving at the palace well before Eleanor, Agamemnon handed the bridle to a stable boy and marched his way into the royal palace till he arrived at the iron doors to the Labyrinth.

While he waited, Agamemnon felt a sharp pain inside his chest that caused the general to bend over. “Please not now,” Agamemnon sighed. “Not till I have seen my son.”

By force of will alone, he pushed the pain back and stood up to

find Eleanor looking at him with an amused smile.

“Shall I call for a healer, Lord Agamemnon? Or is my hospitality still too belittling for a man as noble and proud as yourself.” “I am fine,” Agamemnon said darkly, trying desperately not to gasp for air in front of the queen.

“As you wish, my lord.” Eleanor said with a mocking bow of her head.

Feeling his strength quickly return, however, Agamemnon pulled out his sword and ran it down the iron door with one fell swoop, sending sparks everywhere. “Shall we see if your corpse will also sparkle? Open the gate!”

“Open the gate!” Eleanor shouted, her voice unable to hide a tremble of fear.

Just as the doors were opened and the Regent and general took their first steps inside, the last rays of the setting sun disappeared, bringing along the shadow of dusk.

Led inside the maze, Agamemnon walked through a series of tunnels, chambers, and ramps, leading higher up the mountain. Even while he could only see by the light of a single torch, he knew that any attack would have resulted in a blood bath. It was after feeling he had been underground for hours that they arrived at a dead end.

“What is this?” Agamemnon grunted, suspecting a trap.

“It is all part of the secret.” Eleanor smiled broadly as she waved

the torch she carried in a circular pattern above her head.

Agamemnon was then startled by a sudden creaking sound. Looking up he saw a large wooden platform bound by chains descending to the ground where they stood.

“Shall we go up?” Eleanor grinned, loving the look of surprise on the general’s face.

Boarding the primitive elevator, it took them up thirty feet to stop at the final tunnel that finally led out into the open air atop the plateau. Impressed by what he had seen, Agamemnon knew that even if his men could make it through most of the maze, he didn’t know how they would make it up the cavern shaft.

When they emerged from the tunnel it was to see the white stone Labyrinth Tower aglow under the moonlight, bonfires and torches lit around it. Built in a semicircle around the tower, Agamemnon saw a large cistern, several warehouses, a large garden, herds of sheep and goats, and the red fire and smell of a nearby blacksmith’s workshop.

A master of war, Agamemnon let his calculating mind try to determine how long the place could survive, besieged. If the warehouses were full, Agamemnon suspected that the Tower could last against his army for well over ten years. That was a fact that disturbed him.

At the entrance to the Tower was an oak door, banded with steel. Two of Eleanor’s female bodyguards stopping them with crossed spears.

Seeing Agamemnon reach for his sword again, Eleanor spoke. “Now now... let us show some respect for our guest.”

She waved her hand and they put their weapons back to their sides, letting her and Agamemnon pass.

“No tricks now...” Agamemnon warned, not taking his hands

off the hilt of his blade.

“Tricks... you were the one who tricked me.” Eleanor spat. “You knew I wanted a daughter but gave me a son.”

“Hahaha... did you not know? Centurions only father sons!”

“There are no Centurion women?”

“Have you ever seen one?” Agamemnon chuckled.

“No. I just assumed...”

“That we kept them locked away like prisoners... like you did with my son?” Agamemnon said half in jest.

The regent, though her face was now red with anger, kept silent, leading the general up a spiral stair to the topmost room of the tower. There she stopped, and before opening the door turned to face Agamemnon. “I have to warn you... he has never seen one of your kind.”

“What do you mean by one of my kind? A Centurion?” Agamemnon asked suspiciously.

Eleanor took a deep breath before explaining. “He has never seen another man.”

“What?” Agamemnon shouted, his already dark face turning darker.

Eleanor’s cold eyes focused on the general. “If you have not noticed, all my bodyguards are women. ‘They’ have been the only ones to enter my tower or seen my son. I have killed to make sure of that the taint of men in my tower has been limited to one exception... your brat.”

“I am sure he will adjust quickly,” Agamemnon grunted as he pushed past Eleanor.

Inside, Agamemnon’s eyes fell upon a child-size bed where a small, pale boy slept, his arm in a sling.

“My son...” Agamemnon smiled, tears of joy running down his face.

On hearing the deep voice of his father, Jason’s eyes opened to see a giant walking in with a determined look, but instead of becoming frightened Jason giggled, stood up, ran over, and hugged Agamemnon’s armored leg.

“My son...” Agamemnon repeated, lost for words.