Chapter 11

The entire battle field was silent as the sound of Paris's challenge still echoed in the air around them. Paris still stood firm and determined; the rage was burning in his soul at the act Agamemnon had just committed. Tears made clean streaks in his dust covered face, and his lips peeled back to bare his teeth, in a furious snarl. But Hector could see that he was also controlled in his emotions, he was using them to fuel is courage and strength, but he was not blinded by them.

Agamemnon stared at Paris for a moment, as did the rest of the Greek army. Then he burst out laughing at the Trojan Prince. Here was the same cowardly pub that had once already called a lawful challenge, and then fled like a coward. And now here he was again, demanding a fight, he had learned nothing since he was bested by Menelaus. "You dare to challenge me, Paris of Troy? And how will you fight this time? With sword in your hand, or tears in your eyes as you beg for mercy...again.

Some of the Greek army snickered quietly, but most just stared as the scene developed. The Trojan army just stared as well, they were offended by the insult to their prince, but they couldn't very well deny it had happened. All the men of Troy and Greece had been watching that day, when Paris had run for his life.

Paris bristled at that, but like his soldier's he could not deny what Agamemnon had said. He shook it off and summoned his fury and hatred to him again. He felt his fear leave him again, the dark but powerful emotions ran through his entire body, filling it with strength and resolve. He faced the High King of Greece again with contempt etched n his face. "You seem to delight in causing pain Agamemnon, and you treat life like a disposable commodity. You destroy homes, you take the lives and freedom of innocent peace loving people, you even take the lives of children!" Paris paused as he looked at the drying pool of blood that Briseis had shed in her final moments. "And all to satisfy your own need for power and glory" he glared at Agamemnon with his dark eyes "Well now it's your turn!"

Agamemnon laughed again at Paris's declaration "Oh really? And I suppose the great and powerful Paris of Troy is going to defeat that which has never been defeated" he said with withering sarcasm. "Maybe not, but I can try." Paris lifted his spear and made his way down the slope to Agamemnon, who in turn raised his spear point and marched to face Paris on a level part of the beach.

"You Paris should have the first spear throw." Agamemnon said in a voice that was normal but had a sinister edge to it."We should draw lots, it is the proper custom." Paris replied in a calm voice he was not afraid, not this time. He would do this and accept whatever the gods decreed, whether he would find favour with Ares or with Hades.

Agamemnon shook his head "No, take it." And with that Agamemnon readied himself behind his shield. His body was fat but still powerfully built, and his arms had their fair share of muscle.

Paris raised his spear and held it balanced in his fist as he and Agamemnon circled each other. Paris hurled his spear at Agamemnon hoping to drive it through his head. But Agamemnon caught the spear on the side of his shield and knocked aside with undisguised ease. Agamemnon then cast his spear at Paris. Paris raised his shield just in time; the spear point hit his shield and crashed its way through. The spear embedded itself in the shield with the point stopping just a few inches from Paris's face.

Paris was shaken for a second before he tried to pull the spear out of his shield. It proved useless, the spear would not move. Paris snarled in frustration as he cast away his now useless shield across the sand and drew his sword form its scabbard. Agamemnon smirked and tossed away his shield too. He drew his sword and admired it for a brief moment. "At the swords already are we Paris?" when Paris made no reply he continued "Funny, I didn't think we would make it this far!"

As he finished the last word charged at Paris with fire in his eyes. Paris caught his sword on his own and turned the strike aside. He then countered with an attack of his own; he swung his sword in an arc, aiming to decapitate the Greek king. Agamemnon blocked the blade and thrust his forward to pierce the Trojan's heart. Paris dodged the blow and his sword arced out to gut the Greek. The fight continued for a time with neither side gaining an advantage over the other. Then Agamemnon stumbled backwards a few steps and then lunged again and just as Paris did the same.

Their swords clashed and grated together in a shower of sparks, but neither one could force the other back upon its holder. Agamemnon made to punch Paris in the face with his free hand, but Paris grabbed his incoming fist and held it in a vice like grip. The two royals forced all their strength into their arms as they tried to force the other back, their faces only inches apart.

Agamemnon gnashed his teeth in rage in rage when he saw the Prince wouldn't go down without a fight. "You lowlife Trojan, how dare you oppose me!" He snarled in voice of hatred and shaking with the strain the struggle was putting him through. He pushed even harder and slowly he began to force Paris back as his sword inched closer to his throat. Paris fought with all he had, but he was simply not as strong or experienced as Agamemnon was. Agamemnon saw this and pressed his advantage forcing Paris on to one knee.

Agamemnon smiled as victory drew closer. "When I am done with you I will burn Troy to the ground and make your father and brother watch before I behead them!" He was trying to force the images into Paris's mind to make him lose hope. And it was working; Paris could see it all play out before him in his mind's eye. "And then I will introduce myself to your mother, Andromache, and especially Helen. They will spend the rest of their lives as my concubines in Mycenae! And at night, they can sleep in the soldier's barracks, but I don't think they will get much sleep!" he finished laughing manically.

Paris's eyes had been closed through this tirade as he tried to block out the images and words that flowed in his mind. Now his eyes snapped open and looked at Agamemnon with lightning flashing in their irises.

"You...ANIMAL!"

Paris forced himself to his feet once again as his words echoed across the battlefield he brought the knee that had been on the ground moments ago crashing into Agamemnon's stomach. Agamemnon was wearing his armour but the sheer force of the kick sent his lungs wheezing as his stomach stretched and caused him to cough up various fluids.

As Agamemnon stumbled back wheezing and gasping for breath, Paris let go of his enemies hand, clenched his own into a fist and sent it smashing into the side of Agamemnon's face. The force of the blow knocked the king down and blood started flowing from a broken nose, Paris was sure it also broke a couple of fingers in his hand. While Agamemnon struggled to get up Paris raised his sword over his head and brought it chopping down on the Geek.

But Agamemnon managed to roll to the left as the sword cut down into the sand where he had been a second ago. He quickly rolled to his feet and before Paris could pull his sword out of the sand, he slashed at Paris's side with his blade. Paris yelled in pain as a deep and long gash penetrated his armour and crossed his side stomach. Blood immediately splattered down his armour and on to the sand. He was half blinded by pain but he was able to bring his arm guard up in time to deflect Agamemnon's intended killer blow.

With that done and his sword hand free, he slashed at Agamemnon's leg, catching him on the upper thigh and leaving a gash similar to the one Menelaus had given him in their duel. Agamemnon roared in both pain and frustration. Without stopping to thing he tackled Paris to the ground as both their swords fell forgotten to the ground. Paris was taken completely by surprise, before he could even defend himself Agamemnon's fists slammed repeatedly into his face and his open wound. He yelled in pain and struggled to his feet, just in time to defend himself against Agamemnon's next flurry of attacks. This duel had now become a royal fist fight.

Agamemnon hit Paris under the chin in a fierce uppercut which sent his jaw snapping shut, and Paris was thrown to the ground. In a flash of anger and desperation Paris hooked his foot behind Agamemnon's leg and pulled him to his knees. This gave Paris the time to send his foot into Agamemnon's face. Agamemnon yelled out as his already broken nose was damaged further, his right eye was bleeding profusely, and his lip was split. But it didn't slow him down. He brought his foot up and slammed it down on Paris's leg as he still lay on the ground.

Paris cried out as his leg was either broken or cracked, either way it didn't matter, his left leg was now out of use. Half blinded by pain Paris tired to get up but only made it to his knees. Paris knew couldn't go on much longer, he was weak from blood lose and dazed with pain. Now he could only could only just stand up, but hardly move.

He looked back up at Agamemnon; the Greek king was a mess. His face was covered in his own blood; his nose was bent in a horrible angle. And he was limping heavily from his injured leg, where bloods still ran from. But it was clear that while Agamemnon was injured and weak, he still had a lot of fight in him. This was proved when Agamemnon reached down and seized Paris by his armour. He lifted him off the ground and above his head and with a scream of rage; he threw him ten feet away across the sand, where he landed in a crumpled heap.

Hector watched all this from the slope with the ranks of the still watching Trojan army; it was all he could do not to tell the archers to fire at Agamemnon. Before they had left Troy Paris had made Hector swear to Zeus that he would not interfere with a challenge again. But Hector didn't see any hope for his brother. He wished that Paris had listened to him and stayed at Troy, or had not made the challenge. But now all he could do was watch and pray to all the Olympians that they would save his brother.

Another one who was watching the fight with similar feelings was Odysseus. He saw that Paris had drained all of his strength and energy. Agamemnon was hurt, and hurt badly, but he was still able to give a lot of fight. It seemed that this was the end for Paris, he fought a brave battle, but now it looked like the handsome Trojan Prince's life was in the hands of the ruthless tyrant. He sensed that Paris too knew that his struggle was hopeless. Odysseus bowed his head in silent respect to the boy prince.

Meanwhile Agamemnon had retrieved his sword and was limping to where Paris lay on the ground. Paris was swimming in and out of consciousness, he was fighting hard to get up and keep fighting, but the loss of so much of his blood had made his limbs useless to what his mind wanted. He was only dimly aware that Agamemnon now stood above him. Through the blood on his face Agamemnon smiled an evil smile. He brought his uninjured leg back and kicked Paris as hard as he could in the side, rolling him onto his back.

Paris groaned in agony and went into a coughing spasm; blood spurted from his mouth as he retched. The Prince was beaten; he was unable to move, barely able to see, he was so exhausted that he couldn't even speak properly.

"My my, what do we have here? A fallen prince, oh dear." Said a cold and gleeful voice

Agamemnon stood over Paris as the Greek and Trojan armies watched in silent awe. Hector was fighting a battle of his own. The honour he had always lived by told him not to interfere in a duel before the gods. The big brother part of him told him to screw his honour and save his little brother, who he had always protected.

Paris coughed a few times but otherwise laid still, his blood staining the sand around him.

Agamemnon regarded his enemy. "It pleases me to see you reduced to this Paris." He chuckled then he turned serious "I don't know why, but I will honour you enough to put you out of your misery. Don't worry though, your family, your friends, your entire kingdom will follow you soon enough."

He reached down with his free hand and grabbed Paris's shoulder strap. He then raised him up so Paris was half sitting up. Paris's eyes cleared and focused on his enemy, he looked at Agamemnon with hate in his eyes and with his last bit of strength, he spat in his face.

Agamemnon didn't react to that, he simply wiped it of his face and then raised his sword to point at Paris's heart.

"Goodnight sweet prince"