Single Combat
“Hold your ground men it’s
about to get bloody,” I yelled.
“Sir, Paris of Troy has
called for anyone to take him on in single combat,” said my lieutenant.
Hearing this I roused my
horses and powered to the frontline to see the scoundrel’s surprised face. I
watched him sink back into his lines as I leaped out of my chariot.
“Is he afraid to fight me for
what is truly mine”
“He is not afraid of a man
who isn’t worthy to be a king,” shouted Hector from the Trojan lines
“What then, did he see a
field mouse”
Hearing this my entire
frontline burst out laughing. Then Paris emerged from the Trojans with armor
that barely fit him.
“ What are the conditions Sir
Paris”
“If I win your army leaves to
where they came”
“And if you lose”
“Helen is yours”
“Fair enough”
“Hold on we must make it true
to the gods, bring two lambs from the city and build an altar,” said Hector
Then he pulled out his sword and began to draw
the fighting area. My men built the altar and the lambs were sacrificed. Hector
put our names in a helmet to decide who had the first cast of the spear.
Paris’s name was picked. He cast his spear. It sped towards me, heading straight
at my chest. It would have easily killed me if I hadn’t raised my shield. The
point of his spear was blunt and harmlessly bounced off.
“Great Zeus! Grant me my
rightful vengeance on this man who did me foul wrong, even while he ate my salt
and slept beneath my roof!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
Then I cast my spear with all
my might at the man who stole my wife. It pierced his shield like butter, broke
through his breastplate and came to a halt just before it pierced skin. My
spear should have gone straight through him but as I threw he had dived to the
side saving a fatal wound and leaving a spear head stuck in his tunic.
I was mad and not just mad
but furious. I pulled out my great sword and swung at his head. As my sword met
the bronze comb of the lucky kid’s helmet it shattered into four pieces. Paris
became dazed by the blow so I pounced on him in rage and drug him by the helmet
to our lines to finish him. Then the helmet strap broke by some kind of magic
and I flung the helmet into my men but when I turned to finish him he was gone.
“Has he become afraid. Does
the little boy not want to fight any longer.” I beckoned to the Trojan lines.
“Does this mean a Greek victory?”
Asked my lieutenant aloud.
But we were answered by the
sound of armor being fastened.
