Herald of the High King
“I am herald to the High King.”
Lukka started to protest.
“Come under a flag of truce. This offends against the protocol.”
Lukka didn’t have an inkling about such things. But what Paris was up to did not fit.
One thing Lukka had learned about kings and princes, though. They did things in their own way. And in their own time. Paris had taken ages to appear. Looking resplendent in his fine robes. Hair curled and oiled. A shimmer of satisfaction glowed off his skin .. like he had just come from making love to the most beautiful woman in the world. No apology or explanation for keeping Lukka waiting. Or locked in an underground cell.
As best he could to sound like Agamemnon’s ambassador, Lukka protested.
“I arrived with an offer from the High King. He expects King Priam’s reply.”
Paris had entered the cell with the pair of palace guards. In the same moment Lukka was diverted by bolts on the double-doors being shoved aside from the other side. The doors opening to reveal a large gloomy chamber. It took no time to recognise the room for what it was. The chains hanging down from the ceiling .. ending in manacles for a man’s wrists. Whips and instruments hanging off nails hammered into the walls.
Paris stood handsome, courtly. Athletically well-built. He nodded in agreement.
“And we are here to give Agamemnon that answer.”
Already three more guards from the torture chamber were coming for Lukka. Big men, stripped to the waist already. The two guards with Paris had their spears crossed in their fronts ready to shove Lukka into the bigger room.
Paris gestured with his hand. Politely inviting Lukka to join his men in the torture chamber. Lukka was a soldier, he was a fighter. His instincts were to fight his way out of a corner. But where to go? He could put up a fight but he’d be overwhelmed. Five of them. He’d give them hell. He’d cracked a few bones. But they’d beat him into submission. Stun him, weaken him. And still he’d finish up in those chains. It went against the grain. Every sinew in his body was busting for a fight. He was angry. Furious at getting tricked. But he fancied he’d better save his strength.