David Gemmell - Dark Prince

The pass was narrow here, less than seventy paces, and the three Spartan lines were holding their ground. Barely. .

Leonidas cursed softly. The moon was high, the skies clear, and there was no opportunity to withdraw in battle order.

Yet holding this pass was a doomed enterprise, for even now the Makedones cavalry would be riding the high ridges to cut them off. By morning the Spartans would be trapped.

Leonidas was weary, weighed down with the muscle-numbing tiredness that follows defeat. The battle had been won — and then the cursed Kadmians had broken. Gutless bastards! Anger flared again, feeding energy to his muscles. Yet it was not the fickle courage of the Kadmians that enraged him. No, the main thrust of his anger was against the Spartan Priest of Apollo, Soteridas, who had declared the timing of the battle inauspicious. And the Spartan army could not march without the god's blessing.

Now Soteridas would appear to have been proved correct. Yet Leonidas knew, as did every Spartan fighting man here, that had the whole army been present they would have cut the Makedones to pieces. Instead the allied army had been crushed, the King slain.

Leonidas closed his eyes. Slain… He could hardly believe it.

The enemy drums beat out the signal to advance and Leonidas jumped from the boulder, running to take his place in the front line alongside the giant, Nestus. Blood was flowing from a wound in the warrior's cheek and his breastplate had been gashed.

'Here they come,' muttered Nestus, with a smile. 'They must like dying.'

Leonidas said nothing.

The black-garbed Makedones bore down on the Spartans, the sound of their war-cries echoing in the pass.

At that moment a low rumble, like distant thunder, echoed through the mountains. Leonidas glanced up at the steep rock-face to the left. Several stones clattered down, followed by fist-sized rocks. At the top of the pass, above the Makedones, Leonidas saw a figure in golden armour pushing against a boulder that hung precariously on a narrow ledge. The huge rock slid clear of the ledge, almost dislodging the warrior, then it fell some sixty feet to explode against a second ledge which tore itself from the cliff-face.

'Avalanche!' screamed a Makedones warrior and the cry was taken up. The enemy charge faltered and stopped, the leading warriors turning, trying to get back from the pass. A massive slab of limestone thundered into the Makedones and Leonidas saw men disappear from sight, their bodies crushed beyond recognition. Panic swept through the enemy ranks as they fought to escape the rain of death. Another huge section of rock yawed out above them. . and fell, killing a score of warriors.

A choking dust-cloud billowed up, the wind sweeping it to the north — into the faces of the Makedones still waiting at the mouth of the pass.

Leonidas gazed up through the dust. At the crest of the cliff he caught a glimpse of the warrior in the golden breastplate — and his spirits soared.

'The King!' he shouted. The King lives!'

The figure on the cliff-top waved, pointing to the south, and Leonidas understood instantly. The Makedones were in disarray, hundreds of them slain by the rock fall. Now was the time to move back.

'By rank,' bellowed Leonidas, 'file six!'

Smoothly the Spartans fell back into columns and marched in close order from the pass. His lieutenant, Learchus, moved alongside him.

'Was that truly the King?'

'I believe so. He started the avalanche.'

'Zeus be praised! Then we do have a chance.'

Leonidas did not reply. A chance? All that was left to face the Tyrant was the Spartan army — 5,000 fighting men, with no cavalry, archers or javeliners. Ranged against them would be more than 20,000 Makedones infantry and 10,000 cavalry. The only hope would be a defensive battle, holding a ridge or a pass. And between Tegaea and Sparta there were only ragged hills and plains. The land was open to the conqueror.

Parmenion will find a way, he thought. He will! That was love and loyalty speaking, he knew, and his mood darkened.

As children they had been enemies, but always he had held the young mix-blood in high esteem, and as the years passed that esteem had given way to a kind of awe. Now they were closer than brothers. Yet what plan could even such a general as Parmenion produce to counter the demonic skills of Philippos?

The pass widened and as the soldiers filed out on to the plain two riders came galloping towards them.

'The King!' someone shouted and the Spartans drew their blades, crashing them against their bronze shields in salute.

Leonidas ran forward as the riders approached.

'Welcome, sire!' he called out. The King sat silently for a moment, expressionless, then he smiled.

'It is good to see you, Leonidas.'

The voice was cool and there was a tension about him that Leonidas could not understand. But then these last two days had been hard, and the King had suffered a bitter reverse.

'What are your orders, sire?'

'South to Sparta,' said Parmenion. 'Battle speed, for the enemy cavalry is close.' Leonidas bowed and then looked to the woman. She was stern of countenance but her eyes were locked to him. The King made no effort to introduce her, which surprised Leonidas, but he said nothing and returned to the head of the column.

The men marched until two hours after dawn; then the King commanded a halt, signalling Leonidas to make camp in a small wood on the slopes of a range of gentle hills. The Spartan soldiers moved into the shelter of the trees and then gratefully sank to the ground, stretching tired bodies to the grass.

Leonidas ordered sentries to watch for signs of the enemy, then made his way to where the King sat with the woman.

'I had thought you dead, sire,' he said, sitting opposite Parmenion.

'It was close,' replied the King. 'You fought well in the pass. What were our losses?'

'Eighty-two died in the battle on the plain, a further thirty in the pass itself. Epulis, Karas and Ondomenus are dead.'

The King nodded, but no expression of regret showed. Leonidas could barely contain his surprise, for Ondomenus had been one of the King's closest companions.

'The Makedones cavalry,' said the King, 'has reached the pass but not followed in pursuit. We will rest here for two hours, then continue south.'

'How do you know this, sire?'

The King smiled. 'I am sorry, my friend. My mind is occupied and it has affected my manners. Let me introduce you to the seeress, Thena. She has many talents — and saved my life during the battle.'

Leonidas bowed his head. 'For that you have my gratitude, my lady. Without the King all would be lost. Where are you from?'

'Asia,' Thena answered. Parmenion stretched out on the ground, closing his eyes. 'The King is weary,' she continued.

'May we walk for a while and talk?' she asked Leonidas.

'Of course,' he answered, perplexed. The King's behaviour was beginning to unsettle him. Taking Thena's arm, he strolled with her to the edge of the woods and they sat upon a fallen log looking back over the plains.

'The King,' said Thena, 'fell from a ledge, suffering a severe blow to his head.'

'I saw the dent in his helm, lady. I am surprised he survived.'

'He is a strong man.'

'He is the best of men, lady.'

'Yes, I am sure that he is. I have known him but a little time. Tell me of him.'

'Surely even in Asia you have heard of Parmenion?'

'I meant tell me of the man. It is said he is a mix-blood. How did he become King?'

'He was the First General of Sparta. When Agisaleus was slain in the Great Athenian War three years ago, the ephors elected Parmenion.'

'But he has no links to the royal houses,' said Thena.

'That is not true, lady. He married well.' Leonidas chuckled.