David Gemmell: Lion of Macedon

'Walk with me,' Olympias commanded Parmenion as they made camp on the second night in a hollow on the Emathian Plain. The Spartan followed the Queen as they strolled towards the small camp-fire set by Phaedra. The Queen saw that he was ill at ease and took his arm, enjoying the sudden tension in his muscles. So, she thought, he is not impervious to my beauty. 'Why have you avoided me, general?' she asked sweetly.

'It is not a matter of avoiding you, your highness. But my duty is to see you safely to your husband in Pella. That priority engages my mind, and I fear I am not good company."

She sat down on her cushions, a gold-embroidered woollen shawl around her shoulders.

'Tell me about Philip,' she said. 'There is so much I do not know. Is he kind to his servants?

Does he beat his wives?'

Parmenion settled himself beside the fire. 'Where would I start, lady? He is a King and he behaves like one. No, he does not beat his wives — or his servants — but neither is he soft or weak. There is only one other wife, Audata, the daughter of King Bardylis. But she dwells now in Pelagonia -

by choice."

'She has a child by Philip, I understand,' she said, her hand unconsciously moving to her own swollen belly.

'She has a daughter — a beautiful child.'

'Strange from so ugly a mother,' snapped Olympias before she could stop herself.

'There are many kinds of beauty, my lady, and not all of them fade as swiftly as the flesh,' he told her, his voice cool.

'Forgive me,' she said swiftly. 'It is hard not to be jealous. And I wish us to be friends. Will we be friends?' she asked suddenly, her green eyes holding to his own.

'All the days of our lives,' he told her simply.

After he had gone Phaedra moved close alongside the Queen. 'You should not flirt, Olympias, not among these Macedonians.'

'I was not flirting — though he is a handsome man, save for that hawk nose. Philip is a warrior King and he will take many wives. I need to ensure that my son remains the true heir to the throne and it is never too early to win allies. Parmenion destroyed the power of the Spartans, raising Thebes to greatness. Last year he crushed the Illyrians. Before that he fought for the Great King.

He has never been defeated in battle. A good friend to have, do you not think?'

'You have learned much,' Phaedra whispered.

'Oh, there is more that I know. The King has three advisers he trusts above all others. First is Parmenion, preeminent in strategy, then comes Attalus, cold and deadly, the King's assassin.

Lastly there is Antipater, the Second General, a tough, worthy warrior.'

'What of the women?'

'Philip thinks little of women — save for Simiche, his brother's widow. He trusts her, confides in her. I will win her friendship also.'

'Your plans seem well laid,' commented Phaedra.

'They were set in Samothrace by the Lady Aida. She knows all things, past and future. I was chosen

— and I will not disappoint her.'

'Did you love her?' asked Phaedra.

'Are you jealous, sister of my heart?'

'Yes, jealous of all who touch you — or even look upon you.'

'You should take a man. I will arrange it for you, if you desire it.'

'I can think of nothing worse,' said the seeress, snuggling close to her friend.

At that moment there came the sound of music from the camp-fire of the soldiers, soft and mournful. A voice was raised in song — not a battle hymn but a love song of surprising gentleness, accompanied by the high, sweet tones of a shepherd's pipes. Olympias stood and walked through the trees to where the soldiers sat in a great circle around the piper and the singer. She shivered as she gazed upon the scene: men of war, in breastplates and greaves, their swords beside them, were listening to a tale of two lovers. The singer was Nicanor. He saw the two women approach and faded to silence, the soldiers standing as the new Queen walked among them.

'No, please,' said Olympias, 'do not stop, Nicanor. It is beautiful.' He smiled and bowed; the piper began to play and Nicanor's voice once more rang out. Olympias settled down in the circle with Phaedra close beside her. The seeress shivered and Olympias opened her shawl, the girl once more snuggling in close with her head on the Queen's shoulder. Nicanor sang for more than an hour.

The soldiers did not cheer or whistle as each song ended, yet there was tremendous warmth in the air and Olympias felt like a child again, safe and comfortable with these tough riders. Phaedra was asleep, her head a weight on Olympias' shoulder.

Parmenion appeared and crouched down beside her. 'I will carry her back for you,' he said, his voice soft so as not to wake the sleeping seeress.

'Thank you,' answered Olympias. When Parmenion knelt and lifted Phaedra to his arms, she murmured but did not seem to wake. The soldiers banked up the fires and drifted to their blankets as the general led the way back to the carriage. Nicanor opened the door and Parmenion laid the seeress on the cushions within, covering her with two woollen cloaks.

'Your singing was beautiful, Nicanor,' said Olympias. 'I shall treasure the memory.'

He blushed. 'The men like to hear the songs; it reminds them of home and family. I cannot tell you how much your pleasure means to me.' Bowing, he backed away. Parmenion followed, but Olympias called him back.

'Will you sit with me a little while, general?' she asked.

'As you wish,' he answered. Her fire had died low and he added fuel, building the blaze. The first cold winds of winter were sweeping across the plain and already there was snow in the mountains.

'What is it you fear?" he whispered.

'Why should I fear anything?' she responded, sitting close to him.

'You are young, lady. I am not. You hide it well, but it is there.'

'I fear for my son,' she said, her voice so low he could barely hear her. 'He will be a great King

— if he lives. He must live!'

'I am a soldier, Olympias. I can make no promises as to his safety. But, for what it is worth, I will protect him as best I can.'

'Why?'

It was such a simple question, yet it ripped at Par-menion's mind with a whip of fire. He could not answer it directly and turned to the blaze, idly stoking it with a branch. 'I serve Philip. He is Philip's son,' he said at last.

'Then I am content. They say in Epirus that Macedonia will soon move against the cities of the Chalcidice. They say that Philip seeks to rule Greece.'

'I do not discuss the King's plans, lady, nor am I always party to his thoughts. As far as lam aware, Philip seeks to secure Macedonia. For too long the country has been ruled by others, its security resting on the whims of politicians in Athens, Thebes or Sparta.'

'Yet Philip took Amphipolis — an independent city?'

'No one is independent. It was an Athenian enclave, giving them a foothold into Macedonia,' he told her, uncomfortable with her direct line of questioning.

'But then what of the Chalcidean League and Olynthus? Are they not a threat? Olynthus has close ties with Athens — as have the cities of Pydna and Methone.'

'I see you are a thinker, and wiser than your years. Yet you are not wise enough to hold your tongue on matters best not discussed in the open. Do not trust me overmuch, Olympias. I am the King's man.'

'That is why I do trust you,' she answered him. 'I am Philip's woman. My son's life rests on his survival. If a King dies, is it not the Macedonian way for the new King to kill his precedessor's heirs?'

'It has been, lady, though you will be aware that Philip did not kill his brother's son. But what I am saying to you is that you should trust no one. Not me… not Nicanor. . not anyone. Direct your questions to Philip.'

'Very well, Parmenion. I am chastened. Will you forgive me?' Her smile was an enchantment, but Parmenion fought to remain untouched by its magic.