David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

'Where in Hades is he going?' asked Leonidas.

'I don't know, and I don't care,' snapped Patroclian. 'Let's ride!'

The warriors set off for the north.

Parmenion rode high into the hills, angling his mount towards the pass. The footing was treacherous here, scree and loose shale. He slowed the mare, dismounted, then led her up into the trees. On reaching safe ground, he tethered her to a bush and climbed a tall cypress tree. From its uppermost branches he scanned the surrounding hills, seeing no sign of movement save for the dust of the hunting party as it galloped north. He stayed in the tree for some time, and was just beginning to face the possibility of being wrong when several black and grey crows took off from the trees some 200 paces to his right. They seemed panicked and he focused on the area, straining to see through the undergrowth. After a moment or two he caught the glint of sunlight on metal and heard a horse whinny. Swiftly he climbed down the tree, mounted the mare and set off at a run for the pass.

He reached it ahead of the raiders and dragged on the reins; the mare whinnied and reared.

Parmenion leapt from her back and swiftly hobbled her. Climbing to the peak of a tall, rocky outcrop overlooking the narrow pass, he slid an arrow from the quiver and notched it to the string.

His heart was beating wildly and there was a pounding pain behind his eyes. The headaches had been worse of late, waking him in the night and leaving him nauseous and shaken. But now he had no time to be concerned with petty pain.

His reaction to the news of Derae's abduction had surprised him. She had been in his thoughts often, but he had never allowed himself to believe he could win her. Now, with the thought of her being taken from him for good, he felt a rising sense of panic and a realization that she was part of his dreams. A foolish dream! his mind screamed at him, as he crouched, waiting for the raiders.

Leonidas would never allow such a marriage. Marriage? He pictured Derae standing beside him at the Sacred Stone to Hera, her hand on his, the priestess binding their arms together with laurel leaves. .

Wiping his sweating palms on his tunic, he forced such thoughts from his mind and stared at the tree-line. Several minutes later the first of the scouts came into view. The man was sun-bronzed and dark-bearded, wearing a Phrygian helm with a metal crest and a red eye painted upon the brow.

He was carrying a lance. Beside him rode a warrior wearing a wide Boeotian helm of beaten iron; he was carrying a bow in his left hand, with an arrow ready notched.

Parmenion crouched down behind a rock and waited, listening to the steady, rhythmic sound of hooves on stone. Then, risking a glance, he saw the main group, numbering more than thirty, riding out behind the scouts. He could see Derae, her hands tied behind her. There was a rope around her neck, being held by a warrior on a tall grey stallion. The man was wearing silver armour and a white cloak. To Parmenion, he looked like a prince from legend.

Laris rode his stallion clear of the trees and tugged on the rope. The girl almost stumbled. He glanced back at her and smiled. What a beauty! There had been no chance yet to hear her screams, to enjoy her writhing beneath him, but that would come once they had thrown off their pursuers.

Spartans! The weak-livered councillors of Corinth had all but wet themselves when he talked of invading Spartan lands. Could they not see that the Spartans could be taken? If Thebes, Corinth and Athens joined forces, they could destroy Sparta once and for all. But no. Ancient fears held sway. Remember Thermopylae, they said. Remember the defeat of Athens twenty years ago. Who cared about events a lifetime in the past? At best the Spartans could put 15,000 men in the field.

Corinth alone could match half that number, and Athens make up the rest. Thebes and the Boeotian League could double the force.

Dismissed! The shame of it burned at Laris. But now he had shown them: with a mere forty men he had raided deep into Spartan lands. True, they had found little gold and the men were unhappy, but he had proved a point. If forty could ride into the home of warriors and emerge unscathed, what would be the result when 40,000 marched in?

He looked up to see the scouts riding into the pass.

Suddenly an arrow Sashed through the air to strike Xanthias in the throat, and with a terrible cry he pitched from his mount. Instantly all was chaos. Men leapt from their horses, taking shelter behind the rocks. Laris slid to the ground, dragging Derae down beside him.

A young Spartan stood in full view of the men.

'Release the woman!' he called, 'and there will be no further killing.'

'Who speaks?' yelled Laris.

'A man with a bow,' answered the warrior.

'And why should we trust your word, man-with-a-bow?'

'Look behind you,' shouted the archer. 'Can you see the dust-cloud? You are trapped. If you wait, you will die. If you advance, you will die. List your choices, if you will.'

'I see no one up there with you,' said Laris, rising and drawing his sword.

'Do you not? Then it must be that I am alone. Attack me and find out!'

'Show us your men!'

'Your time is running out, along with my patience. If you do not have the wit to save your comrades, perhaps another man among them will make the choice for you.'

The warrior's words stung Laris. Already his men were far from happy, and now this lone archer was questioning his leadership.

A man rose from behind a rock. 'For Athena's sake, Laris! Let the woman go, and let us get away from here!'

The leader turned to Derae. His knife slashed the thongs binding her hands, then he lifted the noose from around her neck. He turned to see the Spartan riding towards him, his bow looped over his shoulder. Laris scanned the rocks but could see no one. He licked his lips, convinced the bowman was alone; longing to plunge his blade into the Spartan, to see his life-blood draining from him.

The warrior smiled at him. 'I have told the others to let you pass and you can trust my word. But I should ride fast. I do not speak for those who follow.'

The men ran for their horses. Laris suppressed the urge to strike out; he could hear the hoofbeats of the Spartan force. Grabbing his stallion's mane, he leapt to the beast's back and galloped through the pass. As he had expected there was no one there — no archers, no hoplites, no slingers. Just rock and shale. He could feel the eyes of his men upon him. He had been tricked by one Spartan. One man had made him surrender his prize.

What now would they say in Corinth?

Parmenion leaned out, taking Derae's hand and swinging her up behind him. Then he touched heels to the mare and walked the beast back into the trees.

Within minutes Patroclian came galloping towards them, followed by Leonidas and the others.

Parmenion raised his hand and the red-bearded Spartiate drew rein as Derae eased herself to the ground.

'What happened here?' Leonidas demanded, pushing his way to the front.

'Parmenion and the others blocked the pass,' said Derae. 'He killed one of their scouts, then negotiated to allow them through if they gave me up.'

'What others?' asked Patroclian.

'Archers, I suppose,' said Derae. 'He threatened to kill all the raiders unless they released me.'

'Where are these other men?' Patroclian enquired of Parmenion. 'I would like to thank them.'

'There are no others,' Parmenion told him. Edging his mount forward, he rode through the group and back down the scree slope to where the wagon was waiting. Tossing the quiver and bow to Tinus, he lifted a waterskin from the seat beside the servant and drank deeply.

Xenophon rode alongside. 'You did well, strategos. We found where the trail swung east, but we would have been too late had you not blocked the pass. I am proud of you.' He tossed a blood-covered arrow to Tinus. 'It was a fine strike at the base of the throat, severing the windpipe and lodging in the spine. A fine strike!'