David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

Stepping back, he gazed at her upper body. Her arms and face were bronzed, but her breasts and waist were white as marble. Tentatively he reached out to touch her breast, his palm stroking gently across the raised nipple. She unfastened the brooch that held his chiton and, naked now, they moved to the bed.

For a while they kissed and touched, but then Derae lay back drawing Parmenion on to her. He groaned as he entered her and felt her legs slide up over his hips. In all his life he had never known such pleasure, nor dreamt of scaling such a peak of joy. It was madness, he knew, but he had no control — wished for none. Even the thought of death could not stop him now.

His passion made him want to power into her, yet he did not wish the moment to end and forced himself to move slowly, rhythmically, his eyes open, watching her face. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed. He brushed his lips against hers and her mouth opened, her tongue darting against his own. He felt himself building to a climax and slid from her.

'No,' she said, pulling at him. He knelt by the side of the bed, running his tongue across her flat belly, then lifted her thigh across his shoulder. 'What are you doing?' she asked, struggling to sit. He pushed her back and lowered his head between her legs. Her hair was soft, pelt-like, and his tongue caressed her. She began to moan, softly at first and then louder. She shuddered against him, her hands tugging at his hair. Climbing to the bed, he entered her once more. Derae's arms circled his neck, and she clung to him with fierce strength until he too reached a climax.

Bathed in sweat they lay together with arms entwined. Now it was over, the passion spent, all Parmenion's fear came rushing back. What they had done was against the law. What if the servants had seen them walking hand in hand from the garden? And could they have failed to hear her cries, or the creaking of the bed? Raising himself on his elbow, he looked down at the girl. Her eyes were closed, her face wondrous in its beauty.

He knew then that she was worth the risk, worth any risk.

'I love you,' he whispered.

Her eyes opened. 'I had a dream,' she said. 'Three days ago. I went to a seeress with it. She told me that it meant I would love only one man in my life, and that he would stand and defy an army for me.'

'What was your dream?'

'I dreamt I was in a temple, and all was darkness. And I said, "Where is the Lion of Macedon?" The sun shone then and I saw a general in a white plumed helmet. He was tall and proud, and walking with the light at his back. He saw me, and opened his arms. He called me his love. That's all I remember.'

'Why was there darkness? You said the sun was shining.'

'I don't know. But the dream disturbed me. I should have thought of you, for you are half Macedonian. You are the Lion of Macedon from my dream.'

He chuckled. 'I am told Macedon has few lions,' he said. 'And it is not a country renowned for producing generals.'

'You don't believe in my dream?'

'I believe we are destined to be together,' he told her. 'And I would defy an army for you.'

'You already have.'

'That wasn't an army, that was a rabble. But I could bless them now for bringing us together.'

Leaning down, he kissed her — and his passion returned.

For five days the lovers met in secret, riding out into the hills high above the land. They saw only a few shepherd girls and spent their days wandering through the woods and making love in sheltered hollows.

For Parmenion it was a time of bliss beyond imagining. His bitterness fled from him and he revelled in the glory of the summer sun, the clear blue skies and the beauty of the land. The cruelties of his life seemed distant now, like the memory of winter snow. He could picture them, but could not feel the icy cold of their reality.

On the morning of the sixth day his world changed. He led the chestnut mare from her stall at the rear of the white-walled house and bridled her.

Xenophon walked to him, laying a hand on his arm. 'Do not ride today,' he said softly.

'I need to feel the wind in my face. I will be back soon.'

'I said no!' Xenophon snapped. 'And if you need reminding, the mare belongs to me.'

'Then I shall walk!' responded Parmenion, his face flushed with anger.

'You fool! When will you start using your mind?'

'What do you mean?'

'You know exactly what I am saying. My servants know where you are going. I know where you are going. Patroclian knows where you are going. You have conducted this affair with all the subtlety of a rutting bull.'

'How dare you?' stormed Parmenion. 'You have spied on me.'

'What need was there for spies? You took her to your room on the first day, and her cries echoed around the house. You meet her on hillsides and walk hand in hand, where you can be observed for miles. Patroclian would be within his rights to have you arrested and executed, but he is a man of honour and feels he owes you for your courage.'

'I intend to marry her,' declared Parmenion. 'It is not as you think."

'As I said, Parmenion, you are a fool! Now return the mare to her stall.'

'Allow me to ride out to Derae. I need to talk to her,' begged Parmenion.

'She will not be there; she has been sent back to Sparta.'

Parmenion's throat was dry, his belly knotted. 'Sent back? I will go to see Patroclian.'

Xenophon swung and lashed his open palm across Parmenion's face. The blow stung him and he staggered. 'Maybe the doctor purged you of brains,' hissed Xenophon. 'Will you think, man? You have violated a virgin. What will you say to her father? "I want to marry her"? What do you have to offer? What dowry do you bring? You are a penniless student without a landholding, or a farm.

You have no income. All you have done is ruin the girl for anyone else.'

'You make it sound vile,' said Parmenion, 'but it isn't.'

'You don't understand, do you?' said the general sadly. 'You cannot see it. Derae is pledged to Nestus and they were to have been wed in the spring. When he hears of the shame to himself and his family — as he will, since you chose to act so openly — he will demand repayment of the dowry and, if he condemns Derae publicly, she will die.'

'I will save her. She loves me, Xenophon. She is a gift from the gods to me; I know it. They will not let any harm come to her. Do not hate me for this!'

The Athenian laid his hands on Paimenion's shoulders. 'I do not hate you for it, my young friend.

Your life has not been particularly blessed. But listen to me, and try to use that part of your mind which we have trained. Do not think of Derae. Pull your thoughts away from what you call love and think of life as it has to be lived. You have brought great shame to Patroclian and to his whole family. You have shamed me and you have shamed yourself. Love? Love is born of caring, of compassion, of understanding. Do not talk of love but speak openly and honestly of desire. You put Derae in a position of great danger — that is not the act of a lover. You have destroyed her reputation and blighted the name of a noble line. Tell me where love appears in this scene?'

Parmenion could not reply but he led the mare back into her stall and removed the bridle. The events of the last five days seemed suddenly dreamlike and unreal. He saw now that Xenophon was right: he had shamed his friend and tarnished Derae.

He walked back out into the sunlight, but Xenophon had gone.

Parmenion wandered out into the garden, stopping by the bench where Derae had first kissed him.

There had to be a way to resolve the dilemma, a way in which he and Derae could live together. He had decided months before to leave Sparta when he reached Manhood, but Derae had changed all that.

Now he just wanted to have enough money to marry and to raise a family, to pay for his own boys to attend barracks.