David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

For most of the day he wrestled with the problem, seeing only one solution. At last, with the sun setting, he made his way back to the house. Xenophon was sitting in the courtyard, eating a supper of figs and cheese, as Parmenion stood before him.

'I am sorry, sir. Deeply sorry for the shame I have brought you. It is a terrible way to repay the friendship you have shown me.'

Xenophon shrugged. 'That is life, Parmenion. Sit down and eat. Tomorrow we will ride to the sea, feel the fresh winds upon our faces.'

'When we return to Sparta,' said Parmenion, 'I will sell the Sword of Leonidas. With that money, I will be able to marry Derae.'

'We have almost two months here,' said Xenophon sadly, looking away. 'It will give you time to think out your plans, and PatrocUan time to lose his anger. Much can happen in that interval.

Perhaps the servants will not talk. Perhaps Nestus will forgive her. Who knows? But if you are to grow, Parmenion — if you are to become the man you ought to be — then you must learn from this experience.'

'What can I learn? Not to fall in love?'

'No, no man can do that. But you must realize that love is perilous; it affects the mind, blinding us to obvious realities. Think of Helen and Paris. They brought about the downfall of Troy. You think that is what they intended? No, they were merely lovers. You are one of the most intelligent and intuitive men I have ever met, and yet you have acted like a complete dullard. If that is what love brings, then I am thankful it has eluded me.'

'It will end well,' whispered Parmenion. 'I promise you.'

'That is still love talking. No man of intellect makes a promise he cannot keep. Now eat, and let us talk of this no more tonight.'

As the weeks passed Parmenion found Xenophon's wisdom once more to be true. The longing and the love he had for Derae did not pass, but his mind cleared and he felt a deep sense of shame for the foolish way he had conducted his affair.

Had Patroclian been so minded he could have taken the matter to the Council, who would have recommended Parmenion's death to the ephors. There was no question of a defence, the law was specific. Any Spartan who violated a virgin was subject to death by poison, or by the blade. Derae herself could be sacrificed to the death goddess, Hecate.

Now Parmenion could look back on his passion with cool logic. In truth, he could not regret their love-making; it had been the high point of his life and had freed him from the miseries of his childhood, exorcizing bitterness and hatred. He no longer desired vengeance against Leonidas, no longer dreamed of leading an army against the Spartans. All he wanted now was to live with Derae and sire children of their love.

During the days he rode with Xenophon out into the countryside of the Peleponnese, and when the sun had fallen he ran on the hillsides, building his strength and exhausting his passions with physical effort.

At night he would sit with the Athenian general discussing military tactics, or political strategies. Xenophon was deeply distressed by Sparta's failure to provide sound leadership for Greece, and gloomily predicted future disasters.

'Agisaleus cannot abide the Thebans and makes public his disdain. It is unwise. I love the man, but he is blind to the dangers. He cannot forget that it was Thebes' actions which brought him back from military successes in Persia. He cannot forgive.'

'And yet,' said Parmenion, 'his return from Persia brought him great credit. He crushed the Thebans and restored Sparta's position.'

'That is a popular Spartan view,' Xenophon agreed, 'but in reality the only victor was Persia.'

'But they had no part in the revolt, did they?'

Xenophon laughed aloud. 'Politics, Parmenion. Do not think merely of swords and campaigns.

Agisaleus had invaded Persia and he was winning. Persian gold — of which there is an unlimited supply — was sent to Thebes and Athens. With that gold they raised their armies; that is why Agisaleus was forced to come home. There was only one way he could win — he sent ambassadors to Persia, agreeing to be her vassal. Persia then abandoned Thebes and Athens and supervised the peace negotiations.'

'Good strategy,' said Parmenion. 'No wonder the empire has ruled for so long. With a little gold, they halted an invasion.'

'Better than that: the Greek cities of Asia were all given over to the Persians.'

'I did not know that,' Parmenion said.

'It is not taught to Spartan youngsters, it would be bad for morale. But it is a canker within Agisaleus. He knows he can never march on Persia again, for Thebes and Athens would rise against Sparta in his absence.'

'Surely he could meet with their leaders? Then he could lead a joint expedition into Persia.'

Xenophon nodded. 'Exactly. But he never will. His hatred has blinded him. Do not misunderstand me, Parmenion. Agisaleus is a good King and a fine man, cultured and wise."

'I find it hard to understand,' said Parmenion.

'Do you now? Love and hate are very similar. Think of your own madness with Derae — did you take time to consider the perils? No. Agisaleus is the same — mention Thebes and his face changes, and you can see his hand reaching for a sword-hilt.'

Servants brought them their evening meal of fish and cheese. They ate in silence for a while, but Xenophon's appetite was not good and he pushed away his plate, pouring a goblet of wine and adding a little water. He drank it swiftly and poured another.

'Perhaps Cleombrotus will make a difference,' Parmenion suggested. The Spartans had always boasted two Kings on the principle that one could lead the warriors into battle while the other stayed home and guided the fortunes of the city. Agisaleus had shared the kingship with his cousin, Agesopolis, but he was simple-minded and rarely appeared in public. Agesopolis' death, four months before, had seen the rise to power of Cleombrotus, a fine warrior and athlete.

'I doubt he will change the mind of Agisaleus,' said Xenophon. 'Cleombrotus is sound enough, but he lacks intellect. I fear for Sparta. Those whom the gods would destroy, they first make proud,'

he quoted.

'Surely pride is Sparta's great strength?' said Parmenion, watching with concern as Xenophon refilled his goblet without bothering to add water.

'Indeed it is, but do you know how many true Spartiates are left in the city? Fewer than 2,000.

For the mess bills have risen and the poorer Spartans can no longer afford to send their children.

Think of yourself. Your mother had a good holding but it has gone to pay for your education. It is nonsense. In ten years the number of Spartiates will halve again — how then will Sparta remain preeminent? And how long will it be before we see your strategy from the Games used in reality?'

'Do not let it sadden you, Xenophon. None of it is within your power to change.'

'That is what saddens me,' the general admitted.

Not for the first time Tamis found her doubts growing. Events were moving swiftly now, and she sensed the power of the Dark God's acolytes seeking her, searching for a way to attack and destroy the one who could disrupt their plans.

But Tamis was not without power of her own and she cloaked her soul, avoiding the spirit eyes of those who hunted, slipping by them like the unseen breeze that whispers through moonlit branches.

Learchus had died — killed by Parmenion. Tamis had not actively sought his death, though she knew part of the blame rested on her increasingly frail shoulders. All men die, she told herself. And was it not Learchus who had hidden in the alleyway ready to attack an unarmed boy? He had brought his doom upon himself.

Still the doubts nagged at her. Her prayers now were largely unanswered and she felt alone against the servants of Chaos. She could no longer summon Cassandra, nor any spirit of the past. The Ways were no longer open to her. It is just a test, she assured herself. The Source is still with me. I know it!