David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

Drawing his sword, he gazed down at the gleaming blade. 'I pledge you to the destruction of Sparta,' he whispered. Raising the weapon high he pointed it to the south-east and, though the city was far beyond his range of vision, he pictured the sword poised above it with the sun's harsh light turning it to fire.

'I carry the seeds of your hatred,' he shouted, hurling his words to the winds, 'and I know where to plant them.'

Yes, he thought, Thebes is the right destination for the Lion of Macedon.

'I care nothing about omens,' said the warrior, his voice shaking. 'Let us gather an army and drive the cursed Spartans from the city.'

The tall man at the window turned to the speaker and smiled. Allowing the silence to grow, his dark eyes raked the room. 'We three,' he said at last, 'hold the hopes of our city in our hearts.

We must not be rash.' Ignoring the warrior, he locked his gaze to the sea-green eyes of the orator Calepios. 'The Spartans seized Thebes because they knew we had not the force to oppose them. What we must consider is what they want from us.'

'How do we do that?' Calepios asked.

'What they want is sharp swords in their bellies!' roared the warrior, surging to his feet.

The tall man moved swiftly to him, dropping his voice. 'Why not get closer to the window, Pelopidas? For then you could let the whole city hear you!'

'I'm sick of this constant talk,' Pelopidas replied, but he lowered his voice. 'It offends me that we allow the Spartans to strut around Thebes.'

'You think you are the only man who finds it so?' the tall man asked him.

Their eyes met. 'I am sorry, my friend,' said the warrior, 'but it knots my belly and clouds my mind. Speak on.'

'We must decide what the Spartans desire — and do the opposite. But we must use stealth and cunning, and we must learn patience.'

The tall man moved back to the window, staring out over the city and the hill upon which the Cadmea stood, its high walls patrolled by Spartan soldiers.

'It seems to me,' said Calepios, 'that the Spartans desire what they have always desired -

conquest. They want to rule. Agisaleus hates Thebes. Now he has us.'

'But does he have what he wants'}' queried the tall man. 'I think they are hoping we will rise against them and attack the Cadmea. If we do that, spilling Spartan blood, they will descend upon us with a full army. They will sack the city — maybe even destroy it. And we have no force with which to oppose them.'

'There are other cities,' said Pelopidas. 'We could ask for help.'

'Cities full of spies and loose mouths,' snapped the tall man. 'No, I suggest we organize ourselves. You, Pelopidas, should leave the city. Take to the open country. Gather to yourself warriors and move north, selling your services as mercenaries in Thessaly or Illyria or Macedonia -

it does not matter where. Build a force. Prepare for the day when you are summoned back to Thebes.'

'And what of me?' Calepios asked.

'The pro-Spartan councillors now lord it over the city — you must become part of their ruling elite.'

'I will be hated by the people,' the orator protested.

'No! You will never speak about the Spartans in public, neither to criticize nor praise. You will devote yourself to working among Thebans, helping and advising. You will invite no Spartans to your home. Trust me, Calepios; we need a strong man at the centre, and your abilities are respected by all. They will need you — even as we need you.'

'And what of you, Epaminondas?' asked the warrior.

'I will stay in the city, and slowly I will gather supporters for the cause. But remember this: it is vital that the Spartans find no excuse to send an army into our lands — not until we are ready.'

The door to the andron opened and Calepios leapt from his seat as a servant entered and bowed.

'Sir,' he said to the tall man, 'there is a Spartan to see you.'

'Do they know?' whispered Calepios, his face reddening.

'Is he alone?' Epaminondas asked.

'Yes, sir. He has a letter from the general Xenophon.'

'Show him to the Eastern room, I will see him there,' said the tall man. 'Wait here for a little,'

he told the others, 'then leave by the rear alleys.'

'Be careful, my friend,' warned the warrior. 'Without you we are nothing.'

Epaminondas leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes fixed to the young man's face. 'And how is the general?' he asked, his fingers drumming on the desk before him.

'He is well, sir. He sends you greetings and I have a letter for you.'

'Why did he send you to me, Parmenion? I am merely a private citizen in a city ruled by…

others. I can offer you little.'

The younger man nodded. 'I understand that, sir. But Xenophon said you were a soldier of great skill. I think he hoped you would find me a place in the army of Thebes.'

Epaminondas chuckled, but there was little humour in the sound. He stood and walked to the window, opening the shutters. 'Look up there,' he said, pointing to the citadel upon the hill. 'There is the Cadmea. It is garrisoned by Spartans like yourself; there are no Thebans there.'

'I am no Spartan,' replied Parmenion. 'I was despised as a mix-blood, part Macedonian, but were I a Theban I would be seeking a way to… persuade the Spartans to leave.'

'Would you now?' responded the Theban, a red flush spreading across his thin, pockmarked cheeks but his voice remaining cold. 'There are few men who would attempt such an action. For myself, as I said, I am a private citizen and have little interest now in matters martial.'

'Then I shall trouble you no further, sir,' said Par-menion. Leaving the letter from Xenophon on the desk, he bowed and walked to the door.

'Wait, man!' called Epaminondas, not wishing his unwelcome visitor to see his other guests as they left. 'You are a stranger in the city, and you can stay in my home until we can find suitable lodging for you. I will have a servant prepare you a room.'

That will not be necessary. I have no wish to remain where the welcome is so grudging.'

'I see you are a plain speaker, so let me be equally frank. I have no great love for Spartans, be they friends of Xenophon or no. But you are a stranger in a strange city. Finding good lodgings will take time. I urge you to reconsider — and,' he added, forcing a smile, 'I will even apologize for my crusty behaviour.'

At the smile Parmenion appeared to relax. 'I too must apologize. I am out of place here, and I feel awkward.'

'We shall start again, then, Parmenion. Come, sit and take some wine while I read this letter.'

Returning to his couch, the Theban unrolled the parchment and read of the duel with Nestus and the need for Parmenion to seek his fortune in another city. 'Why did you fight this man — or is it a private matter?' he asked at last.

'He was betrothed to a girl. I too was in love with her.'

'I see. What happened to her?'

'She was sacrificed as Cassandra's victim.'

'What a barbarous people we are,' said Epaminondas. 'It amazes me how easily we criticize the peoples of other races, calling them barbarians, while still we practise obscene blood sacrifices.'

'The gods require them,' Parmenion said.

'There are no gods,' responded the Theban. 'It is all a grand nonsense — yet they have their uses.'

'How can something that does not exist have a use?' asked the younger man.

The Theban smiled. 'There are two doors leading from this room, Parmenion. If I told you that one door was guarded by a lion and that the other leads to a paradise, which door would you open?'

'The paradise door.'

'Exactly. The lion does not exist — but it helps me to make sure you open the door I require. It is very simple. Soldiers tend to believe in gods and oracles, but in my experience any prophecy can be turned to advantage.'