David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

Parmenion walked to the Grave and sat down on the marble seat.

'What is wrong, my friend?' he whispered.

'I am being followed again, though for now I have lost them. I know you come here after races, and I need your help.'

'What can I do?'

'It is only a matter of time before I am taken. I want you to prepare a strategy to retake the Cadmea. But also there are letters I need carried to friends in other Boeotian cities. You are Spartan, you can travel without scrutiny. You have business interests across Boeotia. No one will think it strange if you travel to Thespiae, or Megara. Will you help?'

'You know that I will. You must bring the letters here, wrapped in oilskin. You can leave them behind this seat, covered with stones. No one will see them. I run here almost every day. I will find them.'

'You are a good friend, Parmenion. I will not forget this.'

Epaminondas faded back into the shadows and was gone.

Eleven times during the next four months Parmenion rode across Boeotia, carrying letters to rebels in Tanagra, Plataea, Thespiae and Heraclea. During this time he saw little of Epaminondas but heard, through Mothac, of increasing unrest among Thebans. In late summer two Spartan soldiers were stoned by a mob, close to the marketplace, and were rescued only when a contingent of armoured warriors ran to their aid from the Cadmea.

The crowd backed away as the soldiers arrived, but the mood was still ugly. Drawing their swords the Spartans charged the mob, their blades slicing into those unfortunates at the front. Blind panic overtook the Thebans and they scattered in terror. Parmenion, at the market-place to purchase new sandals, saw women and children trampled as the crowd fled. One young woman tripped and fell directly in front of the advancing Spartan line. Sprinting from the shop doorway, Parmenion hauled the woman to her feet and carried her back to the relative safety of the shop.

Two Spartan soldiers ran after him.

'I am a Spartan,' said Parmenion as their swords came up. Blood was dripping from the blades and battle-lust shone in the eyes of the warriors, but Parmenion stood his ground, meeting their gaze.

'What statue overlooks Leaving Street?' asked one of the soldiers, touching his bloodied blade to Parmenion's chest.

'The statue of Athena,' he answered, pushing aside the sword. 'Now ask me how many bricks there are in the Cattle Price Palace.'

'You keep bad company,' the soldier said. 'Make sure you know where your loyalties lie.'

'I know where they lie, brother, have no fear of that.'

The soldiers ran back to the street and Parmenion turned to the woman. Her lips were stained blood-red, her eyelids painted in the three colours of Aphrodite, red, blue and gold. 'You are a priestess?' he asked.

'No, I am a shepherd boy,' she snapped.

'I am sorry. It was a foolish question.'

Stepping forward she pressed herself against him. 'Do not be sorry. For forty obols I can make you very happy.' Her hand slid under his tunic, but he pushed her away and left the shop. Bodies lay hi the street, but the troops had moved on.

That night he thought again of the priestess, of her warm hand on his thigh. As the moon rose high over the city he made his way to the temple, finally finding her in a small room on the second floor. She smiled wearily when she saw him, and was about to speak when his hand came up and gently touched her lips.

'Say nothing,' he said coldly. 'I require your body — not your voice.'

As the months passed he made many visits to the young priestess with the red hair. But his passions were soon spent, and usually he left feeling sad and ashamed. It seemed to him that sex with any woman was a betrayal of the love he had known with Derae. Yet he returned week after week to the red-head, whose name he never bothered to ask.

His money dwindled as the odds on his races shortened, but at the start of his third year in Thebes he won against a Thessalian named Coranus, the middle-race victor of the Olympic Games where he had narrowly beaten Leonidas of Sparta. The odds against Parmenion were five to one, and he wagered all he had. The race was close, Parmenion finishing a mere arm's length in front of the Thessalian — and then only because his opponent stumbled in the powdery dust at the last bend. It was a lesson well learned. Never again would he wager everything on a single gamble.

Two days later came the news Parmenion had feared for almost three years. Mothac ran into the courtyard. 'Epaminondas has been arrested, along with Polysperchon. They have been taken to the Cadmea for torture.'

Ordering Mothac to stay at the house, Parmenion headed for the west of the city and the home of the councillor Calepios. An elderly servant led him to a small room with three couches and asked him to wait. After several minutes another servant entered, bowed and led the Spartan along a corridor to an elaborately decorated andron, the walls covered with Persian rugs and hangings, the floor boasting a colourful mosaic showing Heracles slaying the Nemean Lion.

There were nine couches set around the room and two servants stood by, holding pitchers of wine and water, as the master of the house reclined, apparently reading from a large scroll. Calepios looked up as Parmenion entered, and adopted the expression of a man pleasantly surprised to see an old friend. Parmenion was not fooled by the scene; there was tension in the air, and Calepios'

eyes showed fear.

'Welcome to my house, young Leon,' said the councillor, tossing aside the scroll and rising. He was not a tall man, yet he was imposing in a subtle way. His eyes were deep green under shaggy brows, and his beard was carefully curled in the Persian fashion. But it was his voice which gave him power, deep and vibrant. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?'

'May we talk alone?' asked Parmenion.

'We are alone,' said Calepios, unconsciously betraying his noble birth. For him, servants were as much a pan of the house as tables and couches.

Parmenion flicked a glance at the wine carriers and Calepios waved the men away. As the doors closed, the councillor beckoned Parmenion to the couch beside him and both men sat.

'How close are your plans to fruition?' asked Parmenion.

'Plans, my boy? What do you mean?'

'We have little time, sir, for playing games. Polysperchon and Epaminondas have been arrested. But then you know this. You are gambling that they will say nothing of your involvement in the plan to retake the Cadmea. Now I ask again, how close are you?'

Calepios' green eyes locked to Parmenion's face, and his own features tightened. 'Epaminondas trusted you,' he said softly, 'but there is no way I can help you. I don't know what you are talking about.'

Parmenion smiled. 'Then perhaps the man who was with you a moment ago can offer us some advice.'

He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder to a long, embroidered curtain. 'Perhaps you would like to come out, sir, and join us.'

The curtains parted and a tall man stepped into view. Broad-shouldered and slim-hipped, his bronzed arms showed many scars. His face was square-cut and darkly handsome, his eyes so deep a brown that they appeared black. He smiled grimly. 'You are observant, Parmenion,' commented the newcomer.

'Even an accomplished drinker does not have two pitchers of wine and two servants by his side,'

said the Spartan. 'And this couch still retained the heat from your body. You are Pelopidas?'

'Observant and sharp-witted,' said Pelopidas, moving to a nearby couch and reclining on his side.

He picked up a goblet of wine and sipped it. 'What would you have us tell you?'

Parmenion looked at the man who had fought side by side with Epaminondas, suffering seven great wounds and yet surviving, the man who with only thirty companions had fought off 200 Arcadians in a pitched battle. Pelopidas looked exactly what he was: a peerless fighter, a man made for war. 'A long time ago Epaminondas asked me to prepare a plan to take the Cadmea. I have done so. I was merely waiting for him to announce the time; it can be brought into operation within a day. But it depends upon the resources available.'