David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

'I take it you mean men,' said Pelopidas.

'Exactly. But men who understand discipline and the necessity for timing.'

'We have more than 400 men in the city, and within minutes of a general insurrection there will be thousands of Thebans on the streets, marching upon the Cadmea. I think we can kill a few hundred Spartans.'

'My plan involves no killing of Spartans,' said Par-menion.

'Are you mad?' Pelopidas asked. 'These are Spartan warriors — you think they will give up without a fight?'

'Yes,' answered Parmenion simply.

'How?' put in Calepios. 'It would be against all tradition.'

'First,' said Parmenion quietly, 'let us examine the alternatives. We can storm the Cadmea, and -

perhaps — take it. By killing the Spartans we give Agisaleus no choices. He will bring the army to Thebes and retake the city, putting to death all who had a part in the insurrection. You will have no time to gather an army of your own. The retaking of the Cadmea in those circumstances would be the worst folly.'

'You speak like a coward!' snapped Pelopidas. 'We can raise an army — and I do not believe the Spartans are invincible in battle.'

'Neither do I,' said Parmenion, holding his voice at an even pitch. 'But there is a way to retake the Cadmea — without a battle.'

'This is all nonsense,' said Pelopidas. 'I'll listen to no more of it.'

'It must be fascinating,' said Parmenion quietly, as the warrior rose, 'to have a body like a god without a mind to match it.'

'You dare insult me?' stormed Pelopidas, the colour draining from his face as his hand reached for the dagger at his side.

'Draw that blade and you die,' Parmenion told him. 'And after you Epaminondas will die, and Thebes will remain in chains or be destroyed utterly.' Holding to the man's gaze Parmenion rose.

'Understand this,' he said, his voice shaking with repressed emotion, 'my entire life is devoted to one dream — the destruction of Sparta. For years I have been forced to wait for my vengeance, learning patience while the talons of rage tore at my soul. Now the first moment of my revenge is close. Can you imagine how much I want to see the Spartans in the Cadmea slain? How my heart cries out for them to be humbled, cut down, their bodies thrown out to feed the crows? But there is no point to petty vengeance when the greater dream lives on. First we free Thebes, then we plan for the great day. Now, Pelopidas, be silent — and learn.'

Swinging away from the warrior he turned to Calepios, outlining his plan and watching the man's every expression. The councillor was intelligent, with a keen mind, and Parmenion needed his support. Choosing his words with care the Spartan spoke quietly, answering every question Calepios put to him. Then he turned to Pelopidas.

'What now is your view, warrior?' he asked.

Pelopidas shrugged. 'Sitting here it sounds good, but I don't know how it will work in reality.

And I still think the Spartans will bring an army.'

'So do I,' agreed Parmenion, 'but they may not fight. I think Agisaleus will seek the support of Athens. The Spartans took the Cadmea three years ago because pro-Spartan dissidents in the city invited them here. They have always argued that they are guests — friends. It makes a lie of that if- when asked to leave — they return to do battle.'

'What do you require?' asked Calepios.

'First, a doctor, or a herbalist, and also the name of the man who supplies provisions to the Spartans. Next, you must prepare a speech, to be delivered in the main square tomorrow an hour before dusk.'

'And what of me?' Pelopidas asked.

'You will kill every pro-Spartan councillor,' said Par-menion, dropping his voice.

'Sweet Zeus!' whispered Calepios. 'Murder? Is there no other way?'

'There are five of them,' Parmenion said. 'Two are good orators. Leave them alive and Sparta will use them as the lever to bring down the insurrection. After the Cadmea is taken, the city must be seen to be united. They must die.'

'But one of them, Cascus, is my cousin. I grew up with him,' said Calepios. 'He is not a bad man.'

'He has chosen the wrong side,' stated Parmenion, shrugging his shoulders, 'and that makes him bad. For Thebes to be free the five must die. But all Spartan soldiers outside the citadel must be taken alive and brought to the Cadmea.'

'What then?' asked Pelopidas.

'Then we will free them,' answered the Spartan.

Mothac was awakened by a hand pushing at his shoulder. 'What in Hades?' he grumbled as he sat up, pushing away the insistent hand.

'I need you,' said Parmenion.

Mothac glanced out of the window. 'But it is not dawn yet.' He scratched at his red beard, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Swinging his legs from the bed, he rose unsteadily and reached for his chiton. 'What is happening?'

'Freedom,' answered Parmenion. 'I will await you in the andran.'

Mothac dressed and splashed his face with cold water. He had downed several goblets of unwatered wine before retiring, and now they were reminding him of his stupidity. He belched, took a deep breath, then joined Parmenion in the small andron. The Spartan looked tired; dark rings were showing under his eyes.

'We are going to free Epaminondas today, but first there are many matters to be resolved. Do you know the man Amta?'

'The meat merchant in the south-western quarter. What of him?'

'You will go to the surgeon, Horas, and collect from him a package of herbs. You will take them to Amta; there you will be met by a tall warrior, dark-bearded. He will tell you what must be done.'

'Herbs? Meat merchants? What has this to do with freeing Epaminondas?'

Parmenion ignored the question. 'When you have accomplished your task you will accompany the warrior. He is a known and wanted man. He must not be taken, therefore he will use you — and others — to take messages across the city. Do as he bids — whatever the request.'

'You are talking of revolt," said Mothac, his voice dropping to a whisper.

'Yes. Exactly that.'

'What of the officers of the watch? There are more than 200 soldiers patrolling the city.'

'Theban soldiers. Let us hope they remember that. Now go. We have little time and there are people I must see.'

Mothac took his dark green cloak and swung it round his shoulders. 'Take a sword and a dagger,'

Parmenion advised him, and he nodded.

Minutes later he was at the house of Horas the physician, where a man was waiting in the shadowed doorway. He was tall, and skeletally thin. Mothac approached him and bowed. 'Greetings, doctor.

You have a package for me?'

The man glanced nervously at the darkened street, his eyes flicking from side to side. 'There is no one but me, I assure you,' said Mothac.

'This package did not come from me. You understand that?'

'Of course.'

'Now use it sparingly. Sprinkle it carefully over the meat. Try not to get it on your fingers, but if you do then wash them with care.'

'It is poison then?' whispered Mothac, surprised.

'Of course it is not poison!' snapped the physician. 'You think I became a doctor so that I could kill people? It is what the lords asked for: purgatives and vomiting powders. Now get you gone from here. And remember, I have no part in this!'

Mothac took the package and headed towards the north of the city. As he turned a corner near the agora, a soldier stepped out in his path.

'Where are you going, friend?' he asked. Three other soldiers of the watch came into view.

'I am heading home, sir,' answered Mothac, smiling. 'Is there trouble?'

'You are well armed for an evening's stroll,' the man observed.

'It pays to be careful,' Mothac told him.

The soldier nodded. 'Pass on,' he said.

When Mothac arrived at the home of Amta the Butcher-a large building set close to the slaughter-yard and warehouse — he halted at the main gates, searching the shadows for the man he was to meet.