David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

— he left immediately.'

'It was foolish, Calepios,' Parmenion told him. 'If we do retake the city, then Cascus will run to the Spartans and they will use him as a figurehead to march upon us. You may have doomed us all.'

The statesman nodded his head. 'I have no defence to that. But Cascus is of my blood and very dear to me. And, in his own way, he cares for Thebes as much as any of us. But there is nothing I can do to change my actions — and if there were, I would refuse so to do.'

Parmenion's head felt as if it were ready to explode. He drank more water and then walked into the house, seeking to escape the brightness of the courtyard.

Mothac followed him. 'I have seen marble statues with more colour than you,' said Mothac, as Parmenion slumped on to a divan. 'I think you need some wine.'

'No,' said Parmenion, as his stomach surged. 'Just leave me for a while. I'll get some sleep.'

Fierce waves pounded at a jagged coastline, while monsters of the deep with serrated teeth glided around the slender figure of the girl as she struggled to free her hands. Parmenion swam through the waves, battling to reach her before the dark sea dragged her down.

A huge creature slid by him, so close that its dorsal fin rubbed against Parmenion's leg, but a colossal wave caught the young man's body, lifting him towards the heavens. At its rip, he almost screamed as he tumbled down into the trough. His head went under the water and he found he could breathe there. Derae's body was flooring beneath him; he dived down and ripped the cords from her wrists, dragging her to the surface.

'Live! Live!' he screamed. The monsters circled them — cold, opal eyes staring at the lovers.

Derae regained consciousness and clung to Parmenion.

'You saved me,' she said. 'You came for me!'

Mothac shook him awake and Parmenion opened his eyes and groaned — not just at the pain flaring within his skull, but for the loss of Derae and his dream. He sat up. 'Is it midday?'

'Yes,' answered Mothac. Parmenion rose. Pelopidas was still in the courtyard, and with him was the smith, Norac, and eleven burly men. Four had huge, long-handled hammers.

'Good enough for you, strategos?' asked Norac, lifting an iron spike the length of a short sword.

'You did well,' Parmenion told him, 'but I would like to see your hammer men at work.'

'I brought extra spikes,' said the smith, 'for just that purpose.' Two men hoisted a thick section of timber, standing it against the far wall, while a third man held a spike in place. Moving to one side, Norac gestured to one of the hammer men to take his place on the other. The smith hefted his hammer, then swung it viciously, the head thundering into the spike. As the hammer bounced clear, so the second man swung; after the first strike the holder released his grip and ducked clear. Three strikes later, the spike was deeply embedded.

'Work on it,' said Parmenion. 'It needs to be faster.'

Calling Pelopidas to him, he walked to the andron. 'The celebration you mentioned at the house of Alexandras-will there be guards?'

'Yes. They are not popular men,' Pelopidas answered.

'How many guards?'

'Perhaps five, perhaps twenty. I don't know.'

'Outside or inside the house?'

'Outside. It is a private orgy,' said Pelopidas with a wide grin.

'I will meet you at the house of Alexandras. We will make a plan when we have seen how many guards are present.'

After Pelopidas had gone Calepios went to his room to rehearse his speech, leaving Parmenion in the andron. The Spartan was lost in thought for some time, but then became aware that he was not alone. Turning his head he saw the Spartan seeress, Tamis, standing by the table leaning on a staff.

Tamis gazed at the young Spartan, glorying in the power of his soul-fire, sensing his pain, admiring the courage he showed in resisting its power.

For a moment he stared at her, disbelieving.

'Well,' she said, 'will you offer me a seat, young Spartan?'

'Of course,' he answered, rising to guide her to the table, where he poured her a goblet of water.

'How are you here, lady?'

I go where I will. Are you set now upon leading this insurrection?'

'lam.'

'Give me your hand.'

Parmenion obeyed and she covered his palm with her own. 'With each heartbeat a man has two choices,' she whispered. 'Yet each choice makes a pathway, and he must walk it wherever it takes him. You stand, Parmenion, at a crossroads. There is a road leading to sunlight and laughter, and another road leading to pain and despair. The city of Thebes is in your hands, like a small toy.

On the road to sunlight the city will grow, but on the other road it will be broken, crushed into dust and forgotten. These are the words I am ordered to speak.'

'Which road, then?' he asked. 'How will I know it?'

'You will not, until long after you have walked upon it.'

'Then what is the point of telling me?' he snapped, pulling his hand clear of hers.

'You are a Chosen Man. You are Parmenion, the Death of Nations. A hundred thousand souls will you send to the dark river, screaming and wailing, lamenting their fate. It is right and just that you should know your choices.'

Then tell me how to walk the road to sunlight.'

'I will, but like Cassandra before me my words will not alter your path.'

'Just tell mev'

'Walk from this house and bridle your mare. Ride from this city and journey across the sea to Asia. Seek out the Shrine to Hera of the Book.'

'Ha! I see it now,' said Parmenion. 'You witch! You are Spartan and you serve them. I will not listen to your lies. I will free Thebes, and if a city is to fall to ashes then it will be Sparta.'

'Of course,' she said, smiling, showing rotted teeth and blood-red gums. 'The Death of Nations speaks, and his words will be heard by the gods. But you misjudge me, Parmenion. I care nothing for Sparta or her dreams, and I am happy with the path you have chosen. You are important to me -

to the world.'

'Why should I be important to you?' he asked her, but she shook her head.

'All will be revealed in time. You have pleased me today; your mind is sharp, your wits keen. Soon you will become the man of iron, the man of destiny.' Her laughter was like wind through dead leaves.

Parmenion said nothing, but his fingers strayed towards the dagger at his side.

'You will not need that,' she told him softly. 'I am no threat to you, and will speak to no one of your plans.'

The Spartan did not reply. He was not about to risk the life of Epaminondas on the word of a Spartan witch! The dagger slid clear. .

'Parmenion!' called Calepios from the doorway. 'I am torn over the conclusion to my speech. Will you listen to the ending?'

For a moment only, Parmenion's attention was diverted. He glanced back to Tamis. . but she had gone. Lurching to his feet with dagger in hand, he swung round. But of Tamis there was no sign.

'Where did she go?' he asked Calepios.

'Who?'

'The old woman who was here a moment ago.'

'I saw no one; you were dreaming. Now, listen to this ending…"

Parmenion ran to the door. Outside in the courtyard the smith and his men were hammering at the spikes and the courtyard gates were locked.

Parmenion listened to Calepios' speech, which sounded pompous and lacking in credibility. But he said nothing, his mind locked to the words of Tamis. Had she been real — or an illusion born of pain? He had no way of knowing. Complimenting the statesman on his speech, he left the building and walked in the bright sunshine towards the house of Alexandras. The man was a poet and an actor. According to Calepios he excelled at neither profession, but made his name among the nobility for organizing exquisite orgies. His home was close to the Homoloides, the Great North Gate, and overlooked the hills leading to Thessaly. Parmenion found the house and sat on a wall some sixty paces from the front gates. From here he could see four guards in breastplates and helms, carrying lances, and could hear the sound of music and laughter from within. But there was no sign of Pelopidas. Leaning his back against a cool stone wall, he ran through the plans once more.