David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

'It will be as you say,' promised Pelopidas. 'I will send out riders to watch all roads to Thespiae.'

Parmenion walked back through the night-cloaked city. He felt tense and excited, and as he passed the Temple to Aphrodite he remembered the red-headed priestess. Stopping by the marble fountain he gazed at the temple, feeling the stirrings of desire deep in his loins. Checking his money sack, he strolled into the temple precincts and along the corridor. The hour was late, but lantern light could be seen under the woman's door; he put his ear to the wood, listening for sounds of movement, but there were none and he knocked softly. He heard the creaking of the bed as she rose.

The door opened.

He held out his money and was surprised to see her smile. 'I am happy you are recovered,' she said.

'I do not wish you to speak!' he snapped. The smile froze on her lips, then her cheeks darkened.

'Take your money and go!' she said, slamming the door in his face. For a moment Parmenion stood shocked; then he backed away and returned home to the cold comfort of his bed. The meeting with the woman had disturbed him. She knew he required her to say nothing; he had been with her scores of times. He would pay her, satisfy his lust and leave. It was a simple business. Why then had she broken the rules?

As he had stood in the doorway her perfume had washed over him, filling his senses. And in her face, as he reprimanded her, there had been shock, surprise and a bun he could not understand. He felt an almost physical need to seek her out and apologize. But for what? How had he offended her?

At last he dropped into a troubled sleep and dreamt of Derae.

Parmenion awoke three hours later and climbed to the flat roof to watch dawn illuminate the city.

He turned his gaze south-west to the towering peaks of Mount Cithaeron and the mountains beyond.

This is a beautiful land, he thought, yet we squabble over it like children.

He sat in the sunlight, thinking back to his days with Xenophon.

'Greece can never rise to full glory,' the general had told him, 'for we are not a complete nation, and we have no national view. We have the finest soldiers in the world, the best generals, and we are supreme on the sea. Yet we are like the wolf-pack; we rend and tear at each other while our enemies gloat.'

'But the wolves always find a leader,' Parmenion had pointed out.

'Yes,' Xenophon agreed, 'and there the comparison ends. Greece is composed of scores of city states. Even a man of greatness from — let us say — Athens would not be able to bind Greece together. The Spartans would envy and fear him, the Thebans likewise. They would not see him as a Greek but as an Athenian. The hatreds are too deeply ingrained and they will not be overcome — at least not in my lifetime. So what do we see? Persia controls the world and she uses Greek mercenaries to do it — while here we live in a country with beautiful mountains and poor soil.

Everything we need we import from Egypt or Asia, paying the Persians handsomely for each transaction.'

'What if one man were to lead a united force against the Persians?' asked Parmenion.

'He would need to be a colossus among men, a demi-god like Heracles. More than that, he would have to be a man without a city — a Greek. And there are no such men, Parmenion. I had hoped Sparta would take the lead, but Agisaleus cannot forget his hatred of Thebes. The Athenians learn with their mothers' milk to hate Spartans. Thebans and Corinthians loathe Athenians. Where then can Greece find a leader?'

'What would you do?'

'If I were a god, I would lift the nation from the sea and shake her, so that all the cities fell to dust. Then I would gather the survivors and tell them to build one great city and call it Greece.'

Parmenion chuckled. 'And then the Athenian survivors would take the northern part of the city and call the district Athens, while the Spartans would take the southern part. Then each would decide that their neighbour's district was more precious than their own.'

'I fear you are right, my boy. But, set against my despair, there is a good side to the situation.'

'And what is that?' Parmenion asked.

'There will always be a demand for good generals.'

Now Parmenion smiled at the memory and climbed down from the roof. Mothac brought him a goblet of the sylphium brew, which he drank swiftly. He had experienced no head pain since the night of Derae's miracle, and his body felt strong once more.

'I need to run,' he told Mothac.

But the training ground was packed with warriors practising with sword and shield. Pelopidas was roaring out orders and several officers were moving among the men, offering advice or encouragement. Parmenion stood and watched for some minutes, then Pelopidas saw him and ran to where he stood.

'They are coming along well,' said the Theban. 'Good men, proud men.'

'Given time, you will have a fine force here,' said Parmenion, choosing his words with care. 'But how much close formation work do you plan?'

'We always conclude with a formation run. But the men prefer more open combat; it makes them competitive.'

'Indeed it does, my friend, and you are quite right. Yet, as I am sure you are aware, when they meet the Spartans it will be in close formation. If they are spread like this, they will be cut to pieces.'

'Would you be willing to help train the men?' Pelopidas asked.

'It would be an honour,' answered Parmenion. The Theban took his arm and led him out on to the field.

'Splendid attack!' shouted Pelopidas as a swordsman blocked a thrust and hammered his shoulder into his opponent, knocking him from his feet. The man grinned and saluted with his wooden blade.

'What is the man's name?' asked Parmenion as they walked on.

'I don't know. Do you want me to find out?'

'No,' answered Parmenion softly. Pelopidas gathered the men together, forming them in a huge semi-circle around Parmenion.

'This is the man who planned the retaking of the Cadmea,' he roared. 'This is the strategos who climbed the walls and rescued Epaminondas.' The men cheered loudly and Parmenion reddened; his heart pounded, and irrationally he felt the onset of fear. Pelopidas spoke easily to the soldiers and it was obvious that he was much admired; but Parmenion had never before addressed such a group and his nerves were in tatters. 'He will be training you in close formation manoeuvres, so that the next time we meet the Spartans we will close around them like an iron fist!' Pelopidas turned to Parmenion. 'Do you wish to say anything to the men?'

'Yes,' said Parmenion. There were several hundred men seated around him, their eyes upon him. He could feel those eyes pressing on his soul and his legs felt weak, almost unable to support him.

'Close formation fighting. .'he began.

'We can't hear him!' someone called from the back. Parmenion took a deep breath.

'Close formation fighting is about brotherhood,' he shouted. 'It is about understanding, and caring. It is about putting the good of all above what is good for one.' He paused to take a breath.

'What is he talking about?' asked a man in the front row. A ripple of laughter spread back through the ranks and anger flared in Parmenion's heart.

'Stand up!' he bellowed, his voice ringing with authority. The soldiers obeyed instantly. 'Now form a complete circle with me at the centre,' he told them, striding to the middle of the training field. The soldiers rose and trooped after him.

'Who is the best swordsman here?' he asked them, as they formed a great circle, many ranks deep.

'Pelopidas!' they shouted.

'And the worst?' This was greeted by silence, until a young man raised his hand. He was slender to the point of emaciation.