David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

'I am not very skilled — yet,' he said, 'but I am getting stronger.' More laughter followed this admission.

'Let both men come into the circle,' said Parmenion.

Pelopidas rose and walked with the young man to stand beside the Spartan. 'May I say something?'

the Theban general asked Parmenion, who nodded. 'Some of you men,' began Pelopidas, 'laughed when our friend — and brother — Callines admitted his shortcomings with the blade. His admission took courage.' His angry eyes raked the men. 'Courage,' he repeated, 'and a man with that kind of courage will improve. And you will help him — as we will all help each other. The cause of Thebes is sacred to me, and every man who aids Thebes is sacred to me. We are not just men playing~a game of war; we are a sacred band, bound to one another in life and death. Let there be no more sneering.' He stepped back and turned to Parmenion. 'I am sorry, strategos, please continue.'

Parmenion allowed the silence to grow. The words of Pelopidas had surprised him, but the sentiments were good.

'You have heard something today,' said Parmenion at last, 'which you should burn into your hearts.

Because in days to come, when you are old, your hair grey and your grandchildren playing at your feet, you will hear men say with pride, "There he is. He was one of the Sacred Band." And you will look up and see young men gaze at you with awe and envy.' Once more he let the silence swell.

'Now, let us have two more swordsmen, good men of talent and speed.'

When the four men were standing ready, holding their swords and shields of bronze, Parmenion walked to Pelopidas. 'Your sword, sir?' Mystified, Pelopidas handed the wooden blade to the Spartan, who turned to the young man beside the Theban general. 'Your shield, sir?' The man surrendered it. Parmenion dropped the weapons at the inner rim of the circle and repeated the manoeuvre with the other pair. 'We have here,' he told the bewildered watchers, 'an example of close-formation fighting. Four men with only two swords and two shields. The shield-bearer must protect the swordsman, but has himself no weapon with which to attack. The swordsman must protect the shield-bearer, though he has no shield to defend himself. Each man in the pair must depend upon the other. Now to battle, if it please you, gentlemen.'

Pelopidas and the slender Callines advanced together. The opposing swordsman launched a sudden attack. Pelopidas blocked the blow with his shield and Callines lunged, but his strike cracked against the shield of his opponent. The warriors circled each other, but could find no openings.

After several minutes the enemy pair dropped back for a whispered conference, then advanced once more — the swordsman suddenly moving to the right, seeking to outflank Pelopidas. Ignoring him, Pelopidas darted for the shield-bearer, hurling himself at the man. Their shields met with a clash and Pelopidas' opponent was hurled from his feet. Callines ran forward, touching his sword to the fallen man's throat. Pelopidas swung as the swordsman came up behind him and only the rim of his shield deflected the blow. Callines came to his aid. Pelopidas parried a thrust, then swung his shield into his opponent's sword arm, pushing it back. Callines leapt, his blunt sword ramming into the man's groin, and the warrior fell to the earth with a groan.

'What you just saw,' said Parmenion, moving to the centre of the circle and hauling the man to his feet, 'was your worst swordsman killing two opponents. That, in essence, is the secret of the phalanx. Ordinary men, well trained, can prove magnificent in battle. But great warriors become invincible. You will be invincible!'

For two hours Parmenion worked the men, until Pelopidas called a halt and allowed the training to end. Taking Parmenion's arm, he led him to the shade by the Grave of Hector. 'You did well, my friend. Very well indeed,' said the The ban. 'You gave us a name- an inspired name. From today we are the Sacred Band.'

'No,' answered Parmenion, 'the name was yours, you coined it when you spoke up for young Callines.

But it is fitting and it does no harm for warriors to feel bonded. You are a fine leader.'

'Enough compliments,' said Pelopidas. 'I feel uncomfortable with them. Now tell me why you asked the name of the first swordsman you saw?'

Parmenion smiled. 'It is not I who should know his name — it is you. A general is like a craftsman, who knows the name and merits of each of the tools he possesses. The men look up to you, they admire you for your courage and your strength. As a general you cannot make a friend of every man, for that might lead to lax discipline. But speak to each by name and they will fight the better for you — and for Thebes.'

'But will we beat the Spartans?' asked Pelopidas.

'If any man can — you will,' Parmenion assured him.

Derae opened her eyes. . but the darkness was total. She could feel the warmth on the right side of her face and knew that the sun was up, and wept for her loss.

Blindness. The fear of humans from the dawn of time: helpless against the whims of nature, the cruelty of savage beasts.

Her last sight had been of Tamis looming above her, the copper phial in her hand with steam rising from the bubbling contents within. Then the touch of fire on her open eyes and the scream of agony that followed the kiss of acid.

She heard the door open and felt the bed shift as Tamis sat beside her. 'Lie still,' said the old woman, 'and listen to me. Hold your body still, and think of a blue sky and a long stem of gold.

Can you do that?'

'Yes,' answered Derae weakly.

'Picture the stem of gold against the blue and see the tip swell and grow — bending, twisting, becoming a loop joined back to the stem like a huge needle of gold. Do you have it in mind?'

'I do. Gold against blue,' Derae whispered.

'Now, below the loop, like the cross-guard of a Persian sword, two further stems grow from the gold. Hold it in your mind, the blue and the gold. Tell me what you feel?'

'I feel as if warm air is blowing inside my head.'

'Good. Now soar!' ordered Tamis. Derae felt all weight fall from her, as if chains of lead had parted. She floated — and opened her eyes. The ceiling was close and she rolled her spirit, looking down to see herself lying on the pallet bed with Tamis beside her. The old woman looked up. 'Now you can see,' Tamis told her, 'and you have discovered one of the secrets of the Source.

A gift to Him is returned manifold. You are free, Derae. Free to fly, and free to learn. Go!

Travel like the eagle and see all that you desire. But look not to the future, my child, for you are not ready.'

Derae's soul sped from the temple, glorying in the sunlight, moving up through clouds and across the ocean. Far below her she saw the mainland of Greece, its rearing mountains and arid plains.

Tiny triremes were anchored in the bay near Athens, and fishing-boats bobbed on the waters around them. South-west she flew to Sparta, hovering above her old home, seeing her mother and her sister in the courtyard.

Sorrow swept over her; she did not wish to see them like this — rather she desired to see what was. The scene blurred and shifted and she watched herself running from the gateway, down to the meadow where the girls could exercise, while on a nearby hilltop she saw the boy Parmenion lying on his belly, waiting for a glimpse of her.

The scenes were painful, but she could not resist following them through. She watched again his rescue of her and their first day of passion hi the summer home of Xenophon. She could not bear to see her death so she remained with Parmenion, observing with horror as he destroyed Nestus.

Then she followed his journey to Thebes and his brief, passionless encounters with Thetis the whore. Anger flared in her. How could he, she wondered?