David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

The door opened. .

A blazing shaft of light smote the demon in the chest. Fire and smoke leapt from the beast and a terrible cry filled the room. The talons tore free of Tamis and the creature swung on Derae.

The Spartan woman waited until the demon was upon her, then threw out both arms. Lightning lanced from her fingers. The creature was punched from his feet; he tried to rise, but blue light encircled him, chaining his huge arms and legs.

Derae moved forward, standing over the beast. 'Begone,' she whispered. A wind blew up, sucking the demon back through the wall, which shimmered before becoming stone once more.

'You. . did. . well,' said Tamis, clutching the side of the bed and hauling herself to her feet.

'What was the… thing?'

'A night-hunter. Our enemies have breached the spell I placed over the temple. You must help me form another.'

'Do you know who our enemies are?'

'Of course. The leader of them is Aida.'

'Can we not attack them?'

'You do not listen, Derae. We cannot use their weapons.'

'I am not convinced,' said Derae. 'How can we fight them when all the weapons are theirs?'

'Trust me, child. I have no answers that would convince you. Just trust me.'

Lying back on the bed Tamis closed her eyes, unable to look at the young priestess. Twice today the Spartan had tasted the joys of power. .

And Tamis could almost hear the Dark God's laughter as she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Thetis wandered through the narrow streets to her home in the south of the city, her season at the Temple of Aphrodite completed. Once home, she scrubbed away the paint and the ochre and threw the shimmering gown and bright, filmy chlamys to a corner. Pulling on a white cotton gown, she stretched herself out on a couch and stared at the soiled garments. Tomorrow she would burn them, and would never again visit the Temple of Aphrodite. Unlike many of the other girls Thetis had spent her earnings wisely, investing with three merchants engaged in the spice trade and one from Thespiae who bred and trained war horses.

Thetis was now financially secure. The house had cost nine hundred and eighty drachms, and she had also hired a maidservant, a Thessalian girl of fifteen who lived in a small alcove at the rear of the kitchen.

From now on life would be without care, without sweaty hands groping at her, without the grunts of the worshippers in her ear.

Without Damon, she found herself thinking. She closed her eyes and settled back, hugging an embroidered cushion to her belly.

Without Damon. .

How could someone so young and athletic have died in such a manner, collapsing on a training field after a race? The surgeon said he had a weakness in the heart. Yet he was so strong, his body carrying no fat, his muscles firm and as finely chiselled as those of Heracles. No, he had no weakness of the heart, Thetis knew. He had been struck down by the gods who were jealous of his beauty, and Thetis had been robbed of the only love she would ever know.

For a while she dozed on the couch, then rose and wandered to the kitchen where she ate some bread and cheese, washing it down with cool water. The servant girl, Cleo, was snoring softly in her bed, and Thetis moved silently about the room so as not to wake her.

Her hunger satisfied, she returned to her couch. The clothes on the floor caught her eye and she realized she could not wait to burn them. Taking the small, curved knife she carried for protection she slowly ripped the garments into tiny pieces, until the floor around her couch looked as if it were strewn with flower-petals.

Six years of her life had been spent wearing those garments — six long years filled with faceless, nameless men. Bearded or unbearded, fat or thin, young or old, all desired the same service.

She shook her head as if to dislodge the memories, and Parmenion's face loomed in her mind. She had thought of him often in the months since she had brought him back from the dead. It was the contrast, she realized, between the silent rutting animal he was with her and the caring, considerate lover she had seen on that one night, as he dreamt of… what was her name? Derae?

So physically unlike the powerful Damon, yet possessing the same qualities of tenderness and understanding of her needs. No, not her needs, she reminded herself: Derae's needs.

Taking up the cushion she held it to her and fell asleep once more, waking with the dawn. Beyond the kitchen Cleo had filled a bath with heated water and Thetis climbed in, soaking her skin and washing her short, thickly curled red hair. When she stood Cleo wrapped a warm towel around her, patting her dry. Then the servant smeared perfumed oil on Thetis' body, scraping it clean with a round-edged knife of bone.

Thetis put on an ankle-length chiton of blue-dyed linen and wandered to the courtyard. It was long and narrow, but caught the early-morning sunshine. Beyond the gates she could hear people moving on the streets, and the distant hammering from the forge of Norac the smith. She sat in the sun for an hour and then walked inside, taking up an embroidery she had begun three years before. It was a series of interwoven squares and circles, with shades of green, brown and yellow. Working on it calmed her mind.

Cleo came to her. 'There is a man to see you, mistress.'

'A man. I know no men,' she answered, realizing as she said it that it was the truth. She had coupled with hundreds, perhaps thousands of men, and not one did she know.

'He asks to speak with you.'

'What is his name?'

The girl blushed and ran to the courtyard, returning within moments. Tarmenion, mistress.'

Thetis took a deep breath, composing herself. 'Show him in,' she said, 'then leave us.'

'Leave you, mistress?' queried Cleo, surprised.

Thetis smiled. 'If I need you I will call out.'

Thetis returned to her embroidery as the girl led Parmenion to her. She glanced up, her face stern.

'Please be seated,' she said. 'Cleo, fetch some water for our guest.'

That will not be necessary,' said the man, seating himself on the couch opposite. They sat in silence until Cleo had left, pulling the door shut behind her.

'I do not welcome uninvited guests to my home,' said Thetis. 'So, I would appreciate it if you would state your business swiftly.'

'I came to apologize,' began Parmenion.

'For what?'

The man suddenly smiled sheepishly; it made his face more boyish, less stern, she thought. 'I am not sure; but I know it is necessary. You see, I did not know it was you who brought me back that night.'

'I was paid for it,' she snapped, battling to control an anger she could scarcely understand.

'I know that,' he said gently. 'But I felt. . feel… I have caused you pain. I would not wish that.'

'You would like to be friends?' she asked.

'I would — very much.'

'My friendship cost forty obols,' she told him, rising and tossing aside the embroidery, 'but no longer. Now, please leave. You can find many friends at the Temple, and the price remains the same.'

'That is not what I meant,' he said, pushing himself to his feet. 'But it will be as you say.' He walked to the door and turned to face her. 'I value friendship highly,' he told her. 'Perhaps it is because, in my life, I have very few friends. I know you were paid for what you did, but even so you saved my life. That is a debt I will carry. Should you ever have need of me, I will be there. No question. Whether you wish it or not, I am your friend.'

'I do not need friends, Parmenion, but if ever I am short of forty obols I will think of you.'

After he had gone she sank down to the couch and lifted the embroidery. Cleo came to her, kneeling at her feet. 'Your hands are trembling, mistress.'

'He is not to be allowed in here again. The next time he calls, you will stop him at the gate. Do you understand?'