David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

'Harsh but true,' said the boy. 'I am one of many brothers and half-brothers, all of whom have some right to the throne. It is not our way to leave rivals alive. I can see the logic of it, I suppose.'

'You seem to be taking your plight with great calmness, young prince.'

'What else can I do?'

Parmenion smiled. 'That is not a question I can answer. I am not a prince.'

'No,' agreed Philip, 'and I do not wish to be one. Nor would I want to be a King. Certainly not in Macedonia.'

'What is wrong with Macedonia?' queried Parmenion. 'I have heard it is a beautiful land, full of rolling plains and fine forests, mountains and pure streams.'

'So it is, Parmenion. But it is also a land surrounded by strong enemies. To the west there are the Illyrians of King Bardylis: tough, doughty warriors. To the north there are the Paionians: tribesmen who love nothing better than to ride south for plunder. To the east there are the Thracians: good horsemen, fine cavalry. And to the south there are the Thessalians and the Thebans. Who would want to be King of such a country?'

Parmenion did not reply. The boy's eyes were sorrowful, his mood dark, and there was nothing the Spartan could say. In all probability the lad was right. Once back in Macedonia his life would be worth little. The thought depressed Parmenion.

An uncomfortable silence developed and Parmenion rose to leave. The Sacred Band was still toiling round the circuit and the Spartan turned to the young prince. 'I learned a long time ago never to give in to despair. Fortune may be fickle, but she loves a man who tries and tries again. I think you have a strong mind, Philip. You are a thinker, a planner. Most men just react to circumstances, but thinkers create the circumstances. If there are relatives who wish to see you dead, then make them love you. Show them you are no threat. Show them you can be useful. But more than anything, boy, you must become a hard man to kill.'

'How do I do that?'

'By staying alive. By thinking of all the ways your enemies will come at you. By preparing for them. Despair is the brother of defeat, Philip. Never let it touch you.'

The boy nodded, then pointed to the runners who were staggering to a halt on the tenth circuit.

Parmenion strode out to meet them. 'I think that will be all, gentlemen,' he said. 'Be here tomorrow one hour after dawn.'

'Have a heart, Parmenion,' called one youngster. 'Three days in a row?'

'I have no heart,' he said. 'I am a man of stone. One hour after dawn, if you please.'

Turning back to the trees, he saw that the boy had gone. Parmenion sighed. 'May the gods favour you, Philip of Macedon,' he whispered.

For three weeks the peace conference at Sparta seemed likely to end all thoughts of war. Trade agreements were negotiated and signed, border disputes argued over but finally settled.

Epaminondas was treated like an honoured guest, and twice dined with King Agisaleus.

Pelopidas returned to Thebes in the fourth week, regaling Parmenion with stories of the geniality which surrounded the conference.

'I think Agisaleus has resigned himself to losing his power over us,' said Pelopidas. 'There was a representative of the Great King there, a golden-haired Persian with a curled beard. You should have seen the clothes he wore: I swear to Zeus, he had more jewels sewn into his coat than stars in the sky! He positively shimmered whenever he entered the room.'

'Did he speak?' asked Parmenion.

'He opened the conference, bringing us all the greetings and blessings of the Great King. He said the King was happy that his children were to become reconciled, one to the other.'

'Speaking of Kings, what of Cleombrotus?'

'He has not been present," Pelopidas answered. 'It is said he is ill. But I'll tell you this, Sparta is an appalling city. I don't know how you could stand the smell. All the waste flows to the streets and the flies are thicker than smoke. An ugly place — fit for an ugly people.'

'Ill?' queried Parmenion. 'With what?'

'They did not say, but it could not have been very serious for they seemed unconcerned by his absence. You know, when you told me that Spartan women were allowed to walk in the open I really did not believe you. But you were right. They were everywhere. And some of them even stripped part naked and ran in the meadows. I'll say this, I don't know how such an ugly race of men could ever sire such beauties. There was one woman, with hips like. .'

'I know about the women,' said Parmenion patiently. 'I lived there. I am more concerned with Cleombrotus; he is strong as an ox, and would not have missed the conference willingly. What proof did you have that he was in Sparta at all?'

'Where else would he be?'

'What about the army? How many soldiers did you see?'

'Agisaleus ordered the army south for manoeuvres. He said the conference would proceed more amiably without the constant clashing of Spartan shields, which some might take as a covert form of persuasion.'

'So,' said Parmenion. 'We have both the Battle King and the army lost from sight. Does that not suggest something to you, Pelopidas?'

The Theban warrior got up from the couch and walked to the window. Outside the sun was shining in a clear sky. He swung back towards Parmenion and smiled. 'You think they plan some treachery? I doubt it. If they wanted to invade, they could do so without long-drawn-out jabbering and debate, and the endless signing of treaties.'

'I agree,' Parmenion concurred. 'But there is a taste to this that does not sit well pn the tongue. How many men could we muster in, say, two days?'

'Hypothetically? Three thousand from Thebes, maybe a thousand from the Federation.'

'Not enough, if Cleombrotus and the army marched north instead of south. When is the conference now due to end?'

'Ten. . no, nine days from now. It will conclude with the signing of a full agreement between the Athenian Alliance, Sparta and Boeotia. Then there will be two days of celebration.'

'And how many men can we bring to the field in nine days?'

'Gods, Parmenion, are you obsessed with Sparta? We could not consider bringing together an army at this time. If we did, and word reached the conference, how would it be seen? We would be accused of aggressive behaviour and the treaty would come to nothing. Why must you look for treachery at every turn? Perhaps the Spartans have come to terms with the re-emergence of Thebes.'

'How many men?' pressed Parmenion. 'Hypothetically.'

Pelopidas filled his goblet with watered wine and returned to his couch. 'Perhaps 7,000 — if we could get cavalry from Thessaly. But I'll be honest with you, Jason of Pherae is as great a cause for fear as the Spartans — perhaps greater now. His Thessalian cavalry already numbers 20,000 men, and he has at least 12,000 hoplites. I think it is to the north that we must look with trepidation. The Spartans are out of it.'

Parmenion said nothing but sat quietly staring at a point high on the wall, his right hand stroking his chin. After a time he turned his gaze on Pelopidas. 'There are two points to consider here, my friend. If you are right, then we have nothing to fear. If my fears are confirmed, then all we have fought for will be taken away from us. So, let us assume for a moment that I am right and the Spartan army is closer to us than is thought. Where would they be? How would they be planning to enter Boeotia? We still have a force overlooking the passes of Mount Cithaeron. They would see the Spartans and raise the alarm, yet it is unlikely they would try crossing the Corinthian Gulf, since we now have the twelve battle triremes at Creusis. Where then, Pelopidas -

you know the territory?' Parmenion moved to a chest by the far wall, pulling clear a map of central Greece etched on cowhide. He sat beside Pelopidas, dropping the hide into the Theban's lap.