David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

'I will keep my promise to you, Tamis. I will not murder. But if the servants of the Dark God come for me, then they will die. For I will not be thwarted in this.'

The sheet still covered the body. When Derae pulled it back, all that lay there was a disconnected skeleton, the bones loose. As she lifted the sheet, the skull was dislodged from the pillow and fell to the floor, shattering into shards.

The crossing had been calm and the vessel glided smoothly into dock, the three banks of rowers backing oars to slow its progress. Seamen threw ropes to the men waiting at the quayside and the great ship settled into place.

Philip strode down the gangplank, followed by Parmenion.

'I can barely contain my excitement,' said the King as the two men stood on solid ground, staring at the tree-lined hills. 'You think she is here already?'

'I don't know, sire,' replied Parmenion, 'but I am uneasy about your lack of guards. There could be assassins hired by any number of enemies.'

Philip laughed and lightly punched Parmenion on the shoulder. 'You worry too much. We are just travellers, wandering men, mercenaries. Few know of my plans.'

'Antipater, Attalus, Nicanor, Theoparlis, Simiche. . the gods know how many more,' Parmenion muttered. 'One wrong word is all it would take.'

Philip chuckled. 'It will not happen, my friend; this has been ordained by the gods. And, anyway, I have the Lion of Macedon to protect me.' He laughed again at Parmenion's discomfort. 'You know, you should really consider taking a wife — or a lover. You are altogether too serious.'

A tall woman in robes of black moved towards them, bowing deeply.

'Welcome to Samothrace, Lord Philip,' she said.

'Wonderful,' whispered Parmenion. 'Perhaps a parade has been planned.' The woman looked at him quizzically, then returned her attention to Philip.

'There is a feast in your honour tonight, and tomorrow a hunt in the high hills.'

Philip took her hand, kissing the palm. 'Thank you, lady. It is indeed an honour and a privilege to be greeted by one of such beauty and grace. But how did you know of my arrival?'

The woman smiled, but did not reply.

She led them through the crowded city port to where two other women waited, holding the reins of two white stallions. The first pointed to a white palace a mile to the north. 'Your rooms have been prepared, my lords. I hope the horses are to your liking.'

'Thank you,' answered Philip. The beasts were pretty to look at but their chests were not deep, and this, he knew, indicated little room for lungs and heart and therefore a lack of stamina and strength.

The two men mounted the horses and rode slowly towards the palace, the walking women trailing behind.

In fields to left and right other horses were cropping grass. They were spindly-legged beasts, many of them roach-backed, the spine curving upwards thus making them uncomfortable to ride.

Philip found his disgust hard to conceal. 'What is the point of breeding such useless animals?' he asked Parmenion.

The Spartan pointed back to the port. 'Chariots and wagons, sire, but no horsemen. Obviously they do not concern themselves with riding.'

The King grunted. Nothing offended a Macedonian more than poor horse-breeding.

His good humour was restored at the palace when they were met by three beautiful women, dressed in robes of yellow and green. 'Are there no men here?' he asked.

'Only you and your companion, sire,' one of them replied. They were led to sumptuous apartments with silk-covered couches and gold-embroidered curtains.

'If there is anything you require, my lord, you have merely to ask,' said a young raven-haired girl.

Philip smiled and took hold of her waist. 'Exactly what is meant by anything?' he asked.

Her hand slid under his tunic, caressing the skin of his inner thigh. 'It means exactly what you want it to mean,' she told him.

Parmenion strode to the window, drawing back the hangings and staring out over the fields and meadows. He was tired and wished only for a bath. Hearing the girl giggling behind him, he cursed softly.

'What is wrong with you, strategos?' asked Philip, and Parmenion turned. The girls had gone.

'I am just ill at ease.'

'You should take my advice. Enjoy these women, it is good for the soul.'

'Maybe I will,' Parmenion told him.

Philip filled two wine cups from a pitcher on a small table, passing one to Parmenion. 'Sit with me a while, my friend,' said the King, leading Parmenion to a couch. 'When I was in Thebes they told me about your love for a priestess called Thetis. .'

'I do not wish to talk of it, sire.'

'You have never spoken to me of her, nor of the other woman you loved. Why is that?'

Parmenion swallowed hard and looked away. 'What point is there in talking of the past? What does it achieve?'

'Sometimes it lances the boil, Parmenion.'

The general closed his eyes, fighting back the rush of memories. 'I… have loved two women. Both, in different ways, died for me. The first was called Derae and she was Spartan. Because of our.

love. . she was sacrificed: thrown into the sea off the coast of Asia. The second was Thetis; she was killed by assassins sent by Agisaleus. There have been no others. Never again will someone I love die for me. Now, if it please you, sire, I would prefer. .'

'It does not please me,' said Philip. 'It is a fact of life that people die. My first wife, Phila, died only a year after our wedding. I adored her; on the night she died I wanted to cut my throat and follow her to Hades. But I didn't — and now I am about to meet a woman of dreams.'

'I am pleased for you,' said Parmenion coldly. 'But we are different men, you and I.'

'Not so different,' Philip put in. 'But you wear armour, both on your body and on your spirit. I am younger than you, my friend, but in this I am as a father to a frightened son. You need a wife, you need sons^of your own. Do not concern yourself about love. Your father, whoever he was, gave you as his gift to the world. You are his immortality. In turn your sons will do that for you.

Now, I will preach no more. I shall bathe, and then I shall send for that sweet-limbed young girl.

You, I suspect, will walk around the palace grounds examining natural defences and seeking out hidden assassins.'

Parmenion laughed then, the sound rich and full of good humour. 'You know me too well, young Father.'

'I know you enough to like you, and that's a rare thing,' said Philip.

The Spartan wandered out to the palace gardens and beyond to the hillsides overlooking the bay. He saw a flock of sheep and a young boy guarding them. The boy waved. Parmenion smiled at him and walked on, following a dry-stone wall that curved up to a high hill-top. He was drawn towards a grove of trees, their branches weighed down by pink and white blooms, where he sat in the shade and dozed.

He awoke to see a woman walking towards him, tall and slender. He stood, his eyes narrowing to see her face. For a moment only, it seemed to him that her hair had changed colour. At first it appeared to be the colour of Same, flecked with silver, but as he looked again it was dark. It must have been a trick of the light, he thought. He bowed to her as she approached. At first sight her robes were black as the night, but as she moved the folds caught the light, shimmering into the rich blue of the ocean. Her face was veiled, a sign of the recently bereaved.

'Welcome, stranger,' she said, her voice both curiously familiar and strangely exciting.

'Is this your land, lady?'

'No. All that you see belongs to the Lady Aida. I too am a stranger. Where are you from?'

'Macedonia,' he told her.

'And before that?'

'Sparta and Thebes.'