“What would your master, the Great King, say?”
Again he shrugged. “I served the Great King because I was commanded to by my king. He gave me to the Great King as a gift, to curry favor with the Persians. I am a professional diplomat, and I know I will never see my home again.”
“Then you don’t care who wins this battle?”
“It makes little difference. We are all bound up on the wheel of life. Those who die tomorrow will return to life again and again. The great goal is to get off the wheel, to achieve final nothingness.”
I stopped him with a touch on his arm. “You believe that men live more than one life?”
“Oh yes. We are reborn into this world of pain and suffering until we can purify ourselves sufficiently to attain Nirvana.”
“Nirvana?”
“Nothingness. The end of all sensation. The end of desire and pain.”
“I have had other lives before this one.”
“We all have.”
“I can remember some of them.”
His large liquid eyes went wide. “Remember? Your past lives?”
“Parts of them. Some of them.”
“That is a sign of great holiness. You may be a Bodhisattva, a holy being.”
I had to smile at that. “No, I was created to be a warrior. Even my name means ‘hunter.’ I am a slayer of men; that is my destiny.”
“But if you remember your former lives—that is something that only a Buddha can do truly.”
“Do you believe in the gods?” I asked him.
“There are gods, yes. And demons, too.”
I nodded, old memories stirring inside me. “I have fought demons. Devils. Long ago.”
He stared hard at me. “We must speak further of this. It is of great importance, Orion.”
“Yes, I agree.”
Horses were stirring in the growing light of dawn. And men. The camp was bustling.
“But the battle comes first,” said Ketu. “May the gods favor you, Orion.”
I thanked him. The first trumpet blew. We would be forming up for battle within the hour.
CHAPTER 15
Just as Ketu had told us, the Athenians were on the extreme left of their battle line, opposite our right. By long tradition, the right side of an army’s line was the stronger. The Thebans with their invincible Sacred Band stood on their right. The middle of the enemy line was filled with allies from Corinth, Megara and other cities opposed to Philip.
Demosthenes must have talked their generals into letting the Athenians take the position most likely to be opposite Philip himself. Or perhaps they reasoned that the Thebans, led by their Sacred Band, would crush our weaker left flank and roll up our line like an unstoppable juggernaut.
They had no cavalry, but their line stretched from the steep hill of Chaeroneia’s acropolis to the marshy ground by the river. There was no way for the Macedonian cavalry to round either of their flanks, one anchored on the temple-topped acropolis and other on the muddy flats. We would have to break their line, one way or the other.
I sat astride Thunderbolt, who was flicking his ears nervously and snuffling as we waited at the extreme left end of the Macedonian line. In front of us were only light troops, peltast. Beyond them, facing us, stood the Thebans in phalanxes twelve men deep. The Sacred Band stood on the extreme right of their formation, at the edge of the mud flats, their polished armor gleaming in the morning sun, their spears bristling like a forest of death.
Alexandros, sitting on black Ox-Head in front of me, was in command of the entire heavy cavalry. We had some lighter horsemen off to our left, by the river. As I waited for the trumpet to sound the advance, I remembered Philip’s final word to us, less than an hour before, when the commanders had gathered for their final conference before the fighting began. From the back of his horse Philip looked up and down the two assembled armies with his good eye.
“Now we’ll see how well this nation of lawyers can fight,” Antigonos had joked.
“Well enough, I expect,” said Philip. “They have a fair number of mercenaries among them.”