At last he dropped into a troubled sleep and dreamt of Derae.
*
Parmenion awoke three hours later and climbed to the flat roof to watch dawn illuminate the city. He turned his gaze south-west to the towering peaks of Mount Cithaeron and the mountains beyond. This is a beautiful land, he thought, yet we squabble over it like children.
He sat in the sunlight, thinking back to his days with Xenophon.
‘Greece can never rise to full glory,’ the general had told him, ‘for we are not a complete nation, and we have no national view. We have the finest soldiers in the world, the best generals, and we are supreme on the sea. Yet we are like the wolf-pack; we rend and tear at each other while our enemies gloat.’
‘But the wolves always find a leader,’ Parmenion had pointed out.
‘Yes,’ Xenophon agreed, ‘and there the comparison ends. Greece is composed of scores of city states. Even a man of greatness from – let us say – Athens would not be able to bind Greece together. The Spartans would envy and fear him, the Thebans likewise. They would not see him as a Greek but as an Athenian. The hatreds are too deeply ingrained and they will not be overcome – at least not in my lifetime. So what do we see? Persia controls the world and she uses Greek mercenaries to do it – while here we live in a country with beautiful mountains and poor soil. Everything we need we import from Egypt or Asia, paying the Persians handsomely for each transaction.’
‘What if one man were to lead a united force against the Persians?’ asked Parmenion.
‘He would need to be a colossus among men, a demi-god like Heracles. More than that, he would have to be a man
without a city – a Greek. And there are no such men, Parmenion. I had hoped Sparta would take the lead, but Agisaleus cannot forget his hatred of Thebes. The Athenians learn with their mothers’ milk to hate Spartans. Thebans and Corinthians loathe Athenians. Where then can Greece find a leader?’
‘What would you do?’
‘If I were a god, I would lift the nation from the sea and shake her, so that all the cities fell to dust. Then I would gather the survivors and tell them to build one great city and call it Greece.’
Parmenion chuckled. ‘And then the Athenian survivors would take the northern part of the city and call the district Athens, while the Spartans would take the southern part. Then each would decide that their neighbour’s district was more precious than their own.’
‘I fear you are right, my boy. But, set against my despair, there is a good side to the situation.’
‘And what is that?’ Parmenion asked.
‘There will always be a demand for good generals.’
Now Parmenion smiled at the memory and climbed down from the roof. Mothac brought him a goblet of the sylphium brew, which he drank swiftly. He had experienced no head pain since the night of Derae’s miracle, and his body felt strong once more.
‘I need to run,’ he told Mothac.
But the training ground was packed with warriors practising with sword and shield. Pelopidas was roaring out orders and several officers were moving among the men, offering advice or encouragement. Parmenion stood and watched for some minutes, then Pelopidas saw him and ran to where he stood.
‘They are coming along well,’ said the Theban. ‘Good men, proud men.’
‘Given time, you will have a fine force here,’ said Parmenion, choosing his words with care. ‘But how much close formation work do you plan?’
‘We always conclude with a formation run. But the men prefer more open combat; it makes them competitive.’
‘Indeed it does, my friend, and you are quite right. Yet, as I am sure you are aware, when they meet the Spartans it will be in close formation. If they are spread like this, they will be cut to pieces.’
‘Would you be willing to help train the men?’ Pelopidas asked.
‘It would be an honour,’ answered Parmenion. The Theban took his arm and led him out on to the field.