‘Splendid attack!’ shouted Pelopidas as a swordsman blocked a thrust and hammered his shoulder into his opponent, knocking him from his feet. The man grinned and saluted with his wooden blade.
‘What is the man’s name?’ asked Parmenion as they walked on.
‘I don’t know. Do you want me to find out?’
‘No,’ answered Parmenion softly. Pelopidas gathered the men together, forming them in a huge semi-circle around Parmenion.
‘This is the man who planned the retaking of the Cadmea,’ he roared. ‘This is the strategos who climbed the walls and rescued Epaminondas.’ The men cheered loudly and Parmenion reddened; his heart pounded, and irrationally he felt the onset of fear. Pelopidas spoke easily to the soldiers and it was obvious that he was much admired; but Parmenion had never before addressed such a group and his nerves were in tatters. ‘He will be training you in close formation manoeuvres, so that the next time we meet the Spartans we will close around them like an iron fist!’ Pelopidas turned to Parmenion. ‘Do you wish to say anything to the men?’
‘Yes,’ said Parmenion. There were several hundred men seated around him, their eyes upon him. He could feel those eyes pressing on his soul and his legs felt weak, almost unable to support him. ‘Close formation fighting . . .’he began.
‘We can’t hear him!’ someone called from the back. Parmenion took a deep breath.
‘Close formation fighting is about brotherhood,’ he shouted. ‘It is about understanding, and caring. It is about
putting the good of all above what is good for one.’ He paused to take a breath.
‘What is he talking about?’ asked a man in the front row. A ripple of laughter spread back through the ranks and anger flared in Parmenion’s heart.
‘Stand up!’ he bellowed, his voice ringing with authority. The soldiers obeyed instantly. ‘Now form a complete circle with me at the centre,’ he told them, striding to the middle of the training field. The soldiers rose and trooped after him.
‘Who is the best swordsman here?’ he asked them, as they formed a great circle, many ranks deep.
‘Pelopidas!’ they shouted.
‘And the worst?’ This was greeted by silence, until a young man raised his hand. He was slender to the point of emaciation.
‘I am not very skilled – yet,’ he said, ‘but I am getting stronger.’ More laughter followed this admission.
‘Let both men come into the circle,’ said Parmenion.
Pelopidas rose and walked with the young man to stand beside the Spartan. ‘May I say something?’ the Theban general asked Parmenion, who nodded. ‘Some of you men,’ began Pelopidas, ‘laughed when our friend – and brother -Callines admitted his shortcomings with the blade. His admission took courage.’ His angry eyes raked the men. ‘Courage,’ he repeated, ‘and a man with that kind of courage will improve. And you will help him – as we will all help each other. The cause of Thebes is sacred to me, and every man who aids Thebes is sacred to me. We are not just men playing~a game of war; we are a sacred band, bound to one another in life and death. Let there be no more sneering.’ He stepped back and turned to Parmenion. ‘I am sorry, strategos, please continue.’
Parmenion allowed the silence to grow. The words of Pelopidas had surprised him, but the sentiments were good.
‘You have heard something today,’ said Parmenion at last, ‘which you should burn into your hearts. Because in days to come, when you are old, your hair grey and your
grandchildren playing at your feet, you will hear men say with pride, There he is. He was one of the Sacred Band. And you will look up and see young men gaze at you with awe and envy.’ Once more he let the silence swell. ‘Now, let us have two more swordsmen, good men of talent and speed.’
When the four men were standing ready, holding their swords and shields of bronze, Parmenion walked to Pelopidas. ‘Your sword, sir?’ Mystified, Pelopidas handed the wooden blade to the Spartan, who turned to the young man beside the Theban general. ‘Your shield, sir?’ The man surrendered it. Parmenion dropped the weapons at the inner rim of the circle and repeated the manoeuvre with the other pair. ‘We have here,’ he told the bewildered watchers, ‘an example of close-formation fighting. Four men with only two swords and two shields. The shield-bearer must protect the swordsman, but has himself no weapon with which to attack. The swordsman must protect the shield-bearer, though he has no shield to defend himself. Each man in the pair must depend upon the other. Now to battle, if it please you, gentlemen.’