Gemmell, David – Lion of Macedon 01

‘You should have stayed!’ he stormed. ‘Your advice would have been valuable.’

‘You do not understand, strategos. The meeting would not have gone ahead; Calepios would have left. You cannot flout tradition – not in Thebes. Now tell me how .you view the peace talks.’

‘Athens is short of money, and Sparta is all but bankrupt,’ Parmenion told her. ‘Therefore all we have won is a little breathing space. The war is not over, but we will use the time wisely.’

‘How much time?’

He had shrugged. ‘Two years, three. But this issue will not be decided without a battle – and that means Thebes against Sparta, for Athens is mainly a sea power.’

‘The Spartans are only men, like other men,’ she had pointed out.

‘Perhaps, but they have never lost a major battle against a foe of equal numbers. And, whatever happens, we cannot yet match their strength.’

‘You will think of something, my love; you are the strategos.’ She said it lightly, but he had brightened, his smile returning.

Now Thetis shook her head clear of memories and rose from the bed. Parmenion moaned in his sleep, but did not wake as she dressed and moved downstairs where Mothac was preparing breakfast.

The Theban smiled as he saw her. ‘Another fine day,’ he said as she entered the kitchen. There were grey hairs in Mothac’s red beard and his hair was thinning at the crown. Thetis shivered. It was all very well lying in bed reliving memories, but it had the effect of highlighting the passing of time.

Cleo had long since left, wedded to the son of Norac the Smith, and Thetis now helped Mothac in the work of the household.

‘You should take a wife,’ she said suddenly, as they sat in the courtyard enjoying the early-morning sunshine.

‘I had a wife,’ replied Mothac. ‘I don’t want another. But I would have liked a son.’

Thetis found her good mood evaporating and Mothac’s hasty apology did nothing to alter the downward slide of her emotions. They finished their breakfast in silence and Mothac went back to the kitchen to prepare Parmenion’s daily infusion of sylphium.

A son. The one gift she could never give to Parmenion.

She had long known she was barren, having never suffered the monthly periods of bleeding endured by all other women. But only since she had lived with Parmenion had the knowledge turned to bitterness. Parmenion never spoke of it and this cheered her, but she knew that all men reach a point in their lives where they desire an heir.

She heard Parmenion approaching, but did not turn. His hands touched her shoulders, his lips kissing the back of her neck.

‘Good morning, lady,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘You sleep later and later,’ she chided. ‘I think you are becoming old and lazy.’

‘I was with Calepios until almost dawn.’

She looked into his face. ‘Is it war again?’

‘I don’t know. Epaminondas is going to Sparta to meet with Agisaleus.’

‘Is that wise?’ she asked.

There is to be a meeting of all the cities. Agisaleus has promised safe conducts and Athens will be represented. It may bring lasting peace.’

‘But you do not think so?’

‘I cannot make up my mind. My fear is that Athens and Sparta will reach agreement, leaving Thebes standing alone. If that is the case, then Agisaleus will feel free to lead his forces into Boeotia – and this time we will have to face him.’

‘Thebes against Sparta,’ she whispered.

‘To the death,’ he said.

‘And is that what you want?’ she asked suddenly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You hate the Spartans. Would you really desire peace?’

Parmenion smiled. ‘You are an astute woman, Thetis. But you are right. I do not want peace. These years have been hard, but I am close now to my dream. One day the Spartans will come – and I will have my vengeance.’

‘And then?’ she pressed.

‘What can I say? I have lived so long with no other dream; I can see nothing beyond the humbling of Sparta. They have taken so much from me, and they shall pay in blood and shame for every moment of it.’

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