Now 100 volunteers had been sought to attend the Spartan at the new training field. Theo was the first to step forward.
One hour after dawn he rose from his blankets and joined the straggling line of men who wandered to the field where the Spartan sat waiting. The man was wearing a woollen tunic and carried no weapons. Yet around him were stacked wooden shields and a pile of short clubs.
When the men had gathered he gestured for them to sit, then cast his eyes slowly over the group. ‘What is the prime objective in a battle?’ he asked suddenly, lifting his hand, finger pointed. He stabbed it out in the direction of a man to theleftofTheo.
‘To win it,’ answered the man.
‘Wrong.’ The finger moved again and Theo could feel the tension around him as men willed it to pass them by. The Spartan’s hand dropped to his lap. ‘Does any man have an answer?’
Theo cleared his throat. ‘Not to lose it?’ he said.
‘Good,’ said the Spartan. ‘Think about that for a moment.’ His pale eyes studied them. ‘Victory in battle is a fickle spirit that floats in the air, never knowing where to settle. A cavalry charge smashes the enemy, forcing the opposing King to retreat. Has he lost? Not yet. If his flanks can close in around the cavalry, robbing them of mobility, he can yet draw Victory to him. But, if he does, has he won? No, not if the cavalry are tight-knit and continue to drive directly at him, killing his guards. Why did Bardylis destroy your army?’ Once again the finger rose, pointing at a man at the rear of the group.
The gods favoured him,’ answered the man, to a chorus of approval.
‘Maybe they did,’ said the Spartan. ‘But, in my experience, the gods always favour the clever and the strong. You lost because your King – a brave and dynamic man – threw everything into a single charge. When it failed – he failed. You failed.’
‘And the Spartans would have done better?’ shouted a man behind Theo.
‘Perhaps not,’ snapped Parmenion, ‘but you will. The King has asked me to find for him a special group of fighting men. They will be the King’s Companions, and they will fight on foot.’
‘We are horsemen,’ said the same man. Theo glanced round, recognizing Achillas.
‘Indeed you are,’ agreed the Spartan, ‘and as such you will earn your twenty-five drachms. But the men I select
will be double-pay men. Each will have fifty drachms a month. Those men interested should remain, the others are free to return to their duties.’
Not a man moved: fifty drachms was a fortune. They were all small farmers, needing money for the purchase of horses, or bulls or goats, or cereal seed. It was not a sum to be dismissed lightly.
The Spartan stood. ‘Be warned that from every hundred I may choose only five, maybe ten men. The King desires the best. Now stand.’
As they rose Parmenion opened a box by his side and took out a small brooch the size of a man’s thumbnail. It was made of iron. ‘On this brooch is the club of Heracles. When a man has five of these, he will have won his place in the King’s Company. With every badge goes a prize of ten drachms. The first will be won by a man who can run. Ten circuits of the field. Prepare yourselves.’ The men began to remove their breastplates. ‘Stop,’ said Parmenion. ‘When you charge the enemy you will not discard your armour. You will run as you are. Go!’
They set off at a murderous pace that faltered within a lap. Theo settled in at the centre of the leading group, feeling his breastplate rubbing at the back of his neck. By five circuits the leaders had pulled half a lap clear of the following pack, and by seven had started to overtake the back markers. Theo finished fifth and slumped to the ground as Achillas stepped up to receive his badge.
The Spartan waited until all the men had finished.
‘Take up shields and swords,’ he ordered them. The swords were wooden, but of the same weight and length as the short stabbing blades used by most hoplites. ‘Now we will see how you fight,’ he said. ‘Choose an opponent and form into two lines. You will fight only until a blow is struck which with a real sword would kill or disable. The loser will walk back to sit on the right, the victor to the left.’