Gemmell, David – Lion of Macedon 01

‘Why did they not bury her?’ he asked.

‘You saw the slaves,’ said Antipater. ‘They’ve barely the strength to stand.’

‘It’s like a valley of the damned,’ whispered Antipater. Footsteps came from the tunnel entrance and the three men moved back as a line of slaves bearing empty wicker baskets on their backs shuffled by them, heading into the gloomy depths of the mine.

‘I am going back to the sunlight,’ said Nicanor. ‘I can’t stand this.’

‘The King said to wait,’ Attalus reminded him. ‘I like it no more than you do. But let us be patient.’

‘I think I will go mad if I don’t get out of here,’ Nicanor replied, his voice rising in pitch.

Antipater put his arm on the young man’s shoulder. ‘Someone should go and tell the men that everything is all right. We have been down here a long time, and some of them may be concerned. Wait for us outside, Nicanor.’

As Nicanor nodded and ran back towards the light, Attalus turned on Antipater. ‘Who are you to countermand the King’s order?’ he hissed.

‘The man was close to cracking. If I had not allowed him to go, he would probably have run anyway.’

‘So? He would have run. What has that to do with you?’

Antipater nodded as understanding came to him. ‘I see. He might have fallen from favour. Gods, Attalus, do you have no friends? Is there no one you care for?’

‘Only a weak man needs friends, Antipater. And I am not weak.’

Antipater said nothing, and the two men waited in silence for what seemed an age. Finally the fat figure of Elyphion appeared, his blue robes streaked with grime. Behind him came the King, his face thunderous; he stalked from the tunnel out into the sunlight, dragging in great gulps of air, then he turned on Elyphion. The fat man stepped back a pace, seeing the fury in the King’s eyes.

‘What have I done, sire? Tell me? I am loyal, I swear it!’

Philip could hardly speak. ‘Someone get me a drink!’ he thundered, and Nicanor ran forward bearing a water skin. Philip rinsed his mouth and spat out the water. ‘This is my gold-mine,’ he said at last. ‘Mine. Macedonia’s. Tell me something, fat fool, what do you need in order to get gold from the ground?’

‘Tools, sire. Picks, digging tools . . . baskets.’

‘And who uses these tools?’

‘As you see, slaves, criminals, thieves, murderers. Men are sentenced and sent here. Women also.’

‘You do not see it, do you?’ roared Philip. Around them all work had ceased; the guards with their whips were no

longer watching the labourers, who sank wearily to the ground, dropping their tools. All eyes were on the unfortunate Elyphion.

‘I see only that I have done my best,’ whimpered Elyphion. ‘The gold is not as plentiful as once it was, but is that my fault? The veins go deeper, where we cannot follow.’

Philip turned towards a guard. ‘You!’ he bellowed. ‘Fetch everyone from the mine. Get them all into the daylight.’ The man bowed and ran towards the tunnel. ‘Elyphion,’ said the King softly, ‘I could forgive you your greed, your lust for wealth. I could even forgive your theft of my property. What I cannot forgive is your stupidity. Tools, yes. But what kind of an imbecile allows his tools to reach such a state? Starved to the borders of death, covered in sores, living without hope, how can these people work? Digging requires strength, powerful arms, a good back. For this a man needs food, good wholesome food, and wine for the spirit. Attalus!’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘You will take over the running of this enterprise. I will leave you with 100 soldiers. I want the slaves fed and rested for two weeks, and I will send others here. Find yourself a good foreman, and break the work-load so that each man works no longer than twelve hours.’ Philip looked into the warrior’s eyes and suddenly smiled. Attalus had no liking for this role and it showed. ‘Also,’ concluded the King, ‘you may keep one part in a hundred of all the gold mined.’

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