Gemmell, David – Lion of Macedon 01

‘Stand firm, no matter what,’ whispered Philip.

With a thunderous roar the infantry charged. Philip watched the spearmen closing on him and, for a moment, wondered if this was the end of his life. It seemed that nothing could stop the charging mass, and that within seconds an iron point would plunge into his unprotected breast. But he stood still with hands on hips, facing the charging men.

At the last possible second the phalanx halted. Philip gazed down at a spear-point hovering a ringer’s breadth from his chest. Slowly he lifted his hand to it, rubbing his thumb on the metal. He looked into the spearman’s eyes.

‘There is rust on this,’ he said softly. ‘You should take better care.’ Then he turned away.

Not one of his company had moved a muscle during the charge, and this filled Philip with pride. Bardylis waved and Philip joined the old King on a wide seat at the head of a table laden with food.

Parmenion was about to take his seat at the table when he noticed Grigery and Theo some twenty paces away. Once more the Illyrian was making some sneering comment, and even from this distance Parmenion could see Theo’s face redden, his hand moving towards his sword-hilt.

‘Theo!’ he roared, and the soldier froze. Parmenion walked over to the two men. ‘What is happening here?’ he asked.

‘This louse-ridden dog has challenged me,’ said Grigery.

‘I forbid it,’ stated Parmenion.

‘It is not for you to forbid anything in Illyria,’ retorted Grigery, his dark eyes gleaming.

Parmenion took a deep breath. ‘Did Theoparlis strike you?’ he asked softly.

‘No.’

‘I see. So, there was nothing like this,’ said Parmenion, lashing Grigery’s face with a backhanded blow that spun the man from his feet. A great roar went up from the officers who were preparing to dine. Parmenion ignored the warrior, who was scrambling to his feet, and walked to Bardylis. He bowed low.

‘Your majesty, I must apologize for this unseemly scene. But your man, Grigery, has challenged me to battle with him, and I seek your permission to accept.’

‘It was not with you!’ Grigery shouted.

‘Then you do not wish to fight the man who struck you?’ asked Parmenion.

‘Yes … I mean . . .’ His eyes turned to the King.

‘All men have seen the beginning of this quarrel,’ said Bardylis. ‘Now we must see the end. I give you permission to fight.’

‘Thank you, lord,’ said Parmenion. ‘Might I – as a guest -ask one favour? It seems only right, since we have interrupted a fine meal, to give you a spectacle not just of skill, but of courage. Would you therefore have any objection if we fought in the manner of Mesopotamia!! nobles before their King?’

Bardylis stared hard at Parmenion. He had no idea of how Mesopotamia!! warriors fought, but equally had no intention of disclosing this fact.

‘As you will.’

‘Let a brazier be prepared,’ said Parmenion, ‘with hot coals to the depth of a man’s forearm.’

Bardylis ordered two servants to fetch the brazier. Parmenion walked some distance from the table, and Philip and the others joined him there.

‘What in Hades is happening here?’ Philip asked.

‘I had no choice, sire. I promised you no Macedonian and Illyrian would fight. Whatever happens here will be seen to

be between a Spartan and a warrior of Bardylis.’ He swung to Theo. ‘There is honey on the table. Fetch it – and some red wine. Find bandages and soak them in the wine.’

‘What is this manner of fighting?’ asked Antipater.

‘It is something new,’ Parmenion told him.

‘You lied to Bardylis?’ the King whispered.

‘Yes. You need not worry, sire; he cannot read minds.’

Four servants, using crossbars of thick wood, carried a burning brazier out into the field. Parmenion removed his breastplate and helm, tunic and greaves and, drawing his sword, walked out to stand before the brazier. Nonplussed, Grigery also stripped himself and moved to stand opposite him. The King and his officers formed a circle around the warriors and waited for the battle to begin.

‘You need a fire to keep you warm, old man?’ asked Grigery.

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