Gemmell, David – Lion of Macedon 01

‘No, please,’ said Olympias, ‘do not stop, Nicanor. It is beautiful.’ He smiled and bowed; the piper began to play and Nicanor’s voice once more rang out. Olympias settled down in the circle with Phaedra close beside her. The seeress shivered and Olympias opened her shawl, the girl once more snuggling in close with her head on the Queen’s shoulder. Nicanor sang for more than an hour. The soldiers did not cheer or whistle as each song ended, yet there was tremendous warmth in the air and Olympias felt like a child again, safe and comfortable with these tough riders. Phaedra was asleep, her head a weight on Olympias’ shoulder.

Parmenion appeared and crouched down beside her. ‘I will carry her back for you,’ he said, his voice soft so as not to wake the sleeping seeress.

‘Thank you,’ answered Olympias. When Parmenion knelt and lifted Phaedra to his arms, she murmured but did not seem to wake. The soldiers banked up the fires and drifted to their blankets as the general led the way back to the carriage. Nicanor opened the door and Parmenion laid the seeress on the cushions within, covering her with two woollen cloaks.

‘Your singing was beautiful, Nicanor,’ said Olympias. ‘I shall treasure the memory.’

He blushed. ‘The men like to hear the songs; it reminds them of home and family. I cannot tell you how much your pleasure means to me.’ Bowing, he backed away. Parmenion followed, but Olympias called him back.

‘Will you sit with me a little while, general?’ she asked.

‘As you wish,’ he answered. Her fire had died low and he added fuel, building the blaze. The first cold winds of winter were sweeping across the plain and already there was snow in the mountains. ‘What is it you fear? he whispered.

‘Why should I fear anything?’ she responded, sitting close to him.

‘You are young, lady. I am not. You hide it well, but it is there.’

‘I fear for my son,’ she said, her voice so low he could barely hear her. ‘He will be a great King – if he lives. He must live!’

‘I am a soldier, Olympias. I can make no promises as to his safety. But, for what it is worth, I will protect him as best I can.’

‘Why?’

It was such a simple question, yet it ripped at Par-menion’s mind with a whip of fire. He could not answer it directly and turned to the blaze, idly stoking it with a branch. ‘I serve Philip. He is Philip’s son,’ he said at last.

‘Then I am content. They say in Epirus that Macedonia will soon move against the cities of the Chalcidice. They say that Philip seeks to rule Greece.’

‘I do not discuss the King’s plans, lady, nor am I always party to his thoughts. As far as lam aware, Philip seeks to secure Macedonia. For too long the country has been ruled by others, its security resting on the whims of politicians in Athens, Thebes or Sparta.’

‘Yet Philip took Amphipolis – an independent city?’

‘No one is independent. It was an Athenian enclave, giving them a foothold into Macedonia,’ he told her, uncomfortable with her direct line of questioning.

‘But then what of the Chalcidean League and Olynthus? Are they not a threat? Olynthus has close ties with Athens -as have the cities of Pydna and Methone.’

‘I see you are a thinker, and wiser than your years. Yet you are not wise enough to hold your tongue on matters best not discussed in the open. Do not trust me overmuch, Olympias. I am the King’s man.’

‘That is why I do trust you,’ she answered him. ‘I am Philip’s woman. My son’s life rests on his survival. If a King dies, is it not the Macedonian way for the new King to kill his precedessor’s heirs?’

‘It has been, lady, though you will be aware that Philip did not kill his brother’s son. But what I am saying to you is that you should trust no one. Not me… not Nicanor. . . not anyone. Direct your questions to Philip.’

‘Very well, Parmenion. I am chastened. Will you forgive me?’ Her smile was an enchantment, but Parmenion fought to remain untouched by its magic.