‘Exactly. Why is it different with a horse, or a hound?’
They rode across the hills until they came to a level plain covered with dry grass. ‘Let them have their heads,’ said
Xenophon, slapping the rump of the gelding. The beast took off at a run, the mare following. Parmenion gripped the mare’s belly with his knees and leaned forward. The thunder of hoofbeats filled his ears and the exhilaration of the rider swept over him. He felt alive, truly, wondrously alive.
After several minutes Xenophon swung his horse to the right, heading for a cypress grove to the east. There he slowed the gelding to a walk and Parmenion cantered alongside. The Athenian leapt to the ground and smiled up at Parmenion. ‘You handled her well.’
The youngster dismounted. ‘She is fine. Very fine,’ he said.
‘Then pat her, and tell her.’
‘Can she understand me?’
‘Of course not, but she can hear your tone and know from your touch that you are pleased with her.’
‘Does she have a name?’ Parmenion asked, running his fingers through the dark mane.
‘She is Bella, Thracian stock with the heart of a lion.’
They tethered the horses and sat beneath the cypress trees. Parmenion suddenly felt uncomfortable. Why was he here? What interest did this legendary Athenian have in him? He did not want to be seduced by Xenophon, nor did he wish to be put in the position of having to reject such a powerful suitor.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked the general suddenly.
‘I was thinking of the horses,’ lied Parmenion.
Xenophon nodded. ‘Do not fear me, youngster. I am your friend – no more than that.’
‘Are you a god to know my thoughts?’
‘No, I am a general, and your thoughts are easy to read for you are young and naive. In your battle against Leonidas you fought to keep the elation of triumph from your face. That was a mistake, for you made of your features a mask and yet your eyes gleamed with the purest malice. If you wish to disguise your feelings, you must first fool yourself and when you look upon a hated enemy, pretend in your mind that he is your friend. Then your face
will soften and you will smile more naturally. Do not try to be expressionless, for that only tells your enemy you are hiding something. And where you can, try to use a little honesty; it is the greatest disguise of all. But these are thoughts for another day. You wonder why Xenophon has taken an interest in you? The answer is not complex. I watched you play Leonidas, and your breadth of vision touched me. War is an art, not a science, and that is something you understand instinctively. You studied Leonidas and you learned his weakness. You took a risk -and it paid off handsomely. Also you used your cavalry well – and that is rare in a Spartan.’
‘It did not impress the audience,’ said Parmenion.
‘There is a lesson there, strategos. You won, but you allowed a greater share of the glory to go to the Sciritai. That was not sensible. If the slave races ever believed they were the equal of the Spartans, there would be another revolt. And then city states like Athens or Thebes would once more combine their forces to invade Spartan lands. It is a question of balance- that is what the warriors in the crowd understood.’
‘Then I was wrong?’ Parmenion asked.
‘In a game? No. In life? Yes.’
‘Why then did you give me the victory?’ asked the youth.
‘You won the battle,’ answered Xenophon. ‘It matters nothing – in a game – that you would have gone on to lose the war.’ The general stood and walked to his mount, and Parmenion followed him.
‘Will you teach me?’ asked the younger man, before he could stop the words.
‘Perhaps,’ said Xenophon. ‘Now let us ride.’
*
Leonidas took three running steps and hurled the javelin high into the air, watching its curving arc as the sunlight caught the iron tip. The weapon dropped gracefully to thud home in the sun-baked earth a dozen paces further than the longest throw of his peers. Leonidas swung and raised his arms, and a score of youths applauded.