Gemmell, David – Lion of Macedon 01

Hermias ran to him, helping him remove his breastplate.

‘Thank you, cousin,’ said Leonidas, wiping sweat from his face. ‘Damn, but he is good. I am getting closer to him, though, don’t you think?’

‘Yes,’ agreed Hermias. ‘You had a chance at a groin thrust. In a real battle you would have used it – and won.’

‘You saw that? Yes. He has a habit of raising his shield too high. What brings you here? Not to fight, surely?’

‘No,’ said Hermias, taking a deep breath. ‘I came to talk of Savra.’ He looked away from Leonidas’ face, bracing himself for the anger he felt sure would follow.

‘Has he spoken to you?’ asked Leonidas softly.

‘No. Derae told me.’ He glanced at Leonidas, finding the absence of anger disconcerting.

‘What do you require of me?’

‘An end to the beatings and the violence.’

‘They are nothing to do with me. I do not sanction them; I learn of them only after they have taken place. He is not popular.’ Leonidas shrugged. ‘What would you have me do?’

‘Tell Gryllus and Learchus that such . . . beatings . . . displease you.’

‘Why should I do this?’

‘Because you are a noble man. You are not a coward and you need no one to fight battles for you.’

Leonidas chuckled. ‘Flattery, Hermias?’

‘Yes. But I believe it is true nonetheless. They cannot beat him into submission. One day they will kill him – and for what? Because they think it would please you. Would it please you, cousin?’

‘Yes, it would,’ admitted Leonidas. ‘But you are right, it is base and I will have no part in it. I will see that it stops, Hermias; I should have done so long ago. It shamed me that he arrived at the Game carrying such wounds.’

‘I am in your debt, cousin.’

‘No,’ said Leonidas, ‘I am in yours. But know this, Parmenion is my enemy and one day I will kill him.’

For two hours Hennias searched for Parmenion, finally finding him sitting on a granite block below the statue of Athena of the Road. Hermias sat alongside him. ‘Why so glum, strategos? he asked.

‘Don’t call me that! One day perhaps – but not now.’

‘Your face is like thunder, Savra. Are you thinking of the fight with Leonidas?’

‘How did you learn of that?’

‘I spoke to Derae. I did not know she was the one you watched.’

Parmenion hurled a stone into a nearby field, scattering a flock of large black and grey birds. ‘I hate crows. When I was a child I was frightened of them; I thought they would fly through my window and eat my soul. I had overheard one of my neighbours saying that crows had eaten my father’s eyes on the battlefield. I used to cry at night, and I could hear their wings in my mind.’

‘Would you rather be alone, Savra? I don’t mind.’

Parmenion forced a smile and put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. ‘I don’t want to be alone, Hermias – but that is what I am.’ Standing, he scooped up another stone, hurling it high over the field. ‘What is there for me here, Hermias? What can I hope to become?’

‘What would you wish to be?’

Parmenion shook his head. ‘I do not know. Truly. Once I desired only to be a Spartan hoplite, bearing shield, sword and spear. I wanted to march with the King into foreign lands, to become rich on plunder. But lately I have been dreaming strange dreams . . .’He lapsed into silence.

‘Go on!’ urged Hermias. ‘Sometimes dreams are messages from the gods. Do you dream of eagles? They are good omens. So are lions.’

‘There are no animals,’ said Parmenion, ‘only men, armed for war. There are two armies on a level plain – and I am a general. The phalanxes surge forward and the dust rises, muffling the war-cries. One army is Spartan, for they are wearing blood-red cloaks. The slaughter is terrible, and I see a King lying slain. Then I awake.’

Hermias was silent for a moment, then he grinned. ‘You are a general, you say. That is a good omen, surely? And, I would guess, a true one, for there is no one to out-think you, Savra. And with you leading them, how could Sparta lose?’

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