Parmenion shrugged. ‘Only acceptance, sir. I wish to be able to walk with my head high, having men say, There is Parmenion, the Spartan. ‘
That is all you wish? Come, be honest with me, strategos.’
Parmenion swallowed hard, then his eyes came up to meet the general’s piercing gaze. ‘No, sir, that is not all. I wish to grind my enemies into the dust, to bring them to despair. I want to be a general, like you. I want to lead men into battle.’ Suddenly he smiled. ‘I had a dream that I wish to make come true.’
‘You may not obtain all that you desire,’ said Xenophon, ‘but I will teach you all that I know. I will give you knowledge, but you must decide how to use it.’
A servant brought them food and watered wine, and Parmenion sat and listened as Xenophon told of the March to the Sea and the evils that beset the Greeks. He outlined his strategies and his successes, but also talked of his failures and the reasons for them. The hours passed swiftly and Parmenion felt like a man dying of thirst who has found the Well of All Life.
He could see it all so clearly – the Greeks demoralized after the battle at Cunaxa, yet still holding their formation. The Persian King, Artaxerxes, promising them safe passage through his realm and then treacherously murdering their generals, believing that without leaders the Greek hoplites would be easy prey to his cavalry. But the soldiers had remained steadfast. They elected new generals, and one of these was Xenophon. During the months that followed the Greeks marched through Persia, routing armies sent against them, crossing uncharted lands. The perils they faced were legion – countless enemies, the threat of starvation, ice-covered plains and flood-ruined valleys. Yet Xenophon held them together until at last they reached the sea, and safety.
‘There is no warrior on earth,’ said Xenophon, ‘to match the Greek. For we alone understand the nature of discipline. There is not one civilized King who does not hire Greek mercenaries as a backbone for his forces. Not one. And the greatest of the Greeks are the Spartans. Do you understand why?’
‘Yes,’ answered Parmenion. ‘Our enemies know – in
their hearts – that we are the victors. And we know it in our hearts.’
‘Sparta will never be conquered, Parmenion.’
‘Unless there comes a foe with similar resolve – and greater numbers.’
‘But that will not happen. We have a country split up into city states, each fearing its neighbour. If Athens and Thebes again joined forces against Sparta, many city states would fear such an alliance – and join with Sparta against it. Our land has a history of such disputes. Alliances made and broken, scores of disparate groups betraying one another endlessly. Never has any city achieved a complete victory. We should have conquered the world, Parmenion, but we never will. We are too busy fighting amongst ourselves.’ Xenophon rose. ‘It is getting late, you must return to your home. Come to me in three days. We will have supper – and I will show you the books of the future.’
‘Do you teach your son?’ asked Parmenion as he rose to leave.
Xenophon’s face darkened. ‘I will be your teacher, and you will ask me questions concerning strategy. You will not ask questions concerning my family!’
‘I apologize, sir. I did not mean to offend.’
Xenophon shook his head. ‘And I should not be so short-tempered. Gryllus is a troubled boy; he does not have a city. Like you he wants to be accepted, he wants to be admired. But he has no mind. His mother was a beautiful woman, Parmenion, but she also was cursed with limited intellect. It was as if the gods, having lavished beauty on her, decided that brains would be a luxury she would not need. My son takes after her. Now, we will speak no more of it.’
*
The silence of the night covered the city as Parmenion strolled along the moonlit streets. High on the acropolis he could just make out the tall statue of Zeus, and the pillars of the Bronze House. He came to the wide avenue of Leaving