Parmenion opened the grilled gate and stepped aside for the officer. Lepidus walked into the small building and sat on the narrow bed. Parmenion offered him a goblet of water, but he waved it away.
‘I want you to put from your mind what happened tonight at the barracks,’ said Lepidus. ‘And I would like you to forgive the general. Learchus was his nephew and he loved the boy. What you did was admirable. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, sir, admirable.’
‘Sit down, Parmenion. Here, beside me. The boy did so. ‘Now give me your hand and look me in the eyes.’ Parmenion did as he was bid. He felt the strength in the older man’s grip and saw the concern in his face. ‘Listen to me, boy. There are few left, it seems, who understand what being a Spartan is about. When we fight, we fight to win. We stand by our friends, we kill our enemies. The attack on Hermias was cowardly. You did well. I am proud of you.’
‘I did not have to kill Learchus,’ said Parmenion.
‘Do not admit that to anyone. You understand me?’
‘Yes,’ answered Parmenion wearily, all the events of the last few days rearing up in his mind and threatening to overwhelm him; the death of his mother, the victory at the Games, the loss of Derae and now the murder of Learchus. ‘I understand you.’
‘Listen to me, you were worried about your friend and you took on a gang. That was courageous. And, yes, you killed someone. The important – the vital – issue is, did you enjoy killing him?’
‘No,’ said Parmenion.
‘Then do not worry about it.’
Parmenion looked into Lepidus’ face and nodded.
But I did enjoy it, he thought, may the gods forgive me. I wish I could have killed them all.
*
Tamis leaned on her staff, staring at the servant kneeling before her.
‘My master urges you to come to the house of Parnas,’ said the man, avoiding her eyes.
‘Urges? When his son lies dying? Surely you mean begs?’
The noble Parnas would never do that but I beg you, Honoured One. Save Hermias,’ pleaded the servant, tears in his eyes.
‘Perhaps I can save him – perhaps not,’ she answered. ‘But tell your master that I will ask the gods for guidance. Go now!’
Tamis turned on her heel and vanished into the dark interior of her dwelling-place. The fire was burning low but, as she sat before it, the flames flickered and rose to form the face of Cassandra.
‘I did not summon you,’ said Tamis. ‘Begone!’
‘You must heal the boy, Tamis. It is your duty.’
‘Don’t talk to me of duty. Learchus is dead, and I have denied the Dark One a possible father of the flesh. That was my duty. Hermias is holding back the development of Parmenion. Because of their friendship he still retains, in part, a gentle soul. I did not cause Hermias to be hurt. No blame attaches to me; it was the Will of the Source. And now he will die, for a blood clot is in his brain. As it moves, it will kill him.’
‘But you can heal him,’ said the fire woman.
‘No. When he is dead, Parmenion will become the man of iron I need.’
‘Can you honestly believe, Tamis, that this is the will of the Source? That a boy with no evil in his heart should die?’
‘Children with no evil in their hearts die all the time, Cassandra. Do not preach to me. They die in fires, in droughts, in plagues and in wars. Does the Source stop them? No. And I no longer complain about it. This is His world. If He chooses for innocents to die, then that is His right. I caused Hermias no harm – even though he stood in my way. Now he is dying. I interpret that as a prayer answered.’
Tamis closed her eyes and floated free of her body, rising through the low roof and drifting high above the city.
The house of Parnas stood in the east of the city and she flew towards it, hovering in the flower-garlanded courtyard where a group of Hermias’ friends had gathered. Par-menion stood alone by the far wall, ignored.