Gemmell, David – Lion of Macedon 01

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One day out from the city, the small party saw a group of horsemen cantering towards them. Xenophon hoisted his spear and kicked the gelding into a run to meet them. Parmenion rode after him, while Tinus, Clearchus and three other servants remained with the wagon.

Parmenion guided his mount alongside Xenophon. ‘I think it is Leonidas,’ he shouted. The Athenian drew rein and waited, and Parmenion could see his concern. Spartan cavalry had been sent out into the Sciritis hills after two villages were hit by raiders – renegade mercenaries who had been dismissed by the authorities in Corinth. There were said to be more than thirty men in the raiding party.

Shading his eyes, Parmenion could see Leonidas riding at the head of a large group of warriors. Behind him was his father, Patroclian. Xenophon held up a hand in greeting and Leonidas dragged on his reins while Patroclian rode forward.

‘An ill day, Xenophon,’ said the red-bearded Spartiate. ‘My daughter, Derae, has been taken.’

‘Taken? How?’ Xenophon asked.

‘She was riding alone to the east of our column; I think she must have stopped by a stream and dismounted. I have a Thracian servant who reads tracks and he said her horse must have run clear when they surprised her. They are heading north, into the hills.’

‘We will join with you, of course,’ said Xenophon.

Parmenion swung his horse’s head and cantered back to the wagon. ‘Hand me the bow,’ he ordered Tinus.

The man reached into the back of the wagon and lifted out a bow of horn and a goatskin quiver containing twenty arrows. Parmenion hooked the quiver over his shoulder and scanned the countryside. The men were heading north, Patroclian had said, but by now they would know that Derae was part of a larger group and it would make little sense to hold to their course. To the north-east was a heavily wooded line of hills, beyond which Parmenion could see a high pass that swept northward. Without waiting for the others, he heeled the mare into a run and rode for the wooded slopes.

‘Where in Hades is he going?’ asked Leonidas.

‘I don’t know, and I don’t care,’ snapped Patroclian. ‘Let’s ride!’

The warriors set off for the north.

Parmenion rode high into the hills, angling his mount towards the pass. The footing was treacherous here, scree and loose shale. He slowed the mare, dismounted, then led her up into the trees. On reaching safe ground, he tethered her to a bush and climbed a tall cypress tree. From its uppermost branches he scanned the surrounding hills, seeing no sign of movement save for the dust of the hunting party as it galloped north. He stayed in the tree for some time, and was just beginning to face the possibility of being wrong when several black and grey crows took off from the trees some 200 paces to his right. They seemed panicked and he focused on the area, straining to see through the undergrowth. After a moment or two he caught the glint of sunlight on metal and heard a horse whinny. Swiftly he climbed down the tree, mounted the mare and set off at a run for the pass.

He reached it ahead of the raiders and dragged on the reins; the mare whinnied and reared. Parmenion leapt from her back and swiftly hobbled her. Climbing to the peak of a tall, rocky outcrop overlooking the narrow pass, he slid an arrow from the quiver and notched it to the string.

His heart was beating wildly and there was a pounding pain behind his eyes. The headaches had been worse of late, waking him in the night and leaving him nauseous and shaken. But now he had no time to be concerned with petty pain.

His reaction to the news of Derae’s abduction had surprised him. She had been in his thoughts often, but he had never allowed himself to believe he could win her. Now, with the thought of her being taken from him for good, he felt a rising sense of panic and a realization that she was part of his dreams. A foolish dream! his mind screamed at him, as he crouched, waiting for the raiders. Leonidas would never allow such a marriage. Marriage? He pictured Derae standing beside him at the Sacred Stone to Hera, her hand on his, the priestess binding their arms together with laurel leaves. . . .

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