The door to the andron opened and Calepios leapt from his seat as a servant entered and bowed.
‘Sir,’ he said to the tall man, ‘there is a Spartan to see you.’
‘Do they know?’ whispered Calepios, his face reddening.
‘Is he alone?’ Epaminondas asked.
‘Yes, sir. He has a letter from the general Xenophon.’
‘Show him to the Eastern room, I will see him there,’ said the tall man. ‘Wait here for a little,’ he told the others, ‘then leave by the rear alleys.’
‘Be careful, my friend,’ warned the warrior. ‘Without you we are nothing.’
*
Epaminondas leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes fixed to the young man’s face. ‘And how is the general?’ he asked, his fingers drumming on the desk before him.
‘He is well, sir. He sends you greetings and I have a letter for you.’
‘Why did he send you to me, Parmenion? I am merely a private citizen in a city ruled by … others. I can offer you little.’
The younger man nodded. ‘I understand that, sir. But Xenophon said you were a soldier of great skill. I think he hoped you would find me a place in the army of Thebes.’
Epaminondas chuckled, but there was little humour in the sound. He stood and walked to the window, opening the shutters. ‘Look up there,’ he said, pointing to the citadel upon the hill. ‘There is the Cadmea. It is garrisoned by Spartans like yourself; there are no Thebans there.’
‘I am no Spartan,’ replied Parmenion. ‘I was despised as a mix-blood, part Macedonian, but were I a Theban I would be seeking a way to … persuade the Spartans to leave.’
‘Would you now?’ responded the Theban, a red flush spreading across his thin, pockmarked cheeks but his voice remaining cold. ‘There are few men who would attempt such an action. For myself, as I said, I am a private citizen and have little interest now in matters martial.’
‘Then I shall trouble you no further, sir,’ said Par-menion. Leaving the letter from Xenophon on the desk, he bowed and walked to the door.
‘Wait, man!’ called Epaminondas, not wishing his unwelcome visitor to see his other guests as they left. ‘You are a stranger in the city, and you can stay in my home until we can find suitable lodging for you. I will have a servant prepare you a room.’
That will not be necessary. I have no wish to remain where the welcome is so grudging.’
‘I see you are a plain speaker, so let me be equally frank. I have no great love for Spartans, be they friends of Xenophon or no. But you are a stranger in a strange city. Finding good lodgings will take time. I urge you to reconsider – and,’ he added, forcing a smile, ‘I will even apologize for my crusty behaviour.’
At the smile Parmenion appeared to relax. ‘I too must apologize. I am out of place here, and I feel awkward.’
‘We shall start again, then, Parmenion. Come, sit and take some wine while I read this letter.’
Returning to his couch, the Theban unrolled the parchment and read of the duel with Nestus and the need for Parmenion to seek his fortune in another city. ‘Why did you fight this man – or is it a private matter?’ he asked at last.
‘He was betrothed to a girl. I too was in love with her.’
‘I see. What happened to her?’
‘She was sacrificed as Cassandra’s victim.’
‘What a barbarous people we are,’ said Epaminondas. ‘It amazes me how easily we criticize the peoples of other races, calling them barbarians, while still we practise obscene blood sacrifices.’
‘The gods require them,’ Parmenion said.
‘There are no gods,’ responded the Theban. ‘It is all a grand nonsense – yet they have their uses.’
‘How can something that does not exist have a use?’ asked the younger man.
The Theban smiled. ‘There are two doors leading from this room, Parmenion. If I told you that one door was
guarded by a lion and that the other leads to a paradise, which door would you open?’
‘The paradise door.’
‘Exactly. The lion does not exist – but it helps me to make sure you open the door I require. It is very simple. Soldiers tend to believe in gods and oracles, but in my experience any prophecy can be turned to advantage.’