‘It is a good day for running,’ said Epaminondas,
pointing up at the sky. ‘The clouds will make it cooler. How do you feel?’
‘There’s some tightness in the neck,’ admitted Par-menion, ‘but I am ready.’ Epaminondas pointed to a spot some thirty paces away, where a tall, clean-shaven man was Umbering up. ‘That is Meleager,’ he said, ‘and beyond him is his friend – I believe he is called Cletus.’
Parmenion watched them closely. Meleager was stretching his hamstring by lifting his leg to a bench and bending forward. Then he eased the muscles on both sides of the groin. Cletus was loping up and down, swinging his arms over his head. Meleager, Parmenion saw, was tall and lean, ideally built for distance running. He watched the man for some time; his preparation was careful and exact, his concentration total.
‘I think it is time you began your own preparations,’ said Epaminondas softly and Parmenion came to with a jerk. He had been so engrossed with Meleager that he had almost forgotten he was to race him. He smiled guiltily and ran down to the start. Stripping off his chiton and sandals, he put himself through a short stretching routine, then ran gently for several minutes until he felt the stiffness leave his muscles.
The runners were called to the start by an elderly man with a short-cropped white beard. Then, one by one, the twelve racers were introduced to the crowd. There were seven Thebans running, and they received the loudest cheers. Meleager and Cletus were given shouts of encouragement by a small Spartan contingent. But Leon, the Macedonian, was greeted only by polite applause.
Once more in line, the runners watched the starter. He raised his hand.
‘Go!’ he yelled. The Thebans were the first to sprint to the front, the line of runners drawing out behind them. Meleager settled down alongside Cletus in fourth place, Parmenion easing up behind them. The first five of the twenty laps saw no change in the leadership. Then Parmenion made his move. Coming smoothly on the outside, he ran to the front and increased the pace with a
short punishing burst of half a lap, opening a gap of some fifteen paces between himself and the second man. At a bend he risked a glance behind him, and saw Meleager closing on him. Parmenion held to a steady pace, then put in a second burst. His lungs were hot now, and his bare feet felt scorched by the baked clay. The clouds parted, brilliant sunshine bathing the runners. Sweat coursed down Parmenion’s body. By lap eleven Meleager was still with him, despite four bursts of speed which had carried Parmenion clear. Slowly, inexorably, the Spartan had reeled him back. Parmenion did not panic. Twice more he pushed ahead, twice more Meleager came back at him.
Parmenion was beginning to suffer – but, he reasoned, so too was Meleager. On lap sixteen Parmenion produced another effort, holding the increased pace for almost three-quarters of a lap, and this time Meleager was left some twenty paces adrift. He had misread the surge and expected Parmenion to falter. Now he began to close the gap. By the nineteenth – and last – circuit, Meleager was only six paces behind.
Parmenion dared not look back, for it would break his stride pattern, and late in the race that could cost him. He was coming up now to the back markers, ready to lap them. Two were Thebans, but ahead he saw Cletus. The man kept glancing back, and Parmenion sensed what was coming. The Spartan would fall in front of him, dragging him down, or would block him as Meleager swept past.
He could hear panting breath just behind him and, as Parmenion closed on Cletus, he guessed Meleager’s plan. The Spartan racer was trying to move alongside him, boxing him in and forcing him into the back of the man ahead. Anger swept through Parmenion, feeding strength to his limbs.
He injected more speed until he was just behind Cletus.
‘Make way on the outside!’ he yelled, and at the same moment he cut inside to his left. The Spartan tripped and fell to his right, crashing into Meleager. Both men tumbled to the ground and Parmenion was clear, racing into the final lap. The crowd were on their feet now as he ran to the finishing line.