Instantly the other Thessalians clambered over the fence, ready to help, but Titan stood stock-still, his great frame trembling.
The huge head slowly turned, his malevolent gaze fixing on Parmenion as he jumped down into the pasture.
'He knows,' thought Parmenion, with a sudden rush of fear. 'He is waiting for me!'
The Spartan moved towards the horse, always keeping in its line of vision until he stood beside the neck and head.
Carefully his hand reached up to the top rope, loosening it and lifting it clear.
'Steady, boy,' he whispered. 'Your master speaks. Steady, boy.'
Still the stallion waited, like a black statue. Parmenion eased his fingers under the second rope, sliding it up along the neck, over the ears and down the long nose, waiting for the lunging bite that could tear away his fingers.
It did not come.
Stroking the trembling flanks, Parmenion took hold of the black mane, vaulting smoothly to the stallion's back.
Titan reared as the Spartan's weight came down, but Parmenion locked his legs to the horse's body, holding his position. Titan leapt high in the air, coming down on all four hooves with bone-crunching force, dipping his head and dragging his rider forward. Then he bucked. But Parmenion was ready for the manoeuvre, leaning back and holding to his point of balance.
The black stallion set off at a run, then rolled to his back, desperate to dislodge and crush his tormentor. Parmenion jumped to the ground as the stallion rolled, leaping over the belly and flailing hooves, and springing once more to Titan's back as the horse lunged to his feet. The Thessalians cheered the move.
The giant stallion galloped around the pasture, twisting, leaping, bucking and rearing, but he could not dislodge the hated man upon his back.
Finally Titan charged towards the fence. It was a move the Spartan had not anticipated, and instinctively he knew the stallion's intent. He would gallop towards the timbers and then swing his flanks to crash against the wood, smashing the bones of Parmenion's leg to shards, crippling the Spartan for life. Parmenion had only one hope — to leap clear -
but if he did so the stallion would turn on him.
Seeing the danger the youngster Orsin clambered over the fence and leapt into the paddock, shouting at the top of his voice and waving his coiled rope around his head. The move disconcerted the stallion, who swerved and found himself running head-first at the timbers.
'Sweet Zeus, he'll kill us both!' thought Parmenion as Titan thundered towards the wooden wall.
But at the last moment Titan bunched his muscles, sailing high in the air, clearing the fence with ease and galloping across the hills. The horse herd grazing there scattered before him. Never had Parmenion known such speed, the wind screaming in his ears, the ground moving by below him like a green blur.
'Turn, my beauty!' he yelled. 'Turn and show me your strength.' As if the stallion understood him he swung wide and thundered back towards the pasture.
Mothac and Croni were pulling open the gate, but perversely Titan swerved once more, galloping straight at the highest point of the fence.
'Sweet Hera be with me!' prayed the Spartan, for here the highest bar of the fence was almost seven feet high. The stallion slowed, bunched his muscles and leapt, rear hooves clattering against the wood.
As Titan landed Parmenion swung his right leg clear and jumped to the ground. Immediately the stallion turned on him, rearing above him with hooves lashing down. The Spartan rolled and came up running, diving between the fence bars and landing head-first in a patch of churned earth. The Thessalians roared with laughter as Parmenion staggered to his feet.
'I think,' said the Spartan, with a grin, 'he may take a little breaking yet. But what a horse!'
'Look out!' yelled Croni. Titan charged the fence once more, leaping it without breaking stride. Parmenion dived out of the way, but the stallion swung, seeking him out. When Croni ran forward with his rope, Titan saw him and swerved towards the Thessalian, his huge shoulder crashing into the little man and punching him from his feet.
Before anyone could move Titan reared above the Thessalian, his front hooves hammering down into Croni's face.
The skull dissolved, the head collapsing in a sickening spray of blood and brains. Orsin managed to get a rope over the stallion, but twice more the hooves smashed down into the limp body on the grass. Titan felt the noose settle on his neck and jerked hard, tugging Orsin from his feet. Ignoring the boy he thundered towards Parmenion. The Spartan threw himself to his left but, as if anticipating the move, Titan reared high, his blood-spattered hooves plunging down. Parmenion dived again, this time to his right, his back striking a fence-post. Titan loomed above him.
Suddenly the stallion's neck arched back, an arrow jutting from his skull.
'No!' screamed Parmenion. 'No!' But a second shaft buried itself deep in Titan's flank, piercing the heart. The stallion sank to his knees, then toppled to his side.
Parmenion rose on unsteady legs, staring down at the dead colossus. Then he swung to see Mothac lay aside the bow.
'He was a demon,' the Theban said softly. 'No question.'
'I could have tamed him,' said Parmenion, his voice cold with rage.
'You would have been dead, lord,' put in the boy Orsin. 'As dead as my uncle, Croni. And, by all the gods, you rode him. And greatly.'
'There will never be his like again,' Parmenion whispered.
'There is the foal,' said Orsin. 'He will be bigger than his sire.'
Movement by Titan's dead eye caught Parmenion's attention. Thick white maggots were crawling from under the lid and slithering down the horse's face, like obscene tears. 'There are your demons,' said Parmenion. 'His brain must have been alive with them. Gods, they were driving him mad!'
But the Thessalians were no longer in earshot. They had gathered around the body of their friend Croni, lifting him and carrying him back towards the main house.
The death of the stallion left Parmenion's spirits low. Never had he seen a finer horse, nor one with such an indomitable spirit. But worse than this, the slaying of Titan made him think of the child, Alexander.
Here was another beautiful creature, possessed by evil. Intelligent — perhaps brilliant — and yet cursed by a hidden malevolence. An awful image leapt to his mind: the child lying dead with fat, pale maggots crawling across his lifeless eyes.
Forcing the vision from his thoughts, he toiled alongside the men as they cleared the fields, helping them rope the young horses, getting them accustomed to the needs of Man.
Towards midday the Spartan wandered out to the lake where Mothac was exercising lame or injured mounts. The men had built a floating raft of timbers which was anchored at the centre of a small lake, a bowshot's length from the water's edge. A horse would be led out into the water, where he would swim behind the boat leading him until the raft was reached. Once there the lead rope would be thrown up to Mothac who would encourage the horse to swim around the raft. The exercise built up a horse's strength and endurance, while putting no strain on injured muscles or ligaments. Mothac, his bald head covered by an enormous felt hat, was walking the perimeter of the raft, leading a bay mare who struggled in the water alongside.