Lion of Macedon

She nodded solemnly. 'You didn't even need the Sciritai. Had you advanced in Sixteen formation you would still have broken through Leonidas' lines, since he reduced his strength to four.'

'I know that too.' He shrugged. 'But I cannot take back the move.'

'Do you still have the sword?'

'Of course. Why would I not?'

'It is very valuable. You might have sold it.'

'Never! It is one of the seven swords. I will treasure it all my life.'

'That is a pity,' she said, moving smoothly to her feet. 'For I would like to have bought it.'

'What need would you have of a sword?' he asked, rising to stand before her.

'I would give it to my brother,' she answered.

'It would be a handsome gift. Do you object to my watching you run?'

'Should I?" she countered, smiling.

'Are you betrothed?'

'Not yet, though my father talks of it. Is this a proposal, Parmenion?'

Before he could answer a hand grabbed his shoulder, dragging him back. Instantly he spun, his fist cracking into Leonidas' jaw and staggering him. The golden-haired Spartan rubbed his chin, then advanced.

'Stop it!' shouted Derae but the youths ignored her, their eyes locked together, their concentration total. Leonidas leapt forward, feinting a hook before thundering a straight right to Parmenion's face. The smaller man rolled with the blow, grabbing Leonidas' tunic and hammering his knee into his opponent's groin. Leonidas grunted with pain and doubled over. Parmenion's forehead crashed against Leonidas' face and he sagged and half-fell. Parmenion pushed him away, then saw a large jagged stone jutting from the grass. Tearing it clear he advanced on the dazed Leonidas, wanting nothing more than to smash open his skull.

Derae leapt into his path, her open hand connecting with his cheek like a thunderclap. His fingers circled her throat and the stone came up… he froze as he saw the terror in her eyes.

Dropping the stone, he backed away. 'I… I am sorry… He… he is my enemy.'

'He is my brother,' she said, her expression as cold as the stone he had dropped.

Leonidas, recovered now, stepped alongside her. 'You come near my sister again — and you will answer to me with a blade in your hand.'

Suddenly Parmenion laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. 'That would be a pleasure,' he hissed, 'for we both know what blade I would carry. One that you will never own — though your soul yearns for it. But fear not, Leonidas, I want nothing from you — or your family.'

'You think I fear you, peasant?'

'If you don't — you should. Come against me whenever you will, you arrogant pig. But know this — I will destroy you!'

Turning on his heel Parmenion stalked from the scene.

* * *

Hermias left the training ground and loped through the streets, across the market-place, arriving at the lake sanctuary as the girls were leaving. There was no sign of Parmenion, and he was about to duck away behind the trees when Derae saw him and waved. Smiling shyly, he stepped forward.

Derae ran to him, kissing his cheek. 'It is not often we see you here, cousin. Are you developing an interest in girls?'

Two of Derae's friends moved alongside him, touching his tunic and pretending to examine the weave.

Hermias blushed. 'I am looking for my friend, Parmenion.'

Her face darkened. 'He was here. Now he is not,' she snapped.

'Has he offended you?' asked Hermias fearfully.

Derae did not answer for a moment. Leonidas would be furious if he learned she had spoken of his defeat, yet she felt driven to talk of the incident. Linking arms with Hermias she walked away from the other girls, and they sat down in the shade by the Sanctuary Lake. There she told Hermias all that had occurred.

'You cannot know what he has suffered, Derae,' he explained. 'For some reason — and I cannot fathom it — he is hated by all. He can do nothing right. When he wins a race there are no cheers, even when he runs against boys from other barracks. And yet he is kind, thoughtful. They set on him in gangs, beating him with sticks. Few there are who would attempt to tackle him singly."

'But my brother would have no part in such wickedness,' said Derae. 'He is noble and strong, he would never run with a pack.'

'I agree with you. I have always. . respected Leonidas. But the beatings are done in his name and he makes no attempt to stop them. The last was the evening before the Game, and Parmenion was forced to hide all night upon the acropolis. You saw his bruises.'

Derae picked up a flat stone and hurled it out over the lake, watching it skim across the sparkling blue water. 'No one is ever hated without reason,' she said. 'He is obviously arrogant and low-born. Leonidas says he is a half-breed, a mix-blood, yet he struts among true Spartans looking down on them.'

Hermias nodded. 'There is truth to that. But when all men are against you, all that is left is pride. He will not let them humble bin. I advised him to play to lose in the Game, but he would not. And look what happened! Everyone hates him even more now. What future is there for him, Derae? He is running out of money; he has no status.'

'Has he no friends at all — save you?'

'None. There is a girl, I think. He watches her every week. When he talks of her he is a different man. But I do not know her name, and I doubt he has even spoken to her.'

'He has spoken to her,' said Derae. 'He even grabbed her throat and threatened her with a rock.'

Hermias closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his head on the grass. 'It was you, then. I do not understand. Was he cursed at birth by some malevolent spirit? I must find him.'

'I think you should avoid him, Hermias. I looked into his eyes and there is something deadly there. My blood turned cold.'

'He is my friend,' answered Hermias, rising smoothly to his feet, 'and I have news for him. But first I must see Leonidas. Where will I find him?'

'He said he was going to practise with spear and sword — he should still be at the training field.

But do not tell him it was I who told you.'

'Please, Derae, he will think Parmenion has sent me.'

Derae shook her head and rose. 'Very well, Hermias. Tell him you spoke to me. But, be warned, he now regards Parmenion as a sworn enemy. You will find no comfort there.'

Leonidas — in breastplate, kilt and greaves — was battling against a youth called Nestus, and the training field rang with the sound of sword on shield as the two attacked one another. No wooden practice blades here, both were using the short iron stabbing swords of the hoplite. There was tension in the spectators as the combatants circled, seeking openings. The powerfully-built Nestus was the barracks champion with the short sword, but Leonidas was cool, strong and fast. Both youths were breathing heavily and Nestus was cut on his upper arm, a thin trickle of blood dripping to the dust. Leonidas leapt in but Nestus darted forward, his shield crashing against Leonidas to send him sprawling to the ground. Instantly Nestus was upon him, his blade resting against Leonidas' throat. A muted cheer went up. Leonidas grinned and rolled to his feet, discarding his shield. Embracing the other man, he congratulated him and then walked away to the shade where water-skins were hanging.

Hermias ran to him, helping him remove his breastplate.

'Thank you, cousin,' said Leonidas, wiping sweat from his face. 'Damn, but he is good. I am getting closer to him, though, don't you think?'

'Yes,' agreed Hermias. 'You had a chance at a groin thrust. In a real battle you would have used it — and won.'

'You saw that? Yes. He has a habit of raising his shield too high. What brings you here? Not to fight, surely?'

'No,' said Hermias, taking a deep breath. 'I came to talk of Savra.' He looked away from Leonidas'

face, bracing himself for the anger he felt sure would follow.