Lion of Macedon

'Has he spoken to you?' asked Leonidas softly.

'No. Derae told me.' He glanced at Leonidas, finding the absence of anger disconcerting.

'What do you require of me?'

'An end to the beatings and the violence.'

'They are nothing to do with me. I do not sanction them; I learn of them only after they have taken place. He is not popular.' Leonidas shrugged. 'What would you have me do?'

'Tell Gryllus and Learchus that such. . beatings. . displease you.'

'Why should I do this?'

'Because you are a noble man. You are not a coward and you need no one to fight battles for you.'

Leonidas chuckled. 'Flattery, Hermias?'

'Yes. But I believe it is true nonetheless. They cannot beat him into submission. One day they will kill him — and for what? Because they think it would please you. Would it please you, cousin?'

'Yes, it would,' admitted Leonidas. 'But you are right, it is base and I will have no part in it.

I will see that it stops, Hermias; I should have done so long ago. It shamed me that he arrived at the Game carrying such wounds.'

'I am in your debt, cousin.'

'No,' said Leonidas, 'I am in yours. But know this, Parmenion is my enemy and one day I will kill him.'

For two hours Hennias searched for Parmenion, finally finding him sitting on a granite block below the statue of Athena of the Road. Hermias sat alongside him. 'Why so glum, strategos? he asked.

'Don't call me that! One day perhaps — but not now.'

'Your face is like thunder, Savra. Are you thinking of the fight with Leonidas?'

'How did you learn of that?'

'I spoke to Derae. I did not know she was the one you watched.'

Parmenion hurled a stone into a nearby field, scattering a flock of large black and grey birds. 'I hate crows. When I was a child I was frightened of them; I thought they would fly through my window and eat my soul. I had overheard one of my neighbours saying that crows had eaten my father's eyes on the battlefield. I used to cry at night, and I could hear their wings in my mind.'

'Would you rather be alone, Savra? I don't mind.'

Parmenion forced a smile and put his arm around his friend's shoulder. 'I don't want to be alone, Hermias — but that is what I am.' Standing, he scooped up another stone, hurling it high over the field. 'What is there for me here, Hermias? What can I hope to become?'

'What would you wish to be?'

Parmenion shook his head. 'I do not know. Truly. Once I desired only to be a Spartan hoplite, bearing shield, sword and spear. I wanted to march with the King into foreign lands, to become rich on plunder. But lately I have been dreaming strange dreams. .'He lapsed into silence.

'Go on!' urged Hermias. 'Sometimes dreams are messages from the gods. Do you dream of eagles? They are good omens. So are lions.'

'There are no animals,' said Parmenion, 'only men, armed for war. There are two armies on a level plain — and I am a general. The phalanxes surge forward and the dust rises, muffling the war-cries. One army is Spartan, for they are wearing blood-red cloaks. The slaughter is terrible, and I see a King lying slain. Then I awake.'

Hermias was silent for a moment, then he grinned. 'You are a general, you say. That is a good omen, surely? And, I would guess, a true one, for there is no one to out-think you, Savra. And with you leading them, how could Sparta lose?'

'That is the point, my friend. I am not a general in the Spartan army — and it is Sparta's King who dies.'

'Hush!' whispered Hermias. 'You should not say such a thing. Put it from your mind. It is not an omen at all — you were dreaming of the General's Games, that is all. It has been on your mind for so long, and has caused you such grief. Forget it, Savra. Do not speak of it again. Anyway, I have some news that will cheer you… I promise.'

'Then tell it, my friend. I do need cheering.'

'Leonidas spoke up for you today on the training ground, so did Lepidus. Leonidas admitted he had played badly and that you deserved to win. Others were saying you cheated — but he spoke up for you. Isn't that wonderful?'

'I can almost hear the gods singing with joy,' remarked Parmenion.

'But don't you see? It means that the beatings will end. You are free of it.'

'We'll see. I'll judge it by how many attend my victory celebration.'

'I do have other news that is less cheering,' said Hermias sadly. 'There is no easy way to say this, Savra, but there will be no victory ceremony.'

Parmenion laughed grimly. 'Now there is a surprise!' His face set, he jumped down from the block and turned to look up at the stone goddess.

'What have I done, Athena, that the gods should hate me? Am I evil? Perhaps I am. . But one day I will repay them for their cruelties. I swear it!'

Hermias said nothing, but he felt a sudden stab of fear as he gazed at Parmenion's face and saw the icy hatred in his eyes. He clambered down and moved to Parmenion's side.

'Do not hate me too!'

Parmenion blinked and shook his head. 'Hate you, my friend? How could I ever hate you? You have been a brother to me, and I will never forget that. Never! Brothers we have been, brothers we shall be, all the days of our lives. I promise you. Now I have to go to Xenophon's house. I will see you later. Come to my house this evening.'

'I will. Take care.'

'Why should I take care?' responded Parmenion. 'Did you not say the war was over?'

* * *

Xenophon led Parmenion to a wide room in the eastern part of the house, where it was cool and bright. 'Well?' asked the general, lounging on a divan. 'Do you have the answer to Plataea?'

Parmenion nodded. 'Thermopylae put thoughts of defeat into the hearts of the Persians.'

'Good! Good! I am well pleased with you. I have told you that war is an art — and so it is. But the art is to win the battle before the sword is drawn, before the spears are levelled. If your opponent believes he will lose — then he will lose. That is what happened at Plataea. The Persians

— who could not face a mere 300 Spartans- panicked when faced with 5,000. A general must work on the hearts of men, not just his own but the enemy's.'

'Does this mean that you will teach me?' Parmenion asked.

'It does. Do you read?'

'Only poorly, sir. My mother taught me — but it is not a skill that is cared about in the barracks.'

'Then you must learn. I have books that must be studied, strategies you must memorize. A general is not unlike a blacksmith, Parmenion. He has many tools and must know the value and the purpose of each.'

Parmenion took a deep breath. 'There is a question I must ask, sir. I hope it will not offend you.'

'We will not know until you ask it,' replied the general, smiling.

'I am neither wealthy nor well liked. It is likely that when I come of age no Senior's Mess will admit me. So, sir, much as I would like to be taught by you, what is the point?'

Xenophon nodded gravely. 'There is much in what you say, young strategos. At best you will be a First Ranker, at worst a line warrior. But you have it in you to become great, to be a leader of men. I know; there is no better judge of this than I. But your future may not be in Sparta — which will be Sparta's loss. What do you desire?'

Parmenion shrugged. 'Only acceptance, sir. I wish to be able to walk with my head high, having men say, "There is Parmenion, the Spartan." '

That is all you wish? Come, be honest with me, strategos.'

Parmenion swallowed hard, then his eyes came up to meet the general's piercing gaze. 'No, sir, that is not all. I wish to grind my enemies into the dust, to bring them to despair. I want to be a general, like you. I want to lead men into battle.' Suddenly he smiled. 'I had a dream that I wish to make come true.'