Lion of Macedon

'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.

It didn't matter to them that he was Leon, an unknown Macedonian. What mattered was that two Spartans had rolled in the dust by his feet.

Epaminondas rushed to his side. 'The first victory for the Lion of Macedon,' he said.

And it seemed to Parmenion that a dark cloud obscured the sun.

* * *

Parmenion set out his winnings on the stone courtyard table, building columns of coin and staring at them with undisguised pleasure. There were 512 drachms, a king's ransom to a Spartan who had never before seen such an amount in one place, let alone owned it.

There were five gold coins, each worth twenty-four drachms. He hefted them, closing his fist around them, feeling the weight and the warmth that spread through the metal. The four hundred silver drachms he had built into twenty columns like a miniature temple.

He was rich! Spreading the gold coins on the table he stared down at the handsome, bearded head adorning each of them. They were Persian coins, showing the ruler Artaxerxes with a bow in his hand. On the reverse was a woman holding a sheaf of corn and a sword.

'Will you stare at them all day?' Epaminondas asked.

'Yes,' replied Parmenion gleefully. 'And tomorrow!'

The Theban chuckled. 'You ran well, and I took great pleasure over the way you tricked Cletus. How they must be suffering now. Meleager will have beggared himself to settle his debts.'

'I don't care about him,' said Parmenion. 'Now I can afford to rent a home, and perhaps even hire a servant. And today I shall go to the market-place and buy myself a cloak, and several tunics -

and a pair of fine sandals. And a bow. I must have a bow. And a hat! Perhaps one of Thracian felt.'

'I have rarely seen a man so happy with his fortune,' Epaminondas told him.

'But then have you ever been poor?' Parmenion countered.

'Happily that is a state I know little of.'

The two men spent the afternoon in the main marketplace, where Parmenion bought a cloak of sky-blue wool, two tunics of fine linen and a pah* of calf-length sandals. He also allowed himself one extravagance — a head-band of black leather, finely woven with gold wire.

Towards dusk, as they were making their way back to Epaminondas' house, the Theban suddenly cut off to the left down an alley. Parmenion touched his friend's sleeve. 'Where are we going?'

'Home!' answered Epaminondas.

'Why this way?'

'I think we are being followed. Do not look back!' he snapped, as Parmenion started to turn. 'I do not want them to know we have spotted them.'

'Why would we be followed?'

'I do not know. But when we turn the next corner — run!'

The alley twisted to the right and as soon as they were out of sight the two men ran along the path, cutting left and right through the narrow streets until they reached an alley at the back of Epaminondas' home. The Theban halted at the mouth of the alley and glanced out. Four men were sitting on a low wall at the rear of the house. They were armed with daggers and swords, whereas Parmenion and the Theban were without weapons. Swiftly the Theban ducked back out of sight.

Epaminondas took another circuitous route to the front of the house. Here, too, a group of armed men waited.

'What do we do?' queried Parmenion.

'We have two choices; either we brazen it out, or we go elsewhere.'

'Who are they?' the Spartan asked.

'Scum, by the look of them. If I had my sword, I would not hesitate to confront them. But who do they want? You or me?' Epaminondas leaned against a wall. There were only two reasons why the men could be waiting. One, the authorities had found out about the small group of rebels who met at the home of Polysperchon; or two, Meleager had learned of Parmenion's true identity and had paid these rogues to exact revenge. Neither thought was comforting, but on the whole Epaminondas hoped it was the latter.

'Show me more routes to the house,' said Parmenion softly.

'For what reason?'

The Spartan grinned. 'So that I can lead them on a chase. Trust me, Epaminondas. Much of my early life was spent in this way, being hunted, chased, beaten. But not this time, my friend. Now show me the alleys and back roads.'

For almost an hour the two men wandered through the twisting alleys between the houses until Parmenion had memorized various landmarks. Then they returned to the opening at the rear of the house.

'Wait here,' said Parmenion, 'until they have left. Then you can get your sword. And mine too.'

The Spartan ran back into the maze of buildings, emerging from an alley some forty paces to the left of the waiting group. One of them looked up and nudged the man beside him. The group stood.

'Are you the man Parmenion?' asked a stocky, redheaded warrior.

'Indeed I am.'

'Take him!' the man yelled, drawing a sword and rushing forward.

Parmenion turned on his heel and sprinted for the alley, the four attackers in pursuit.

Epaminondas darted across the open ground to the rear of the house and hammered on the door. A servant opened it and the Theban moved through to the andron, gathering up his sword. He sent the servant to Parmenion's room to fetch the Sword of Leonidas and, armed with two blades, ran back towards the street.

'Where are you going, master?' called the servant fearfully.

Epaminondas ignored him.

All was quiet at the rear of the house and Epaminondas waited, his mind calm, his body ready.

There would be little point in entering the maze of alleys — better to wait until Parmenion brought the pursuers to him. Finding his mouth to be dry, he allowed himself a wry smile. It was always this way before a battle: a dry mouth and a full bladder. Then he heard the pounding of feet and saw Parmenion race into view with the four men just behind him. The young Spartan sprinted forward, holding out his hand. Epaminondas tossed him his sword — Parmenion caught it deftly and swung to face the attackers.

The men halted their charge and stood back, uncertain.

'We have no quarrel with you,' the red-bearded leader told Epaminondas. The Theban cast his eyes over the man, taking in his grease-stained tunic and his matted beard. The man's forearms were criss-crossed with scars.

'You have been a soldier, I see,' said Epaminondas. 'You have fallen a long way since then.'

The man reddened. 'I fought for Thebes — precious good it did me. Now stand aside, Epaminondas, and let us deal with the trickster.'

'In what way have you been tricked?' Epaminondas asked.

'He ran under the name Leon — when in fact he is the Spartan racer, Parmenion.'

'Did you lose money?' asked the Theban.

'No, I had no money to bet. But now I have been paid, and I will honour the agreement. Stand aside!'

'I think not,' said the Theban. 'And it is an ill day when a Theban soldier takes blood-money from a Spartan.'

'Needs must,' shrugged the man and suddenly he ran forward with sword raised. Parmenion moved in to meet him, blocking the blow and hammering his left fist into his attacker's face. His opponent staggered back. Parmenion leapt into the air, his right foot cracking into the man's nose and hurling him from his feet. The other three men remained where they were as the red-bearded leader snatched up his fallen sword and rose unsteadily.

'There is no reason for you to die,' Parmenion told him.

'I took the money,' said the man wearily and moved in to attack once more, stabbing out his sword for a belly lunge. Parmenion blocked it with ease, his left fist lancing into the man's jaw and dropping him to the ground.