Lion of Macedon

'Work on it,' said Parmenion. 'It needs to be faster.'

Calling Pelopidas to him, he walked to the andron. 'The celebration you mentioned at the house of Alexandras-will there be guards?'

'Yes. They are not popular men,' Pelopidas answered.

'How many guards?'

'Perhaps five, perhaps twenty. I don't know.'

'Outside or inside the house?'

'Outside. It is a private orgy,' said Pelopidas with a wide grin.

'I will meet you at the house of Alexandras. We will make a plan when we have seen how many guards are present.'

After Pelopidas had gone Calepios went to his room to rehearse his speech, leaving Parmenion in the andron. The Spartan was lost in thought for some time, but then became aware that he was not alone. Turning his head he saw the Spartan seeress, Tamis, standing by the table leaning on a staff.

Tamis gazed at the young Spartan, glorying in the power of his soul-fire, sensing his pain, admiring the courage he showed in resisting its power.

For a moment he stared at her, disbelieving.

'Well,' she said, 'will you offer me a seat, young Spartan?'

'Of course,' he answered, rising to guide her to the table, where he poured her a goblet of water.

'How are you here, lady?'

I go where I will. Are you set now upon leading this insurrection?'

'lam.'

'Give me your hand.'

Parmenion obeyed and she covered his palm with her own. 'With each heartbeat a man has two choices,' she whispered. 'Yet each choice makes a pathway, and he must walk it wherever it takes him. You stand, Parmenion, at a crossroads. There is a road leading to sunlight and laughter, and another road leading to pain and despair. The city of Thebes is in your hands, like a small toy.

On the road to sunlight the city will grow, but on the other road it will be broken, crushed into dust and forgotten. These are the words I am ordered to speak.'

'Which road, then?' he asked. 'How will I know it?'

'You will not, until long after you have walked upon it.'

'Then what is the point of telling me?' he snapped, pulling his hand clear of hers.

'You are a Chosen Man. You are Parmenion, the Death of Nations. A hundred thousand souls will you send to the dark river, screaming and wailing, lamenting their fate. It is right and just that you should know your choices.'

Then tell me how to walk the road to sunlight.'

'I will, but like Cassandra before me my words will not alter your path.'

'Just tell mev'

'Walk from this house and bridle your mare. Ride from this city and journey across the sea to Asia. Seek out the Shrine to Hera of the Book.'

'Ha! I see it now,' said Parmenion. 'You witch! You are Spartan and you serve them. I will not listen to your lies. I will free Thebes, and if a city is to fall to ashes then it will be Sparta.'

'Of course,' she said, smiling, showing rotted teeth and blood-red gums. 'The Death of Nations speaks, and his words will be heard by the gods. But you misjudge me, Parmenion. I care nothing for Sparta or her dreams, and I am happy with the path you have chosen. You are important to me -

to the world.'

'Why should I be important to you?' he asked her, but she shook her head.

'All will be revealed in time. You have pleased me today; your mind is sharp, your wits keen. Soon you will become the man of iron, the man of destiny.' Her laughter was like wind through dead leaves.

Parmenion said nothing, but his fingers strayed towards the dagger at his side.

'You will not need that,' she told him softly. 'I am no threat to you, and will speak to no one of your plans.'

The Spartan did not reply. He was not about to risk the life of Epaminondas on the word of a Spartan witch! The dagger slid clear. .

'Parmenion!' called Calepios from the doorway. 'I am torn over the conclusion to my speech. Will you listen to the ending?'

For a moment only, Parmenion's attention was diverted. He glanced back to Tamis. . but she had gone. Lurching to his feet with dagger in hand, he swung round. But of Tamis there was no sign.

'Where did she go?' he asked Calepios.

'Who?'

'The old woman who was here a moment ago.'

'I saw no one; you were dreaming. Now, listen to this ending…"

Parmenion ran to the door. Outside in the courtyard the smith and his men were hammering at the spikes and the courtyard gates were locked.

* * *

Parmenion listened to Calepios' speech, which sounded pompous and lacking in credibility. But he said nothing, his mind locked to the words of Tamis. Had she been real — or an illusion born of pain? He had no way of knowing. Complimenting the statesman on his speech, he left the building and walked in the bright sunshine towards the house of Alexandras. The man was a poet and an actor. According to Calepios he excelled at neither profession, but made his name among the nobility for organizing exquisite orgies. His home was close to the Homoloides, the Great North Gate, and overlooked the hills leading to Thessaly. Parmenion found the house and sat on a wall some sixty paces from the front gates. From here he could see four guards in breastplates and helms, carrying lances, and could hear the sound of music and laughter from within. But there was no sign of Pelopidas. Leaning his back against a cool stone wall, he ran through the plans once more.

There is nothing more you can do, he told himself. It is out of your hands.

But this was advice he could not take. In the years since Derae had been taken from him, thoughts of vengeance against the Spartans had filled his mind. Now the day was here and the beginning of his revenge was close. But where was Pelopidas?

If the councillors were not killed, they would flee to the Spartans, and even if the Cadmea was taken Agisaleus or Cleombrotus would lead an army to regain it. Silently he cursed the Theban warrior. Arrogant, stupid man!

Slowly time passed. The guards continued to pace outside the gates, and the laughter from within grew more raucous. Seven priestesses of Aphrodite arrived, dressed in colourful chitons and wearing veils beneath gilded and bejewelled combs. The guards stepped aside to allow them in.

Parmenion closed his eyes against the pain in his skull; the plan was complex enough, without having to rely on men like Pelopidas.

A cool wind touched his face, bringing momentary relief from pain. He sat up — aware of a difference, a change. The guards still paced and all seemed to be as it was. Then he realized there was no sound, no music or laughter.

So, he thought, the orgy has begun.

But where in the name of Hades was Pelopidas?

An hour passed. Soon it would be time for Calepios to make his speech, to lift the crowd and set them marching on the Cadmea. With a last muttered curse against unreliable Thebans, Parmenion stood and began the long walk to the agora. A noise from behind made him turn to see the gates of Alexandras' home opening, the priestesses emerging into the sunlight. They began to walk towards Parmenion. Ignoring them he continued on his way, but as he turned a corner he heard the sound of running feet and a hand fell upon his shoulder.

'Leave me be!' snapped Parmenion.

'Not even a word of greeting?' came a male voice. Parmenion stared at the tall, veiled priestess, who pulled the veil clear and grinned at him. The face he saw was handsome and beardless, the lips stained red, the eyes painted.

'Get away from me. I want nothing from you!' said Parmenion, lifting a hand to push the man from him. Powerful fingers closed on his forearm with a grip of iron.