Lion of Macedon

'Can you destroy a god?' Derae asked.

'Not thenspirit. But he will come in the flesh, in the guise of a man. And that is where his weakness will lie.'

Derae took a deep breath. 'I want to help you, Tamis, I really do. But is there a way I can develop my. . powers. . without giving the gift you require?'

'We do not have the time,' answered Tamis sadly. 'It would take perhaps thirty years.'

'Will there be pain?'

'Yes,' admitted Tamis, 'but it will be short-lived — that I promise you.'

'Show me Parmenion,' said Derae. 'Then I will give you my answer.'

'That might not be wise.'

'It is my price.'

'Very well, child. Take my hand and close your eyes.'

The world lurched, and Derae felt she was falling into a great void. She opened her eyes. . and screamed. All around her were stars, huge and bright, while far below her the moon floated in a sea of darkness. 'Do not fear, Derae. I am with you,' came the voice of Tamis, and Derae calmed herself. Colours blazed around her — and she found herself floating above the night-shrouded city of Thebes, gazing down at the colossal statues of Heracles and Athena. Closer they flew until they came to a house with a small courtyard.

A red-headed man was sitting at a table, but from above came the sounds of a couple making love.

Still closer they came, passing through the walls of the bedroom.

'I missed you,' Parmenion told the woman beneath him. 'As if they'd torn my heart from me.'

'Take me back,' whispered Derae. 'Take me home. You may have my gift; you may take my eyes.'

* * *

Mothac opened the package from Argonas and ran his fingers through the shredded leaves and stalks within. Filling a large goblet with boiling water, he added a handful of the leaves, and a pungent aroma — sweet, almost sickly — filled the kitchen.

Parmenion was awake upstairs, but he had said nothing, nor even turned his head when Mothac looked in on him. Stirring the infusion with a wooden spoon, Mothac strained off the leaves and stalks floating on the surface and climbed the stairs. Parmenion had not left the bed. He was sitting up and staring out through the open window.

Mothac moved to the bedside. 'Drink this,' he said softly. Without a word Parmenion accepted the brew and sipped it. 'Drink it all,' Mothac ordered, and the Spartan silently obeyed.

Mothac took the empty goblet, placing it on the floor beside the bed. 'How is the pain?' he asked, taking Parmenion's hand.

'It is receding,' answered the Spartan, his voice distant.

'You have been asleep for five days. You missed the celebrations — they were dancing on the agora.

You should have seen them.'

Parmenion's eyes closed and his voice was a whisper. 'She came to me, Mothac. From beyond death she came to me. She saved me on the Hill of Sorrow.'

'Who came to you?'

'Derae. She was still young and beautiful.' Tears welled in Parmenion's eyes. 'She freed me, she took away the pain.'

Mothac bit back the truth as the words surged up in his throat. 'Good,' he said at last. 'That is good. Now it is time for you to leave that bed and get some air into your lungs. Here, let me help you.' Taking Parmenion's arm, he gently pulled his master to his feet.

Parmenion stumbled, then righted himself. Mothac took a clean white chiton, helped Parmenion to dress and then guided him down to the courtyard.

The sky was overcast but the day was warm, a fresh breeze blowing. Mothac brought Parmenion a meal of figs and dried fish, and was relieved when the Spartan ate it all.

In the days that followed, Parmenion's strength flowed back into his wasted limbs. Argonas came twice to the house, examining the Spartan's skull and pronouncing, with satisfaction, that the cancer was sleeping.

But still Parmenion did not venture from the house. He slept often and took little interest in the affairs of Thebes. Each day he drank the infusion prepared by Mothac, ate a light breakfast and dozed until after noon. Concerned by Parmenion's lethargy, Mothac sought out Argonas.

'Do not be worried,' the fat man told him. 'It is the sylphium — it is also a strong sleeping potion. But his body will become used to it and that effect will lessen.'

Epaminondas did not visit during this time. Mothac informed Parmenion that the Theban was organizing a new city council with other members of the rebel conspiracy, while the warrior Pelopidas had gathered to him almost 500 young Theban men and was training them for the war that was almost certain to follow. Parmenion listened to the news without expression, venturing no opinions and asking no questions.

A month after the retaking of the Cadmea, Parmenion heard cheering in the streets and sent Mothac to enquire as to the cause. The Theban returned within minutes. 'An Athenian force has arrived,'

he said. They have come to help us against the Spartans.'

'That seems unlikely,' offered Parmenion. 'The Athenians are in no position to make war against Sparta; they have few land forces and Sparta has three armies that could march on Athens almost unopposed. Go and find out more.'

Mothac was delighted as he ran from the house. Parmenion's voice had been sharp, authoritative, and Mothac felt like a man who has just seen the first rays of spring sunshine after a long winter. It took him two hours to locate Epaminondas, who was returning from a meeting in the Cadmea. The Theban leader looked weary, his shoulders slumped, his eyes dull.

'Parmenion is asking about the soldiers,' said Mothac, moving alongside the man as he pushed his way through the crowds.

'They are mercenaries,' Epaminondas told him. 'Calepios bought their services in Athens. How is Parmenion?'

'As he once was,' said Mothac, and Epaminondas brightened.

'I'll come back with you. I need to talk to him.'

A thunderstorm burst over the city as the three men reclined on couches in the andron, lightning flashing like the spears of Ares. Epaminondas lay back, resting his head on an embroidered cushion and closing his eyes. 'There is a great deal of meaningless debate at present,' he said. 'It is beginning to look as if removing the Spartans was simplicity itself compared with planning a coherent policy. There are some who want to hire mercenaries to defend the city, others who talk of meeting the Spartans in the field. Still more dither and wait for Athens to come to our aid.

Calepios says the Athenians are happy with our revolt and promise us everything — except real support. They are overjoyed to see the Spartans humbled, but they will do nothing to help us.'

'And what of the Spartan army?' asked Parmenion.

'Cleombrotus has 7,000 men near Megara — two days' march from us. So far he has done nothing.

Cascus is with him; we should never have let him escape. Calepios has much to answer for in that regard, blood kin or no. Cascus is telling all who will hear him that the Theban revolt is masterminded by a treacherous group of exiles, and that the people do not support them. He is urging Cleombrotus to march on Thebes, and is assuring him that the Theban people will rise against the rebels.'

Then why have the Spartans not marched?' asked Mothac.

'Agisaleus is ill. Some say he is dying, and the omens are not good. I hope he does die.'

Tray he does not,' put in Parmenion. 'As long as he remains sick, the Spartans will do nothing. If Agisaleus dies, Cleombrotus will feel compelled to show his strength to the Spartan people. And you are not ready for war.'

'What do you advise, my friend?'

'Your choices are limited,' Parmenion told him. 'There are Spartan garrisons all through Boeotia -

north, south, east and west of Thebes. Until those garrisons are removed you have no chance to succeed. But you cannot remove them while Spartan armies are poised to invade. Not an easy problem to solve.'