Lion of Macedon

Parmenion was just settling down to sleep when he heard the sound of knuckles rapping at his door.

'Who is it?' he called.

'Grigery, sir. The King has requested your presence.'

Parmenion sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He glanced to his cuirass and helm where they lay on the floor alongside his sword, then stood and walked to the door, pulling it open. Grigery bowed. Parmenion stepped from the room and followed the warrior along the wide corridor to the King's apartments. The man walked well, perfectly balanced, moving on the balls of his feet. He was an athlete, Parmenion knew — and more than that, a warrior to watch.

Grigery ushered him in to an anteroom and announced him to Bardylis. To the Spartan's surprise the King was alone. He did not rise from his couch when Parmenion entered, but acknowledged the Spartan's bow with a wave of his hand.

'Welcome to my home, Parmenion. It is an honour to have such a famous general in Illyria.'

'It hardly matches the honour for me, your majesty. It is rare to be invited to a private audience with a King of such renown.'

'You speak well, Spartan, but let us put aside such niceties,' snapped the old man. 'Come and sit beside me, and tell me what you are doing in Macedonia.'

Parmenion sat alongside the King. 'A general moves where there is employment. I fear I almost outstayed my welcome in Asia. King Philip was kind enough to offer me a temporary commission.'

'Temporary?'

'I am to train a few hundred warriors in order that he may guard his borders with Paionia. And also to supply him with a royal guard.'

The King smiled, showing badly discoloured teeth. 'And what of Illyria? How does he feel about those borders?'

Parmenion thought swiftly. 'He does not like the current situation — but then, would you? But I have told him there is little he can do. It would take considerable resources, an army of mercenaries, and even then he would face a less than even chance of success.'

'You are extremely forthright,' said the King, surprised.

'I am speaking no secrets, your majesty. And I sense it would be… inappropriate to lie to you.'

'Would you come to my employment?'

'Of course, sire. But I have given my word to Philip that I will stay one year and train his Guard. After that? I will be seeking a new post. However, I do not think you need me. I am usually employed by men who have lost; very few victors have need of a mercenary general.'

'That is true,' Bardylis agreed. 'Tell me, do you like Philip?'

'Very much. He is a kind man, in some ways a gentle man. Where I have travelled, such men are few.'

'Is that why he did not kill the son of Perdiccas?'

'I imagine so, your majesty. But it is difficult to know all that is in the King's mind.'

'One last question, Parmenion: if Philip did raise an army, would you march against me?'

'Naturally, your majesty. I would be a curious general if I did not.'

The King chuckled. 'I could have you killed, you know.'

'All things are possible,' admitted Parmenion, looking closely at the old King. 'But I don't think you will.'

'Why?'

'Because you're bored, sire, and, small a threat as he is, Philip intrigues you.'

'You are an observant man. I think I should watch you. But go now — and enjoy your stay in Illyria.'

* * *

For three days Philip was feted as Bardylis arranged banquets, athletic displays, dances and the staging of a Corinthian comedy at a theatre on the outskirts of the city. The Macedonian King seemed to be enjoying the pageants, though for Parmenion the days grew increasingly irksome. The warrior Theoparlis seemed tense and upset, and twice Parmenion had seen him in conversation with the sneering Grigery.

The Spartan approached Theo as the crowds left the theatre.

'Is everything all right?' he asked.

'I am well,' responded Theo, striding on ahead.

Parmenion put the problem from his mind as Philip came alongside, linking arms. 'A good play, did you not think?' Philip asked.

'I am not a lover of comedies, sire.'

Philip leaned in close. 'To marry someone like Audata, a man must need to love comedy,' he whispered.

Parmenion chuckled. 'There is more to love than beauty, I am told.'

'Yes, but looks must count for something. I sat with her for two hours yesterday, and throughout that time I sought one physical feature that I could compliment her on.'

'What did you find?'

'I thought of telling her she had very nice elbows.'

Parmenion laughed aloud, the tension easing from him. 'What happened then?'

'We made love.'

'What? In her father's palace? Before the wedding? And how did you manage it — if you found nothing attractive in her?'

Philip looked suddenly serious. 'I had a dream, Parmenion. I pictured the woman I saw in it — the woman I will meet next year on Samothrace.' As they walked back to the palace, Philip told the Spartan of the mystic encounter.

'And you are sure it was an omen?'

'I would stake my life on it — and I would give my life to make it true. She was wonderful, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is a gift from the gods, Parmenion, I know it. She promised to bear me a son, a child born of greatness.'

As they approached the palace Philip took Parmenion's arm and stopped. 'This afternoon,' said the King, 'Bardylis wants me to see his army. It should be enlightening.'

'Indeed it should,' agreed Parmenion. 'So what concerns you?'

'Theoparlis. He has grown sullen, and I think the man Grigery has been baiting him. He must not be drawn into a fight. Antipater has been asking questions about Grigery; it seems he is the King's champion, and a demon with a sword."

'I shall prevent any duel between Macedonian and Illyrian,' promised Parmenion.

'Good. Have you seen Bardylis again?'

'No. I think I convinced him there was no intention of a war with Illyria.'

'Do not be too sure,' warned Philip. 'I think the man is a sorcerer, a reader of minds.'

In the afternoon Philip and his companions watched the Illyrian cavalry charging across a wide field, their lances bright in the sunlight. Then the infantry marched forward in phalanx formation. Each man was armed with a spear and a short sword and carried a square shield of bronze-reinforced wood; they wore crested helms, breastplates and greaves, though their thighs were bare. At an order from their general the phalanx smoothly changed formation, moving out in a long line three men deep, spears levelled. Philip and his Macedonians were standing at the edge of the field when the King noticed the Illyrians on either side edging back.

'Stand firm, no matter what,' whispered Philip.

With a thunderous roar the infantry charged. Philip watched the spearmen closing on him and, for a moment, wondered if this was the end of his life. It seemed that nothing could stop the charging mass, and that within seconds an iron point would plunge into his unprotected breast. But he stood still with hands on hips, facing the charging men.

At the last possible second the phalanx halted. Philip gazed down at a spear-point hovering a ringer's breadth from his chest. Slowly he lifted his hand to it, rubbing his thumb on the metal.

He looked into the spearman's eyes.

'There is rust on this,' he said softly. 'You should take better care.' Then he turned away.

Not one of his company had moved a muscle during the charge, and this filled Philip with pride.

Bardylis waved and Philip joined the old King on a wide seat at the head of a table laden with food.

Parmenion was about to take his seat at the table when he noticed Grigery and Theo some twenty paces away. Once more the Illyrian was making some sneering comment, and even from this distance Parmenion could see Theo's face redden, his hand moving towards his sword-hilt.