Finally she awoke and felt the sunlight coming through the open window. With no sense of the passing of time, she knew only that she was tired but no longer sick. Her bedroom door opened and a man entered. Tall and grey-bearded, dressed in a runic of faded red, he carried a dish of water to her bedside and helped her to drink.
'You are feeling better, priestess?' he asked.
'Yes. Thank you. I know your voice, don't I? But I don't remember. .'
'My name is Leucion. I came here a long time ago and you advised me to go to Tyre. I took that advice. There I found love and a good wife, and we reared fine sons and two daughters.'
Derae lay back and spirit-gazed upon the man, remembering the look in his eyes as he had tried to rape her. 'I remember. Why did you come back?'
'My wife died, priestess, and my eldest son now sits at the head of the table. But I never forgot you. I wanted… I wanted to see you again. To apologize. But when I came here you were ill, and there was no help. So I stayed.'
'How long have I been in bed?'
'Twelve days,' said Leucion. 'At first I thought you would die, but I managed to get you to eat. I fed the old woman too, but I do not think she even knows I am here.'
'Eleven days? How is it that my bedclothes are so clean?'
'I changed them for you, and washed the others. When you are well again I shall leave.'
Derae took the man's hand. 'I thank you for your help, and I am glad you came back. I am glad also that your life has been happy. And if you are seeking forgiveness — I gave that a long time ago, Leucion.'
'There are many people waiting for you. What shall I tell them?'
'Tell them I shall be with them tomorrow.' Derae pushed back the covers and stood; her legs were unsteady, but she could feel her strength returning. Leucion brought her clothes and offered to help her dress. 'It is all right,
Leucion, I may be blind, but I can dress myself.' She chose a simple white gown and walked to the gardens, where Tamis was sitting by the fountain.
'Please don't hate me!' whimpered the old woman.
Derae cuddled her, stroking her hair. 'You look tired, Tamis. Why don't you rest?'
'It's all wrong. All of it. I haven't served the Light at all. It's my fault, Derae.' The younger woman took Tamis by the arm and led her to her own quarters. Tamis sank on to the bed and fell asleep instantly.
'Is she still taunting you?' whispered Derae, sitting beside the old priestess. 'Let us see.' She soared and looked around but there was no one close, and no sign or feel of the hooded woman. What then, Derae wondered, was the source of Tamis' despair? With the priestess asleep, she decided to find out. Never before had she entered Tamis' mind unbidden, but it was useless now to try to elicit information. Her decision made, Derae's spirit flowed into Tamis, becoming one with the sleeping woman. She saw many years flow by, felt Tamis' hopes, dreams, despairs; saw a child of unique talent become a woman of power and influence; watched her grow, observed — and shared — her lovers and her bereavements. Finally she saw the first vision Tamis had seen of the birth of the Dark God — and watched in horror as Tamis orchestrated the death of the Persian girl who was to bear the babe.
'We cannot use the weapons of the enemy,' Tamis had said. And yet, fifty years ago, the seeress had entered the mind of the pregnant Persian, taking control of her limbs. Then she had walked her to the top of the tower, forcing her to climb the parapet and leap to her death. Derae shook herself clear of the shared memory and, with growing unease, continued her journey. As the years moved on, her mood darkened. Tamis had begun to manipulate events. She it was who asked Xenophon to teach the boy strategy; she also used her powers to keep Parmenion separated from the other boys of his barracks, instilling in them a dislike for the young mix-blood.
But worst of all, Derae found the answer to a lifelong mystery.
Though she had loved Parmenion desperately, she had never understood why they had been so reckless in their love-making, so stupid and so open.
Now she saw. .
Now she knew. .
For, as with the hooded woman in Tamis' dream, so Tamis herself had floated above the lovers, using her power to blind them to peril, urging them on, driving them to their destruction.
Worse, it was Tamis who had spirit-led the raiders to her, Tamis who had caused her horse to bolt, leaving her with no escape. It was Tamis who had filled Nestus with the craving for vengeance, who had planted in him the desire to see Derae killed.
Tamis had engineered it all.
Parmenion had been manipulated, steered like a horse with invisible reins — led to Thebes, led to Persia, led to Macedonia.
But the last lie was the worst of all. Derae saw herself battling against her bonds in the sea after being thrown from the ship. The leather at her wrists had stretched in the water and she had torn her hands free and swum for her life, the thunder of the breakers coming ever closer. She was strong and young, and she had battled the force of the deep almost to the beach when a huge wave picked her up and dashed her head against a rock. Seconds later, Naza had waded out and dragged her in to the shore.
'She is alive!' said the old man.
'Carry her to the temple,' Tamis ordered. Alive! Not chained by the bonds of death at all. Lies, lies, lies! She could have left at any time and gone to Parmenion; she could have saved him from his life of emptiness and torment.
'Phase don't hate me!'
Derae fled to her body and rose, staring down at the old woman as she slept. She wanted to strike her, to wake her and scream the truth at her.
A servant of the Light? A woman who professed to believe in the power of love?
Derae staggered back from the force of her own hatred and ran from the room, colliding with Leucion in the corridor beyond. She almost fell, but his arms went around her.
'What is wrong, lady?'
'Everything,' whispered Derae.
And the tears followed.
Pella, Spring, 358 BC
Philip watched the 1,000-strong Foot Companions form into a fighting square and charge across the field. At a shouted order from Parmenion they halted, still in formation, and wheeled to the left.
Another order saw the rear five ranks pull clear and stream out to widen the front line.
The discipline was good and the King was well pleased. He saw the men gather up their sarissas -
spears three times the length of a tall man — that Philip had personally designed. Each spear had an iron point and, at the base, a spike. The warrior in the front row of the phalanx held the sarissa shaft in the crook of his right arm, while a second man behind him took up the weight of the spear, ready to ram it forward into the enemy ranks. It was an unwieldy weapon, but Philip believed it would give the raw Macedonian infantry a tactical advantage in their first battles.
The phalanx would advance against the enemy, who would come to meet them expecting the surging, shoving clash of armoured men. But with the sarissa Philip felt he had an edge.
Parmenion was not so sure. 'They are formidable, sire, at the front, but an enemy could sweep to flanks, making them useless.'
'True, strategos, but to do that an enemy would have to change the tactics of his entire army -
tactics used for a century or more.'
'Even so, we need a secondary tactic of our own,' said Parmenion.
And he had supplied it.
No longer would Philip's cavalry adopt a frontal charge on the enemy; this would be left to the new infantry, the cavalry taking position on both flanks of the phalanx, forcing the enemy army in upon itself.
Day by day through the autumn and winter the army grew. Villagers and peasants flocked to Pella to undergo rigorous training in order to win the new Phrygian armour, the black breastplate and red-crested helm. By midwinter Parmenion had selected the men for the King's Guard, each of whom had black cloaks of the finest wool and a bronze-edged shield bearing the Star of Macedon at the centre. These had been purchased with gold from the Crousia mines. Under Attalus the mines had once more produced a plentiful supply of the precious metal, and Philip spent the proceeds even as they arrived in Pella: armour from Boeotia and Phrygia, horses from Thrace, marble from the south, cloaks from Thebes, builders from Athens and Corinth.