'It is nothing, sire, I assure you. I am merely tired.'
'Then you shall rest, and we will meet again tomorrow morning,' said Alexander, rising.
Hephaistion remained behind when the others had gone and Alexander took him by the arm, leading him out into the moonlight to walk around the camp.
'What is wrong with Parmenion?' asked the King.
'As I wrote you, sire, he was angry at the slaying of Attalus and he spoke against the killing of Cleopatra and the babe. Also he was soon joined by the Theban, Mothac, who I understand witnessed the destruction of his city.
Something changed in Parmenion then. He is not the same man. Perhaps it is just his age. . I don't know. Except on matters of discipline or strategy, we rarely speak.'
'You think I can no longer trust Parmenion?'
'I do not think he is… yet… considering treachery,' answered Hephaistion carefully. 'But there is a great bitterness inside him.'
'I need him, Hephaistion — perhaps not for much longer. But I need him now. He knows the Persians and their methods. And whatever else he may — or may not — be, he is still the greatest general of this age.'
'He was once, sire. I am not sure about now; he is old and tired.'
'If that proves to be true,' whispered Alexander, 'then you shall see he joins Attalus for a very long rest.'
Parmenion drained his third goblet of mead wine and poured another. He knew he was drinking too much, but over the last few months only alcohol could dull the ache he felt, only wine could lift the weight from his soul. In his dreams he saw Philip and Attalus, young again and full of hope for the future. He saw the Sparta of the Enchantment, and held again the youthful Derae.
On waking he would groan and reach for the wine. So far his skills had not been affected — or had they? Could he have done more to thwart Memnon? Could he have defeated the Persian army?
'I don't know,' he said aloud. 'I don't care.' There was an iron brazier at the centre of the tent, glowing coals taking the chill from the night air and casting dark, dancing shadows on the canvas walls. Parmenion drew up a padded leather-topped stool and sat before the fire, staring into the tiny caverns within the flames.
'Do you wish to be alone?' asked Alexander, ducking under the tent-flap and approaching the seated man.
Parmenion did not rise. He shook his head. 'It does not matter. I am alone. Now and always,' he answered.
Alexander seated himself opposite the Spartan and sat silently for several minutes, scanning Parmenion's face. Then he reached out to take the general's hand. 'Talk to me,' he urged. 'There is something dark inside you. Let us shine a light on it.'
'Inside me?' responded Parmenion, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Have I slain any babies of late? Have I ordered the murder of a loyal general? Have I removed from the face of Greece a city rich in history and legend?'
'I see,' said the King softly. 'You are angry with me. But you judge me too harshly, Parmenion; I have only done what you taught me to do. All those quiet lessons in strategy in the sunshine at Mieza and on your estates. Well, what would you have done? Thebes rose against us. Athens sent messages of support, but sat back to wait and watch what the boy-king would do. Sparta sent an army north, five thousand men camped at Megara. Every southern city was ready to break their treaties with Macedonia, for they were treaties made with Philip — the warrior-king. Not with the boy, Alexander. Persian agents were everywhere, showering the Great King's gold upon any who would declare enmity to Macedon. Philip could have cowed them — but he would have had the weight of his reputation behind him.
The boy had no reputation save for victories against " crude tribesmen".' Alexander shook his head, his expression sorrowful. 'I was negotiating with the Thebans, trying to find a peaceful way to end the deadlock. But there was an incident near a postern gate in the southern wall, when a group of young Thebans attacked a scouting party of Macedonians led by Perdiccas. The Theban army then issued out, storming our camp. We routed them swiftly and entered the city, at which point our besieged garrison in the Cadmea opened their gates and attacked from within.
You have seen the fall of cities, Parmenion — warriors everywhere, small skirmishes, running battles. There is no order. And yes, the slaughter was great. It took hours to stop it, to restore discipline.
'The following day I ordered the destruction of the city and marched the army south. The Spartans retreated. The Athenians sent emissaries pledging their loyal support. The razing of Thebes was like an earth tremor, destroying the foundations of rebellion. But it hurt me, Parmenion. The glory that was Thebes, the home of Hector's tomb, the works and statues of Praxiteles. You think it did not hurt me?'
The general looked up, saw what appeared to be anguish on the young man's face and sighed. 'And Attalus? Did that hurt you?'
'No,' admitted Alexander, 'but you know I had no choice. He hated me and feared me. For years he tried to poison Philip's mind against me: he was my father's man, he would never be mine. But I tell you this, had he been living in retirement on his estates I would have let him live. But he was not. He was in Asia in joint command of an army — an army he might have tried to turn against me.'
Parmenion could not argue with the truth of that. Philip himself had come to power after having organized the murder of possible rivals. But there was one last, lingering boil to be lanced. 'What of the babe?' he asked.
'That was a terrible deed- and none of my doing. I am ashamed to tell you that I believe it was my mother, aided by a friend of hers from Samothrace — Aida. The night after my father's murder the two women went to Cleopatra, who was later found strangled with a length of braided silver wire. Olympias denied it — but who else could it have been?
It was a ghastly way for my reign to begin — the murder of my infant brother.'
'You had no part in it?'
'Did you think that I would?' Alexander was genuinely shocked and the Spartan read the sincerity in his eyes.
Parmenion felt as if an awesome weight had slid from his shoulders. Reaching out, he embraced the younger man, and there were tears in his eyes. 'I cannot tell you how relieved I am,' he said. 'The killing of the child has haunted me. I thought. .'
'You thought the Dark God had taken control of me?'
Parmenion nodded. Alexander reached down, drawing a slender dagger from his belt. Taking Parmenion's hand, he pressed the hilt of the dagger into his palm. The Spartan's fingers closed around the weapon and Alexander leaned his body forward so that the point of the dagger touched his chest.
'If you doubt me, then kill me,' he told Parmenion.
The Spartan looked into the young man's eyes, seeking any sign of the Beast from the Enchantment. But there was nothing. All he could see was the handsome young man his son had become. Letting slip the knife, he shook his head. 'I see only a King,' he said.
Alexander chuckled. 'By all the gods, it's good to see you again, Parmenion! Do you remember the day we sat in the palace at Pella, discussing your victory at the Crocus Field? I asked you then if you would one day be my general.
You recall?'
'Yes, you were about four years old. I said I might be a little old by the time you became King. And indeed I am.'
'Well, now I ask you again: Will the Lion of Macedon lead my army to victory?'
'If the gods are willing, sire, he will.'
The River Granicus, 334 BC
Bodies lay everywhere, and the mud-churned banks of the Granicus were slippery with blood. Parmenion removed his helm, passing it to Ptolemy who took it in trembling hands. The Spartan looked into the youngster's unnaturally pale face, saw the sheen of cold sweat upon his cheeks. 'Are you enjoying the glory?' he asked.