Dark Prince

The priestess sat down, resting her back against a boulder. In the moment that Philippos had appeared she had linked with Attalus, intending to strengthen him, to help him. But there had been no need. There was in the Macedonian one tiny shimmering thread, glowing in the darkness of his souclass="underline" his love for Philip.

From where did it come, Derae wondered? Attalus was capable of almost any evil, yet he had proved himself incorruptible. She smiled.

'It is a fine night,' said Helm, seating himself beside her.

'I thought you needed sleep.'

He nodded. 'Sleep without dreams is akin to death, lady.'

'Have you remembered anything of your life?'

'No.'

'You seem very calm. I would not like to be robbed of my past.'

He smiled, the metallic skin stretching, showing teeth of bronze. 'But I do not know what that past is, or was. There is a kind of tranquillity in the lack of knowledge. Perhaps I was an evil man. Perhaps there are deeds in my past that would shame me.'

'I sense no evil in you, Helm.'

'But then the world shapes us, Thena, evil begetting evil. If a man grows with hatred in his heart, then his actions will be governed by that hatred. Like Attalus, perhaps. I have no memories. I am unshaped.'

'The core of you is unchanged,' she said. 'You rescued Iskander, risking your life. And you understand friendship and loyalty.'

'But then the boy can free me from this. . spell. That gives me a selfish reason to fight for him.'

'My life has been long,' said Derae, 'longer than this youthful body shows. It is my experience that evil thrives when men and women are weak. You are not weak. Trust me. I do not say you were a good man, or a holy one — your skill with the sword belies that. But you are not evil.'

'We shall see,' he answered.

* * *

Parmenion stood with Leonidas and Learchus at the north entrance to the training grounds, watching dispassionately as the slaves, servants and old men filed past them. Officers moved among the men, greeting old comrades and directing veterans to the west of the area where hundreds of swords, shields and spears had been piled against the walls.

In the distance Parmenion could hear the pounding of hammers as the city's armourers worked feverishly to produce more weapons, arrowheads and blades, spear-points and helms.

'How many men so far?' asked the King.

'Four thousand,' answered Leonidas, 'but the training grounds will not take too many more. Those here this morning are from the south and east of the city. We have asked the. . volunteers. . from the north and west to assemble this afternoon.'

'How can we judge so many?' Learchus enquired. 'And how do we instill discipline into them in less than two days?'

'I wish to see only two skills imparted to the slaves,' Parmenion told him. 'Those we choose must learn to stand in wide line battle order, and to move into close formation for an attack.'

'But that will be of little use,' pointed out Leonidas. 'No matter how good their formation at the onset, once the order to advance is given the lines will break. They will become what they are — a rabble.'

'I know that. But drill them in the two formations. When the order is given I want them to move as smoothly into place as the finest of Spartan warriors. Also find five hundred men who can use bows; we will need them to turn back the Makedones cavalry.'

'It will be as you order, sire,' said Leonidas.

'Good. I will return around mid-morning to supervise the training.'

'Do you want me with you, sire, when you see Tamis?' asked Leonidas.

'No,' he answered, with a wry smile. 'If she is good she will understand all. If she does not, then she can be of little use to us.'

The palace was all but deserted when Parmenion rode in through the main gates. All the male servants — bar Priastes -

were at the training ground. Dismounting by the stables Parmenion led the grey mare into a paddock and pulled clear the leopardskin chabraque, which he hung over a rail. The mare whinnied and galloped around the paddock fence, tossing her head and rearing, announcing her presence to the stallions in the small meadow beyond.

Parmenion strolled into the palace, shouting for Priastes, and the old man came running from the upper rooms.

'The seeress, Tamis, is expected. Bring her to my quarters.'

'Yes, sire, but would it not be better to see her in the western gardens?'

'You think my quarters unfit for a seeress?'

'No, sire,' answered Priastes reproachfully, 'but the lady is very old and the stairs very steep. The garden will be cool and I will bring you wine and fruit.'

Parmenion smiled assent and walked down the long, cool corridor to the western gardens. They were well laid out, with winding paths and small fountains built around four willows, their branches trailing in man-made streams.

Several marble seats had been set in the shade and here Parmenion stretched out his frame, easing the muscles of his neck and back. He was tired and on edge. The night before had been spent in meetings — first with Lecnidas, then the dying Oleander and the other ephors. At dawn he was still awake, discussing strategies with the Barracks Masters whose youngsters he had called upon. There were 2,000 boys over the age of fifteen, and for them he had a special purpose.

Now the sun was two hours short of noon and Parmenion's eyes were gritty and sore, his back aching with the weight of the breastplate.

Priastes brought embroidered cushions which he scattered on the bench, then returned with a stone pitcher of cooled wine and a bowl of fruit — oranges, pomegranates and apples — which he set down before the King.

'You should sleep for a while,' said the old man.

'I will. . soon.'

It was restful here and he leaned back against the soft cushions and closed his eyes to think. So many plans to be laid, so many stratagems to consider, so many. .

He awoke in a moonlit meadow, refreshed and alert. He was without armour and the night breeze was pleasantly cool upon his body.

'Welcome, Parmenion,' said a voice. He sat up and saw an old woman sitting beneath a spreading oak.

'Where are we?' he asked.

'In a neutral place, far from wars and the threat of war. How are you feeling?'

'Rested. Are you the Tamis I knew, back in my own Sparta?'

'No. But then you are not the Parmenion I have known. What can I do to aid you? I must tell you that I will not kill, nor will I help you to kill.'

'Can you shield me from the golden eye?'

'If that is what you wish.'

'I must know also when we are being observed. That is vital.'

'Your meeting with the ephors, and the deaths of Chirisophus and Soteridas, were seen. As was the training this morning.'

'Last night with Cleander?'

'I do not know. But you must assume that Philippos is aware of your plans.'

'Can he see us now?'

'No,' answered Tamis. 'This is but a dream. Everything you say here is known only to me, and you, and the Source of All Creation.'

'Good. Where is the boy?'

'He and his companions are close to the Lands of the Enchantment. But they are in great danger. More than a hundred Messenian riders are waiting for them, and more follow.'

'Can we do anything to aid them?'

'No.'

Parmenion took a deep breath and pushed his fears for Alexander from his mind, concentrating only on the defence of Sparta. 'It is vital that we are not observed leaving the city. All our hopes rest on that. Yet I do not want Philippos to be aware that his… view. . has been restricted. You understand?'

'No,' Tamis admitted.

'My strategy must needs be simple, for I will be leading a fledgling force. I am obliged to depend on Philippos for the victory. He will know that I have an army of slaves, children and old men, built around the power of the Spartan phalanx. His strategy will be based on that knowledge. My only hope. . our only hope… is to fool him.'