Lion of Macedon (15 page)

“Indeed I am. You are looking beautiful; your clothes are very fine.”

“Thank you. But you are pale—perhaps you should rest
for a while.” They sat together in uncomfortable silence for several minutes until Derae laid her hand on his arm. “I wanted to thank you. I was terrified. You have no idea how I felt when you stood upon that rock and demanded my release. It was as if you were sent by the gods.”

“Perhaps I was,” he whispered, covering her hand with his own.

“My father was very impressed by your courage—and your initiative. I was really convinced there were men with you.”

Parmenion grinned. “Xenophon taught me that victory is achieved by putting the thought of defeat into the heart of your enemy. To him goes the honor.”

“But to you the glory. I like to see you smile, Savra; it makes you handsome. You do not smile enough.”

Her hand was warm beneath his, and he could feel her closeness and smell the heavy scent of the perfumed oil on her hair. Her head was tilted toward him, and he could not read her eyes; the pupils were wide, her face flushed, her lips slightly parted. He found himself leaning closer toward her. She did not draw back, and his lips touched hers. Her arms encircled his neck, her body pressed in to him, and he could feel her breasts against his chest. He felt dizzy yet exhilarated. His hand slid along her shoulder and down her arm. Her hand came up to close over his fingers. For a moment only he felt disappointment, then she drew his hand down to her breast.

Then, as swiftly as it had begun, Derae ended the embrace, pulling back sharply.

“Not here! Not now,” she pleaded.

“When?” asked Parmenion, battling to control his surging emotions.

“When they have gone. We will hear the horses.”

“Yes … the horses.”

They sat in unnatural silence, waiting, listening as the grooms beyond the garden wall brought out the mounts, hearing the laughter of the hunters, men boasting of their skills and others mocking with gentle humor. Then came the
thunder of hooves, and quiet descended on the garden. Parmenion stood, reached out, and took Derae’s hand, drawing her up to him. He kissed her again, and they walked back through the garden gate and on to the house. Back in his room Parmenion gently untied the thongs at Derae’s shoulder, the white and green
chiton
falling to the floor.

Stepping back, he gazed at her upper body. Her arms and face were bronzed, but her breasts and waist were white as marble. Tentatively he reached out to touch her breast, his palm stroking gently across the raised nipple. She unfastened the brooch that held his
chiton
, and, naked now, they moved to the bed.

For a while they kissed and touched, but then Derae lay back, drawing Parmenion onto her. He groaned as he entered her and felt her legs slide up over his hips. In all his life he had never known such pleasure or dreamed of scaling such a peak of joy. It was madness, he knew, but he had no control—wished for none. Even the thought of death could not stop him now.

His passion made him want to power into her, yet he did not wish the moment to end and forced himself to move slowly, rhythmically, his eyes open, watching her face. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed. He brushed his lips against hers, and her mouth opened, her tongue darting against his own. He felt himself building to a climax and slid from her.

“No,” she said, pulling at him. He knelt by the side of the bed, running his tongue across her flat belly, then lifted her thigh across his shoulder. “What are you doing?” she asked, struggling to sit. He pushed her back and lowered his head between her legs. Her hair was soft, peltlike, and his tongue caressed her. She began to moan, softly at first and then louder. She shuddered against him, her hands tugging at his hair. Climbing to the bed, he entered her once more. Derae’s arms circled his neck, and she clung to him with fierce strength until he, too, reached a climax.

Bathed in sweat, they lay together with arms entwined.
Now that it was over, the passion spent, all Parmenion’s fear came rushing back. What they had done was against the law. What if the servants had seen them walking hand in hand from the garden? And could they have failed to hear her cries or the creaking of the bed? Raising himself on his elbow, he looked down at the girl. Her eyes were closed, her face wondrous in its beauty.

He knew then that she was worth the risk, worth any risk.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Her eyes opened. “I had a dream,” she said. “Three days ago. I went to a seeress with it. She told me that it meant I would love only one man in my life and that he would stand and defy an army for me.”

“What was your dream?”

“I dreamed I was in a temple, and all was darkness. And I said, ‘Where is the Lion of Macedon?’ The sun shone then, and I saw a general in a white-plumed helmet. He was tall and proud and walking with the light at his back. He saw me and opened his arms. He called me his love. That’s all I remember.”

“Why was there darkness? You said the sun was shining.”

“I don’t know. But the dream disturbed me. I should have thought of you, for you are half Macedonian. You are the Lion of Macedon from my dream.”

He chuckled. “I am told Macedon has few lions,” he said. “And it is not a country renowned for producing generals.”

“You don’t believe in my dream?”

“I believe we are destined to be together,” he told her. “And I would defy an army for you.”

“You already have.”

“That wasn’t an army, that was a rabble. But I could bless them now for bringing us together.”

Leaning down, he kissed her—and his passion returned.

For five days the lovers met in secret, riding out into the hills high above the land. They saw only a few shepherd girls and
spent their days wandering through the woods and making love in sheltered hollows.

For Parmenion it was a time of bliss beyond imagining. His bitterness fled from him, and he reveled in the glory of the summer sun, the clear blue skies, and the beauty of the land. The cruelties of his life seemed distant now, like the memory of winter snow. He could picture them but could not feel the icy cold of their reality.

On the morning of the sixth day his world changed. He led the chestnut mare from her stall at the rear of the white-walled house and bridled her.

Xenophon walked to him, laying a hand on his arm. “Do not ride today,” he said softly.

“I need to feel the wind in my face. I will be back soon.”

“I said no!” Xenophon snapped. “And if you need reminding, the mare belongs to me.”

“Then I shall walk!” responded Parmenion, his face flushed with anger.

“You fool! When will you start using your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I am saying. My servants know where you are going. I know where you are going. Patroclian knows where you are going. You have conducted this affair with all the subtlety of a rutting bull.”

“How dare you?” stormed Parmenion. “You have spied on me.”

“What need was there for spies? You took her to your room on the first day, and her cries echoed around the house. You meet her on hillsides and walk hand in hand, where you can be observed for miles. Patroclian would be within his rights to have you arrested and executed, but he is a man of honor and feels he owes you for your courage.”

“I intend to marry her,” declared Parmenion. “It is not as you think.”

“As I said, Parmenion, you are a fool! Now return the mare to her stall.”

“Allow me to ride out to Derae. I need to talk to her,” begged Parmenion.

“She will not be there; she has been sent back to Sparta.”

Parmenion’s throat was dry, his belly knotted. “Sent back? I will go to see Patroclian.”

Xenophon swung and lashed his open palm across Parmenion’s face. The blow stung him, and he staggered. “Maybe the doctor purged you of brains,” hissed Xenophon. “Will you think, man? You have violated a virgin. What will you say to her father? ‘I want to marry her?’ What do you have to offer? What dowry do you bring? You are a penniless student without a landholding or a farm. You have no income. All you have done is ruin the girl for anyone else.”

“You make it sound vile,” said Parmenion, “but it isn’t.”

“You don’t understand, do you?” said the general sadly. “You cannot see it. Derae is pledged to Nestus, and they were to have been wed in the spring. When he hears of the shame to himself and his family—as he will, since you chose to act so openly—he will demand repayment of the dowry, and if he condemns Derae publicly, she will die.”

“I will save her. She loves me, Xenophon. She is a gift from the gods to me; I know it. They will not let any harm come to her. Do not hate me for this!”

The Athenian laid his hands on Parmenion’s shoulders. “I do not hate you for it, my young friend. Your life has not been particularly blessed. But listen to me and try to use that part of your mind which we have trained. Do not think of Derae. Pull your thoughts away from what you call love and think of life as it has to be lived. You have brought great shame to Patroclian and to his whole family. You have shamed me, and you have shamed yourself. Love? Love is born of caring, of compassion, of understanding. Do not talk of love but speak openly and honestly of desire. You put Derae in a position of great danger—that is not the act of a lover. You have destroyed her reputation and blighted the name of a noble line. Tell me where love appears in this scene.”

Parmenion could not reply, but he led the mare back into her stall and removed the bridle. The events of the last five days seemed suddenly dreamlike and unreal. He saw now that Xenophon was right: he had shamed his friend and tarnished Derae.

He walked back out into the sunlight, but Xenophon had gone.

Parmenion wandered out into the garden, stopping by the bench where Derae had first kissed him. There had to be a way to resolve the dilemma, a way in which he and Derae could live together. He had decided months before to leave Sparta when he reached manhood, but Derae had changed all that. Now he just wanted to have enough money to marry and raise a family, to pay for his own boys to attend barracks.

For most of the day he wrestled with the problem, seeing only one solution. At last, with the sun setting, he made his way back to the house. Xenophon was sitting in the courtyard, eating a supper of figs and cheese, as Parmenion stood before him.

“I am sorry, sir. Deeply sorry for the shame I have brought you. It is a terrible way to repay the friendship you have shown me.”

Xenophon shrugged. “That is life, Parmenion. Sit down and eat. Tomorrow we will ride to the sea, feel the fresh winds upon our faces.”

“When we return to Sparta,” said Parmenion, “I will sell the sword of Leonidas. With that money, I will be able to marry Derae.”

“We have almost two months here,” said Xenophon sadly, looking away. “It will give you time to think out your plans, and Patroclian time to lose his anger. Much can happen in that interval. Perhaps the servants will not talk. Perhaps Nestus will forgive her. Who knows? But if you are to grow, Parmenion—if you are to become the man you ought to be—then you must learn from this experience.”

“What can I learn? Not to fall in love?”

“No, no man can do that. But you must realize that love is
perilous; it affects the mind, blinding us to obvious realities. Think of Helen and Paris. They brought about the downfall of Troy. You think that is what they intended? No, they were merely lovers. You are one of the most intelligent and intuitive men I have ever met, and yet you have acted like a complete dullard. If that is what love brings, then I am thankful it has eluded me.”

“It will end well,” whispered Parmenion. “I promise you.”

“That is still love talking. No man of intellect makes a promise he cannot keep. Now eat, and let us talk of this no more tonight.”

As the weeks passed Parmenion found Xenophon’s wisdom once more to be true. The longing and the love he had for Derae did not pass, but his mind cleared and he felt a deep sense of shame for the foolish way he had conducted his affair.

Had Patroclian been so minded, he could have taken the matter to the council, which would have recommended Parmenion’s death to the
ephors
. There was no question of a defense; the law was specific. Any Spartan who violated a virgin was subject to death by poison or by the blade. Derae herself could be sacrificed to the death goddess, Hecate.

Now Parmenion could look back on his passion with cool logic. In truth, he could not regret their lovemaking; it had been the high point of his life and had freed him from the miseries of his childhood, exorcising bitterness and hatred. He no longer desired vengeance against Leonidas, no longer dreamed of leading an army against the Spartans. All he wanted now was to live with Derae and sire children of their love.

During the days he rode with Xenophon out into the countryside of the Peleponnese, and when the sun had fallen he ran on the hillsides, building his strength and exhausting his passions with physical effort.

At night he would sit with the Athenian general, discussing military tactics or political strategies. Xenophon was deeply distressed by Sparta’s failure to provide sound leadership for Greece and gloomily predicted future disasters.

“Agisaleus cannot abide the Thebans and makes public his disdain. It is unwise. I love the man, but he is blind to the dangers. He cannot forget that it was Thebes’ actions which brought him back from military successes in Persia. He cannot forgive.”

“And yet,” said Parmenion, “his return from Persia brought him great credit. He crushed the Thebans and restored Sparta’s position.”

“That is a popular Spartan view,” Xenophon agreed, “but in reality the only victor was Persia.”

“But they had no part in the revolt, did they?”

Xenophon laughed aloud. “Politics, Parmenion. Do not think merely of swords and campaigns. Agisaleus had invaded Persia, and he was winning. Persian gold—of which there is an unlimited supply—was sent to Thebes and Athens. With that gold they raised their armies; that is why Agisaleus was forced to come home. There was only one way he could win: He sent ambassadors to Persia, agreeing to be her vassal. Persia then abandoned Thebes and Athens and supervised the peace negotiations.”